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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Out of the Ashes
+
+Author: Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13273]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE ASHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+OUT OF THE ASHES
+
+BY
+ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD
+
+
+1913
+
+
+I
+
+
+Marcus Gard sat at his library table apparently in rapt contemplation of
+a pair of sixteenth century bronze inkwells, strange twisted shapes,
+half man, half beast, bearing in their breasts twin black pools. But his
+thoughts were far from their grotesque beauty--centered on vast schemes
+of destruction and reconstruction. The room was still, so quiet, in
+spite of its proximity to the crowded life of Fifth Avenue, that one
+divined its steel construction and the doubled and trebled casing of its
+many windows. The walls, hung with green Genoese velvet, met a carved
+and coffered ceiling, and touched the upper shelf of the breast-high
+bookcases that lined the walls. No picture broke the simple unity of
+color. Here and there a Donatello bronze silhouetted a slim shape, or a
+Florentine portrait bust smiled with veiled meaning from the quiet
+shadows. The shelves were rich in books in splendid bindings, gems of
+ancient workmanship or modern luxury, for the Great Man had the instinct
+of the masterpiece.
+
+The door opened softly, and the secretary entered, a look of uncertainty
+on his handsome young face. The slight sound of his footfall disturbed
+the master's contemplation. He looked up, relieved to be drawn for a
+moment from his reflection.
+
+"What is it, Saunders?" he asked, leaning back and grasping the arms of
+his chair with a gesture of control familiar to him.
+
+"Mrs. Martin Marteen is here, very anxious to see you. She let me
+understand it was about the Heim Vandyke. I knew you were interested, so
+I ventured, Mr. Gard--"
+
+"Yes, yes--quite right. Let her come in here." He rose as he spoke,
+shook his cuffs, pulled down his waistcoat and ran a hand over his bald
+spot and silvery hair. Marcus Gard was still a handsome man. He remained
+standing, and, as the door reopened, advanced to meet his guest. She
+came forward, smiling, and, taking a white-gloved hand from her sable
+muff, extended it graciously.
+
+"Very nice of you to receive me, Mr. Gard," she said, and the tone of
+her mellow voice was clear and decisive. "I know what a busy man you
+are."
+
+"At your service." He bowed, waved her to a seat and sank once more into
+his favorite chair, watching her the while intently. If she had come to
+negotiate the sale of the Heim Vandyke, let her set forth the
+conditions. It was no part of his plan to show how much he coveted the
+picture. In the meantime she was very agreeable to look at. Her strong,
+regular features suggested neither youth nor age. She was of the goddess
+breed. Every detail of the lady's envelope was perfect--velvet and fur,
+a glimpse of exquisite antique lace, a sheen of pearl necklace, neither
+so large as to be ostentatious nor so small as to suggest economy. The
+Great Man's instinct of the masterpiece stirred. "What can I do for
+you?" he said, as she showed no further desire to explain her visit.
+
+"I let fall a hint to Mr. Saunders," she answered--and her smile shone
+suddenly, giving her straight Greek features a fascinating humanity--"
+that I wanted to see you about the Heim Vandyke." She paused, and his
+eyes lit.
+
+"Yes--portrait? A good example, I believe."
+
+She laughed quietly. "As you very well know, Mr. Gard. But that, let me
+own, was merely a ruse to gain your private ear. I have nothing to do
+with that gem of art."
+
+The Great Man's face fell. He was in for a bad quarter of an hour. Lady
+with a hard luck story--he was not unused to the type--but Mrs. Martin
+Marteen! He could not very well dismiss her unheard, an acquaintance of
+years' standing, a friend of his sister's. His curiosity was aroused.
+What could be the matter with the impeccable Mrs. Marteen? Perhaps she
+had been speculating. She read his thoughts.
+
+"Quite wrong, Mr. Gard. I have not been drawn into the stock market. The
+fact is, I _have_ something to sell, but it isn't a picture--autographs.
+You collect them, do you not? Now I have in my possession a series of
+autograph letters by one of the foremost men of his day; one, in fact,
+in whom you have the very deepest interest."
+
+"Napoleon!" he exclaimed.
+
+She smiled. "I have heard him so called," she answered. "I have here
+some photographs of the letters. They are amateur pictures--in fact, I
+took them myself; so you will have to pardon trifling imperfections. But
+I'm sure you will see that it is a series of the first importance." From
+her muff she took a flat envelope, slipped off the rubber band with
+great deliberation, glanced at the enclosures and laid them on the
+table.
+
+The Great Man's face was a study. His usual mask of indifferent
+superiority deserted him. The blow was so unexpected that he was for
+once staggered and off his guard. His hand was shaking, as with an oath
+he snatched up the photographs. It was his own handwriting that met his
+eye, and Mrs. Marteen had not exaggerated when she had designated the
+letters as a "series of the first importance." With the shock of
+recognition came doubt of his own senses. Mrs. Martin Marteen
+blackmailing him? Preposterous! His eyes sought the lady's face. She was
+quite calm and self-possessed.
+
+"I need not point out to you, Mr. Gard, the desirability of adding these
+to your collection. These letters give clear information concerning the
+value to you of the Texas properties mentioned, which are now about to
+pass into the possession of your emissaries if all goes well. Of course,
+if these letters were placed in the hands of those most interested it
+would cause you to make your purchase at a vastly higher figure; it
+might prevent the transaction altogether. But far more important than
+that, they conclusively prove that your company _is_ a monopoly framed
+in the restraint of trade--proof that will be a body blow to your
+defense if the threatened action of the federal authorities takes place.
+
+"Of course," continued Mrs. Marteen, as Gard uttered a suppressed oath,
+"you couldn't foresee a year ago what future conditions would make the
+writing of those letters a very dangerous thing; otherwise you would
+have conducted your business by word of mouth. Believe me, I do not
+underrate your genius."
+
+He laid his hands roughly upon the photographs. "I have a mind to have
+you arrested this instant," he snarled.
+
+"But you won't," she added--"not while you don't know where the
+originals are. It means too much to you. The slightest menacing move
+toward me would be fatal to your interests. I don't wish you any harm,
+Mr. Gard; I simply want money."
+
+In spite of his perturbation, amazement held him silent. If a shining
+angel with harp and halo had confronted him with a proposition to rob a
+church, the situation could not have astonished him more. She gave him
+time to recover.
+
+"Of course you must readjust your concepts, particularly as to me. You
+thought me a rich woman--well, I'm not. I've about twenty-five thousand
+dollars left, and a few--resources. My expenses this season will be
+unusually heavy."
+
+"Why this season?" He asked the question to gain time. He was thinking
+hard.
+
+"My daughter Dorothy makes her début, as perhaps you may have heard."
+
+Gard gave another gasp. Here was a mother blackmailing the Gibraltar of
+finance for her little girl's coming-out party. Suddenly, quite as
+unexpectedly to himself as to his hearer, he burst into a peal of
+laughter.
+
+"I see--I see. 'The time has come to talk of many things.'"
+
+She met his mood. "Well, not so _much_ time. You see, not _all_ kings
+are cabbage heads--and while pigs may not have wings, riches have."
+
+"You are versatile, Mrs. Marteen. I confess this whole interview has an
+'Alice in Wonderland' quality." He was regaining his composure. "But I
+see you want to get down to figures. May I inquire your price?"
+
+"Fifty thousand dollars." There was finality in her tone.
+
+"And how soon?"
+
+"Within the next week. You know this is a crisis in this affair--I
+waited for it."
+
+"Indeed! You seem to have singular foresight."
+
+She nodded gravely. "Yes, and unusual means of obtaining information, as
+it is needless for me to inform you. I am, I think, making you a very
+reasonable offer, Mr. Gard. You would have paid twice as much for the
+Vandyke."
+
+"And how do you propose, Mrs. Marteen, to effect this little business
+deal without compromising either of us?" His tone was half banter, but
+her reply was to the point.
+
+"I will place my twenty-five thousand with your firm, with the
+understanding that you are to invest for me, in any deal you happen to
+be interested in--Texas, for instance. It wouldn't be surprising if my
+money should treble, would it? In fact, there is every reason to expect
+it--is there not? If all I own is invested in these securities, I would
+not desire them to decline, would I? I merely suggest this method," she
+continued, with a shrug as if to deprecate its lack of originality,
+"because it would be a transaction by no means unusual to you, and would
+attract no attention."
+
+He looked at her grimly. "You think so?" Let me hear how you intend to
+carry out the rest of the transaction--the delivery of the autographs in
+question."
+
+"To begin with, I will place in your hands the plates--all the
+photographs."
+
+"How can I be sure?" he demanded.
+
+"You can't, of course; but you will have to accept my assurance that I
+am honest. I promise to fulfill my part of the bargain--literally to the
+letter. You may verify and find that the series is complete. Your
+attorneys, to whom you wrote these, will doubtless tell you that they
+personally destroyed these documents, but they doubtless have a record
+of the dates of letters received at this time. You can compare; they are
+all there; I hold out nothing."
+
+"But if they say they have destroyed the letters--what in the name of--"
+
+"Oh, no; they destroyed your communications perhaps, after 'contents
+noted.' But they never had your letters, for the simple reason that they
+never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."
+
+Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat with
+Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His
+tremendous power had long made his position so secure that he had met
+extraordinary situations with the calm of one who controls them. He had
+startled and held others spellbound by his own infinite foresight,
+resource and energy. The situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated in
+the fine blue eyes of another and more ruthless general.
+
+"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this _coup_ of yours was
+planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his
+deep chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do you
+mean to tell me _that_?"
+
+"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes,
+exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have
+friends at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that
+the 'little cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove to
+contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a flip of accident that
+makes the present situation possible. But the rest was designed, I
+regret to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."
+
+"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his desk.
+
+"With this end in view," she confessed.
+
+He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her
+suddenly.
+
+"Mind, I haven't acceded to your demands," he shouted.
+
+"Is the interview at an end?" she asked, rising and adjusting the furs
+about her throat. "If so, I must tell you the papers are in the hands of
+persons who would be very much interested in their contents. If they
+don't see me--hearing from me won't do, you understand, for a situation
+is conceivable, of course, when I might be coerced into sending a
+message or telephoning one--if they don't _see_ me personally, the
+packet will be opened--and eventually, after the Texas Purchase is
+adjusted, they will find their way into the possession of the District
+Attorney. I have taken every possible precaution."
+
+"I don't doubt that in the least, madam--confound it, I don't! Now when
+will you put the series, lock, stock and barrel, into my hands?"
+
+"When you've done that little turn for me in the market, Mr. Gard. You
+may trust me."
+
+"On the word--of a débutante?" he demanded, with a snap of his square
+jaws.
+
+For the first time she flushed, the color mantling to her temples; she
+was a very handsome woman.
+
+"On the word of a débutante," she answered, and her voice was steady.
+
+"Well, then"--he slapped the table with his open hand--"if you'll send
+me, to the office, what you want to invest, I'll give orders that I will
+personally direct that account."
+
+"Thank you so much," she murmured, rising.
+
+"Don't go!" he exclaimed, his request a command. "I want to talk with
+you. Don't you know you're the first person, man or woman, who has _held
+me up_--me, Marcus Gard! I don't see how you had the nerve. I don't see
+how you had the idea." He changed his bullying tone suddenly. "I wish--I
+wish you'd _talk_ to me. I'm as curious as any woman."
+
+Mrs. Martin Marteen moved toward the door.
+
+"I'm selling you your autographs--not my autobiography. I'm _so_ glad to
+have seen you. Good afternoon, Mr. Gard."
+
+She was gone, and the Great Man had not the presence of mind to escort
+his visitor to the door or ring for attendance. He remained standing,
+staring after her. His gaze shifted to the table, where, either by
+accident or design, the photographs remained, scattered. He chuckled
+grimly. Accident! Nothing was accidental with that Machiavelli in
+petticoats. She knew he would read those accursed lines, and realize
+with every sentence that in truth she was "letting him down easy." There
+was no danger of his backing out of his bargain. Seated at the desk, he
+perused his folly, and grunted with exasperation. Well, after all, what
+of it? He had coveted a masterpiece; now he was to have two in one--the
+contemplation of his own blunder, and Mrs. Marteen's criminal
+genius--cheap at the price. How long had this been going on? Whom had
+she victimized? And how in the world had she been able to obtain the
+whole correspondence? That his lawyers should have been deceived by
+copies was not so surprising--they never dreamed of a substitution; the
+matter, not the letter, was proof enough to them of genuineness. But--he
+thumped his forehead. He had been staying with friends at Newport at the
+time. Had Mrs. Marteen been there? Of course! He took up the
+incriminating documents again and thoroughly mastered their contents,
+every turn of phrase, every between-the-line inference. Accidents could
+happen; he must be prepared for the worst. Not that negotiations would
+fail--but--not until the originals were in his hands and personally done
+away with would he feel secure. He recalled Mrs. Marteen's graceful and
+sumptuously clad figure, her clear-cut, beautiful head, the power of her
+unwavering sapphire eyes, the gentle elegance of her voice. And this
+woman--had--held him up!
+
+He turned on the electric lamp, opened a secret compartment drawer in
+the table, abstracted a tiny key, and, deftly making a packet of the
+scattered proofs, unlocked a small hidden safe behind a row of first
+editions of Bunyan and consigned them to secure obscurity.
+
+A moment later his secretary entered the room in response to his ring.
+
+"I'm going out," he said. "Lock up, will you, and at any time Mrs.
+Marteen wants to see me admit her at once."
+
+Mr. Saunders' face shone. He, too, was a devout worshiper at the shrine
+of art.
+
+"The Vandyke?" he inquired hopefully.
+
+"Well, no--but I'm negotiating for a very remarkable series of
+letters--of--er--Napoleon--concerning--er Waterloo."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+When Marcus Gard dressed that evening he was so absent-minded that his
+valet held forth for an hour in the servants' hall, with assurances that
+some mighty _coup_ was toward. Not since the days of B.L. & W. or the
+rate war on the S. & O. had his master shown such complete absorption.
+
+"He's like a blind drunk, or a man in a trance, he is--he's just not
+there in the head, and you have to walk around and dress his body, like
+he was a dumb wax-work. If I get the lay, Smathers, I'll tip you off.
+There might be something in it for us. He's due for dinner and bridge at
+the Met., but unless Frenchy puts him out of the motor, he won't know
+when he gets there"--which proved true. Three times the chauffeur
+respectfully advised his master of their arrival, before the wondering
+eyes of the club _chasseur_, before the Great Man, suddenly recalled to
+the present, descended from his car and was conducted to his waiting
+host.
+
+The first one of the company to shake hands with him was Victor
+Mahr--and Victor Mahr was a friend of Mrs. Marteen. The sudden
+recollection of this fact made him cast such a glance of scrutiny at the
+gentleman as to quite discompose him.
+
+"What's the old man up to, gimleting me in the eye like that? He's got
+something up his sleeve," thought Mahr.
+
+"I wonder did she ever corner _him_?" was the question uppermost in
+Gard's mind. He hated Mahr, and rather hoped that the lady had, then
+flushed with resentment at the thought that she would stoop to blackmail
+a man so obviously outside the pale. His mood was so unusual that every
+man in the circle was stirred with unrest and misgiving. Dinner
+brightened the general gloom, though there were but trifling inroads
+into the costly vintages. One doesn't play bridge with the Big Ones
+unless one's head is clear. Not till supper time did the talk drift from
+honors and trumps. Gard played brilliantly. His absent-mindedness
+changed to savage concentration. He played to win, and won.
+
+"What's new in the art world?" inquired Denning, as he lit a cigar.
+"There was a rumor you were after the Heim Vandyke."
+
+"Nothing new," Gard answered. "Haven't had time to bother. By the way,
+Mahr, what sort of a girl is the little débutante daughter of Mrs.
+Marteen--you know her, don't you?" He was watching Mahr keenly, and
+fancied he detected a shifty glance at the mention of the name. But Mahr
+answered easily:
+
+"Dorothy? She's the season's beauty--really a stunning-looking girl. You
+must have seen her; she was in Denning's box with her mother at 'La
+Bohème' last week."
+
+"And," added Denning, "she'll be with us again to-morrow night."
+
+"Oh," said Card, with indifference. "The dark one--I
+remember--tall--yes, she's like her mother, devilish handsome. Must send
+that child some flowers, I suppose."
+
+Gard returned home, disgusted with himself. Why had he forced his mood
+upon these men? Why, above all things, had he mentioned Mrs. Marteen to
+Mahr, whom he despised? For the simple pleasure of speaking of her, of
+mentioning her name? Why had he suspected Mahr of being one of her
+victims? And why, in heaven's name, had he resented the very same
+notion? He lay in bed numbering the men of money and importance whom he
+knew shared Mrs. Marteen's acquaintance. They were numerous, both his
+friends and enemies. What had _they_ done? What was her hold over
+_them_? Had she in all cases worked as silently, as thoroughly, as
+understandingly as she had with him? Did she always show her hand at the
+psychological moment? Did she rob only the rich--the guilty? Was she
+Robin Hood in velvet, antique lace and sables? Ah, he liked that--Mme.
+Robin Hood. He fell asleep at last and dreamed that he met Mrs. Marteen
+under the greenwood tree, and watched her as with unerring aim she sent
+a bolt from her bow through the heart of a running deer.
+
+He awoke when the valet called him, and was amused with his dream. Not
+in years had such an interest entered his life. He rose, tubbed and
+breakfasted, and went, as was his wont, to his sister's sitting room.
+
+"Well, Polly," he roared through the closed doors of her bedroom, "up
+late, as usual, I suppose! Well, I'm off. By the way, we aren't using
+the opera box next Monday night; lend it to Mrs. Marteen. That little
+girl of hers is coming out, you know, and we ought to do something for
+'em now and again. I'll be at the library after three, if you want me."
+
+At the office he found a courteous note thanking him for his kindness in
+offering to direct her investments and inclosing Mrs. Marteen's cheque
+for twenty-five thousand dollars. Gard studied the handwriting closely.
+It was firm, flowing, refined, yet daring, very straight as to alignment
+and spaced artistically. Good sense, good taste, nice discrimination, he
+commented. He smiled, tickled by a new idea. He would not give the usual
+orders in such matters. When a lovely lady inclosed her cheque, begging
+to remind him of his thoughtful suggestion (mostly mythical) at Mrs.
+So-and-So's dinner, he cynically deposited the slip, and wrote out
+another for double the amount, if he believed the lady deserving; if
+not, a polite note informed the sender that his firm would gladly open
+an account with her, and he was sure her interests "would receive the
+best possible attention and advice." In this case he determined to
+accept the responsibility exactly as it was worded, ignoring the
+circumstances that had forced his hand. He would make her nest egg hatch
+out what was required. It should be an honest transaction in spite of
+its questionable inception. Every dollar of that money should work
+overtime, for results must come quickly.
+
+He gave his orders and laid his plans. Never had his business interests
+appealed to him as keenly as at that moment, and never for a moment did
+he doubt the honesty of the lady's villainy. She would not "hold out on
+him."
+
+His first care that morning had been to make a luncheon appointment with
+his lawyer, and to elicit the information that, as far as his attorney
+knew, the incriminating correspondence had been destroyed when received.
+"As soon as your instructions were carried out, Mr. Gard. Of course,
+none of us quite realized the changes that were coming--but--what those
+letters would mean now! Too much care cannot be taken. I've often
+thought a code might be advisable in the future, when the written word
+must be relied on."
+
+Gard smiled grimly and agreed. "Those letters would make a pretty basis
+for blackmail, wouldn't they? Oh, by the way, you are Victor Mahr's
+lawyers, aren't you?"
+
+As he had half expected, he surprised a flash of suspicion and knowledge
+in the other's eyes.
+
+"What makes you speak of him in that connection?" laughed the lawyer.
+
+"I don't," said Gard. "I happened to be playing bridge with him last
+night and from something he let fall I gathered your firm had been
+acting for him. Well, he needs the best legal advice that's to be had,
+or I miss my guess." He rose and took leave of his friend, entered his
+motor and was driven rapidly uptown.
+
+Still his thoughts were of Mrs. Marteen, and again unaccountable
+annoyance possessed him. Confound it! Mahr _had_ been held up. Clifton
+knew about it; that argued that Mahr had taken the facts, whatever they
+were, to them. Had he told them who it was who threatened him? Then
+Clifton knew that Mrs. Marteen was a--Hang it! What possible right had
+he to jump to the wild conviction that Victor Mahr had been blackmailed
+at all? Because he was a friend of the lady's--a pretty reason that! Did
+men make friends of--Yes, they did; he intended to himself; why not that
+hound of a Mahr? Clifton _did_ know something. Mahr was just the sort of
+scoundrel to drag in a woman's name. Why shouldn't he in such a case?
+Then, with one of his quick changes of mood, he laughed at himself. "I'm
+jealous because I think I'm not the only victim! It's time I consulted a
+physician. I'm going dotty. She's a wonder, though, that woman. What a
+brain, and what a splendid presence! But there's something vital
+lacking; no soul, no conscience--that's the trouble," he commented
+inwardly--little dreaming that he exactly voiced the criticism
+universally passed upon himself. Then his thoughts took a new tack.
+"Wonder what the daughter is like? I'll have to hunt her up. It's a
+joke--if it _is_ on me! Must see my débutante. After all, if I'm paying,
+I ought to look her over. She's going to the Opera--in Denning's
+box--h'm!"
+
+Gard broke two engagements, and at the appointed hour found himself
+wandering through the corridor back of the first tier boxes at the
+Metropolitan. Its bare convolutions were as resonant as a sea shell.
+Vast and vague murmurs of music, presages of melodies, undulated through
+the passages, palpitated like the living breath of Euterpe, suppressed
+excitement lurked in every turn, there was throb and glow in each
+pulsating touch of unseen instruments. Gard found his heart tightening,
+his nostrils expanding. A flash of the divine fire of youth leaped
+through his veins. Adventure suddenly beckoned him--the lure of the
+unknown, of the magic _x_ of algebra in human equation. So great was his
+enjoyment that he savored it as one savors a dainty morsel, lingering
+over it, fearful that the next taste may destroy the perfect flavor.
+
+He paced the corridor, nodding here and there, pausing for a moment to
+chat with this or that personage, affable, noncommittal,
+Chesterfieldian, handsome and distinguished in his clean, silver-touched
+middle age.
+
+Inwardly he was fretting for their appearance--his débutante and Mme.
+Robin Hood. Of course they must do the conventional thing and be late.
+But to his pleased surprise, just as the overture was drawing to its
+close, he saw Denning and his wife approaching. Behind them he discerned
+the finely held head and chiseled features of the Lady of Compulsion,
+and close beside her a slender, girlish figure, shrouded in a silver and
+ermine cloak, a tinsel scarf half veiled a flower face, gentle,
+tremulous and inspired--a Jeanne d'Arc of high birth and luxurious
+rearing. Something tightened about his heart. The child's very
+appearance was dramatic coupled with the presence of her mother. What
+the one lacked, the other possessed in its clearest essence.
+
+With a hasty greeting to Denning and his diamond-sprinkled spouse, Gard
+turned with real cordiality to Mrs. Marteen.
+
+"This _is_ a pleasure!" He beamed with sincerity. "Dear madam, present
+me to your lovely daughter. We must be friends, Miss Dorothy. Your very
+wise and resourceful mamma has given me many an interesting hour--more
+than she has ever dreamed, I believe."
+
+He turned, accompanied them to the box and assisted the ladies with
+their wraps. Dorothy turned upon him a pair of violet eyes, that at the
+mention of her mother's name had lighted with adoration.
+
+"Isn't she wonderful!" she murmured, casting a bashful glance at Mrs.
+Marteen; then she added with simple gratefulness: "I'm glad you're
+friends." In her child's fashion she had looked him over and approved.
+
+A glow of pride suffused him. The obeisance of the kings of finance was
+not so sweet to his natural vanity. "She's one in a million," he
+answered heartily. "She should have been a man--and yet we would have
+lost much in that case--you, for instance." He turned toward Mrs.
+Marteen. "I congratulate you," he smiled. "She's just the sort of a girl
+that _should_ have a good time--the very best the world can give her;
+the world owes it. But aren't you"--and he lowered his voice--"just a
+little afraid of those ecstatic eyes? Dear child, she must keep all the
+pink and gold illusions--" The end of his sentence he spoke really to
+himself. But an expression in his hearer's face brought him to sudden
+consciousness. Quite unexpectedly he had surprised fear in the classic
+marble of the goddess face. The woman, who had not hesitated to commit
+crime, feared the contact of the world for her child. It was a curious
+revelation. All that was best, most generous and kindly in his nature
+rose to the surface, and his smile was the rare one that endeared him to
+his friends. "Let her have every pleasure that comes her way," he added.
+"By the way, I'm sending you our box for Monday night. I hope you will
+avail yourself of it. My sister will join you, and perhaps you will all
+give me the pleasure of your company at Delmonico's afterward."
+
+She hesitated for a moment, her eyes turning involuntarily toward the
+girl. Then the human dimple enriched her cheeks, and it was with real
+_camaraderie_ that she nodded an acceptance.
+
+His attitude was humbly grateful. "I'll ask the Dennings, too," he
+continued. "They're due elsewhere, I know, but they could join us."
+
+The curtain was already rising and Gard, excusing himself, found his way
+to the masculine sanctuary, the directors' box, of which he rarely
+availed himself, and from a shadowy corner observed his débutante and
+her beautiful mother through his powerful opera glasses. He found
+himself taking a throbbing interest in the visitors at the loge
+opposite. He was as interested in Dorothy Marteen's admirers as any fond
+father could be; and yet his eyes turned with strange, fascinated
+jealousy to the older woman's loveliness. Suddenly he drew in the focus
+of his glasses. A face had come within the rim of his observation--the
+face of a man sitting in the row in front of him. That man, too, had his
+glasses turned toward the group on the other side of the diamond
+horseshoe, and the look on his face was not pleasant to see. A lean,
+triumphant smile curled his heavy purple lips, the radiating wrinkles at
+the corner of his eyes were drawn upward in a Mephistophelian hardness.
+
+It was Victor Mahr. His expression suddenly changed to one of intense
+disgust, as a tall young man entered the Denning box and bent in evident
+admiration over Dorothy's smiling face. Victor Mahr rose from his seat,
+and with a curt nod to Gard, who feigned interest elsewhere, disappeared
+into the corridor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Mrs. Marteen stood at her desk, a mammoth affair of Jacobean type,
+holding in her hand a sheet of crested paper, scrawled over in a large,
+tempestuous hand.
+
+
+     MY DEAR MRS. MARTEEN:
+
+     If you will be so good as to drop in at the library at
+     five, it will give me great pleasure to go over with you
+     the details of my stewardship. The commission with
+     which you honored me has, I think, been well directed
+     to an excellent result. Moreover, a little chat with you
+     will be, as always, a real pleasure to--
+
+      Yours in all admiration,
+
+      J. MARCUS GARD.
+
+     P.S.--I suggest your coming here, as the details of
+     business are best transacted in the quiet of a business
+     office,
+     and I therefore crave your presence and indulgence.--
+
+     J.M.G.
+
+
+Mrs. Marteen was dressing for the street; her hands were gloved, her
+sable muff swung from a gem-studded chain, her veil was nicely adjusted;
+yet she hesitated, her eyes upon a busy silver clock that already marked
+the appointed hour. The room was large, wainscoted in dark paneling; a
+capacious fireplace jutted far out, and was made further conspicuous by
+two settees of worm-eaten oak. The chairs that backed along the walls
+were of stalwart pattern. A collection of English silver tankards was
+the chief decoration, save straight hangings of Cordova leather at the
+windows, and a Spanish embroidery, tarnished with age, that swung beside
+the door. Hardly a woman's room, and yet feminine in its minor touches;
+the gallooned red velvet cushions of the Venetian armchair; the violets
+that from every available place shed their fresh perfume on the quiet
+air, a summer window box crowded with hyacinths, the wicker basket, home
+of a languishing Pekinese spaniel, tucked under one corner of the table.
+Mrs. Marteen continued to hesitate, and the hands of the clock to travel
+relentlessly.
+
+Suddenly drawing herself erect, she walked with no uncertain tread to
+the right-hand wall of the mantel and pushed back a double panel of the
+wainscoting, revealing the muzzle of a steel safe let into the masonry
+of the wall. A few deft twirls opened the combination, and the metal
+door swung outward. Within the recess the pigeonholes were crammed with
+papers and morocco jewel cases. Pressing a secret spring, a second door
+jarred open in the left inner wall. From this receptacle she withdrew
+several packets of letters and a set of plates with their accompanying
+prints. Over them all she slipped a heavy rubber band, laid them aside
+and closed the hiding place with methodical care. The compromising
+documents disappeared within the warm hollow of her muff, and with a
+last glance around, Mrs. Marteen unlocked the door and descended to the
+street, where her walnut-brown limousine awaited her. Her face, which
+had been vivid with emotion, took on its accustomed mask of cold
+perfection, and when she was ushered into the anxiously awaiting
+presence of Marcus Gard, she was the same perfectly poised machine,
+wound up to execute a certain series of acts, that she had been on the
+occasion of her former visit. Of their friendly acquaintance of the last
+ten days there was no trace. They were two men of business met to
+consult upon a matter of money. The host was thoroughly disappointed.
+For ten days he had lost no opportunity of following up both Dorothy and
+her mother. Dorothy had responded with frank-hearted liking; Mrs.
+Marteen had suffered herself to be interested.
+
+"How's my débutante?" he asked cordially, as Mrs. Marteen entered.
+
+"She's very well, thank you," the marble personage replied. "I came in
+answer to your note."
+
+"Rather late," he complained. "I've been waiting for you anxiously, most
+anxiously--but now you're here, I'm ready to forgive. Do you know, this
+is the first opportunity I have had, since you honored me before, of
+having one word in private with you?"
+
+She ignored his remark. "I have brought the correspondence of which I
+spoke."
+
+"I never doubted it, my dear lady. But before we proceed to conclude
+this little deal I want to ask you a question or two. Surely you will
+not let me languish of curiosity. I want to know--tell me--how did you
+ever hit upon this plan of yours?"
+
+She unbent from her rigid attitude and answered, almost as if the words
+were drawn from her against her will: "After Martin, my husband
+died--I--I found myself poor, quite to my astonishment, and with Dorothy
+to support. Among his effects--" She paused and turned scarlet; she was
+angry at herself for answering, angry at him for daring to question her
+thus intimately.
+
+"You found--" prompted Gard.
+
+"Well--" she hesitated, and then continued boldly--"some letters
+from--never mind whom. They showed me that my husband had been most
+cruelly robbed and mistreated; men had traded upon his honor, and had
+ruined him. Then and there I saw my way. This man--these men--had
+political aspirations. Their plans were maturing. I waited. Then I
+'wondered if they would care to have the matter in their opponents'
+hands.' The swindle would be good newspaper matter. They replied that
+they would 'mind very much.' I succeeded in getting back something of
+what Martin had been cheated out of--"
+
+He beamed approval. "And mighty clever and plucky of you. And then?"
+
+This time the delayed explosion of her anger came. "How dare you
+question me? How dare you pry into my life?"
+
+"You dared to pry into mine, remember," he snapped.
+
+"For a definite and established purpose," she retorted; "and let us
+proceed, if you will."
+
+Gard shifted his bulk and grasped the arms of his chair.
+
+"As you please. You deposited with me the sum of twenty-five thousand
+dollars. I personally took charge of that account, and invested it for
+you. The steps of these transactions I will ask you to follow."
+
+"Is it necessary?"
+
+"It is. Also that now you set before me the--autographs, together with
+their reproductions of every kind, on this table, and permit me to
+verify the collection by the list supplied by my lawyers."
+
+She frowned, and taking the packet from its resting place, unslipped the
+band and spread out its contents.
+
+"They are all there," she said slowly, and there was hurt pride in her
+voice.
+
+Without stopping to consult either the memoranda or the letters, he
+swept the whole together, and, striding to the fireplace, consigned them
+to the flames.
+
+"The plates!" she gasped, rising and following him. "They must be
+destroyed completely."
+
+He smiled at her grimly. "I'll take care of that. And now, if you will
+come to the table, I will explain your account with my firm. I bought
+L.U. & Y. for you at the opening, the day following our compact, feeling
+sure we would get at least a five-point rise, and that would be earning
+a bit of interest until I could put you in on a good move. I had private
+information the following day in Forward Express stock. I sold for you,
+and bought F.E. If you have followed that market you will see what
+happened--a thirty-point rise. Then I drew out, cashed up and clapped
+the whole thing into Union Short. I had to wait three days for that, but
+when it came--there, look at the figures for yourself. Your account with
+Morley & Gard stands you in one hundred thousand dollars, and it will be
+more if you don't disturb the present investment for a few days."
+
+Mrs. Marteen's eyes were wide.
+
+"What are you doing this for?" she said calmly. "That wasn't the
+bargain. I'll not touch a penny more."
+
+"Why did I do it? Because I won't have any question of blackmail between
+us. Like the good friend that you are, you gave me something which might
+otherwise have been to my hurt. On the other hand, I invested your money
+for you wisely, honestly, sanely and with all the best of my experience
+and knowledge. It's clean money there, Mrs. Marteen, and I'm ready to do
+as much again whenever you need it. You say you won't take it--why, it's
+yours. You must. I want to be friends. I don't want this thing lying
+between us, crossing our thoughts. If I ask you impertinent questions,
+which I undoubtedly shall, I want them to have the sanction of good
+will. I want you to know that I feel nothing but kindness for
+you--nothing but pleasure in your company."
+
+He paused, confounded by the blank wall of her apparent indifference.
+Marcus Gard was accustomed to having his friendly offices solicited.
+That his overtures should be rebuffed was incredible. Moreover, he had
+looked for feminine softening, had expected the moist eye and quivering
+lip as a matter of course; it seemed the inevitable answer to that cue.
+It was not forthcoming. Again the conviction of some great psychic loss
+disturbed him.
+
+"My dear Mr. Gard," the level, colorless voice was saying, "I fear we
+are quite beside the subject, are we not? I am not requesting anything.
+I am not putting myself under obligations to you; I trust you
+understand."
+
+Had an explosion wrecked the building, without a doubt Marcus Gard, the
+resourceful and energetic leader of men, would, without an instant's
+hesitation, have headed the fire brigade. Before this moral bomb he
+remained silent, paralyzed, uncertain of himself and of all the world.
+He could not adjust himself to that angle of the situation. Mrs. Marteen
+somehow conveyed to his distracted senses that blackmail was a mere
+detail of business, and "being under obligations" a heinous crime. At
+that rate the number of criminals on his list was legion, and certainly
+appeared unconscious of the enormity of their offense. It dawned upon
+him that he, the Great Man, was being "put in his place"; that his
+highly laudable desire for righteousness was being treated as forward
+and rather ridiculous posing. The buccaneer had outpointed him and taken
+the wind out of his sails, which now flapped ignominiously. The pause
+due to his mental rudderlessness continued till Mrs. Marteen herself
+broke the silence.
+
+"You appear to consider my attitude an inexplicable one. It is merely
+unexpected. I feel sure that when you have considered the matter you
+will see, as I do, that business affairs must be free from any
+hint--of--shall we say, favoritisms?"
+
+Gard found his voice, his temper and his curiosity at the same instant.
+
+"No, hang it, I _don't_ see!"
+
+She looked at him with tolerance, as a mother upon an excited child.
+
+"I have specified a certain sum as the price of certain articles. You
+accepted my terms. I do not ask you for a bonus. I do not ask you to
+take it upon yourself to rehabilitate me in your own estimation. I
+cannot accept this cheque, Mr. Gard, however I may appreciate your
+generosity." She pushed the yellow paper toward him.
+
+The action angered him. "If," he roared, "you had obtained these by any
+mere chance, I might see your position. But according to your own
+account you obtained them by elaborate fraud, feeling sure of their
+eventual value; and yet you sit up and say you don't care to be
+reinstated in my regard--just as if money could do that--you--"
+
+She interrupted him. "Then why this?" and she held out the statement. He
+was silent. "I repeat," she said, "I will not be under obligations to
+you or to anyone." She rose with finality, picked up the statement and
+cheque, crossed to the fire and dropped both the papers on the blazing
+logs. "If you will have the kindness to send me the purchase money, plus
+the sum I consigned to your keeping--as a blind to others, not to
+ourselves--I shall be very much indebted to you."
+
+Gard watched her with varying emotions. "Well," he said slowly, "that
+money belongs to you. I made it for you and you're going to have it. In
+the meantime, as you may require the 'purchase money,' as you call it,
+to settle bills for soda water and gardenias, I'll make you out another
+cheque; the remainder will stay with the firm on deposit for
+you--whether you wish it or not. This is one time when I'm not to be
+dictated to--no, nor blackmailed." He spoke roughly and glanced at her
+quickly. Not an eyelash quivered. His voice changed. "I wish I
+understood you," he grumbled. "I wish I did. But perhaps that would,
+after all, be a great pity. You're an extraordinary woman, Mrs. Marteen.
+You've 'got me going,' as the college boys say--but I like you, hanged
+if I don't. And I repeat, at the risk of having you sneer at me again, I
+meant every word I said, and I still mean it; and I'm sorry you don't
+see it that way."
+
+Her smile glorified her face.
+
+"Please don't think I reject your proffered friendship," she said,
+extending her hand.
+
+He would have taken it in both of his, but something in her manner
+warned him to meet it with the straight, firm grasp of manly assurance.
+
+"_Au revoir, mon ami_." She nodded and was gone.
+
+For several moments he stood by the door that had closed after her. Then
+he chuckled, frowned, chuckled again and sat down once more before his
+work table.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The _salons_ of Mrs. Marteen's elaborate apartment were gay with flowers
+and palms, sweet with perfumes and throbbing with music. Dorothy, an
+airy, dazzling figure in white, her face radiant with innocent
+excitement, stood by her mother, whose marble beauty had warmed with
+happiness as Galatea may have thrilled to life. Everyone who was anybody
+crowded the rooms, laughing, gossiping, congratulating, nibbling at
+dainties and sipping beverages. The throng ebbed, renewed, passed from
+room to room, to return again for a final look at the lovely débutante
+and a final word with her no less attractive mother. A dozen
+distinguished men, both young and old, sought to ingratiate themselves,
+but Dorothy's joyous heart beat only for the day itself--her coming out,
+the launching of her little ship upon the bright waters frequented by
+Sirens, Argonauts and other delightful and adventurous people hitherto
+but shadow fictions. It was as exciting and wonderful as Christmas. She
+had been showered with presents, buried in roses. Everyone was filled
+with friendly thoughts of which she was the center. There was no envy,
+hatred or malice in all the world.
+
+Marcus Gard advanced into the drawing room, the sound of his name,
+announced at the door, causing sudden and free passage to the center of
+attraction. He beamed upon Mrs. Marteen with real pleasure in her
+stately loveliness, and turned to Dorothy, who, her face alight with
+greeting, came frankly toward him. From the moment of their first
+meeting there had been instant understanding and liking. Gard took her
+outstretched hands with an almost fatherly thrill.
+
+"You are undoubtedly a pleasing sight, Miss Marteen," he smiled; "and a
+long life and a merry one to you. Your daughter does you credit, dear
+lady," he added, turning to his hostess.
+
+Dorothy, bubbling over with enthusiasm, claimed his hand again. "It was
+so sweet of you to send me that necklace in those wonderful flowers.
+See--I'm wearing it." She fondled a slender seed pearl rope at her
+throat. "Mother told me it was far too beautiful and I must send it
+back. But I was most undutiful. I said I wouldn't--just wouldn't. I know
+you picked it out for me yourself--now, didn't you?" He nodded somewhat
+whimsically. "There! I told mother so; and it would be rude, most rude,
+not to accept it--wouldn't it?"
+
+He laughed gruffly. "It certainly would--and, really, you know your
+mother has a mania for refusing things. Why, I owe her--never mind, I
+won't tell you now--but I would have felt very much hurt, Miss
+Debutante, if you'd thrown back my little present. I'm sure I selected
+something quite modest and inconspicuous.... Dear me, I'm blocking the
+whole doorway. Pardon me."
+
+He stepped back, nodding here and there to an acquaintance. Finally
+catching sight of his sister in the dining room, he joined her, and
+stood for a moment gazing at the commonplace comedy of presentations.
+
+Miss Gard yawned. "My dear Marcus, who ever heard of you attending a
+tea? Really, I didn't know you knew these people so well."
+
+Gard was glad of this opportunity. His sister had a praiseworthy manner
+of distributing his slightest word--of which he not infrequently took
+advantage.
+
+"Well, you see, I was indebted to Marteen for a number of kindnesses in
+the early days, though we'd rather drifted apart before he died--had
+some slight business differences, in fact. But I'd like to do all I can
+for his widow and that really sweet child of theirs. I have a small nest
+egg in trust for her--some investments I advised Mrs. Marteen to make.
+Who is that chap who's so devoted?" he asked suddenly, switching the
+subject, as his quick eye noted the change of Dorothy's expression under
+the admiring glances of a tall young man of athletic proportions, whose
+face seemed strangely familiar.
+
+Miss Gard lorgnetted. "That? Oh, that's only Teddy Mahr, Victor Mahr's
+son. He was a famous 'whaleback'--I think that's what they call it--on
+the Yale football team. They say that he's the one thing, besides
+himself, that the old cormorant really cares about."
+
+Marcus Gard stiffened, and his jaw protruded with a peculiar bunching of
+the cheek muscles, characteristic of him in his moments of irritation.
+He looked again at Dorothy, absorbed in the conversation of the
+"whaleback" from Yale, recognized the visitor at the Denning box, and,
+with an untranslatable grunt, abruptly took his departure, leaving his
+sister to wonder over the strangeness of his actions.
+
+Once out of the house, his anger blazed freely, and his chauffeur
+received a lecture on the driving and care of machines that was as
+undeserved as it was vigorous and emphatic.
+
+Moved by a strange mingling of anger, curiosity and jealousy, Gard's
+first act on entering his library was to telephone to a well known
+detective agency--no surprising thing on his part, for not infrequently
+he made use of their services to obtain sundry details as to the
+movements of his opponents, and when, as often happened, cranks
+threatened the thorny path of wealth and prominence, he had found
+protection with the plain clothes men.
+
+"Jordan," he growled over the wire, "I want Brencherly up here right
+away. Is he there?....All right. I want some information he may be able
+to give me offhand. If not--well, send him now."
+
+He hung up the receiver and paced the room, his eyes on the rug, his
+hands behind his back, disgusted and angry with his own anger and
+disgust.
+
+Half an hour had passed, when a young man of dapper appearance was
+ushered in. Gard looked up, frowning, into the mild blue eyes of the
+detective.
+
+"Hello, Brencherly. Know Victor Mahr?"
+
+"Yes," said the youth.
+
+"Tell me about him," snapped Gard. "Sit down."
+
+Brencherly sat. "Well, he's the head of the lumber people. Rated at six
+millions. Got one son, named Theodore; went to Yale. Wife was Mary
+Theobald, of Cincinnati--"
+
+Gard interrupted. "I don't want the 'who's who,' Brencherly, or I
+wouldn't have sent for you. I want to know the worst about him. Cut
+loose."
+
+"Well, his deals haven't been square, you know. He's had two or three
+nasty suits against him; he's got more enemies than you can shake a
+stick at. His confidential lawyer is Twickenbaur, the biggest scoundrel
+unhung. Of course nobody knows that; Twickenbaur's reputation is too
+bad--Mahr goes to _your_ lawyers, apparently."
+
+"There isn't any blackmail in any of _that_," the older man snarled.
+
+"Oh!" cried the youth, his blue eyes lighting. "Oh, it's blackmail you
+want! Well, the only thing that looks that way is a story that nobody
+has been able to substantiate. We heard it as we hear lots of things
+that don't get out; but there was a yarn that Mahr was a bigamist; that
+his first wife was living when he married Miss Theobald. She died when
+the boy was born, and in that case she was never his legal wife, and of
+course now never can be. The other woman's dead, too, they say; but
+who's to prove it? That would be a fine tale for the coin, if anyone had
+the goods to show."
+
+"I suppose the office looked that up when they got it, didn't they? Good
+for the coin, eh? What did you find?"
+
+The informant actually blushed. "You aren't accusing us, Mr. Gard!"
+
+"Accusing nothing. I know a few things, Brencherly, remember. Baker
+Allen told me your office held him up good and plenty to turn in a
+different report when his wife employed you, and you 'got the goods on
+him.' Now, don't give me any bluff. I want facts, and I pay you for
+them, don't I? Well, when you got that story, you looked it up hard,
+didn't you?"
+
+Brencherly, thoroughly cowed, nodded assent. "But we couldn't get a line
+on it anywhere. If there were any proofs, somebody else had them--that's
+all."
+
+"U'm!" said Marcus, and sat a moment silent. When he spoke again it was
+with an apparent frankness that would have deceived the devil himself.
+"See here, I'll tell you my reason for all this, so perhaps you can
+answer more intelligently. Martin Marteen was a friend of mine, and I'm
+interested in his little daughter, who has just come out. Theodore Mahr
+is attentive to her, and I'm not keen about it, and what you tell me
+about his father doesn't make me any happier. What sort of a woman is
+Mrs. Marteen--from your point of view? Of course I know her well
+socially, but what's her rating with you?"
+
+"Ai, sir," Brencherly answered promptly. "Exceptionally fine woman--very
+intelligent. I should say that, with a word from you, she ought to be
+able to handle the situation, and any girl living. But the boy's all
+right, Mr. Gard, even if Mahr isn't. And after all, there may not be a
+word of truth in that romance I spun to you. We couldn't land a thing.
+What made us think there might be something in it was that we got it
+second hand from an old servant of Mahr's. _He_ told the man that told
+us; but the old boy's gone, too."
+
+Gard rose from his chair and resumed his pacing. Brencherly remained
+seated, patiently waiting. Presently Gard turned on him.
+
+"That'll do, Brencherly. You may go; and don't let me catch you tipping
+Mahr off that I've been having you rate him, do you understand?"
+
+The detective sprang to his feet with alacrity. "Oh, no, Mr. Gard--never
+a word. You know, sir, you're one of our very best clients."
+
+Left alone, Gard sat down wearily, ran his hands through his hair, then
+held his throbbing temples between his clenched fists. Somehow, on his
+slender evidence, that was no evidence in fact, he was convinced of the
+truth of Mahr's perfidy; convinced that the lady rated A1 by the keenest
+detective bureau in the country had obtained the proofs of guilt and
+used them with the same perfect business sagacity she had used in his
+own case. It sickened him. Somehow he could forgive her handling such a
+case as his. It was purely commercial; but this other was uglier stuff.
+His soul rebelled. He would not have it so; he would not believe--and
+yet he was convinced against his own logic. He had tried to cheat the
+arithmetic when he had tried to make her extortion money an honestly
+made acquisition. And she had refused to be a party to the flimsy
+self-deception.
+
+Mrs. Marteen was a blackmailer, an extortioner--that was the truth, the
+truth that he would not let himself recognize. Her depredations probably
+had much wider scope than he guessed. He must save her from herself; he
+must somehow reach the submerged personality and awaken it to the
+hideousness of that other, the soulless, heartless automaton that
+schemed and executed crimes with mechanical exactitude. He took a long
+breath of determination, and again grinned at the farce he was playing
+for his own benefit. Through repetition he was beginning to believe in
+the fiction of his former intimacy with Marteen. True, he had known him
+slightly, had once or twice snatched a hasty luncheon in his company at
+one of his clubs; but far from liking each other, the two men had been
+fundamentally antagonistic. Neither was Dorothy an excuse for his
+peculiar state of mind. He was drawn to her with strong protective
+yearning. Her childlike beauty pleased him. He wished she were his
+daughter, or a little sister to pet and spoil. But it was not for her
+sake that he savagely longed to make the mother into something
+different, "remolded nearer to his heart's desire." Was it the woman
+herself, or her enigmatic dual personality that held him? He wished he
+knew. He found his mind divided, his emotions many and at cross
+purposes. His keen, almost clairvoyant intuition was at fault for once.
+It sent no sure signal through the fog of his troubled heart.
+
+How would it all end? Ah, how would it end? He sensed the situation as
+one of climax. It could not quietly dissolve itself and be absorbed in
+the sea of time and forgotten commonplace.
+
+As an outlet for his mental discomfort, his restless spirit busied
+itself in hating Victor Mahr. He had always disliked the man; now he
+malignantly resented his very existence; Mahr became the personification
+of the thing he most wished to forget--the victimizing power of the
+woman who had enthralled him. Gard had met the one element he could not
+control or change--the past; and his conquering soul raged at its own
+impotence.
+
+"There shall be no more of this!" he said aloud. "She sha'n't again.
+I'll--"
+
+"I'll what?" the demon in his brain jeered at him. "What will you do?
+She will not 'be under obligations.' Perhaps, even, she likes her
+strange profession; perhaps she finds the delight of battle, that you
+know so well, in pitting her wits against the brains of the mighty;
+perhaps she has a cynic soul that finds a savage joy in running down the
+faults of the seemingly faultless--running them to earth and taking her
+profit therefrom. Who are you, Marcus Gard, to cavil at the lust of
+conquest--to sneer at the controlling of destinies?"
+
+"I won't be beaten," declared his ego, "even if I have no weapon. I'll
+search till I find the way to the citadel, and if there is none open,
+I'll smash one through!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Mrs. Martin Marteen requests the pleasure of Mr. Marcus Gard's company
+at dinner"--the usual engraved invitation, with below a girlish scrawl:
+"You'll come, won't you? It's my very last dinner before we go
+South.--D."
+
+He took a stubby quill, which, for some occult reason, he preferred for
+his intimate correspondence, and scribbled: "Of course, little friend.
+The crowned heads can wait." He tossed the envelope on the pile for
+special delivery, and speared the invitation on a letter file.
+
+Two months had passed, and he was no nearer the solution of the problem
+he had set himself. His affection for the girl had deepened--become
+ratified by his experience of her sweetness and intelligence. They were
+"pally," as she put it, happily contented in each other's society. On
+the other hand, the fascination that Mrs. Marteen exercised over him was
+far from being placid enjoyment. She continued to vex his heart and
+irritate his imagination. Her tolerance of young Mahr's attentions to
+Dorothy drove him distracted, his only relief being that Miss Gard, his
+sister, swayed, as always, by his slightest wish, had developed a most
+maternal delight in Dorothy's presence, and was doing all in her power
+to make the girl's season a most successful one; also, in accord with
+his obvious desire--her influence was antagonistic to Mahr, his son and
+his motor car, his house and his flowers, everything that was his; in
+spite of which, Dorothy's manner toward Teddy Mahr was undoubtedly one
+of encouragement. Honesty compelled Gard to own that he could not find
+in the boy the echo of the objectionable sire. Perhaps the long dead
+mother, who was never a lawful wife, had, by some retributive turn of
+justice, endowed him wholly with her own qualities. Gard could almost
+find it in his breast to like the big, large-hearted, gentle boy, but
+for a final irony of fate--the son's blind adoration of his father, and
+that father's obvious but helpless dislike of the impending romance.
+Every element of contradiction seemed to be present in the tangle and to
+bind the older watchers to silence. What could anyone do or say? And
+meanwhile, in the pause before the storm, Dorothy's violet eyes smiled
+into her Teddy's brown devoted ones with tender approval.
+
+One move only had Gard made with success, and the doing thereof had
+given him supreme satisfaction. The account opened in his office in Mrs.
+Marteen's name had been transferred to Dorothy, and with such publicity
+that Mrs. Marteen was unable to raise objections. Right and left he told
+the tale of his having desired to advise the widow of his old friend, of
+his successful operations, of Mrs. Marteen's refusal to accept her just
+gains as "too great," and his determination that the account,
+transferred to the daughter, should reach its proper destination. The
+first result of his outwitting of the beneficiary was a doubling of the
+usual letters inclosing a cheque and requesting advice. The secretary
+was plainly disgusted, but Gard grimly paid the price of his checkmate,
+and by his generosity certainly precluded any accusation of favoritism.
+As he read Dorothy's note on the invitation, he chuckled at the thought
+of his own cleverness, and rejoiced in the knowledge that his débutante
+had become somewhat his ward and protégée.
+
+The bell of his private telephone rang--only his intimates had the
+number of that wire--and he raised the receiver with sudden conviction
+that the voice he would hear was Dorothy's. "Well, my dear?" he said.
+There was a little gurgle, and an obviously disguised voice replied:
+
+"And who do you think this is?"
+
+"Why, the queen of the débutantes, of course. I felt it in my bones; it
+was a pleasurable sensation."
+
+"Wrong," the voice came back, "quite wrong. This is the superintendent
+of the Old Ladies' Home, and we want autographed photographs of you for
+all the old ladies' dressers--to cheer them up, you know."
+
+"Certainly, my dear madam; they shall be sent at once. To your
+apartment, I suppose. Is there anything else?"
+
+"Yes; you might bring them yourself. Did you know that mother has been
+ordered off to Bermuda at once? The doctor says she's dreadfully run
+down. She won't let me go with her. She wants me to do a lot of things;
+and then in three weeks we all go South. Mother's doctor says she
+mustn't wait. Isn't it a bore? And Tante Lydia is coming to-day to
+chaperon me. Did you get my invitation?"
+
+Gard's heart sank. "Dear me! That's bad news. How long will your mother
+be gone?"
+
+"Oh, just the voyage and straight home again. But do come in this
+afternoon and have tea; perhaps you could persuade her to stay a week
+there--she won't obey me."
+
+"They are very insubordinate in the Old Ladies' Home. I'll drop in this
+afternoon. Good-by, my dear."
+
+He hung up the receiver and glowered. "Not well! Mrs. Marteen in the
+doctor's care!" He could not associate her perfection with illness of
+any kind. It gave him a distinct pang, and for the first time a feeling
+of protective tenderness. This instantly translated itself into a lavish
+order of violets, and a mental note to see that, her stateroom was made
+beautiful for her voyage.
+
+Adding his signature to the pile of letters that Saunders handed him
+served to pass the moments till he could officially declare himself free
+for the day and be driven to the abode of the two beings who had so
+absorbed his interest.
+
+He found Mrs. Marteen reclining on a _chaise-longue_ in her
+library-sitting room, the Pekinese spaniel in her lap and Dorothy by her
+side. She looked weary, but not ill, and Gard felt a glow of comfort.
+
+"Dear lady, I came at once. Dorothy advised me of your impending
+journey, and led me to believe you were not well. But I am
+reassured--you do not seem a drooping flower."
+
+Mrs. Marteen laughed. "How 1830! Couldn't you put it into a madrigal? It
+really is absurd, though, sending me off like this. But they threatened
+me with nerves--fancy that--nerves! And never having had an attack of
+that sort, of course I'm terrified. I shall leave my butterfly in good
+hands, however. My sister is to take my place; and I sha'n't be gone
+long, you know."
+
+"We hope not, don't we, Dorothy? What boat do you honor, and what date?"
+
+Mrs. Marteen hesitated. "I'm not sure. The _Bermudian_ sails this week.
+If I cannot go then, and that is possible, I may take the _Cecelia_, and
+make the Caribbean trip. It's a little longer, but on my return I would
+join Dorothy and Mrs. Trevor, crossing directly from Bermuda to Florida.
+It's absurd, isn't it, to play the invalid! But insomnia is really
+getting its hold on me. A good sleep would be a novelty just now, and
+bromides depress me, so--there you are! I suppose I must take the
+doctor's advice and my maid, and fly for my health's sake."
+
+In spite of the natural tone and her apparent frankness, Gard remained
+unconvinced. He could not have explained why. All his life he had found
+his intuitions superior to his logical deductions. They had led him to
+his present exalted position and had kept him there. No sooner had this
+inner self refused to accept Mrs. Marteen's story than his mind began
+supplying reasons for her departure--and the very first held him
+spellbound. Was it another move in her perpetual game? Was she on the
+track of someone's secret? Was her scheming mind now following some new
+clew that must lead to the discovery of a hidden or forgotten crime--the
+burial place of some well entombed family skeleton? He shivered.
+
+Mrs. Marteen observed him narrowly.
+
+"Mr. Gard is cold, Dorothy. Send for the tea, dear--or will you have
+something else? Really, _you_ look like the patient who should seek
+climate and rest."
+
+"Perhaps you're right," he said slowly. "Perhaps I _will_ go--perhaps
+with you. It would be pleasant to have your society for so many weeks,
+uninterrupted and almost alone. I'll think of it--if I can arrange my
+affairs."
+
+He had been watching her closely, and seemed to surprise in the depths
+of her eyes and the slow assuming of her impenetrable manner, that his
+suggestion was far from receiving approval.
+
+"But, my dear sir," she answered, "much as that would be my pleasure,
+would it be wise for you? Everyone tells me the next few weeks will be
+crucial. Your presence may be needed in Washington."
+
+"Well, I suppose it will," he retorted almost angrily. "But I've a
+pretty good idea what the result will be, and my sails are trimmed."
+
+"Then do come," she invited cordially; "it will be delightful!" She had
+read the meaning of his tone; knew quite as well as he that her words
+had brought home to him the impossibility of his leaving. She could
+afford to be pressing.
+
+More and more convinced of some ulterior motive in Mrs. Marteen's
+departure, his irritation made him gruff. Even Dorothy, seeing his
+ill-temper, retired to the far corner of the room, and eyed him with
+surprise above her embroidery. Feeling the discord of his present mood,
+he rose to take his leave.
+
+"Do arrange to come," smiled Mrs. Marteen, with just a touch of irony in
+her clear voice.
+
+"You are very kind," he answered; "but, somehow, I'm not so sure you
+want me."
+
+He bowed himself out and, sore-hearted, sought the crowded solitude of
+the Metropolitan Club. His next move was characteristic. Having got
+Gordon on the wire, he requested as complete a list as possible of the
+passengers to sail by the _Bermudian_ and the _Cecelia_. A new
+possibility had presented itself. If the psychological moment in
+someone's affairs was eventuating, something for which she had long
+planned the dénouement. That person might be sailing. If only he could
+accompany her, perhaps in the isolated world of a steamer's life, he
+might bring his will to bear--force from her a promise to cease from her
+pernicious activities, and an acceptance of his future aid in all
+financial matters--two things he had found it impossible to accomplish,
+or even propose, heretofore. But she was right; the moment was critical,
+and his presence might be necessary in Washington at any moment.
+
+When, later that night, the lists were delivered at his home, he spent a
+throbbing half-hour. There were several possibilities. Mrs. Allison was
+Bermuda bound; so was Morgan Beresford. Both had fortunes, a whispered
+past and ambitions. The Honorable Fortescue, the wealthy and impeccable
+Senator, the shining light of "practical politics," was Havana bound on
+the _Cecelia_, so was Max Brutgal, the many-millioned copper baron. Mrs.
+Allison he discarded as a possibility. He was sure that Mme. Robin Hood
+would disdain such an easy victim and refuse to hound one of her own
+sex. Looking over the list, he singled out Brutgal, if it were the
+_Cecelia_, and Beresford, if it were the _Bermudian_. Beresford was
+devoted to the lovely and somewhat severe Mrs. Claigh. He might be more
+than willing to suppress some event in his patchwork past.
+
+Gard threw the lists from him angrily. After all, what right had he to
+interfere? What business of his was it which fly was elected to feed the
+spider? He went to bed, and passed a sleepless night trying to
+determine, nevertheless, which was the doomed insect. He would have
+liked to prevent the ships from leaving the harbor, or invent a
+situation that would make it as impossible for Mrs. Marteen to leave as
+it was for him to accompany her.
+
+A few days later, when Mrs. Marteen finally announced her intention of
+departing on the longer cruise, Gard seriously contemplated a copper
+raid that would keep Brutgal at the ticker. Then he as furiously
+abandoned the idea, washed his hands of the whole affair and did not go
+near Mrs. Marteen for three days. At the end of that time, having
+thoroughly punished himself, he relented, and continued to shower the
+lady with attentions until the very moment of her final leave taking. He
+accompanied her to the steamer, saw her gasp of pleasure at the bower of
+violets prepared for her and formally accepted the post of sub-guardian
+to Dorothy.
+
+As the tugs dragged out the unwilling vessel from her berth, he caught a
+glimpse of Brutgal, his coarse, heavy face set off by an enormous
+sealskin collar, join Mrs. Marteen at the rail and bid blatantly for her
+attention. Gard turned his back, took Dorothy by the arm, and, in spite
+of her protestations, left the wharf. His motor took Tante Lydia and
+Dorothy to their apartment, where he left them with many assurances of
+his desire to be of service.
+
+He sent a wireless message and was comforted. He wondered how, in the
+old days that were only yesterdays, people could have endured separation
+without any means of communication, and he blessed the name of Marconi
+as cordially as he cursed the name of Brutgal. To exasperate him
+further, the rest of the day seemed obsessed by Victor Mahr. He was in
+the elevator that took him up to his office; he was at the club in the
+afternoon; he was a guest at the Chamber of Commerce banquet in the
+evening, and was placed opposite Marcus Gard. Despite his desire to let
+the man alone, he could not resist the temptation to talk with him.
+
+Mahr, whatever else he might be, was no fool, and even as Gard seemed a
+prey to nervous irritation, so Mahr appeared to experience a bitter
+pleasure in parrying his adversary's vicious thrusts and lunging at
+every opening in the other's arguments. Both men appeared to ease some
+inner turbulence, for they calmed down as the dinner progressed, and
+ended the evening in abstraction and silence, broken as they parted by
+Gard's sudden question:
+
+"And how's that good-looking son of yours, Mahr?"
+
+Mahr shot an underbrow glance at Gard, and took his time to answer.
+
+"If he does what I want him to," he said at last, "he'll take a year or
+two out West and learn the lumber business--and I think he will."
+
+"Good idea," said Gard curtly. "Good-night."
+
+One day of restlessness succeeded another. Ill at ease, Gard felt
+himself waiting--for what? It was the strain of anxiety, such as a miner
+feels deep in the heart of the earth, knowing that far down the black
+corridor the dynamite has been placed and the fuse laid. Why was the
+expected explosion delayed? One must not go forward to learn. One must
+sit still and wait. A thousand times he asked himself the meaning of
+this latent dread. He set it down to his suspicions of Mrs. Marteen's
+departure. Then why this fibril anxiety never to be long beyond call?
+Surely, and the demon in his brain laughed with amusement, he did not
+expect her to send him a cryptic wireless--"Everything arranged;
+operation a success; appendix removed without opposition," or "Patient
+unmanageable; must use anesthetic."
+
+Four days had passed, four miserable days, relieved only by a few
+pleasant hours with Dorothy and the enjoyment he always found in
+watching her keen delight in every entertainment. He went everywhere,
+where he felt sure of seeing her, and could he have removed Teddy Mahr
+from the obviously reserved place at Dorothy's side, he could have
+enjoyed those moments without the undercurrent of his troubled fears.
+That Mahr was rebelliously angry at the situation was evident. Gard had
+seen the look in his eyes on more than one occasion, and it boded evil
+to someone. What had he meant when he spoke of his son's probable
+absence of a year or more "to study the lumber business"? Gard
+approached the young man and found him quite innocent of any such plan.
+
+"Oh, yes," he had answered, "father's keen on my being what he calls
+practical, but," and he had smiled frankly at his questioner, "I
+wouldn't leave now--not for the proud possession of every tree, flat or
+standing, this side of the Pacific."
+
+Dorothy, when questioned, blushed and smiled and evaded, assuring Gard
+that of all the men she had met that season he alone came up to her
+ideal, and employed every artifice a woman uses between the ages of nine
+and ninety, when she does not want to give an answer that answers. The
+very character of her replies, however, convinced Gard that there was
+more than a passing interest in her preference. There was something
+sweetly ingenuous in her evasions, a softness in her violet eyes at the
+mention of Teddy's prosaic name that was not to be misunderstood. Gard
+sighed. Still the sense of impending danger oppressed him. He found
+himself neglectful of his many and vital interests. He took himself
+severely in hand, and set himself to unrelenting work, fixing his
+attention on the matters in hand as if he would drive a nail through
+them. Heavy circles appeared under his eyes, and the lines from nose to
+chin sharpened perceptibly. More than ever he looked the eagle, stern
+and remote, capable of daring the very sun in high ambitious flight, or
+of sudden and death-dealing descent; but deep in his heart fear had
+entered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+"Hello! Oh, good morning. Is that you, Teddy? Yes, you did wake me
+up--but I'm very glad. Half past ten?--good gracious!--you never
+telephone me before that?--Oh, what a whopper! You called me at half
+past eight--day before yesterday--Why, of course--I know that--but you
+did just the same. Why, yes, I'd love to. What time to-morrow? That will
+be jolly; but do have the wind-shield--I hate to be blown out of the
+car--no, it _isn't_ becoming--You're a goose!--besides, my hair tickles
+my nose. No, I haven't had a word from mother, and I don't understand it
+at all. She might have sent me a wireless. Yes, I'm awfully lonely--who
+wouldn't miss her?--Well, now, you don't have a chance to miss me
+much--Oh, really!--I'm dreadfully sorry for you!--poor old dear! Well, I
+can't, positively, to-day--to-morrow, at three; and I'll be ready--yes,
+_really_ ready. Good-by."
+
+Dorothy hung up the receiver, yawned as daintily as a Persian kitten,
+rubbed her eyes and rang the maid's bell. She smiled happily at the
+golden sunlight that crept through the slit of the drawn pink curtains.
+Another beautiful brand new day to play with, a day full of delightful,
+adventurous surprises--a débutante's luncheon, a matinée, a thé dansant,
+a dinner, too. Dorothy swung her little white feet from under the covers
+and crinkled her toes delightedly ere she thrust them in the cozy satin
+slippers that awaited them; a negligee to match, with little dangling
+bunches of blue flower buds, she threw over her shoulders with a
+delicate shiver, as the maid closed the window and admitted the full
+light of day. Hopping on one foot by way of waking up exercises, she
+crossed to the dressing-table, dabbed a brush at her touseled hair, then
+concealed it under a fluffy boudoir cap. She paused to innocently admire
+her reflection in the silver rimmed mirror, turning her head from side
+to side, the better to observe the lace frills and twisted ribbons of
+her coiffe. Breakfast arrived, steaming on its little white and chintz
+tray, and Dorothy smacked hungry lips.
+
+"Oo--oo--how perfectly lovely--crumpets! and scrambled eggs! I'm
+starved!" She settled herself, eagerly cooing over the fragrant coffee.
+"Now, if only Mother were here," she exclaimed. "It's so lonely
+breakfasting without her!"
+
+But her loneliness was not for long. An avalanche of Aunt Lydia entered
+the room, quite filling it with her fluttering presence. Tante Lydia's
+morning cap was quite as youthful as that of her niece, her flowered
+wrapper as belaced and befurbelowed as the lingière could make it, and
+her high heeled mules were at least two sizes too small, and slapped as
+she walked.
+
+"My dear," she bubbled girlishly, thrusting a stray lock of questionable
+gold beneath her cap, "I thought I'd just run in and sit with you. I've
+had my breakfast ages ago--indeed, yes--and seen the housekeeper, and
+ordered everything. It was shockingly late when we got in last night, my
+dear. I really hadn't a notion it was after three, till you came after
+me into the conservatory. That _was_ a delightful affair last night, I
+must say, even if Mrs. May _is_ so loud. She isn't stingy in the way she
+entertains, like Mrs. Best's, where we were Wednesday. That was
+positively a shabby business. Now, dear, what do we do to-day? I've just
+looked over my calendar, and I want to see yours. Really, we are so
+crowded that we've got to cut something out--we really have." As she
+spoke she crossed to Dorothy's slim-legged, satin wood writing desk, and
+picked up an engagement book. "You lunch with the Wootherspoons--that's
+good. Then I can go to the Caldens for bridge in the afternoon at four.
+You won't be back from the matinée and tea at the Van Vaughns' until
+after six, and we dine at the Belmans' at eight. That'll do very nicely.
+And then, dear, about my dress at Bendel's; I do wish you could find a
+minute to see my fitting. I can't tell whether I ought to have that
+mauve so near my face, or whether it ought to be pink; and you know that
+fitter doesn't care _how_ I look, just so she gets that gown _of_ her
+hands, and I _can't_ make up my mind--when I can't see myself at a
+distance _from_ myself, and those fitting rooms are _so_ small!"
+
+Dorothy paused in the midst of a bite. "Tante Lydia, you _know_ if she
+said 'mauve' you'd want 'pink' and 'mauve' if she said 'pink,' and all
+you really need is somebody to argue with; and, besides, they both look
+the same at night."
+
+Mrs. Mellows pouted fat pink lips, and looked more than ever an elderly
+infant about to burst into tears.
+
+"Dorothy," she sniffed, "I do think you are the most trying child! I
+only wish to look well for _your_ sake. I have no vanity--why should I
+have? It's only my desire to be presentable on your account." Her blue
+orbs suffused with tears.
+
+Dorothy leaped from the divan, to the imminent danger of the breakfast
+tray. "Now, Aunt Lydia, don't be foolish. I didn't mean to hurt your
+feelings, and, besides, you know you are the really, truly belle of the
+ball. Why, you bad thing! Where were you all last evening? Didn't I have
+to go after you--and into the conservatory, at that! And what did I
+find, pray--you and a beautiful white-haired beau, with a goatee! And
+now you say you are _only_ dressing for _me_--Oh, fie!--oh, fie!--oh,
+fie!" She kissed her aunt on a moist blue eye, and bounced back to her
+seat.
+
+The chaperon was mollified and flattered. "But, my dear," she returned
+to the charge, "you know mauve is so unbecoming; if one should become a
+trifle pale--"
+
+Dorothy snipped a bit of toast in her aunt's direction. "But, why, my
+dear Lydia," she teased, "should one ever be pale? There are first aids
+to beauty, you know--and a very _nice_ rouge can be had--"
+
+"Dorothy, how can you!" exclaimed the lady, overcome with horror.
+"Rouge! What _are_ you saying, and what _are_ young girls coming to! At
+your age, I'd never heard the word, no, indeed. And, besides, my love,
+it is indecorous of you to address me as 'Lydia.' I am your mother's
+sister, remember."
+
+Her charge giggled joyously. "Nobody would believe it, never in the
+world! You aren't one day older than I am, not a day. If you were, you
+wouldn't care whether it was mauve or pink--nor flirt in the
+conservatories."
+
+"You're teasing me!" was Mrs. Mellows' belated exclamation. "And, my
+dear, I don't think it _quite_ nice, really."
+
+The insistent call of the telephone arrested the conversation. Dorothy
+took up the receiver, and Aunt Lydia became all attention.
+
+"Hello!--Oh, it's you again--I thought I rang off--Oh, really--no, I'm
+not!"
+
+"Who is it?" questioned Aunt Lydia in a sibilant whisper.
+
+Dorothy went on talking, carefully refraining from any mention of names.
+"Yes--did you?--that's awfully kind--yes, I love violets; no, they
+haven't come, by messenger--how extravagant! No, I'm not going out
+_just_ yet--not in this get up. What color? Pink--_and_ a lace cap--a
+duck of a lace cap. Send the photographs around--Oh, _that's_ all right;
+Aunt Lydia is here--aren't you, Aunt Lydia?--Oh, oh--what a horrid
+word!--unsay it at once! All right, you're forgiven. I'm busy _all_
+day--_all, all_ day--yes, and this evening. No, orchids won't go with my
+gown to-night--don't be silly--of course, gardenias go with everything,
+but--now, what nonsense!--I'm going to hang up--Indeed, I _will_.
+Good-b--what? Now, listen to me--"
+
+A tap at the door, and Aunt Lydia, hypnotized as she was by the
+telephone conversation, had presence of mind enough to open the door and
+receive a square box tied with purple ribbon. She dexterously untied the
+loose bow knot, and withdrew from its tissue wrappings, a fragrant
+bouquet of violets. An envelope enclosing a card fell to the floor. With
+suppleness hardly to be expected from one of her years, she stooped to
+pick it up, and in a twinkling had the donor's name before her.
+
+Dorothy hung up the receiver and turned. "So you know who sent the
+flowers, and who was on the 'phone," she laughed. "Tante, you should
+have been a detective--you really should."
+
+"How can you!" almost wept Mrs. Mellows. "I only opened it to save you
+the trouble. Of course, I knew all along that it was Teddy Mahr--I
+guessed--why not? Really, Dorothy, you misinterpret my interest in you,
+really, you do."
+
+Dorothy laughed. "Now, now," she scolded, "don't say that. Here, I'll
+divide with you." She separated the fragrant bunch into its components
+of smaller bunches, snipped the purple ribbon in two, and neatly devised
+two corsage adornments. "Here," she bubbled, "one for you and one for
+me--and don't say such mean things about me any more. If you do, I'll
+tell Mother about all your flirtations the minute she gets back--I will,
+too!"
+
+"That reminds me, my dear," said Mrs. Mellows, her apple-pink face
+becoming suddenly serious, "I don't understand why we haven't had any
+news from your mother, really, I don't. She might have sent us just a
+wireless or something."
+
+"It _is_ odd." Dorothy's laugh broke off midway in a silvery chuckle.
+"But something may have gone wrong with the telegraphic apparatus, you
+know. We might get the company, and find out if any other messages have
+been received from her."
+
+"I never thought of that," exclaimed Mrs. Mellows. "You are quick
+witted, Dorothy, I will say that for you. Suppose you do find out."
+
+Dorothy turned to the telephone and made her inquiry. "There," she said
+at length, "I guessed it--no messages at all; they are sure it's out of
+order. Well, that does relieve one's mind. It isn't because she's ill,
+or anything like that. Now, Aunt Lydia, that's _my_ mail."
+
+"Why, child!" the mature Cupid protested, "_I_ wasn't going to open your
+letters. Indeed, I think you are positively insulting to me! Here,
+that's from your cousin Euphemia, I know her hand; and that's just a
+circular, I'm sure--and Tappe's bill. My dear, you've been perfectly
+foolish about hats this winter. This is a handwriting I don't know, but
+it's smart stationery--and, dear me, look at all these little cards. I
+really don't see how the postman bothers to see that they're all
+delivered; they're such little slippery things--more teas--and bridge."
+
+"And how about yours?" questioned Dorothy, amused. "What did you get?"
+
+Aunt Lydia bridled. "Oh, nothing much. Some cards, a bill or two--"
+
+"Bill or coo, you mean," said her niece with a playful clutch at her
+chaperon's lap-full of missives. "If that isn't a man's letter, I'll eat
+my cap, ribbons and all--and that one, and that one."
+
+Mrs. Mellows rose hastily, gathered her flowing negligee about her and
+beat a retreat.
+
+She turned at the door, "You're a rude little girl, and I shan't count
+on you to go to Bendel's. If you want me, I'll be here from half past
+two to four, when I go for bridge." With the air of a Christian martyr
+she betook herself to the seclusion of her own rooms.
+
+Dorothy suffered herself to be dressed as she opened her mail. Aunt
+Lydia had diagnosed it with almost psychic exactness, and its mystery
+had ceased to be interesting. Last of all she opened a plain envelope
+with typewritten directions. The enclosure, also typewritten, gave a
+first impression of an announcement of a special sale, or request for
+assistance from some charitable organization. Idly she glanced at it,
+flipped it over, and found it to be unsigned. A word or two caught her
+attention. She turned back, and read:
+
+
+
+     Miss DOROTHY MARTEEN:
+
+     "That the sins of the parents should be visited upon
+     the children is, perhaps, hard. But we feel it time for
+     you to understand thoroughly your situation, in order
+     that you may determine what your future is to be. You
+     have been reared all your life on stolen, or what is worse,
+     extorted money. We hope you have not inherited the
+     callous nature of your mother, and that this information
+     will not leave you unashamed. Not a gown you have
+     worn, nor a possession you have enjoyed, but has been
+     yours through theft. That you may verify this statement,
+     open the steel safe, back of the second panel of the
+     library wall to the left of the fireplace. The combination
+     is, 2.2.9.6.0. A button on the inner edge on the
+     right releases a spring, opening a second compartment,
+     where the material of your future luxuries is stored. A
+     look will be sufficient. I hardly think you will then
+     care to occupy the position in the lime light to which
+     you have been brought by such means. Obscurity is
+     better--perhaps,
+     even exile. Talk it over with your
+     mother. We think she will agree with us.
+
+
+The words danced before Dorothy's eyes, a sudden stopping of the heart,
+a hot flush, a painful dizziness that was at once physical and mental,
+made her clutch at the table for support. She dropped the letter, and
+stood staring at it, fascinated, as in a nightmare.
+
+An anonymous letter, a cruel, hateful, wicked atrocity! Why should she
+receive such a thing? she, who never in her whole life, had wished
+anyone ill. It couldn't be so. She had misread, misunderstood. She
+picked up the message and looked at it again. It was surely intended for
+her, there could be no mistake. Then fear came upon her. The abrupt
+entrance of the maid, carrying her hat and veil, gave her a spasm of
+panic. No one must see, no one must know. The wretched sender of this
+hideous libel must believe it ignored--never received. She thrust the
+paper hastily into the bosom of her dress. Its very contact seemed to
+burn.
+
+"That will do," she said. "I'm not going out just yet. I--I have some
+notes to write; don't bother me now."
+
+Her voice sounded strange. She glanced quickly at the maid, fearing to
+surprise a look of suspicion. It seemed impossible that that cracked
+voice of hers would pass unnoticed. But the maid bowed, carefully placed
+a pair of white gloves by the hat and jacket, and went out as if nothing
+had happened.
+
+Dorothy, left alone, stood still for a moment as if robbed of all
+volition. Then, with a suppressed cry, she dragged out the accusing
+document and carried it to the light. Who could do such a thing! Who
+would be such a lying coward! Her helplessness made her rage. Oh, to be
+able to confront this traducer, this libeler. To see him punished, to
+tell him to his face what she thought of him I Somewhere he was in the
+world, laughing to himself in the safety of his namelessness--knowing
+her futile anger and indignation--satisfied to have shamed and insulted
+her--and her mother--her great, resourceful, splendid mother, away and
+ill when this dastardly attack was made. Impulsively she turned to run
+to her aunt, and lay the matter before her, but paused and sat down on
+the little chair before her writing desk. Covering her eyes with her
+clenched hands she tried to think. Tante Lydia was worse than useless,
+scatterbrained, self-centered, incapable. What would she do? Lament and
+call all her friends in conclave; send in the police; acknowledge her
+fright, and give this nameless writer the satisfaction of knowing that
+his shaft had found its mark?
+
+Teddy! Teddy would come to her at once. But what could he do? Sympathy
+was not what she wanted; it was support and guidance. With a trembling
+hand she smoothed the paper before her and, controlling herself, reread
+every word with minutest care. But this third perusal left her more at
+sea than before. What did this enmity mean? What could have incited it?
+Why did this wretch give her such minute instructions? She knew of no
+safe in the library--could it be just possible that such a thing _did_
+exist? Could it be possible that this liar had obtained knowledge of her
+mother's private affairs to such an extent that he knew of facts that
+had remained unknown even to her?--the daughter! A new cause for fear
+loomed before her. Had this venomous enemy access to the house? Was he
+able to come and go at will, ferreting out its secrets?
+
+Dorothy turned about quickly, almost expecting to see some sinister
+shadow leering at her from the doorway, or disappearing into the
+wardrobe. Her terror had something in it of childish nightmare. Acting
+as if under a spell of compulsion, she rose and tiptoed to the door. She
+looked down the hall, and found it empty. The querulous voice of Mrs.
+Mellows came to her, raised in complaint against hooked-behind dresses.
+Like a lovely little ghost she flitted down the corridor to the library,
+paused for an instant with a beating heart, and, entering, closed the
+door with infinite precautions and shot the bolt.
+
+She was panting as if from some painful exertion. Her hands were damp
+and chill, her temples throbbed. The room seemed strange, close
+shuttered and silent, as if it sheltered the silent, unresponsive dead.
+The air was oppressive, and the light that filtered through the dim
+blinds was vague and uncanny.
+
+It was some moments before she felt herself under sufficient control to
+cross by the big Jacobean table, and face the hooded fireplace--"to the
+left, the second panel." She stared at it. To all appearances it was
+reassuringly the same as all the others. Gently she pushed it right and
+left, then up and down, but her pressure was so slight and nervous that
+it did not stir the heavy wood. She breathed a great sigh of relief, and
+beginning now to believe herself the victim of some cruel hoax, she
+dared a firmer pressure. The panel responded--moved--slid slowly behind
+its fellow--revealing the steel muzzle of a safe let into the solid
+masonry. It seemed the result of some evil witchcraft; her blood
+chilled. Yet, with renewed eagerness, she turned the combination. She
+did not need to refer to the letter, she knew it by heart--the numbers
+were seared there. The heavy door swung outward. Within she saw
+well-remembered cases of velvet and morocco. This contained her mother's
+diamond collar; that her lavallière; the emerald pendant was in the box
+of ivory velvet; the earrings and the antique diamond rings in the
+little round-topped casket, embossed and inlaid. Sliding her finger
+along the inner frame of the safe, she felt a knob, and pressed it. One
+side of the receptacle clicked open, revealing an inner compartment.
+
+Then panic seized her. She could never recall shutting the safe door and
+replacing the panel, the movements were automatic. She was out of the
+library and running down the corridor before she realized it. Once more
+in the sanctuary of her own room, she threw herself upon the bed, buried
+her face in the tumbled pillow and gasped for breath.
+
+"What shall I do!--what shall I do!" she moaned aloud. "I'm afraid--Oh,
+I'm afraid!" like a little child crying in the night in the awful
+isolation of an empty house. Suddenly she sat up. The tears dried upon
+her curved lashes. Of course, of course--Mr. Gard, her friend, her
+mother's friend. The very thought of him steadied her. The terrified
+child of her untried self, vanished before the coming of a new and
+active womanhood. She thought quickly and clearly. "He would be at his
+office," she reasoned. "He had mentioned an important meeting. She would
+go there at once--cancelling her luncheon engagement on the ground of
+some simple ailment. Tante Lydia must not know. Once let Gard, with his
+master grip, control the situation, and she would feel safe as in a
+walled castle strongly defended. A tower of strength--a tower of
+strength." She repeated the words to herself as if they were a talisman.
+She felt as if, from afar, her mother had counseled her. She would go to
+him. It was the right thing, the only thing to do.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+The morning of the fifth day since Mrs. Marteen's departure found Gard
+in early consultation in the directors' room of his Wall Street office,
+facing a board of directors with but one opinion--he must go at once to
+Washington. Strangely enough, the plan met with stubborn resistance from
+his inner self. There was every reason for his going, but he did not
+want to go. His advisers and fellow directors looked in amazement as
+they saw him hesitate, and for once the Great Man was at a loss to
+explain. He knew, and they knew, that there was nothing that should
+detain him, nothing that could by any twist be construed into a valid
+excuse for refusal. He amazed himself and them by abruptly rising from
+his seat, bunching the muscles of his jaw in evident antagonism and
+hurling at them his ultimatum in a voice of defiance.
+
+"Of course, gentlemen, it is evident that I must go, and I will. The
+situation requires it. But I ask you to name someone else--the
+vice-president, and you, Corrighan--in case something arises to prevent
+my leaving the city."
+
+Langley, the lawyer, rose protesting.
+
+"But, Mr. Gard, no one _can_ take your place. It's the penalty, perhaps,
+of being what and who you are, but the honor of your responsibilities
+demands it. There is more at stake than your own interests, or the
+interest of your friends. There's the public, your stockholders. You owe
+it to them and to yourself to shoulder this responsibility without any
+'ifs,' 'ands' or 'buts.'"
+
+Gard turned as if to rend him. "I have told you I'll go, haven't I?
+But--and there _is_ a but--gentlemen, you must select another delegate,
+or delegation, in case circumstances arise--"
+
+Denning's voice interrupted from the end of the table. "Gard, what
+excuse is the only excuse for not returning one's partner's lead? Sudden
+death."
+
+"Or when you _must_ have the lead yourself," snapped Gard. "I cannot go
+into this matter with you, gentlemen. The contingency I speak of is very
+remote--if it is a contingency at all. But I must be frank. I cannot
+have you take my enforced absence, if such should be necessary, as
+defalcation or a shirking of my duty--so I warn you."
+
+"The chance is remote," Denning replied in quiet tones that palliated.
+"Let us decide, then, who, in case this vague possibility should shape
+itself, will act as delegates. I do not think we can improve on the
+president's suggestion, but," and he turned to Gard sternly, "I trust
+the contingency is _so_ remote that we may consider it an impossibility
+for all our sakes, and your own."
+
+Gard did not answer. In silence he heard the motion carried, and
+silently and without his usual affability he turned and left the room.
+The others eyed each other with open discomfiture.
+
+"Well, gentlemen, the meeting is over," said Denning gloomily. "We may
+as well adjourn."
+
+A very puzzled and uneasy group dispersed before the tall marble office
+building, while in his own private office Gard paced the floor, from
+time to time punching the open palm of his left hand with the clenched
+fist of his right, in fury at himself.
+
+"Am I mad--am I mad?" he repeated mechanically. "Has the devil gotten
+into me?" His confidential clerk knocked, and seeing the Great Man's
+face, paused in trepidation. "What is it? What is it?" snapped Gard.
+
+"There's Brenchcrly, sir, in the outer office. He wouldn't give his
+message--said you'd want to see him in private; so I ventured--"
+
+"Brencherly!" Gard's heart missed a beat. He stopped short. He felt the
+mysterious dread from which he had suffered to be shaping itself from
+the darkness of uncertainty. "Show him in," he ordered, and, turning to
+the window, gazed blindly out, centering his self-control. "Well?" he
+said without turning, as he heard the door open and close again.
+
+"Mr. Gard," came the quiet voice of the detective, "I've a piece of
+information, that, from what you told me the other day, I thought might
+interest you. I have found out that Mr. Mahr is making every effort to
+find out the combination of Mrs. Marteen's private safe."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Yes. I learned it from one of the men in the Cole agency. Mr. Mahr
+didn't come to us. I'm not betraying any trust, you see. It was Balling,
+one of the cleverest men they've got, but he drinks. I was out with him
+last night, and he let it out; he said it was the rummiest job they'd
+had in a long day, and that his chief wouldn't have taken it, but he had
+a lot of commissions from Mahr, and I guess, besides, he gave some
+reason for wanting it that sort of squared him. Anyhow, that's how it
+stands."
+
+"Have they got it?" Gard demanded.
+
+"No, they hadn't, but he said they expected to land it O.K. They know
+the make, and they've got access to the company's books, and the
+company's people, and if she hasn't changed the combination lately,
+they'll land that all right. I tried to find out if they'd put anyone
+into the apartment, but Balling sobered up a bit by that time and shut
+down on the talk. But it's dollars to doughnuts he's after something,
+and they've put a flattie around somewhere. Of course I don't know how
+this frames up with what you told me about young Mahr, but I thought you
+might dope it out, perhaps."
+
+Gard sat down before his writing table, and wrote out a substantial
+cheque.
+
+"There, Brencherly, that's for you. Thank you. Now I put you on this
+officially. Find out for me, if you can, if they have put anyone in the
+house. Find out what they're after. Anything at all that concerns this
+matter is of interest to me. Put a man to shadow Balling; have a watch
+put on anyone you think is acting for Mahr. I will take it upon myself
+to have the combination changed. I'll send a message to Mrs. Marteen."
+
+Brencherly shook his head. "If you do that they'll tumble to you, Mr.
+Gard. It's an even chance Mr. Mahr would have any messages reported. He
+could, you know; he's a pretty important stockholder in the transmission
+companies. You'd better have a watchman or an alarm attachment on the
+safe, if you can."
+
+Gard sat silent. He was reasoning out the motive of Mahr's move. Did
+Mrs. Marteen still retain evidence against him which he was anxious to
+obtain during her absence? It seemed the obvious conclusion, and yet
+there was the possibility that Mahr contemplated vengeance, that in the
+safe he hoped to obtain evidence against Mrs. Marteen herself that would
+put her into his hands. On the whole, that seemed the most likely
+explanation, and one that offered such possibilities that he ground his
+teeth. He was roused from his reverie by Brencherly's hesitating voice.
+
+"I think, Mr. Gard, I'd better go at once. I want to get a trailer after
+Balling, and if I'm a good guesser, we haven't any time to lose."
+
+"You're right; go on. I was thinking what precautions had best be taken
+at Mrs. Marteen's home. I'll plan that--you do the rest. Good-by."
+
+Brencherly sidled to the door, bowed and disappeared.
+
+The telephone bell on the table rang sharply. Gard took down the
+receiver absently, but the voice that trembled over the wire startled
+him like an electric shock. It was Dorothy's, but changed almost beyond
+recognition, a frightened, uncertain little treble.
+
+"Is this Mr. Gard?" A sigh of relief greeted his affirmative. "Please,
+please, Mr. Gard, can I see you right away?"
+
+"Where are you, Dorothy? Of course; I'm at your service always. What is
+it?" he asked, conscious that his own voice betrayed his agitation.
+
+"I'm downstairs, in the building. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Mind! Come up at once--or I'll send down for you."
+
+"No--I'm coming now; thank you so much."
+
+The receiver clicked, and Gard, anxious and puzzled, pressed the desk
+button for his man.
+
+"Miss Marteen is coming. Show her in here."
+
+A moment later Dorothy entered. Her face was pale and her eyes seemed
+doubled in size. She sat down in the chair he advanced for her, as if no
+longer able to stand erect, gave a little gasp and burst into tears.
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy!" begged Gard, distressed beyond measure. "Come, come,
+little girl, what is the matter? Tell me!"
+
+She continued to sob, but reaching blindly for his hand, seemed to find
+encouragement and assurance in his firm clasp. At last she steadied
+herself, wiped her eyes and faced him.
+
+"This morning," she began faintly, "a messenger brought this." From an
+inner pocket she took out a crumpled letter, and laid it on the table.
+"I didn't know what to do. Read it--read it!" she blazed. "It's too
+horrid--too cowardly--too wicked!"
+
+He picked up the envelope. It was directed to Dorothy in typewritten
+characters. The paper was of the cheapest. He withdrew the enclosure,
+closely covered with typewriting, glanced over the four pages and turned
+to the end. Then he read through.
+
+Gard crushed the letter in his hand in a frenzy of fury. So this--this
+was Mahr's objective, this the cowardly vengeance his despicable mind
+had evolved! He would strike his enemy through the heart of a child--he
+would humiliate the girl so that, with shame and horror, she would turn
+away from all that life held for her! He knew that if the bolt found
+lodgment in her heart she would consider herself a thing too low, too
+smirched, to face her world. The marriage, that Mahr feared and hated,
+would never take place. Doubtless that evidence which Mrs. Marteen had
+once wielded was now in his possession and with all precautions taken he
+was fearless of any retaliation. The obscurity and exile he suggested
+would be sought as the only issue from intolerable conditions. No, no, a
+thousand times no! Mahr had leveled his stroke at a defenseless girl,
+but the weapon that should parry it would be wielded by a man's strong
+arm, backed by all the resources of brain and wealth.
+
+As these thoughts raced through his mind, he had been standing erect and
+silent, his eyes staring at the paper that crackled in his clenched
+fist. Dorothy's voice sounded far away repeating something. It was not
+till a strange hysterical note crept into her voice that he realized
+what she was saying.
+
+"Speak to me, please! What shall I do? What ought I to do? Tell me, tell
+me!"
+
+"Do?" he exclaimed. "Do? Why, nothing, my dear. It's a damnable,
+treacherous snake-in-the-grass lie! Shake it out of your pretty head,
+and leave me to trace this thing and deal with the scoundrel who wrote
+it; and I'll promise you, my dear, that it will be such punishment as
+will satisfy _me_--and I am not easily satisfied."
+
+Dorothy rose from the table. "Mr. Gard," she whispered, "you won't think
+badly of me, will you, if I tell you something? And you will believe it
+wasn't because I believed one word of that detestable thing that I did
+what I did--you promise me that?"
+
+He could feel his face grow ashen, but his voice was very gentle. "What
+was it, my dear? Of course I know you couldn't have noticed such a vile
+slander. What do you want to tell me?"
+
+"I was frightened." Dorothy raised brimming eyes to his, pleading excuse
+for what she felt must seem lack of faith. "I felt as if the house were
+filled with dangerous people. I wanted to see how much they really knew.
+I never heard mother speak of the safe in the library. I didn't want to
+speak to Tante Lydia. I--"
+
+Gard's heart stood still. "You went to the library and located the
+safe--and then?"
+
+"The combination they give is the right one--I opened it with that. Then
+I was so terrified that anyone--a wicked person like that--could know so
+much about things in our house--I slammed it shut and ran away. I could
+not stay in the house another minute. I felt as if I were suffocating."
+
+The sigh that he drew was one of immeasurable relief. "Well, you are
+awake now, my dear, and the goblin sha'n't chase you any more. But I'm
+greatly troubled about what you tell me, about your having opened the
+safe. I want you to come with me now. Is your aunt home? Yes? Well, I'll
+telephone my sister to call for her and take her out somewhere. Then
+we'll return, and I will take all the responsibility of what I think
+it's best to do. One thing is quite evident: your mother's valuables are
+not safe, if they haven't already been tampered with and stolen. You
+see--well, I'll explain as we go. I'll get rid of Mrs. Mellows first."
+
+A few telephone calls arranged matters, and a message brought his motor
+from its neighboring waiting place. "You see," he continued, as the
+machine throbbed its way northward, "there are several possibilities.
+One is, that this anonymous person is mad. In that case, we can't take
+too many precautions. The ingenuity of the insane is proverbial. Then,
+this may be a vicious vengeance; someone who hates your splendid mother,
+and would hurt her through you. You can see that if you had believed
+this detestable story it would have broken her heart. Now such a person,
+hoping that you would investigate, would have been quite capable of
+stocking your mother's secret compartment with stuff that at the first
+glance would have seemed to substantiate the story. You see, they knew
+all about the combination and the inner compartment, and they must have
+had access to your home. They probably took you for a silly little fool,
+full of curiosity, and counted on the shock of falling into their trap
+being so great that you would be in no condition to reason matters out;
+that you and your mother would be hopelessly estranged, or at least that
+you would so hurt and distress her that they could gloat over her
+unhappiness. You know you are the one thing she loves in all the world,
+Dorothy."
+
+He had talked looking straight ahead of him, striving to give his words
+judicial weight. Now he glanced down at Dorothy's face. It was calm, and
+a little color was returning to her cheeks. She pressed his hand
+fervently.
+
+"But it's so wicked!" she repeated. "It frightens me to think of such
+viciousness so near to us, and we don't know and can't guess who it is."
+
+"We'll find a clew. I'll have detectives to watch the house, and to
+trace the messenger who brought that letter, if possible. Say nothing to
+anyone, not even to Tante Lydia. Perhaps it would be best not to worry
+your mother at all about it. She's not well, you see. In the meantime,
+I'm going to take everything out of the safe, and transfer it to my own.
+I'll make a list. Then we'll change the combination."
+
+"Oh, I wish I'd come to you the very first minute," sighed Dorothy.
+"You're such a tower of strength, and you make everything so easy and
+simple. I'm ashamed of my fright, and my crying like a baby. You are so
+good to me--I--I just love you."
+
+For a second she rested her head on his shoulder with an abandon of
+childlike confidence, and his heart thrilled. His inner consciousness,
+however, warned him that a deeper motive than his desire to save Dorothy
+actuated him--he must shield the mother from the danger that had
+threatened the one vulnerable point in her armor of indifference, the
+love and respect of her child.
+
+At the apartment, inquiry for Aunt Lydia elicited the information that
+the lady had that moment left in company with Miss Gard, and the two
+conspirators proceeded alone to the library.
+
+Gard closed the door, drew the heavy leather curtain, and turned
+questioningly to Dorothy. With slow, reluctant movements she approached
+the wall, released the panel and exposed the front of the safe. With
+inexpert fingers, she set the combination and pulled back the door.
+
+"Where is the spring?" demanded Gard. He could not bear to have her
+touch what might lie behind the second partition. "Here, dear, take out
+these jewel cases and see if they are all right." He swept the velvet
+and morocco boxes into her hands, and felt better as he heard their
+clattering fall upon the table. He paused, listening for an instant to
+the beating of his own heart. He pressed the spring, and with swimming
+eyes looked at what the shelves revealed. "Dorothy," he called, and his
+voice was brittle as thin glass, "take a pencil and make a list as I
+dictate: One package of government bonds; a sheaf of bills, marked
+$2,000; two small boxes, wrapped and sealed; three large envelopes,
+sealed; two vouchers pinned together. Have you got that? I'll take
+possession for the present. Make a copy of that list for me." He snapped
+fast the inner door, and turned as he thrust the last of the packets
+into an inner pocket. "Now, thank you, my dear; and how about the
+valuables?"
+
+"There's nothing missing," said Dorothy, handing him a written slip,
+"except things I know mother took with her. So robbery wasn't the
+motive. I think you must be right. It's some crank. But, oh, if you only
+knew how afraid I am to stay here! I'm afraid of my own shadow; I'm
+afraid of the clock chimes; when the telephone rings I'm in a panic.
+Don't you think I could go away somewhere, with Tante Lydia--just go
+away?"
+
+Gard grasped at the suggestion. He could be sure that she would be
+beyond the reach of Mahr and his poisonous vengeance until he had time
+to crush him once and for all.
+
+"Yes," he nodded, "you should go away. This crank may be dangerous. We
+know he is cunning. You should go with your chaperon--say nothing about
+where to anyone, not to a soul, mind; not to the servants here, not even
+to Teddy Mahr. Just run down incognito to Atlantic City or Lakewood, or
+better still, to some little place where you are not known. Write your
+polite little notes, and say your first season has been too strenuous,
+and run away. When can you go? To-night? To-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes, I could be ready to-night; but what shall we say to Tante Lydia?"
+
+"Half the truth," he answered. "I'll take the responsibility. I'll tell
+her I've been informed by my private people that an anonymous person has
+been threatening you; that they are trying to locate him; and that as he
+is known to be dangerous, I've advised your leaving at once and quietly.
+I'll tell her a few of my experiences in that line, that will make her
+believe that 'discretion is the better part of valor.'" He laughed
+bitterly. "The kind attentions I've had in the way of infernal machines
+and threats by telephone and letter. And I see only a few, you know.
+What my secretaries stop and the police get on to besides would exhaust
+one. It's the penalty of the limelight, my dear. But don't take this too
+seriously. I'll have everything in hand in a day or two. Now I'm off to
+put your mother's valuables in a place of safety. Let's stow those jewel
+cases in a handbag. Can you lend me one?" She left the room and returned
+presently with a traveling case, into which Gard tossed the elaborate
+boxes without ceremony. "I've been thinking," he said presently, "that
+my sister's place in Westchester is open. She goes down often for week
+ends. There's a train at eight that will get you in by nine-thirty, and
+I can telephone instructions to meet you and have everything ready. If
+you motored down, you see, the chauffeur would know and you must be
+quite incognito. It'll be dead quiet, my dear, but you need a rest, and
+we can keep in touch with one another so easily."
+
+Dorothy leaned forward and gazed at him with burning eyes. "You are so
+good," she murmured. "Of course I'll go. I know mother would want me
+to--don't you think so?"
+
+He smiled grimly. "I'm certain she would. Now here are your directions;
+I'll attend to all the rest. All you have to do is pack. I'll send for
+you." He wrote for a moment, handed Dorothy the slip and began a note of
+explanation for Mrs. Mellows. "There," he said, as he handed over the
+missive for Dorothy's approval, "that covers the case. And now, my dear,
+the rest is my affair, and whoever he is--may God have mercy on his
+soul!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Early on the morning following Dorothy's hurried departure, Marcus Gard,
+having dismissed his valet, was finishing his dressing in the presence
+of Brencherly.
+
+"I tried to get you last night," he rasped; "anyhow, you're here. What
+have you to report to me?"
+
+Brencherly shook his head. "As far as I can learn, sir, there's nobody
+slipped in the Marteen place, sir. All the information about the safe
+they have they got from the manufacturers and the people who installed
+it--only a short time ago."
+
+Gard frowned. "Well, I happen to know they got what they were after in
+the way of information. But I took the liberty of being custodian of the
+contents of that strong box--with Miss Marteen's permission, of
+course--so there is nothing more to be done in that direction. Now, have
+you had a man trailing Mahr? What I want is an interview with him in
+informal and quiet surroundings, with a view to clearing the matter up,
+you understand. But I'd rather not ask him for a meeting. All I know
+about his mode of life is: Metropolitan Club after five, usually; the
+Opera Monday nights. Neither of these habits will assist me in the
+least. I want by to-morrow a pretty good list of his engagements and a
+general map of his day--or perhaps you know enough now to oblige me with
+that information."
+
+Brencherly cast an inquisitive look at Gard. He had never accepted
+Gard's explanation of his interest in Mahr's affairs.
+
+"Well," he began slowly, "I put our men on the other end of the
+case--Balling, the Essex Safe Company and all that, and I went after
+Mahr myself. I think I can give you a fair idea of his daily life. He's
+at the office early--before nine, usually--and by twelve he's off,
+unless something unusual happens. He lunches with a club of men, as I
+guess you know. He goes for an hour to Tim McCurdy's, the ex-pugilist,
+for training. Then he's home for an hour with his secretary, going over
+private business and correspondence. Then he goes to the club for
+bridge, and in the evening he's usually out somewhere--any place that's
+A1 with the crowd. His son he has tied as tight to the office as any
+tenpenny clerk; doesn't get off till after five, and then he makes a
+beeline for the Marteens' or goes wherever he'll find the girl. I
+think--but, perhaps you know best." He paused, with one of his
+characteristic shuffles.
+
+Gard noted the sign and interpreted it correctly.
+
+"If you've got a good idea, it's worth your while," he said shortly.
+
+Brencherly blushed as guilelessly as a girl. "Oh, it's nothing, only I
+think--perhaps if you want to see him alone, you might pretend some
+business and go to his house about the time he's there every afternoon."
+
+"And discuss our affairs before a secretary?" sneered Gard. "You can bet
+Mahr'd have him in the office--I know his way."
+
+"Well, his den is pretty near sound-proof, like yours, sir. And besides,
+I could arrange with Mr. Long, the secretary, to have a headache, or a
+bad fall, or any little thing, the day you might mention--he's a
+personal friend of mine."
+
+"Well, just now I don't much care how you manage it. What I want is that
+interview. Is your friend, Mr. Long, a confidential secretary?"
+
+"I don't think," said Brencherly demurely, "that Mr. Mahr is very
+confidential even to himself."
+
+"Could you reach him--Mr. Long, I mean--at any time?" asked Gard--he was
+planning rapidly.
+
+The detective nodded toward the telephone.
+
+"Well," growled his employer, "could your man suggest to Mahr that he
+had had wind of something in Cosmopolitan Telephone? I'll see that
+there's a move to corroborate it by noon to-day, if Long gets in his tip
+early. And suggest, too, that I'm sore because he bought the Heim
+Vandyke; but that if he asked me to come and see it, I'd go, and he
+might have a chance to pump me. I happen to know that Mahr is in the
+telephone pool up to his eyes, and he'd do anything to get into quick
+communication with me. He is probably going to the club to-day, and I'll
+not be there--see?"
+
+Brencherly shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, if things turn
+out--um--fishy, Long loses his job. But he's a good man to have well
+placed. I guess we could land him a berth."
+
+Gard sickened. He could read the detective's secret satisfaction in the
+association of that "we" in a shady transaction. Naturally, to have a
+man on whom they "had something" in a place of trust might be a great
+asset.
+
+"Long will be taken care of," he snapped, replacing his scarf pin for
+the twentieth time, and making an unspoken promise to himself to send
+the secretary so far away from the scene of Brencherly's activities that
+he would at least have a chance to begin life anew without fear of the
+past.
+
+"May I?" queried Brencherly, with a jerk of his head toward the
+telephone.
+
+"Rather you didn't--from here. Go out, get your man and tell me when he
+will tip Mahr. That means my orders in the Street. Tell him there is
+news of federal action. I drop out enough stock to sink the quotations a
+few points--it's the truth, too, hang it! But it won't get very far."
+
+A crafty smile curled the detective's lips as he rose to go. "Very good,
+sir. We'll pull it off all right. I suppose the office will find you?"
+
+"Yes," said Gard. "And I see you intend to take a flier on your inside
+information. Well, all I say is, don't hang on too long. Get busy now;
+there's no time to waste."
+
+He rang for his valet to show the man out, descended to the dining room,
+dispatched his simple breakfast and turned his face and thoughts
+officeward. With that move came the thought of Washington. He cast it
+from him angrily, yet when the swirl of business affairs closed around
+him he experienced a certain pleasure and relief in stemming its tides
+and battling with its current. True, the current was swift and boded the
+whirlpool, but the rage that was in him seemed to give him added
+strength, added foresight. At least in this struggle he was gaining,
+mastering the flood and directing it to his will. Would his mastery be
+proven in this other and more personal affair? He set his teeth and
+redoubled his efforts, intent on proving his own power to himself. Even
+as Napoleon believed in his star, Gard trusted in his luck, and it was
+with a smothered laugh of sardonic satisfaction that news of the first
+move in his campaign came over the wire.
+
+"My man has tipped his hand," came Brencherly's voice. "The other one is
+more than interested--excited. Make your cast and you get a bite on your
+picture bait."
+
+Gard telephoned his orders to several brokers to sell and sell quickly
+and make no secret of it, then returned to work with a laugh upon his
+lips.
+
+Contrary to his habit he remained in his office during the luncheon
+hour, having a tray sent in. He was to remain invisible. Mahr would
+doubtless make every effort to find him by what might appear accident.
+Later a message, asking him to join a bridge game at the Metropolitan
+Club, caused him to chuckle. His would-be host was a friend of Mahr's.
+He answered curtly that he was sick of wasting his time at cards, and
+had decided to drop it for a while, hanging up the receiver so abruptly
+that the conversation ceased in the midst of a word. An hour later Mahr
+addressed him over the wire.
+
+"Ah, Gard, is that you? I called you up to tell you the Heim Vandyke has
+just been sent up to me. I hear you were interested in it yourself,
+though you saw only the photograph. Don't you want to stop in on your
+way uptown and see it? It's a gem. You'll be sorry you didn't bid on it.
+But, joking aside, you're the connoisseur whose opinion I want. I don't
+give a continental about the dealers; they'll fill you up with
+anything." Gard growled a brief acceptance. "I'll be glad to see you.
+Good-by."
+
+Abruptly he terminated his interviews and conferences, adjourning all
+business till the following day. Mentioning an hour when, if necessary,
+he might be found in his home, he dismissed his officials, slipped into
+his overcoat, secured his hat, turned at the door of his private office,
+muttering something about his stick, and, quickly crossing the room,
+opened a drawer of his writing table and drew forth a small, snub-nosed
+revolver. He hesitated a moment, tossed it back, and squaring his
+shoulders strode from the room.
+
+Half an hour later he entered the spacious lobby of Victor Mahr's
+ostentatious dwelling.
+
+"Mr. Mahr is expecting you, sir," said the solemn servant, who conducted
+him to a vast anteroom, hung with trophies of armor, and bowed him into
+a second room, book-lined and businesslike, evidently the secretary's
+private office, deserted now and in some confusion, as if the occupant
+had left in haste. The servant crossed to a door opposite, and having
+discreetly knocked and announced the distinguished visitor, bowed and
+retired. The lackey would have taken Gard's overcoat and hat, but he
+retained his hold upon them, as if determined that his stay should be
+short.
+
+Mahr rose to greet him, his hand extended. Gard's impedimenta seemed to
+preclude the handshake, and the host hastened to insist upon his guest
+being relieved.
+
+Gard shook his head. "I have only a moment to inspect your picture,
+Mahr," he said coldly.
+
+"Oh, no, don't say that. Have a highball; you will find everything on
+the table. What can I give you? This Scotch is excellent."
+
+"No," said Gard sternly. "Excuse me; I am here for one purpose."
+
+Mahr was chagrined, but switched on the electric lights above the canvas
+occupying the place of honor on the crowded wall. The portrait stood
+revealed, a jewel of color, rich as a ruby, mysterious as an autumn
+night, vivid in its humanity, divine in its art, palpitating with life,
+yet remote as death itself. The marvelous canvas glowed before them--a
+thing to quell anger, to stifle love, to still hate itself in an impulse
+of admiration.
+
+Suddenly Marcus Gard began to laugh, as he had laughed that day long
+ago, at his own discomfiture.
+
+"What is it?" stuttered Mahr, amazed. "Don't you think it genuine?"
+There was panic in his tone.
+
+Gard laughed again, then broke off as suddenly as he had begun; and
+passion thrilled in his voice as he turned fierce eyes upon his enemy.
+
+"I am laughing at the singular role this painting has played in my life.
+We have met before--the Heim Vandyke and I. If Fate chooses to turn
+painter, we must grind his colors, I suppose. But what I intend to grind
+first, is you, Victor Mahr! You--you cowardly hound! No--stand where you
+are; don't go near that bell. It's hard enough for me to keep my hands
+off you as it is!"
+
+The attack had been so unexpected that Mahr was honestly at a loss to
+account for it. He looked anxiously toward the door, remembered the
+absence of his secretary and gasped in fear. He was at the mercy of the
+madman. With an effort he mastered his terror.
+
+"Don't be angry," he stammered. "Don't be annoyed with me; it's all a
+mistake, you know. Are you--are you feeling quite well? Do let me give
+you something--a--a glass of champagne, perhaps. I'll call a servant."
+
+Gard's smile was so cruel that Mahr's worst fears were confirmed. But
+the torrent of accusation that burst from Gard's lips bore him down with
+the consciousness of the other's knowledge.
+
+"You scoundrel!" roared the enraged man. "You squirming, poisonous
+snake! You would strike at a woman through her daughter, would you! You
+would send anonymous letters to a child about her mother! You would hire
+sneaks for your sneaking vileness!--coward, brute that you are! Well, I
+know it all--_all_, I say. And as true as I live, if ever you make one
+move in that direction again, I shall find it out, and I will kill you!
+But first I'll go to your boy, Victor Mahr, and I shall tell him: 'Your
+father is a criminal--a bigamist. Your mother never was his wife. Sneak
+and beast from first to last, he found it easier to desert and deceive.
+You are the nameless child of an outcast father, the whelp of a cur.'
+I'll say in your own words, Victor Mahr: 'Obscurity is best, perhaps,
+even exile.' Do you remember those words? Well, never forget them again
+as long as you live, or, by God, you'll have no time on earth to make
+your peace!"
+
+Mahr's face was gray; his hands trembled. He looked at that moment as if
+the death the other threatened was already come upon him. There was a
+moment of silence, intense, charged with the electricity of emotions--a
+silence more sinister than the noise of battles. Twice Mahr attempted to
+speak, but no sound came from his contracted throat. Slowly he pulled
+himself together. A look awful, inhuman, flashed over his convulsed
+features. Words came at last, high, cackling and cracked, like the voice
+of senility.
+
+"It's you--it's _you_!" he quavered. "So she told you everything, did
+she? So you and she--"
+
+The sentence ended in a hoarse gasp, as Mahr launched himself at Gard
+with the spring of an animal goaded beyond endurance.
+
+Gard was the larger man, and his wrath had been long demanding
+expression. They closed with a jar that rocked the electric lamp on the
+desk. There was a second of straining and uncertainty. Then with a jerk
+Gard lifted his adversary clear off his feet, and shook him, shook him
+with the fury of a bulldog, and as relentlessly. Then, as if the
+temptation to murder was more than he could longer resist, he flung him
+from him.
+
+Mahr fell full length upon the heavy rug, limp and inert, yet conscious.
+
+Gard stooped, picked up his hat and gloves from where they had fallen
+and turned upon his heel.
+
+At that moment the outside door of the secretary's office opened and
+closed, and footsteps sounded in the room beyond.
+
+"Get up," said Gard quietly, "unless you care to have them see you
+there."
+
+The sound had acted like magic upon the prostrate man. He did not need
+the admonition. He had already dragged his shaking body to an upright
+position, ere he slowly sank down into the embrace of one of the huge
+armchairs.
+
+A quick knock was followed by the appearance of Teddy Mahr. The room was
+in darkness save for the light on the table and the clustered radiance
+concentrated upon the glowing portrait, that had smiled down remote and
+serene upon the scene just enacted, as it had doubtless gazed upon many
+another as strange.
+
+"Father!" exclaimed the boy, and as he came within the ring of light,
+his face showed pale and anxious.
+
+Gard did not give him time for a reply. "Good evening," he said. "I have
+been admiring the Vandyke. A wonderful canvas, and one thing that your
+father may well be proud of."
+
+At the sound of the voice the young man turned and advanced with an
+exclamation of welcome. "Mr. Gard, the very one I most wanted to see.
+Tell me--what is the matter? Where has Dorothy gone? I've been to the
+house, and either they don't know or they won't tell me. She didn't let
+me know. I can't understand it. For heaven's sake, tell me! Nothing is
+wrong, is there?"
+
+"Why, of course, you should know, Teddy." For the first time he used the
+familiar term. "I quite forgot about you young people. You see, Dorothy
+received threatening letters from some crank, and as we weren't sure
+what might occur I sent her off. _Mahr, shall I tell your son?_"
+
+He turned to where the limp figure showed huddled in the depths of red
+upholstery. There was a question and a threat in the measured words.
+
+"Of course, tell him Miss Marteen's address," and in that answer there
+was a prayer.
+
+"Then here." Gard wrote a few words on his card and gave it into the
+boy's eager hand. "Run up and see her. She's with her aunt. I can bring
+her home any time now, however. We've located the trouble and got the
+man under restraint. Good-night."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Though the heat in the Pullman was intense the tall woman in the first
+seat was heavily veiled. She had come out from the drawing room to allow
+more freedom to her maid, who was packing a dressing-case and rolling up
+steamer rugs. Her fellow travelers eyed her with curiosity. She was
+doubtless some great and exclusive personage, for she had not appeared
+in public, not even in the diner. She sank into the vacant seat with an
+air of hopeless weariness, yet her restless hands never ceased their
+groping, her slim fingers slipped in and out, in and out of the loop of
+her long neck chain, or nervously twined one with another in endless
+intertouch.
+
+The long journey north was over at last. The weary days and nights of
+hurried travel. Only a moment more and the familiar sights and sounds of
+the great city would greet her once again. She was going home--to what?
+Mrs. Marteen did not dare to picture the future. Pursued, as if by the
+Furies themselves, she had been driven, madly, blind with suffering,
+back to the scene of disaster--to know--to know--the worst, perhaps--but
+to know!
+
+Day and night, night and day, her iron will had fought the fever that
+burned in her veins. Silent, self-controlled, she had given no sign of
+her suffering and her terror, though her eyes were ringed with
+sleeplessness and her mouth had grown stiff with its effort to command.
+The tension was torture. Her heart strings were drawn to the snapping
+point; her mind was a bowstring never relaxed, till every fiber of her
+resistant body ached for relief.
+
+At last they had arrived. At last the hollow rumble of the train in the
+vast echoing station warned her of her journey's end. Instinctively she
+gave her orders, thrusting her baggage checks into the hands of her
+maid.
+
+"I'm going on at once," she said. "Attend to everything. Give me my
+little nécessaire. I don't feel quite well, and I want to get home as
+quickly as possible."
+
+She hurried away before the servant could ask a question, and was
+directed to the open cab stand. As she stepped in, she reeled.
+Trepidation took hold upon her, but with enforced calm, she seated
+herself, and gave the address to the starter. As the motor drew away
+from the great buildings, she threw back her veil for the first time,
+and opened a window. The rush of cool air revived her somewhat, but her
+heart beat spasmodically, her blood seemed a thin, unliving stream.
+Street after street slipped by like a panorama on a screen, familiar,
+yet unreal. The world, her world, had changed in its essence, in its
+every manifestation.
+
+At last the taxi drew up before the door of her home--was it home still?
+she wondered. Her hand trembled so she could not unfasten the latch, and
+the chauffeur, descending from his seat, came to her assistance.
+
+"Wait," she said in a strangled voice. "Wait; I may want you."
+
+At the door of her apartment she had to pause, before she rang, to
+gather courage, to obtain control of her whirling brain. At last the
+ornate door swung inward and her butler faced her with welcoming eye.
+
+"Mrs. Marteen! Pray pardon the undress livery! No word had been
+received."
+
+She took note of the darkened rooms. Only one switch, whose glow she had
+seen turned on as the servant came to the door, gave light. The place
+was hollow and unlived in as an outworn shell.
+
+"Miss Dorothy?" she said, striving to give her voice a natural tone.
+
+The butler h'mmed. "Miss Dorothy has gone, Madam, with Madam's
+sister--since yesterday. They left no address, and said nothing about
+when they might be expected. Mr. Gard had been with Miss Dorothy in the
+afternoon."
+
+Mrs. Marteen caught hold of the broad and solid back of a carved hall
+chair and stood motionless, leaning her full weight on its ancient oak
+for support.
+
+"That's all right, Stevens," she said at length. "You needn't notify the
+other servants that I have returned--for the present. I'm going right
+out again. I just stopped in for some important papers I may have need
+of. Just light the hall and the library, will you?"
+
+With the falling of the sword that severed her last hope a new
+self-possession came to her--the quiet of despair. Her brain cleared,
+her fevered pulse became normal, the weariness that had racked her frame
+passed from her. She only asked to be alone for a little--alone with her
+love and her memories. She quarreled no more with Fate.
+
+The butler preceded her, lighting the way. At the door of the library,
+she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Calmly she entered and softly
+closed the door behind her. In the blaze of the electrics she saw every
+nook and corner of the room--photographically--every tone and color,
+every glint and gleam, but her mind fastened itself with remorseless
+logic to one thing only--the sliding panel. In her distracted vision it
+seemed to move, to slip back even as she gazed. The grain of the wood
+appeared to writhe, to creep up and down and ripple as if with the evil
+life of what lay behind. She forced herself to walk across the room to
+lay her weakened fingers, from which all sense of touch seemed to have
+withdrawn, upon that vibrating panel. The face of the safe stood
+revealed. Slowly with growing fear she turned the numbers of the
+combination and paused--she could not face the ordeal, but with the
+releasing of the clutch, the weight of the door caused it to open
+slowly, as if an invisible force drew it outward and Mrs. Marteen saw
+before her the empty shelves within. As if in a dream she pressed the
+spring, and realized that the carefully planned hiding place, was hiding
+place no more. She stood still with outstretched arms, as if crucified.
+The mute evidence of that opened door was not to be refuted. Her enemy
+had triumphed; her own sin had found her out. No self-pity eased the
+awful moments. Hot pity poured in upon her heart, but not for herself in
+this hour of misery--but for her daughter, for the innocent sweet soul
+of truth, whose faith had been shattered, whose deepest love had been
+betrayed, whose belief in honor had been destroyed. Where had she fled?
+Into whose heart had she poured the torrent of her grief and shame?
+Could there be one thought of love, of forgiveness? Ah, she was a mother
+no longer. She had sold her sacred trust. She had no rights, no
+privileges. She must go--go quickly, efface herself forever. That was
+her duty, that was the only way. Like a mortally wounded creature, she
+thought only of some small, cramped, sheltered corner, some lair wherein
+to die.
+
+With an effort she turned from the room, closed the door, and stood
+uncertain where to turn. Down the corridor, at its far end, was
+Dorothy's room. The thought drew her. She turned the knob, found the
+switch, and hesitated on the thresh-hold. Should she go in? Should she,
+the sin-stained soul, dare profane the sanctuary, the virginal altar of
+the pure in heart! Yes--ah, yes!--for this last time! She was a mother
+still.
+
+She entered, and cast herself on her knees by the little pink and white
+bed. She had no tears--the springs of relief were dried in the flame of
+her heart's hell. She found Dorothy's pillow, a mass of dainty
+embroidery and foolish frills. She laid her hot cheek on its cool linen
+surface. In a passion of loss she kissed each leaf and rose of its
+needlework garland.
+
+Then she rose to her feet. She must go, she must disappear--now, and
+forever from the world that had known her. She would send one message
+when the time came--one message--to the one man she trusted, to the one
+man who would fulfill her wish--that in the years to come, his watchful
+care should guard her child from further harm. But that, too, must wait.
+She rose to her feet, and crossed to the dressing-table. There was
+Dorothy's picture--her little girl's picture, the one she preferred to
+all the others. She slipped it from its silver frame, and clasped it to
+her breast. She could not bear to look upon the room as she left it. She
+turned off the light, and crept away like a thief. She was trembling
+now. The calmness that had been hers as she heard her death sentence,
+was gone. Her overtaxed body and mind rebelled. It was with difficulty
+that she made her way through the deserted rooms and stumbled to the
+street and the waiting cab.
+
+"Where to?" the chauffeur asked.
+
+She gave the name of one of the large hotels. Yes, once in some such
+caravanserai, she might elude all pursuit. In one door and out of
+another--and who was to find her trace in the seething mass of the
+city's life? The simple transaction of paying her fare, and entering the
+hotel became strangely difficult. Words eluded her, she was conscious
+that the chauffeur eyed her oddly as he handed her her bag.
+
+Then came a blank. She found herself once more out-of-doors, in an
+unfamiliar cross street. She saw a number on a lamppost, and realized
+that she had walked many blocks. She imagined that she was
+pursued--someone was lurking behind her in the shadow of an
+area--someone had peeped at her from behind drawn blinds. She started to
+run, but her bursting heart restrained her. She tried to still its
+beating; it seemed loud, clamorous as a drum; everyone must hear it and
+wonder what consciousness of guilt could make a heart beat so loudly in
+one's breast. She began walking again as rapidly as she dared. She must
+not attract attention. She must not let the shadows that followed her
+know that she feared them. If they guessed her panic they would lurk no
+longer; they would crowd close, rush upon her in vaporous throngs,
+stifling her like hot smoke.
+
+She paused for breath in her painful flight. The glare from the entrance
+of a moving picture show fell upon her. Somehow, in that light she felt
+safe. The shadows could not cross its yellow glare. She breathed more
+easily for a moment, then became tense. A man was coming out of the
+white and gold ginger-bread entrance, like a maggot from some huge cake.
+The man was small, middle-aged, dark, with unwieldy movements and evil,
+predatory eyes--"Like Victor Mahr!" she said aloud; "like Victor Mahr!"
+The man passed before her and was gone from the circle of light into the
+darkness of the outer street. She gave a gasp, and her mad eyes dilated.
+The suggestion had gripped her. Sudden furious hate entered her soul.
+Victor Mahr--her enemy! The cause of all her heart break. She had
+forgotten how or why this was the case; but she knew herself the
+victim--he, the torturer. She wanted vengeance, she wanted relief from
+her own torment. It was he who held the key to the whole trouble. She
+must find him out. She must tear it from him. She strove to think
+clearly, to remember where she might find him. She started walking
+again; standing still would not find him, that was certain.
+Unconsciously she followed the directions her subconscious mind offered.
+As she walked, there came a sense of approval. She was on the right
+track now. Her footfalls became less dragging and aimless. She was going
+somewhere--to a definite place, where she would find something vastly
+necessary, imperative to her very life.
+
+She neared a church; passed it. Yes, that was right. It was a landmark
+on her road. A white archway loomed before her in the gloom. Her
+journey's end--her journey's end! With that realization fatigue mastered
+her. She must rest before making any further effort, or she could not
+accomplish anything. Her limbs refused to do her bidding. The weight of
+her traveling case had become a crushing burden. But before she rested
+she must find something important that she had come so far to see--a
+house, a large house--what house?
+
+She looked about her at the stately mansions fronting the square. Then
+recognition leaped into her eyes, and she sank upon a bench facing the
+familiar entrance. Now she could afford to wait. Her enemy could not
+escape while she sat watching. He--could--not--escape--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+As Marcus Gard stood upon the steps of Mahr's residence, and heard the
+soft closing of its door behind him, he shut his eyes, drew himself
+erect and breathed deep of the keen, cold air. A rush of youth expanded
+every vein and artery. He experienced the physical and mental exultation
+of the strong man who has met and conquered his enemy. The mere personal
+expression of his anger had relieved him. He felt strong, alert, almost
+happy. He descended to the street and turned his steps homeward. At last
+something was accomplished. The serpent's fangs were drawn. He
+experienced a cynical amusement in the thought that the path of true
+love had been smoothed by such equivocal means. Neither of the children
+would ever know of the shadows that had gathered so closely around them.
+
+But, Mrs. Marteen--what of her? Again the longing came upon him--to know
+her awake to herself and to her own soul; to know the predatory instinct
+forever quieted, that upsurging of some remote inconscience of the
+race's history of rapine in the open, and acquisition by stealth,
+forever conquered; to know her spirit triumphant. The momentary joy of
+successful battle passed, leaving him deeply troubled. All his fears
+returned. The sense of impending disaster, that had withdrawn for the
+moment, overwhelmed him once more.
+
+He entered his own home absently, listened, abstracted, to the various
+items Saunders thought important enough to mention, dismissed him, and
+turned wearily to a pile of personal mail. His eye caught a familiar
+handwriting on a thick envelope.
+
+From Mrs. Marteen evidently--postmarked St. Augustine. He broke the
+seal, wondering how her letter came to bear that mark. What change had
+been made in her plans? He hesitated, panic-stricken, like a woman
+before an unexpected telegram. He withdrew the enclosure, noting at a
+glance a variety of papers--the appearance of a diary.
+
+"Dear, dear friend," it began, "I must write--I must, and to you,
+because you know--you know, and yet you have made me your friend--to
+you, because you love my little girl. They are killing me, killing me
+through her. I'm coming home, as fast as I can; I don't yet know how,
+for I'm heading the other way, and I can't stop the steamer, but I'm
+coming. I received a message, the second day out. It had been given to
+the purser for delivery and marked with the date--that's nothing
+unusual; I've had steamer letters delivered, one each day, during a
+whole crossing. I never gave it a thought when he handed it to me, I
+never divined. It seems to me now that I should have sensed it. I read
+it, and--but how to tell you? I have it here; I'll send it to you."
+
+A sheet of notepaper was pinned to the letter. Sick at heart, Gard
+unfastened it. Mahr's name appeared at the bottom. Gard read: "Dear
+lady, you forgot to give your daughter the combination of the jewel safe
+and its inner compartment before you sailed. I am attending to that for
+you, and have no doubt that she will at once inventory the contents. We
+are always glad to return favors conferred upon us."
+
+Gard's heart stood still. A sweeping regret invaded him that he had not
+slain the man when his hands were upon him. He threw the note aside and
+turned again to Mrs. Marteen's letter.
+
+"You see," he read, "there is nothing for me to do. A wireless to
+Dorothy? She has doubtless had the information since the hour of my
+departure. What can I do? I have thought of you; but how make you, who
+know nothing of Victor Mahr, understand anything in a message that would
+not reveal all to everyone who must aid in its transmission? That at
+least mustn't happen. I am praying every minute that she will go to
+you--you, who know and have tolerated me. I can't bear for her to
+know--I can't--it's killing me! My heart contracts and stops when I
+think of it."
+
+Further down the page, in another ink, evidently written later, was a
+single note:
+
+"I've left a message with the wireless operator, a sort of desperate
+hope that it may be of some use--to Dorothy, telling her to consult you
+on all matters of importance. I've written one to you, telling you to
+find her. The man says he'll send them out as soon as he gets into touch
+with anyone."
+
+A still later entry:
+
+"Two P.M.--I'm in my cabin all the time. I think that I shall go mad.
+That sounds conventional, doesn't it--reminiscent of melodrama! I assure
+you it's worse than real. I feel as if for years and years I've been
+asleep, and now've wakened up into a nightmare. I _can_ write to you;
+that's the one thing that gives me relief. Your kindness seems a shield
+behind which I can crawl. I can't sleep; I can only--not think--no, it
+isn't thinking I do--it's realizing--and everything is terrible. The
+sunlight makes ripples on my cabin ceiling; they weave and part and
+wrinkle. I try to fix my attention on them, and hypnotize myself into
+lethargy. Sometimes I almost succeed, and then I begin realizing again.
+And in the night I stare at the electric light till my eyes ache, and
+try to numb my thoughts. Must my little girl know what I am? Can't that
+be averted? I know it can't--I know, and yet I pray and
+pray--I--_pray!"_
+
+Another sheet, evidently torn from a pad: "The wireless is out of order;
+they couldn't send my messages. You don't know the despair that has
+taken hold of me. My mind feels white--that's the only way I can
+describe it--cold and white--frozen, a blank. My body is that way, too.
+I hold my hands to the light, and it doesn't seem as if there was even
+the faintest red. They are the hands of a dead person--I wish they were!
+But I must know--must know. We are due in Havana to-morrow. I shall take
+the first boat out--to anywhere, where I can get a train, that's the
+quickest. Oh, you, who have so often told me I must stop and think and
+realize things! Did you know what it _was_ you wanted me to do? Have you
+any idea what torture _is?_ You couldn't! I don't believe even Mahr
+would have done this to me--if he had known; nobody could--nobody could.
+Now, all sorts of things are assailing me; not only the horror that
+Dorothy should _know_, but the horror of having _done_ such things. I
+can't feel that it was I; it must have been somebody else. Why, I
+couldn't have; it's impossible; and yet I did, I did, I did! Sometimes I
+laugh, and then I am frightened at myself--I did it just then; it was at
+the thought that here am I, _writing letters_--I, who have always
+thought letters that incriminate were the weakness of fools, the blind
+spot of intelligence--I, who have profited by letters--written in anger,
+in love, in the passion of money-getting--everything--I'm
+writing--writing from my bursting heart. Ah, you wanted me to realize;
+I'm fulfilling your wish. Oh, good, kind soul that you are, forgive me!
+I'm clinging to the thought of you to save me; I'm trusting in you
+blindly. It's five days since I left."
+
+The sheet that followed was on beflagged yachting paper:
+
+"What luck! I happened on the Detmores the moment I landed. They were
+just sailing. I transferred to them. I'm on board and homeward bound. We
+reach St. Augustine to-morrow night; then I'm coming through as fast as
+I can. I've thought it all over now. Since the wireless messages weren't
+sent, I shall send no cable or telegram. I shall find out what the
+situation is, and perhaps it will be better for me just to disappear. It
+may be best that Dorothy shall never see me again. I shall go straight
+home. I'm posting this in St. Augustine; it will probably go on the same
+train with me. When you receive this and have read it, come to me. I
+shall need you, I know--but perhaps you won't care to; perhaps you won't
+want to be mixed up in an affair that may already be the talk of the
+town. It's one thing to know a criminal who goes unquestioned and
+another to befriend one revealed and convicted. Don't come, then. I am
+at the very end of my endurance now. What sort of a wreck will walk into
+that disgraced home of mine? And still I pray and pray--"
+
+Gard stood up. A sudden dizziness seized him. Go to her! Of course he
+must, at once, at once; there was not a moment to be lost. He calculated
+the length of time the letter had taken to reach him since its delivery
+in the city--hours at least. And she had returned home to find--what? He
+almost cried out in his anguish--to find Dorothy gone, no one at the
+house knew where. What must she think?
+
+He snatched up the telephone and called her number, his voice shaking in
+spite of his effort to control it.
+
+The butler answered. Yes; madam had returned suddenly; had gone to the
+library for something; had asked for Miss Dorothy, and when she heard
+she was away, had made no comment, and left shortly afterwards. Yes, she
+appeared ill, very ill.
+
+"I'm coming over," Gard cut in. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
+
+He rang, ordered the servant to stop the first taxi, seized his coat and
+hat, left a peremptory order to his physician not to be beyond call,
+tumbled into his outer garments and made for the street. The taxi
+sputtered at the curb, but just as he dashed down the steps a limousine
+drew up, and Denning sprang from its opened door. His hand fell heavily
+upon Gard's shoulder as he stooped to enter the cab. Gard turned, his
+overwrought nerves stinging with the shock of the other's restraining
+touch.
+
+Denning's hand fell, for the face of his friend was distorted beyond
+recognition. The words his lips had framed to speak died upon his
+tongue, as with a furious heave Gard shook him off, entered the cab and
+slammed the door. Denning stood for a moment surprised into inaction,
+then, with an order to follow, he leaped into his own car and started in
+pursuit.
+
+When Gard reached the familiar entrance, his anxiety had grown, like
+physical pain, almost to the point where human endurance ceases and
+becomes brute suffering. He felt cornered and helpless. At the door of
+Mrs. Marteen's apartment a sort of unreasoning rage filled him. To ring;
+the bell seemed a futility; he wanted to break in the painted glass and
+batter down the door. The calm expression of the butler who answered his
+summons was like a personal insult. Were they all mad that they did not
+realize?
+
+"Where is Mrs. Marteen?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+The servant shook his head. "She left two hours ago, at least," he
+answered, with a glance toward the hall clock.
+
+"What did she say--what message did she leave?" Gard pushed by him
+impatiently, making for the stairs leading to the upper floor and the
+library.
+
+The butler stared. "Why, nothing, sir. She asked for Miss Dorothy, and
+when none of us could tell her where she went, or why--which we all
+thought queer enough, sir--she didn't seem surprised; so I suppose she
+knows, sir. Madam just went upstairs to the library first, and then to
+Miss Dorothy's room--the maid saw her, sir--and then she came down and
+went out. She had on a heavy veil, but she looked scarce fit to stand
+for all that, and she went--never said a word about her baggage or
+anything--just went out to the cab that was waiting. Then about a half
+hour later, Mary, her maid, came in with the boxes. I hope there's
+nothing wrong, sir?"
+
+Gard listened, his heart tightening with apprehension. "Call White
+Plains, 56," he ordered sharply. "Tell Miss Dorothy to come at once and
+then send for me, quick, now!" he commanded; and as the wondering flunky
+turned toward the telephone, he sprang up the stairs, threw open the
+library door and entered. The electric lights were blazing in the heat
+and silence of the closed room. The odor of violets hung reminiscent in
+the stale air. The panel by the mantelpiece was thrust back, and the
+door of the safe, so uselessly concealed, hung open, revealing the empty
+shelves within and the deep shadow of the inner compartment. He saw it
+all in a flash of understanding; the frantic woman's rush to the place
+of concealment,--the ravaged hiding place. What could she argue, but
+that all that her enemy had planned had befallen? Her child knew all,
+and had gone--fled from her and the horror of her life, leaving no sign
+of forgiveness or pity.
+
+Sick, and faint, Gard turned away. One door in the corridor stood open,
+left so, he divined, by the hurried passing of the mother from the empty
+nest, Dorothy's room, all pink and white and girlish in its simplicity.
+One fragrant pillow, with its dainty embroidered cover, was dented, as
+if still warm from the burning cheek that had pressed it in an agony of
+loss. Nothing about the chamber was displaced; only an empty photograph
+frame lying upon the dressing table told of the trembling, pale hands
+that had bereft it of its jewel. She had taken her little girl's picture
+with the heartbroken conviction that never again would she see its
+original, or that those girlish eyes would look upon her again save in
+fear and loathing. The empty case dropped from his hands to the
+silver-crowded, lace-covered table; he was startled to see in the
+mirror, hung with its frivolous load of cotillion favors and dance
+cards, his own face convulsed with grief, and turned, appalled, from his
+own image. His resourceful brain refused its functions. He could not
+guess her movements after that silent, definitive leave taking. He could
+but picture her tall, erect figure, outwardly composed and nonchalant,
+as she must have stood, facing the outer world, looking out to what--to
+what? A mad hope rose in his breast. Would she turn to him? Would her
+instinctive steps lead her to seek his protection.
+
+Yes. He must be where she could find him; he must be within reach. It
+could not be that she would pass thus silently into some unknown
+life--or-- He would not concede the other possibility.
+
+Turning blindly from the room, he descended to the lower floor, where
+the butler, with difficulty suppressing his curiosity, informed him that
+Miss Dorothy had answered that she would return to town at once.
+
+Gard hesitated, then turned sharply upon the servant. "Your mistress has
+been ill, as you know. We have reason to believe that she is not quite
+herself. If you learn anything of her, notify me at once. No matter what
+orders she may give, you understand, or no matter how slight the
+clew--send for me."
+
+Once again in the street, he paused, uncertain. His eye fell upon
+Denning's limousine drawn up behind his waiting cab. Fury at this
+espionage sent him toward it. Thrusting his face In at the open window,
+he glared at his pursuer.
+
+"What are you here for?" he snarled.
+
+Denning looked at him coldly. "To see that you keep faith, that's all.
+Your personal concerns must wait. Have you forgotten that you are to
+take the midnight train to Washington? I'm here to see that you do it."
+
+Gard wrenched open the door of the car. "You are, are you? Let the whole
+damned thing go!" he cried. "Send your proxies. This is a matter of life
+and death!"
+
+"I know it," said Denning; "it is--to a lot of people who trust you; and
+you are going to do your duty if I have to kidnap you to do it. You have
+two hours before your train leaves. My private car is waiting for you.
+Make what plans you like till then; but I'll not leave you; neither will
+Langley--he's following you, too. Come, buck up. Are you mad that you
+desert in the face of shipwreck?"
+
+Gard turned suddenly, ordered his taxi to follow and got in beside
+Denning. His mood and voice were changed. "I've got to think. Don't
+speak to me. Get me home as soon as you can."
+
+He leaned back, closed his eyes and concentrated all his energies. In
+the first place, Denning was right--he must not desert, even with his
+own disaster close upon him. He owed his public his life, if necessary.
+As a king must go to the defense of his people in spite of every private
+grief or necessity, so he must go now. The very form of his decision
+surprised him. He realized that his yearning for another soul's
+awakening had awakened his own soul. He had willed her a conscience and
+developed one himself. But, his decision reached with that sudden
+precision characteristic of him, his anxious fears demanded that every
+possible precaution be taken, every effort made that could tend to save
+or relieve the desperate situation he must leave behind him. First of
+all his physician--to him he must speak the truth, and to him alone.
+Brencherly should be his active tool. Mahr must be impressed.
+
+Springing from the motor at his own door, he snapped an order to his
+butler, and sent him with the cab to bring the doctor instantly. Once in
+the library, he telephoned for the detective. He then called up Victor
+Mahr, requested that however late he might call, a visitor be admitted
+at once, on a matter of the first importance and received the assurance
+that his wishes would be complied with; he asked Denning, who had
+followed him, to wait in another room, thrust back the papers on his
+table and settled himself to write.
+
+"No one knows anything," he scrawled, "neither Dorothy nor anyone else."
+With succinct directness he covered the whole story--explained,
+elucidated. Through every word the golden thread of his deep devotion
+glowed steadily. Would the letter ever reach her? Would her eyes ever
+see the reassuring lines? He refused to believe his efforts useless. She
+must come. He sealed and directed the letter, as Brencherly was
+admitted. Gard turned and eyed the young man sharply, wondering how
+much, how little he dared tell him.
+
+"Brencherly," he said slowly, "I'm giving you the biggest commission of
+your life. You've got to take my place here, for I'm going to the front.
+I've got to rely on you, and if you fail me, well, you know me--that's
+enough. Now, I want discretion first, last and all the time. Then I want
+foresight, tact, genius--everything in you that can think and plan. Here
+are the facts: Mrs. Marteen has come back--suddenly. She's been ill. Her
+mind, from all I can learn, is affected. She has delusions; she may have
+suicidal mania. She has disappeared, and she must be found--as secretly
+as possible. Her delusions and illness must not become a newspaper
+headline. I needn't tell you it would make 'a story.' There's one chance
+in fifty that she may come here, or telephone for me. You are not to
+leave this room. Answer that telephone--you know her voice, don't you?
+You are to tell her that I have her letter and she has nothing to worry
+about; that I have had charge of all her affairs in her absence; that
+her daughter knows of her return and wants her at once. Tell her that I
+have left a letter for her--this one. When Miss Marteen calls up, tell
+her to go to her home; that her mother has come back, but has left
+again, and is ill; that I'm doing all in my power to find her. Tell her
+to call me at once on the long distance telephone to Washington, at the
+New Willard. Wherever I have to be I'll arrange that I can be called at
+once. Do you understand?
+
+"Dr. Balys will be here in a few moments. He will have the hospitals
+canvassed. If you locate her, Brencherly, send my doctor to her at once.
+Get her to her own apartment, and don't let her talk. I want you to pick
+a man to watch the morgue; to look up every case of reported suicide
+that by any chance might be Mrs. Marteen--here or in other cities." Gard
+felt the blood leave his heart as he said the words, though there was no
+quaver in his voice. "If they should find her, don't let her identity be
+known if there is any chance of concealing it, not until you reach me.
+Don't let Miss Marteen know. Put another man on the hotel arrivals. She
+left St. Augustine--Here--" He--jotted down times and dates on a slip.
+"Work on that. Keep the police off. I'll have Balys stay here, unless he
+locates her in any of the hospitals. My secretary is yours; and there
+are half a dozen telephones in the house; you can keep 'em all going.
+But, mind, there must be no leak. Watch her apartment, too. Question her
+maid up there. Of course that letter on the table there might interest
+you, but I think I had better trust you, since I make you my deputy.
+This is no small matter, Brencherly. Honesty is the best policy--and
+there _are_ rewards and punishments."
+
+The strain of grief and anxiety had set its mark on Gard's face. His
+deadly earnestness and evident effort at self-control sent a thrill of
+pitying admiration through the detective's hardened indifference. A rush
+of loyalty filled his heart; he wanted to help, without thought of
+reward or punishment. He felt hot shame that his calling had deserved
+the suspicion his employer cast upon it.
+
+"I'll do my honest best," he said with such dear-eyed sincerity that
+Gard smiled wanly and held out his hand.
+
+"Thank you," he said simply.
+
+The interview with the doctor lasted another half-hour. Time seemed to
+fly. Another hour and he must leave to others the quest that his soul
+demanded. Unquestioning and determined, Denning took him once more in
+the limousine. They were silent during the drive to Victor Mahr's
+address. Gard descended before the house, leaving Denning in the car.
+
+"Don't worry," he said as he closed the door of the automobile. "I'll
+not be long; I give you my word."
+
+Denning smiled. "That's all that's wanted in Washington, old man. You've
+got a quarter of an hour to spare."
+
+Denning switched on the electric light and, taking a bundle of papers
+from his inside pocket, began to pencil swift annotation.
+
+Gard ran lightly up the steps. It was quite on the cards that Mrs.
+Marteen in her anguish and despair might make an effort to see and
+upbraid the man whose hatred and vengeance had wrecked her life. Mahr
+must be warned of all that had taken place, and schooled to meet the
+situation--to confess at once that his plans had been thwarted, that his
+tongue was forever bound to silence and that his intended victim was
+free. He, Marcus Gard, must dictate every word that might be said,
+foresee every possible form in which a meeting might come, and dictate
+the terms of Mahr's surrender. Words and sentences formed and shifted in
+his mind as he waited impatiently for his summons to be answered. The
+butler bowed, murmuring that Mr. Mahr was expecting Mr. Gard, and
+preceded him across the anteroom to the well-remembered door of the
+inner sanctum, which he threw open before the guest, and retired
+silently.
+
+Closing the door securely behind him, Gard turned toward the sole
+occupant of the room. Mahr did not heed his coming nor rise to greet
+him. The ticking of the carved Louis XV clock on the mantel seemed
+preternaturally loud in the oppressive silence.
+
+Suddenly and unreasonably Gard choked with fear. In one bound he crossed
+the room and stood staring down at the face of his host. For an instant
+he stood paralyzed with amazement and horror. Then, as always, when in
+the heart of the tempest, he became calm, and his mind, as if acting
+under some heroic stimulant, became intensely clarified. Mahr was dead.
+He leaned forward and lifted the head; the body was still warm, and it
+fell forward, limp and heavy. On the left temple was a large contusion
+and a slight cut. The cause was not far to seek. On the table lay an
+ancient flintlock pistol, somewhat apart from a heap of small arms
+belonging to an eighteenth century trophy.
+
+Murder! Murder--and Mrs. Marteen! His imagination pictured her beautiful
+still face suddenly becoming maniacal with fury and pain. Gard
+suppressed an exclamation. Well, he would swear Mahr was alive at half
+after eleven, when he had seen him. If anyone knew of her coming before
+that, she would be cleared. No one knew of his own feud with Mahr; no
+one suspected it. His word would be accepted.
+
+Mahr's face, repulsive in life, was hideous in death--a mask of
+selfishness, duplicity and venomous cunning from which departing life
+had taken its one charm of intelligence. He looked at the wound again.
+The blow must have been sudden and of great force. Acting on an impulse,
+he tiptoed to one of the curtained windows, unlocked the fastening and
+raised it slightly. A robbery--why not? Silently moving back into the
+room, he approached the corpse and with nervous rapidity looted the dead
+man of everything of value, leaving the torn wallet, a wornout crumpled
+affair, lying on the floor. He opened and emptied the table drawers, as
+if a hurried search had been made. Slipping the compromising jewels into
+his overcoat pocket, he turned about and faced the room like a stage
+manager judging of a play's setting. The luxurious furnishings, the long
+mahogany table warmly reflecting the lights of the heavily shaded lamp;
+the wide, gaping fireplace; the lurking shadows of the corners; the
+curtain by the opened window bellying slightly in the draught; above, in
+the soft radiance of the hooded electrics, the glowing, living, radiant
+personality of the Vandyke; below, the stark, evil face of the dead,
+with its blue bruised temple and blood-clotted hair.
+
+Gard strove to reconstruct the crime as the next entrant would judge
+it--the thief gliding in by the window; the collector busy over the
+examination of his curios; the blow, probably only intended to stun; the
+hasty theft and stealthy exit.
+
+His heart pounded in his breast, but it was with outward calm that he
+crossed the threshold, calling back a "Good-night," whose grim irony was
+not lost upon him. In the hall, as he put on his hat, he addressed the
+servant casually:
+
+"Mr. Mahr says you may lock up and go. He does not want to be disturbed,
+as he has some papers that will keep him late. Remind Mr. Mahr to call
+me at the New Willard in the morning; I may have some news."
+
+As he left the house he staggered; he felt his knees shaking. With a
+superhuman effort he steadied himself--Denning must not suspect anything
+unusual. He descended the steps with a firm tread, and pausing at the
+last step, twisted as if to reach an uncomfortably settled coat
+collar--his quick glance taking in the contour of the house and the
+probability of access by the window. The glimpse was reassuring. By
+means of the iron railing a man might readily gain the ledge below the
+first floor windows. He entered the limousine and nodded to Denning.
+
+"All right," he said. "On to Washington."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Through the long, hours of the night Gard lay awake, living over the
+gruesome moments spent in the ill-omened house on Washington Square. The
+ghastly face of the dead man seemed to stare at him from every corner of
+the luxurious room.
+
+Had he done wisely, Gard wondered, in setting the scene of robbery? Had
+he done it convincingly? That he could become involved in the case in
+another character than that of witness, occurred to him, but he
+dismissed it with a shrug. He was able, he felt, to cope with any
+situation. Nevertheless, the valuables he had taken from the corpse
+seemed to take on bulk. He thanked his stars that his valet was not with
+him--at least he would not have to consider the ever present danger of
+discovery. He had hoped to dispose of the compromising articles while
+crossing the ferry, but when, on his suggestion of the benefits of cool
+night air, he had descended from the motor and advanced to the rail,
+Denning had accompanied him and remained at his elbow, discussing future
+moves in their giant financial game. Once on board the private car, he
+had considered disposing of the jewels from the car window or the
+observation platform, but abandoned that scheme as worse than useless.
+The track walkers' inevitable discovery would only bring suspicion upon
+someone traveling along the line--and who but himself must eventually he
+suspected?
+
+There was nothing for it but to break up the horde piece by piece and
+lose the compromising gems in unrecognizable fragments. The impulse was
+upon him to switch on the electrics and begin the work of destruction
+here in his stateroom at once. But he feared Denning; he feared Langley.
+Then his thoughts reverted to Mrs. Marteen. Where was she? Where was she
+hiding? Had she made away with herself after her desperate deed? His
+heart ached and yearned toward her while his senses revolted in horror
+of the crime. His world was torn asunder. The awful discovery he had
+made had once and for all precluded a change of plans. Sudden resistance
+on his part would have been enigmatical to Denning--or he must confess
+the state of affairs in the silent house he had just left. At least by
+his ruse he had gained time for her, perhaps even protection.
+
+Her letter, her frantic record of pain and misery, was in his pocket. He
+found it, and feeling that even if he were observed to be absorbed in
+reading, it could only appear natural in view of his mission, he propped
+himself with pillows and reread the tear-blistered pages. His spirit
+rebelled. No, no; the woman who had written those searing, bitter lines
+of awakening could not be guilty of monstrous murder. He hated himself
+that his mind had accused her. He cursed himself that by his
+intervention he had perhaps thrown investigation upon the wrong scent,
+while the truth, he assured himself, must exonerate her and bring the
+real criminal to justice. What could have made him be such a fool? The
+next instant he thanked his stars that he had been cool enough to plan
+the scene. As he read the throbbing pages, tears rose to his eyes again
+and again; he had to lay the letter down and compose himself. Ah, he was
+wrong, always at fault. By his well-intended interference, he had
+arranged Dorothy's flight, with results he trembled to foresee. And
+Dorothy! What was he to tell the child? How was he to prepare her to
+bear the present strain and the knowledge of what might come?
+
+The fevered hours passed slowly. It was with a wrenching effort that he
+forced his mind to concentrate on the business in hand for the coming
+day. Yet, for his own honor and the sake of his people, it must be done,
+and well done. Moreover, there must be no wavering on his part, nothing
+to let anyone infer an unusual disturbance of mind. He must be prepared
+to play shocked surprise when the tragic news reached him.
+
+Utter exhaustion finally overpowered his fevered brain and he fell into
+a troubled sleep, from which he was aroused by Denning's voice. The car
+was not in motion, and he divined that it had been shunted to await
+their pleasure. He dressed hastily, his heart still aching with dread
+and uncertainty.
+
+As he faced himself in the mirror he noted his sunken eyes and ghastly
+color, and Denning, entering behind him, noted it, too, with a quick
+thrill of sympathy. He had come to accept as fact his fear, expressed in
+the directors' room. Gard must be suffering from some deadly disease.
+
+"You look all in, Gard," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry I had to drive
+you so." He hesitated. "Has--have the doctors been giving you a scare
+about yourself?"
+
+Gard divined the other's version of his strange actions, and jumped at
+an excuse that explained and covered much.
+
+"Don't talk about it," he said gruffly. "You know it won't do to have
+rumors about my health going round."
+
+Denning took the remark as a tacit acquiescence. His face expressed
+genuine sympathy and compassion.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said slowly.
+
+Gard looked up and frowned, yet the kindliness extended, though it was
+for an imaginary reason, was grateful to him.
+
+"Well, I can take all the extra sympathy anyone has just now," he
+answered in a tone that carried conviction. "I've had a good deal to
+struggle against recently--but I'm not whipped yet."
+
+"Oh, you'll be all right," Denning encouraged. "You're a young man
+still, and you've got the energy of ten young bucks. I'll back you to
+win. Cheer up; you've got a hard day ahead." Gard nodded. How hard a day
+his friend little guessed. "We'll go on to the hotel when you are ready.
+Your first appointment is at nine thirty. Jim is making breakfast for us
+here."
+
+"All right," said Gard; "I'll join you in a minute. Go ahead and get
+your coffee." Left alone, he hurriedly pocketed Mahr's jewelry, paused a
+moment to grind the stone of the scarf pin from its setting--among the
+cinders of the terminus the gem and its mangled mounting could both be
+easily lost. His one desire now was to put himself in telephonic
+communication with New York, but he did not dare to be too pressing.
+However, once at the hotel, he made all arrangements to have a call
+transferred, and opened connection with Brencherly. He was shaking with
+nervousness. "Any news?" he asked.
+
+"None, Mr. Gard, I'm sorry," the detective's voice sounded over the
+wire, "except that I've followed your instructions with regard to the
+young lady. I've not left the 'phone, sir; slept right here in your
+armchair. The hospitals have been questioned, and there is nothing
+reported at police headquarters that could possibly interest you. I've
+looked over the morning papers carefully to see if there was anything
+the reporters had that might be a clew. There's nothing. I took the
+liberty of sending Dr. Balys over to the young lady this morning--she
+seemed in such a state; he'll be back any minute, though. I've got every
+line pulling on the quiet. I've done my best, sir."
+
+Brencherly's voice ceased, and Gard drew a sigh of relief. At least
+there was no bad news, and as yet nothing in public print concerning the
+tragedy. The discovery had probably been made early that morning by the
+servant, whose duty it was to care for the master's private apartments.
+The first afternoon papers would contain all the details, and perhaps
+the ticker would have the news before. He realized that all the haggard
+night he had been fearing that the morning would bring him knowledge of
+Mrs. Marteen's death--drowned, asphyxiated, poisoned--the many shapes of
+the one terrible deed had presented themselves to his subconscious mind,
+to be thrust away by his stubborn will. Dorothy, summoned to the
+telephone, had nothing to add to Brencherly's information, but seemed to
+derive comfort and consolation from Gard's assurances that all would be
+well. She would call him again at noon, she said.
+
+He came from the booth almost glad. His step was light, his troubled
+eyes clear once more. He was ready to play his part in every sense,
+grateful for the respite from his pain. His confidence in himself
+returned, and he went to the trying and momentous meetings of the
+morning with his gigantic mental grasp and convincing methods at their
+best.
+
+Dorothy's message did not reach him till after midday had come and gone.
+Once Larkin had left the conclave and returned with his face big with
+consternation and surprise. Gard divined that the news of the murder was
+out, but nothing was brought up except the business of the corporation.
+
+When at last he left the meeting he motored back to the hotel, refusing
+the hospitality cordially extended to him, his one desire to be again in
+touch with events transpiring in New York. He had hardly shown himself
+in the lobby when a page summoned him to the telephone.
+
+It was Dorothy, her voice faint with fright.
+
+"It's you," she cried--"it's you! Have you learned anything about
+mother? We haven't any news--nothing at all. Mr. Brencherly and the
+doctor tell me that everything's being done. But I'm almost wild--and
+listen; something awful has happened. It's your friend, Mr. Mahr,
+Teddy's father--he's been murdered!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Gard, thankful that she could not see his face.
+
+"Yes, yes," she continued, "murdered in his own room--they found him
+this morning--they say you were the last person to see him before it was
+done. Oh, Mr. Gard, aren't you coming home soon? It seems as if terrible
+things happen all the time--and I'm frightened. Please, come back!"
+
+The voice choked in a sob, and her hearer longed to take her in his arms
+and comfort her, shield her from the terrible possibilities that loomed
+big on their horizon.
+
+"My darling little girl, I'm coming, just as fast as I can. I wouldn't
+be here, leaving you to face this anxiety alone, if I could possibly
+help it--you know that, dear," he pleaded. "I've one more important,
+unavoidable interview; then my car couples on to the first express. Give
+Teddy all my sympathy. I can hardly realize what you say. Why, I saw him
+only last night just before I took the train. Keep up your courage, and
+don't be frightened."
+
+"I'll try," came the pathetic voice; "I will--but, oh, come soon!"
+
+Gard excused himself to everyone, pleading the necessity of rest, and
+once alone in his room, set about ripping and smashing the incriminating
+evidence, until nothing but a few loose stones and crumpled bits of gold
+remained. He broke the monogrammed case of the watch from its fastening
+and crushed its face. Now to contrive to scatter the fragments would be
+a simple matter. He secreted them in an inner pocket, and his pressing
+desire of their destruction satisfied, he telephoned to Langley to join
+him in his private room at a hurried luncheon. Next he sent for the
+afternoon papers. Not a line as yet, however; and Langley and Denning
+having evidently decided it to be unwise to deflect his thoughts from
+matters in hand, did not mention Mahr. Even when he brought up the name
+himself with a casual mention of the possibility of acquiring the Heim
+Vandyke, there was nothing said to give him an opportunity to speak and
+he was breathless for details, to learn if his ruse had succeeded. At
+last he called Brencherly, both Denning and Langley endeavoring to
+divert him from his intention.
+
+"Yes, yes," snapped Gard; "what's the news?"
+
+His companions exchanged dubious glances.
+
+"Nothing learned yet about the matter, sir, on which you engaged me,
+nothing at all. But--there's something else--I think you ought to
+know--Victor Mahr is dead!"
+
+"Dead! How? When?" Gard feigned surprise.
+
+"Murdered last night," came the reply. "Found this morning. Our man
+watching the house learned it as soon as anyone did. A case of robbery,
+they say--but the coroner's verdict hasn't been given yet. He was hit in
+the head with a pistol--but--I think, sir, they'll want you; you saw him
+last night, they say--after you left me. Have you any instructions to
+give me, sir?"
+
+Gard reflected. "I don't know," he wavered. "Hold all the good men in
+your service you can for me--and remember what I told you." He turned to
+the two men. "Mahr's dead--murdered!" he blurted out, as if startled by
+the news.
+
+They nodded. "Yes, we knew. But," Denning added, "we didn't want to
+upset you any further. It came out on the ticker at eleven. How are you
+feeling?" he asked with friendly solicitude. "I wish you'd eat
+something--you've not touched anything but coffee for nearly twenty-four
+hours."
+
+"I can't," said Gard grimly. "Let's go to the Capitol and get it over
+with. Have you 'phoned Senator Ryan? I'm all right," he assured them, as
+he caught sight of Langley's dubious expression. "I want to get through
+here as quickly as possible and get back. I suppose you realize that
+I'll be wanted in the city in more ways than one. I was the last person,
+except the murderer, to see Mahr. Come on."
+
+As they came from the Capitol at the close of their conference, Langley
+and Denning fell behind for a moment.
+
+"What a wonder the man is!" exclaimed Denning with enthusiasm. "Sick as
+he is, and with all these other troubles on him, he's bucked up and
+buffaloed this whole thing into shape. He forgets nothing!"
+
+Gard entered the motor first, and, as he leaned forward, dropped from
+the opposite window a fragment of twisted gold. An hour later, in the
+waiting room they had traversed, a woman picked up a pigeon blood ruby,
+but the grinding wheels of trains and engines had left no trace of the
+trifles they had destroyed. In the yard near the private siding, a
+coupling hand came upon a twisted gold watch case, so crushed that the
+diamond monogram it once had boasted was unrecognizable.
+
+"At every stop, Jim," said Gard, as he threw himself wearily into a
+lounging chair in the saloon end of the car, "I want you to go out and
+get me all the latest editions of the New York papers."
+
+The negro bowed, disappeared into the cook's galley and returned with
+glasses and a bottle of champagne. He poured a glass, which Gard drank
+gratefully.
+
+Gard heard Langley and Denning moving about their stateroom. The noise
+of the terminal rang an iron chorus, accompanied by whistles and the
+hiss of escaping steam. The private car was attached to the express, and
+the return journey began. His irritated nerves would have set him
+tramping pantherwise, but sheer weariness kept him in his chair.
+Presently his fellow travelers joined him, but he took little or no heed
+of their conversation. Once he drank again, a toast to the successful
+issue of their combined efforts. He lay back, striving to control his
+rising anxiety. What would the story be that would greet him from the
+heavy leads of the newspapers?
+
+"Baltimore--Baltimore--Baltimore"--the wheels seemed to pound the name
+from the steel rails; the car rocked to it. By the time they reached
+that city the New York afternoon editions would have been distributed.
+At last they glided up to the station and the porter swung off into the
+waiting room. Gard rose and stood waiting, chewing savagely on his
+unlighted cigar.
+
+"It's Mahr," he apologized to Denning. "I want to learn the facts." His
+hand shook as he snatched the smudgy sheets from the negro.
+
+In big letters across the front page he caught the headline:
+
+
+    MURDER OF VICTOR MAHR
+
+    FAMOUS CLUBMAN AND FINANCIER
+    STABBED TO DEATH IN HIS OWN LIBRARY
+
+    EVIDENCE OF ROBBERY
+
+    WOMAN SUSPECTED OF THE CRIME
+
+"Stabbed to death ... Woman suspected." His brain reeled. How "stabbed
+to death"? He himself had seen--"Woman suspected." Then all his
+despairing efforts to save her had been in vain! The train, starting
+suddenly, gave him ample excuse to clutch the back of the chair for
+support, and to fall heavily upon its cushions. He could not have held
+himself upright another moment. An absurd scheme flashed through his
+brain. He would, if necessary, take the blame upon himself--anything to
+shield her. He would say they had quarreled over the Vandyke.
+
+He became aware that Denning was asking for one of the three papers he
+was clutching. He gave it to him, suddenly realizing that he was not
+alone. He knew his face was deathly, and he could feel his heart's slow
+pound against his ribs. If they did not believe him a sick man, they
+must believe him a guilty one. To control his agitation seemed
+impossible. The page swam before his eyes, and it was some moments
+before he could focus upon the finer print of the sensational article.
+
+The gruesome discovery was made by a servant, entering the library at
+eight that morning. She found her master lying in the chair and thought
+him asleep. She knew that the night before he had dismissed the butler,
+declaring his intention to sit up late over some important business. He
+might have been overcome by weariness. She tiptoed out and went in
+search of the valet. His orders had been to call his master at nine and
+he hesitated about waking him earlier, but at last decided to do so, as
+it was nearing the hour. On entering the apartment he had noticed the
+disorder of the room. He put out the electric light from the switch by
+the door, drew the curtains and raised the blind. At once he realized
+that death confronted him. Terrified, he had rushed to the hall calling
+for the servants. Theodore Mahr, Victor Mahr's only son, who was on his
+way to breakfast, rushed at once upon the scene.
+
+There was a cut and contusion on the temple of the victim, evidently
+inflicted by a weapon lying upon the table, which was believed to be the
+cause of death, until the arrival of the coroner and Mr. Mahr's own
+physician, when it was discovered that the victim's heart had been
+pierced by a very slender blade or stiletto. The wound was so small and
+the aperture closed by the head of the weapon in such a manner that no
+blood had issued.
+
+An enterprising reporter had gained access to the chamber of death, and
+described in detail the rifling of the drawers, the partially open
+window; he had picked up a small gold link, evidently torn from the
+sleeve buttons of the deceased. Mr. Mahr was last seen alive by his
+friend, Marcus Gard, who called to see him on important business before
+taking his departure to Washington. Just prior to this, however, a
+strange woman, heavily veiled, had sent in a note and been admitted to
+Mr. Mahr. This woman was not seen to leave the house; in fact, the
+servant had supposed her present when Mr. Gard called, and a party to
+the business under discussion; it was now believed that she might have
+remained concealed in the outer room until after the great financier had
+taken his departure. Of this, however, there was no present evidence.
+Mahr had dismissed the butler and told him to lock up--yet the woman had
+not been seen to leave. Of course she could have let herself out, or Mr.
+Mahr could have opened the door for her--no one seemed to recall whether
+the chain was on in the morning or not.
+
+Was the crime one of anger or revenge? Why, then, the robbery? The
+appearance of the table drawers would seem to indicate someone in search
+of papers, yet the dead man's valuables appeared to have been removed by
+force--the cuff link had been broken, the watch snatched from its pocket
+with such violence that the cloth had been torn. At present the mystery
+that surrounded the crime was impenetrable. The dead man's son was
+prostrated with grief.
+
+Gard finished reading and rose, crushing the paper in his hand. "It's a
+horrible thing--horrible! I hope you gentlemen will excuse me. I am not
+well, and this--has affected me--unaccountably." He turned to his
+stateroom. "I'm going to rest, if I can."
+
+The two men looked at each other in deep concern.
+
+"I hope we don't lose him," muttered Denning.
+
+Alone in the silence of his swaying room, Gard threw himself face down
+upon the bed. He could not reason any longer. His whole being gave way
+to a voiceless cry. He shook as if with cold, and beat his hands
+rhythmically on the pillows. He rolled over at last, and lay staring at
+the curved ceiling of the car. One thought obsessed him. She had been
+there, in that room, hidden--watching him, doubtless, as he committed
+the ghastly theft. Even in the awful situation in which she found
+herself, what must she think of _him_? Criminal, blackmailer, murderess,
+perhaps--but what could she think of him? The blood tingled through his
+veins and his waxen face flushed scarlet with vivid shame. In his
+weakened, overwrought condition, this aspect of the case outranked all
+others. He forgot the horrible publicity that threatened not only
+Dorothy and her mother but Victor Mahr's son--when the motive of the
+crime was learned. He forgot the yearning of his soul for the saving of
+its sister spirit. He forgot the dread vision of the chair of death in
+the keen personal shame of the creature she must believe him to be.
+
+Suddenly a new angle of the case presented itself--Brencherly! He sat up
+gasping. Brencherly must have guessed--the inevitable logic of the
+situation led straight to the solution of the enigma. The detective knew
+of Mahr's efforts to obtain the combination of Mrs. Marteen's safe; he,
+himself, had told him that those efforts had been successful. Brencherly
+knew of Mrs. Marteen's sudden return, her visit to her home and her
+mysterious disappearance. The motive of the murder was supplied, the
+disappearance accounted for. Already the detective's trained mind had
+doubtless pieced together the fragments of these broken lives. It was
+Brencherly who had told him of Mahr's former marriage. Everything,
+everything was in his hands. Would the man remain true to him? What
+wouldn't one of the great newspapers pay for the inside story! Could
+Brencherly be trusted? His well seasoned dislike of the whole detective
+and police service made him sure of treachery. But before him rose the
+vision of the boyish, candid face, as the detective had taken the Great
+Man's proffered hand, the honesty in his voice as he had given his
+word--"I'll do my best, sir," and into Gard's black despair crept a pale
+ray of hope.
+
+Gard had not been mistaken when he surmised that Brencherly must
+inevitably connect the murder with the sequence of events. But the
+conclusion reached with relentless finality by that astute young man was
+far from being what Gard had feared. To the detective's mind the answer
+was plain--his employer was guilty.
+
+The motive obviously concerned Mrs. Marteen. It was evident, from Mahr's
+efforts to gain access to that lady's safe, that she possessed something
+of which Mahr stood in fear or desired to possess. It was possible that
+she had obtained proof against Mahr. Perhaps she opposed young Teddy's
+attentions to her daughter. Perhaps Mahr was responsible for the
+disappearance. At any rate, Gard had been the last person to see Mahr as
+far as anyone knew; and a bitter feud existed, which no one guessed.
+Brencherly did not place great reliance in the woman theory. Doubtless
+one had called, but she had probably left. That she had gone out unseen
+was no astonishing matter. A servant delinquent in his hall duty was by
+no means a novelty even in the best regulated mansions. The robbery in
+that case could have been only a blind for an act of anger or revenge.
+The search for papers might have a deeper significance.
+
+He intended to "stand by the boss," Brencherly told himself. Gard was a
+great man and a decent sort; Mahr was an unworthy specimen. Brencherly
+decided that at all Costs Marcus Gard must be protected. He cursed the
+promise that kept him at his post. He longed to get into personal touch
+with every tangible piece of evidence, every clew, noted and unnoted.
+His men were on the spot and reporting to him; but that could not make
+up for personal investigation. In view of these new developments, what
+would be Mrs. Marteen's next move? Some secret bond connected the
+three--Mahr, Gard and Mrs. Marteen.
+
+Brencherly, alone in Gard's library, rose and paced the room, glancing
+at the desk clock every time his line of march took him past the table.
+His employer was coming home fast as steam could bring him. He longed
+for his arrival and the council of war that must ensue; longed to be
+relieved of the tedium of room-tied waiting. He no longer looked for any
+communication from Mrs. Marteen. She had her reasons for concealment, no
+doubt, and he felt assured that neither hospital nor morgue would yield
+her up. It was with genuine delight that he at last heard the familiar
+voice on the telephone, though it was but a hurried inquiry for news.
+
+Half an hour later, haggard and worn beyond belief, Gard hurried into
+the library and held out his hand.
+
+The young man looked at his face in astonishment as Gard threw himself
+into the chair and turned toward him.
+
+"You'll pardon me," he faltered. "There's nothing that can't wait, and
+you need rest, sir."
+
+"Not till I can get it without nightmares," he snapped. "Now give me
+this Mahr affair--all of it. I've seen the papers, of course, but I
+imagine you have the inside; then I want to hear what you think."
+
+The detective gave a start and colored to the roots of his hair. No
+doubt about it, Gard was a great man, if he could meet such a situation
+in such a manner and get away with it.
+
+"Well, sir, the papers have it straight enough this time, as it happens.
+There's nothing different."
+
+"What was the weapon?"
+
+"A stiletto paper cutter, that he always had on his table. It had a top
+like a fencing foil; in fact, that's what it was in miniature, except
+that it was edged. It was that top, flattened close down, that stopped
+any flow of blood, so that everyone thought at first it was the blow on
+the temple that killed him. There's this about it, though: I'm told they
+say he was stunned first and stabbed afterward. That doesn't look like
+the work of a common thief, does it?"
+
+His hearer could not control a shudder. "Why not?" he parried. "He may
+have known the knockout was only temporary, and he was afraid he'd come
+to; or the man might have been known to Mahr, and he'd recognized him."
+
+Brencherly shook his head incredulously.
+
+"And the woman? What description did the servants give?" There was a
+perceptible pause before he asked the question.
+
+"The woman? The description is pretty vague--dressed in black, a heavy
+veil, black gloves; nothing extraordinary. The servant did say he
+thought her hair was gray, or it might have been light. He caught a
+glimpse of the back of her head when he showed her into the room. She
+sent in a note first; just a plain envelope; it wasn't directed."
+
+"Did they find any letter or enclosure that might explain why she was
+admitted?"
+
+"No, sir, nothing."
+
+The two men eyed each other in silence. Each felt the other's reticence.
+
+"And what do you advise now?" Gard inquired.
+
+Brencherly's gaze shifted to the bronze inkwells.
+
+"If I knew just how this event affected you, sir, I might be able to
+advise."
+
+It was his employer's turn to look away.
+
+"I know absolutely nothing about the cause of Mahr's death. I do know
+that there was no love lost between us; also that I was the last person
+known to have been with him. Isn't that enough to show you how I am
+affected?"
+
+"And the motive of your quarrel?" The detective felt his heart thump and
+wondered at his own daring.
+
+"We were rival competitors for the Heim Vandyke--he got it away from
+me."
+
+"Does that answer my question, sir?" Again Brencherly gasped at his own
+temerity.
+
+"Young man," bellowed Gard, half rising from his chair, "what are you
+trying to infer?"
+
+Brencherly stood up. "Please, Mr. Gard, be frank with me. I want to help
+you; I want to see you through. It can be done--I'm sure of it. No one
+knows about your trouble with Mahr. What he wanted with the combination
+of that safe I can't guess, but it was for no good; and you told me
+yourself that he had secured it. But everything may work out all right
+if you let me help you. I'm used to this cross-examination business, and
+I can coach you so they won't get a thing. I don't pretend to be in a
+class with you, sir; don't think I'm so conceited. I'm just specialized,
+that's all. I want to help, and I can if you'll let me."
+
+Gard's face underwent a kaleidoscopic series of changes; then
+astonishment and relief finally triumphed, and were followed by
+hysterical laughter. Brencherly was disconcerted.
+
+"Oh, so you think _I_ did it!" he said at last. "I wish I had!" he
+added. "That wouldn't worry me in the least."
+
+"Mrs. Marteen!" Brencherly exclaimed, and stood aghast and silent.
+
+"No!" thundered Gard, and then leaned forward brokenly with his head in
+his hand.
+
+Slowly the detective's mind readjusted itself, and the look in his eyes
+fixed upon Gard's bowed figure was all pitying understanding. Then he
+shook his head.
+
+"No, she didn't do it," he said--"never! I don't believe it!"
+
+The stricken man looked up gratefully, but his head sank forward again.
+"He had done a horrible thing to her," he said. "You're right; you must
+have my confidence if you are to help--us. He had tried to estrange
+Dorothy from her mother. I--happened to be able to stop that. I used
+what you told me to quiet him. I threatened to tell his son the whole
+story. It was bluffing, for we knew nothing positive. But the story is
+all true. He was putty in my hand when I held that threat over
+him--putty. I went to him that night to dictate what he was to do in
+case he obtained any clew of Mrs. Marteen. I thought she might try to
+see him--to--reproach him. We knew she was very ill, had been when she
+went away, and then--nerve shock. I went to him--and found him already
+dead. You understand--Mrs. Marteen--I couldn't but believe--so I set the
+stage for robbery. I bluffed it off with everyone. I gave the message to
+lock up and leave Mahr undisturbed. I wanted an alibi for her--or at
+least to gain time."
+
+Brencherly remained silent. A man's devotion to another commands awed
+respect, however it may manifest itself. But he was thinking rapidly.
+
+"You know District Attorney Field, don't you?" he asked at length.
+
+Gard nodded. "An old personal friend; but I can't go to him with that
+story. I'd rather a thousand times he suspected me than give one clew
+that would lead to her. I'll stick to my story. Field wouldn't cover up
+a thing like that--he couldn't."
+
+"I know," returned Brencherly; "there's got to be a victim for justice
+first, or else prove that nothing, not even the ends of justice, can be
+gained before you can get the wires pulled. But that's what I'm setting
+out to do. I don't believe, Mr. Gard, that Mrs. Marteen committed that
+murder--not that there may not have been plenty of reason for it, but
+the way of it--no! I've got an idea. I don't want to say too much or
+raise any hopes that I can't make good; but there's just this: when I
+leave the house it will be to start on another trail. In the meantime,
+everything is being done that is humanly possible to find Mrs. Marteen.
+There's only one other way, and that, for the present, won't do--it's
+newspaper publicity, photographic reproductions and a reward. I think
+she is somewhere under an assumed name. But there are two lodestones
+that will draw her if she is able to move. One is the house of Victor
+Mahr, and the other her own home. There is love and hate to count on,
+and sooner or later one will draw her within reach. I'll have the
+closest watch put about that I can devise. There's nothing you can do,
+sir--now. If you'll rest to-night, you'll be better able to stand
+to-morrow, and if I can verify my idea in the least I'll tell you. Let
+your secretary watch here; and good night, Mr. Gard."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+The woman in the narrow bed tossed in a heavy, unnatural sleep. Her lips
+were swollen and cracked with fever, her cheeks scarlet and dry. She was
+alone in a narrow, plain room, sparsely but newly furnished. On a
+dressing table an expensive gold-fitted traveling bag stood open. Over a
+bent-wood chair hung a costly dark blue traveling suit, and the garments
+scattered about the room were of the finest make and material. On the
+floor lay a diamond-encrusted watch, ticking faintly, and a gold mesh
+bag, evidently flung from under the pillow by the movements of the
+sleeper. This much the landlady noticed as she softly opened the
+unlocked door and stood upon the threshold.
+
+"Dear, dear!" she murmured, and, habit strong upon her, she gathered up
+the scattered garments, folded them neatly, and hung up the gown in the
+scanty closet, having first examined the tailor's mark on the collar.
+"Dear, dear!" she said again. "It's noon; now whatever can be the
+matter? Is she sick? Looks like fever." Again she hesitated and paused
+to pick up a sheer handkerchief-linen blouse, upon the Irish lace collar
+of which a circle of pinhead diamonds held a monogram of the same
+material. "H'm," ruminated the landlady. "Martin! Yes, there's an 'M,'
+and a 'Y' and a 'J'--h'm! She said she's a friend of Mrs. Bell's, but
+Mrs. Bell has been in Europe six months. Wonder who her friends are, if
+she's going to be sick?"
+
+She moved toward the bed to examine her guest more closely, but her
+attention was distracted by the luxuriousness of the objects in the
+dressing case. She fingered them with awe and observed the marking. She
+stooped for the purse and watch, which she examined with equal
+attention. Once more her eyes turned to the flushed face on the tumbled
+pillow. The sleeper had not awakened. The woman leaned over and took one
+of the restless hands in hers. "It's fever, sure," she said. At the
+touch and sound of her voice the other opened her eyes, wide with sudden
+astonishment. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Martin," said the visitor, "but
+it's after twelve o'clock, and I began to get anxious--you a stranger
+and all. I think, ma'am, you've a fever. Better let me call the doctor;
+there's one on the block."
+
+The woman sat up in bed. "Mrs. Martin?" she said faintly. "Yes--I've--My
+head hurts--and my eyes--" She stared about her with a puzzled
+expression that convinced her observer that delirium had set in. "A
+doctor? Do I need a doctor? Why? What was it the doctor said? That my
+nerves were in--in--what was it? And I must travel and rest--yes, that
+was it; I remember now."
+
+"Well," the other woman commented, "he doesn't seem to have done you a
+world of good, and you better try another."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Marteen with decision, "no, I don't want one--not now,
+anyway. It's a headache. May I have some tea? Then I'll lie quiet, if
+you'll lower that blind, please."
+
+"I'm sorry Mrs. Bell's away, or I'd send for her," ventured the
+landlady.
+
+"Mrs. Bell?" the sick woman echoed with the same tone of puzzled
+surprise. "Why, she's away--yes--she's away." She sank back among the
+pillows and waved a dismissing hand.
+
+Still the landlady waited. She deemed it most unwise not to call a
+doctor, but feared to make herself responsible for the bill if her guest
+refused. But she had seen enough to convince her that the lady's visible
+possessions were ample to cover any bill she might run up through
+illness, provided, of course, it were not contagious. She turned
+reluctantly and descended to the kitchen to brew the desired tea.
+
+Left alone, the patient sat up and looked about her with strained and
+frightened eyes. Then she began to wring her hands, slowly, as if such a
+gesture of torment was foreign to her habit. Her wide, clear brow
+knitted with puzzled fear. Her lips were distorted as one who would cry
+out and was held dumb. Presently she spoke.
+
+"Where am I?" There was a long pause of nerve-racking effort as she
+strove to remember. "_Who_ am I?" she cried hysterically. She sprang out
+of bed and ran to the mirror over the dressing table. The face that
+looked back at her was familiar, but she could not give it its name. A
+muffled scream escaped her lips, and she held her clenched fists to her
+temples as if she feared her brain would burst. "Martin!" she said at
+last. "Martin--she called me Mrs. Martin. Who is she? When did I come
+here?"
+
+She seized her dressing case and went through its contents. Each article
+was familiar; they were hers; she knew their faults and advantages. The
+letter case had a spot on the back; she turned it over and found it
+there. Letter case--the thought was an aspiration. With trembling
+eagerness she clutched at the papers in the side pocket. Yes, there were
+letters. She read the address, "Mrs. Martin Marteen"--yes, that was
+herself. How strange! She had forgotten. The address was a steamer--that
+seemed possible. There was a journey, a long journey--she vaguely
+recalled that. But why? Where? She read the notes eagerly; casual _bon
+voyage_ and good wishes; letters referring to books, flowers or bonbons.
+The signatures were all familiar, but no corresponding image rose in her
+brain. The last she read gave her a distinct feeling of affection, of
+admiration, though the signature "M.G." meant nothing. She reread the
+few scrawled sentences with a longing that frightened her. Who was
+M.G.--that her bound and gagged mentality cried out for? She felt if she
+could only reach that mysterious identity all would be well. M.G. would
+bring everything right.
+
+Suddenly the idea of insanity crossed her mind. She sat down abruptly.
+The room began to sway; her head ached as if the blows of a hammer were
+descending on her brow. She clutched the iron foottrail to keep from
+being tossed from the heaving, rocking bed. The ceiling seemed to lower
+and crush her. Then an enormous hand and arm entered at the window and
+turned off the sun which was burning at the end of a gas jet in the
+room. All was dark.
+
+She recovered consciousness slowly, aware of immeasurable weakness. She
+lay very still, lying, as it were, within her body. She felt that should
+she require that weary body to do anything it must refuse. Through her
+half-closed lids she saw the woman who had first aroused her enter the
+room with a tray.
+
+"Dear, dear!" she heard her say. "You must cover up. Don't lie on the
+outside of the bed; get under the covers."
+
+To Mrs. Marteen's intense inner surprise, the weary body obeyed,
+crawling feebly beneath the sheets. She had not realized that she had
+lain where she had fainted, at the foot of the bed.
+
+"Now take some tea," the controlling will ordered; "you'll feel better;
+and a bit of dry toast. Sick headaches are awful, I know, and tea's the
+best thing."
+
+Once more the body obeyed, and sat up and drank the steaming cup to the
+great comfort of the inner being. So reviving was its influence that
+Mrs. Marteen decided to try her own will and speak.
+
+"Thank you--" her lips spoke, and she felt elated. She made another
+effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No--no toast
+now--but is there some more tea?"
+
+She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images
+were forming; memories were coming back now--scraps of things. There was
+a young girl whom she loved dearly. She had brown hair, very blue eyes
+and a delicious profile. She was tall and slender. She wore a blue serge
+suit. Her name--was--was Dorothy. She spread her palms upon the sheet
+and felt it cool and refreshing.
+
+"I'm afraid I've had a fever," she said slowly. "I think I have it
+still. I--I have such nightmares when I sleep--such nightmares." She
+shuddered.
+
+"Well," said the landlady cheerfully, "you'll feel better now. Take it
+from me, tea's the thing." She gathered up the napkin, cup and saucer
+and placed them on the tray. "Well, I'll let you be quiet, and I'll drop
+in again about five."
+
+Now another memory came, a conscious thought connection. She remembered
+that Mrs. Bell had told her of her faithful landlady, Mrs. Mellen, with
+whom she always stopped when she came North; she remembered calling
+there many times for Mary, her smart motor waking the quiet,
+unpretentious street. Now she remembered recalling the boarding house
+and seeking shelter there in her fear and pain. Fear and pain--why, what
+was it? There was something cataclysmic, overpowering, that had
+happened. What could it be? Something was hanging over her head, some
+dreadful punishment. Her struggle to clear the mists from her brain
+rendered her more wildly feverish, then stupefied her to heavy sleep.
+
+When she awoke again it was to see the kindly fat face of Mrs. Mellen
+beaming at her from the foot of the bed.
+
+"That's it," she nodded approvingly; "you've had a nice nap. Head's
+better, I'm sure. Here's another cup of tea, and I brought you up the
+evening paper; thought you might want to look it over. And if you'll
+give me your trunk checks, I'll send the expressman after your baggage."
+
+"My trunk checks--what did I do with them? Why, of course, I gave them
+to my maid."
+
+A sudden instinct that she did not wish to see her maid, or be followed
+by her baggage, made her stop short in her speech.
+
+"Oh, your maid!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I'm glad you told me--I'll have to
+hold a room. You didn't say anything about her last night, so I hadn't
+made any provision. Dear, dear! And when do you calculate she's liable
+to get here?"
+
+Mrs. Marteen took refuge in her headache. "I don't know," she said
+wearily; "perhaps not to-day."
+
+"Oh, well, never mind. I dare say I can manage," Mrs. Mellen assured
+her. "If you've got everything you want, I'll have to go. Do you think
+you'll be able to get down to dinner--seven, you know; or would you
+rather have a plate of nice hot soup up here? Here, I guess. Well, it's
+no trouble at all, and you're right to starve your head; it's what I
+always do."
+
+She backed smiling out of the door, which she closed gently.
+
+Mrs. Marteen lay back with closed eyes for a moment, then restlessness
+seizing her, she sat bolt upright and firmly held her own pulse. "I'm
+certainly ill," she said aloud. "I wonder where Marie is? Of course I
+left her at the station, and told her to bring the baggage on. But that
+was long ago; what has kept her? But this isn't my home," she argued to
+herself. She was too weak to trouble with further questioning.
+Instinctively she put out her hand and drew the newspaper toward her.
+She raised it idly.
+
+"Murder of Victor Mahr"--the big headlines met her eyes.
+
+She felt a shock as if a blinding flash of lightning had enveloped her;
+she remembered.
+
+She sat as if turned to stone, staring at the ominous words. Her nerves
+tingled from head to foot; her very life seemed a strained and vibrating
+string that might snap with any breath. Slowly, as if the Fates had
+decided not as yet to break that attenuated thread, the tingling,
+stinging shock passed. She found strength to read the whole article,
+almost intelligently, though at times her mind would wander to
+inconsequent things, and the beat of her own heart seemed to deaden her
+understanding. She remembered now everything, nearly everything, till
+she turned from her own door, a desperate, homeless outcast. She
+recalled a cab going somewhere, and then after what appeared to be an
+interval of unconsciousness, she was walking, walking, instinctively
+seeking the darkened streets, a satchel in her hand. Somewhere, footsore
+and exhausted, she had sat upon a bench. Then came the inspiration to go
+to the quiet house where her friend had stayed. The friend was far away;
+she could remain there and not be found--stay until she had courage to
+do the thing that had suggested itself as the only issue--to end it all.
+
+But who had killed Victor Mahr? She gave a gasp of horror and held up
+her hands--was there blood upon them? But how--how? Try as she would, no
+answering picture of horror rose from her darkened mind. There was a
+long, long period she could not account for--not yet; perhaps it would
+come back, as these other terrible memories had returned to assail her.
+She rolled over, hiding her face in the pillow, and groaned. The
+twilight deepened; the shadows thickened in the room.
+
+Suddenly she rose and began dressing in frenzied haste, overcoming her
+bodily weakness with set purpose. Habit came to her rescue, for she was
+hardly conscious of her movements. Her toilet completed, she began
+hastily packing her traveling case, the impulse of flight urging her to
+trembling speed. But when she lifted the bag its weight discouraged her.
+Setting it down again upon the dressing table, she lowered her veil and
+staggered into the dark hallway. Economy dictated delayed illumination
+in the Mellen household. All was quiet. Somewhat reassured, she
+descended the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail. The fever which had
+relaxed for a brief interval renewed its grip, and filled with vague,
+indescribable fears, she fled blindly. Something in her subconscious
+brain suggested Victor Mahr, and it was toward Washington Square that
+she bent her hurried steps.
+
+She entered the park, forcing her failing strength to one supreme
+effort, and sank, gasping, upon a bench. It faced toward the darkened
+residence of the murdered man. A few stragglers stood grouped on the
+pavement before the house, of asked questions of the policeman stationed
+near by. The electric lights threw lace patterns that wavered over the
+unfrequented paths. She leaned back, staring at the dark bulk of the
+mansion with the darker streak at the doorway, which one divined to be
+the sinister mark of death. Suddenly she sat erect, her aching weariness
+forgotten. She knew, past peradventure, that _she had sat there upon
+that very seat the night before_. The memory was but a flash. Already
+delirium was returning. She was powerless to move. Hours passed, and
+still she sat staring, unseeing, straight before her. Once a policeman
+passed and turned to look at her, but her evident refinement quieted his
+suspicions, and he moved on.
+
+She was roused at last by a movement of the bench as someone took a
+place beside her. She looked up and vaguely realized that it was a
+woman, darkly dressed and heavily veiled like herself. She, too, leaned
+back and seemed lost in contemplation of the house opposite. Presently
+she raised the veil, as if it obstructed her vision too greatly,
+revealing a withered face, narrow and long, with a singularly white
+skin. She had the look of a respectable working woman, and her
+black-gloved hands were folded over a neat paper package. Her curious
+glance turned toward the lady beside her, and seemed to find
+satisfaction in the elegance that even the darkness could not quite
+conceal. She moved nearer, and with a birdlike twist of the head, leaned
+forward and frankly gazed in her companion's face. The other did not
+resent the action.
+
+The woman slowly nodded her head. "Don't know what she's doin', not she.
+She's one of the silly kind." She put out a hand like a claw, and
+touched Mrs. Marteen's shoulder. Mrs. Marteen turned her flushed and
+troubled face toward the woman with something akin to intelligence in
+her eyes. "What are you settin' here fur, lady?" asked the woman
+harshly. "Watchin' his house? Well, it's no use; he won't come out again
+for you or your likes--never again, never again," and she chuckled.
+
+"I was here last night. I sat here last night," said Mrs. Marteen, her
+mind reverting to its last conscious moment.
+
+The woman peered at her closely, striving to see through the meshes of
+the veil where the electric light touched her cheek.
+
+"You did? What fur? Was he comin' out to ye, or did ye want to be let
+inside?"
+
+The insult was lost on the sufferer.
+
+The woman shifted her position, and changed her tone to one of cunning
+ingratiation.
+
+"Goin' to the funeral?" she inquired, and without waiting for an answer,
+continued to talk. "I am. I won't be asked, of course--they don't know
+I'm here; but I'm goin'. I wouldn't miss it--no, not for--nothing. I
+ought to have some crape, I know, but I don't see's I can. It would be
+the right thing, though. I'll ride in a carriage," she boasted. "I
+suppose they'll have black horses. I haven't seen anything back where I
+come from, so's I'd know just what _is_ the fashionable thing. It'll be
+a fashionable funeral, won't it? He's a great big man, he is. Everybody
+knows him--and everybody _don't_ know him; but I do--he's a devil I And
+women love him, always did love him, the fools! Why, _I_ used to love
+him. You wouldn't think that now, would you? Well, I did." She laughed a
+broken cackle, and seemed surprised that her listener remained mute.
+"Did you love him?" demanded the crone sneeringly.
+
+"Love him--love him?" exclaimed Mrs. Marteen, her emotions responding
+where her mind was unreceptive. "I hated him--I hated him!"
+
+"Of course you hated him. How could a lady help hating him?" murmured
+the questioner. "But would _you_ have the courage to kill him--that's
+what I want to know!"
+
+Under the inquisition Mrs. Marteen half roused to consciousness. She was
+in the semi-lucid state of a sleepwalker.
+
+"Kill him!" She held up her hands and looked at them as she had done
+after reading the account of the murder. "I'm not sure I didn't kill
+him; perhaps I did--I can't remember--I can't remember," she moaned more
+and more faintly.
+
+"Don't you take the credit of _that_!" shouted the woman, so loudly that
+a young man who had been aimlessly walking up and down as if intent upon
+some rendezvous, stopped short to gaze at them keenly.
+
+The older woman, with a movement so rapid that it seemed almost
+prestidigitation, lifted and threw back her companion's veil. The young
+man gave a start and approached hastily, amazement in every feature. But
+the two women were unaware of his presence, and what he next heard made
+him pause, turn, and by a slight detour come up close behind the bench.
+
+"Keep your hands off. Don't you say you killed him. What right have
+_you_ to take his life, I'd like to know! Don't let me hear you say that
+again--don't you dare! Just remember that killing him is _my_ business.
+You sha'n't try to rob me--it's my right!" She leaned forward
+threateningly.
+
+A hand closed over her wrist. The woman screamed.
+
+"Hold on, Mother, none of that." The young man, still retaining his
+hold, came from behind the seat and stood over her.
+
+She began to whimper and tremble. "Don't hit me," she begged pitifully.
+"Don't hit me, and I'll be good, indeed, I will."
+
+Mrs. Marteen had taken no notice of her providential protector. Her head
+was sunk upon her breast and her hands hung limp in her lap.
+
+The young man whistled twice, never relaxing his hold. A moment later a
+form detached itself from the group before the door of the house
+opposite, crossed the street and joined them quickly, yet with no
+impression of hurry.
+
+"What's up?" the newcomer asked quietly.
+
+"Here, take hold. Don't let her get away from you." With a glance round,
+he took a hypodermic needle from hi» pocket, and a quick prick in the
+wrist instantly quieted the struggling, captive. "Get a cab," he
+ordered, "and bring her over to my rooms. The utmost importance--not a
+sound to anybody. I've got my job cut out for me--no police in this,
+mind."
+
+He turned, his manner all gentleness. "Mrs. Marteen--Mrs. Marteen," he
+repeated. She raised her head slightly. "Will you come with me? My name
+is Brencherly, and Mr. Gard sent me for you. Come."
+
+She rose obediently. The name he had spoken seemed to inspire
+confidence, trust and peace, like a word of power; but her limbs refused
+to move, and she sank back again. Brencherly took her unresisting hand
+in his, felt her pulse and shook his head.
+
+"Long!" he called. "Get a cab. I'll take Mrs. Marteen; stop somewhere
+and send a taxi back for you; it might look queer to see two of us with
+unconscious patients."
+
+When his subordinate turned to go, Brencherly leaned toward the drugged
+woman, took the bundle from her listless hands and rapidly examined its
+contents. A coarse nightdress, a black waist and a worn and ragged empty
+wallet rewarded his search. He tied them up again, put the package in
+its place and turned once more to Mrs. Marteen. "She's a mighty sick
+woman," he murmured. "Well, it's home for hers, and then me for the old
+man."
+
+A taxi drove up, and his assistant descended. With his help Brencherly
+half supported, half carried his charge to the curb.
+
+Directing the chauffeur to stop at a nearby hotel before proceeding to
+Mrs. Marteen's apartment, he climbed in beside the patient, and as the
+machine gathered headway, murmured a fervent "Thank God!"
+
+Mrs. Marteen lay back upon the cushioned seat inert and passive. In the
+flash of each passing street-light her face showed waxen pale, a cameo
+against the dark background; so drawn and pinched were her features,
+that Brencherly, in panic, seized her pulse, in order to assure himself
+that life had not already fled. Obedient to his orders the cab ran up to
+an hotel entrance, and Brencherly, leaning out, called the starter.
+
+"Here!" he snapped, "send a taxi over to the park--the bench opposite
+No. --, and pick up a man with an old lady. She's unconscious."
+
+For an instant the light glinted on his metal badge as he threw back his
+coat. The starter nodded. Brencherly settled back again in his place
+with a sigh of relief. It was only a matter of moments now, and he would
+have brought to an unexpectedly successful close the task he had set
+himself. He began to build air castles; to construct for himself a
+little niche in his own selected temple of Fame. He was aroused from his
+revery by a voice at his side. Mrs. Marteen was speaking, at first
+indistinctly, then with insistent repetition.
+
+"I can't remember--I can't remember."
+
+He turned to her with gentle questioning, but she did not heed him.
+Slowly, with infinite effort, as if her slender hands were weighted
+down, she lifted them before her face. She stared at them with growing
+horror depicted on her face. He was suddenly reminded of an electrifying
+performance of Macbeth he had once witnessed. A red glare from a ruby
+lamp at a fire-street corner splashed her frail fingers with vivid color
+as they passed it by. She gave a scream that ended in a moan, and
+mechanically wiped her hands back and forth, back and forth, upon her
+coat. Brencherly's heart ached for her. Over and over he repeated
+reassuring words in her deafened ears, striving to lay the awful ghost
+that had fastened like a vampire on her heart. But to no avail. She was
+as beyond his reach as if she were a creature of another planet. Never
+in his active, efficient life had he felt so helpless. It was with
+thanksgiving that at last he saw the ornate entrance of Mrs. Marteen's
+home.
+
+"Watch her!" he ordered the chauffeur, as he leaped up the steps and
+into the vestibule to prepare for her reception.
+
+A message to her apartment brought the maid and butler in haste. With
+many exclamations of alarm and sympathy they bore her to her own room
+once more, and laid her upon the bed. She lay limp and still, while they
+hurried about her with restoratives.
+
+Brencherly was at the telephone. Almost at once, in answer to his ring,
+Doctor Balys' voice sounded over the wire in hasty congratulations and
+promises of immediate assistance. Hanging up the receiver, he turned
+again to his patient.
+
+Through the silent apartment the sound of the doorbell buzzed with
+sudden shock. The butler stood as if transfixed.
+
+"It's Miss Dorothy!" he exclaimed in consternation. "She went out to
+walk a little, with young Mr. Mahr. She was nervous and couldn't rest,
+and telephoned for him to come--in spite of--in spite of--" He
+hesitated. "Anyway, Mr. Mahr--young Mr. Mahr--came for her, sir.
+Mr.--Mr.--I think you'd better break it to her, sir. She mustn't see her
+mother like this--without warning!"
+
+Brencherly ran down the hall, the servant preceding him. As the door
+swung wide, Dorothy, followed by Teddy Mahr, entered the hallway. She
+stopped suddenly, face to face with a stranger.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, sudden fear and suspicion in
+her eyes.
+
+Brencherly explained quickly.
+
+"Mr. Gard employed me, Miss Marteen, to find your mother, if
+possible--and--she is here. Don't be alarmed."
+
+Dorothy sank into a chair, weak with relief. Teddy put forth his hand to
+help her. Instinctively she remained clasping his arm as if his presence
+gave her strength.
+
+"And she's all right--she isn't hurt--or--or anything?" she implored
+breathlessly.
+
+"She's very ill, I'm afraid," said Brencherly. "I think you--had better
+not go to her till the doctor comes. I've sent for him."
+
+"Oh! but I must--I must!" she cried, tears in her voice.
+
+In the rush of happenings no one had thought of Mrs. Mellows. Hers was
+not a personality to commend itself in moments of stress. Now she
+suddenly appeared, her eyes swollen with sleep, her ample form swathed
+in a dressing gown.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she complained. "I told you, Dorothy, that I
+thought it very bad form, indeed, for you and Mr. Mahr to go out. In
+bereavements, such as yours, sir, it's not the proper thing for you to
+be making exhibitions of yourself. Like as not the reporters have been
+taking pictures. And at any time they may find out that my poor dear
+sister is ill and wandering. I don't know _what_ to say! The papers will
+be full of it. And you!" she exclaimed, having for the first time become
+aware of the detective's presence. "Who are you. How did you get in? I
+hope and pray you're not a reporter!--Dorothy, don't tell me you've
+brought a reporter in here--or I shall leave this house at once!"
+
+"No, Aunt, no!" cried Dorothy. "This--this gentleman, has brought my
+mother home. She's in her room now--she's--"
+
+Mrs. Mellows turned and made a rush down the corridor. Four pairs of
+hands stayed her in her flight.
+
+"No--no!" begged Dorothy. "This gentleman says she is very ill. We
+mustn't disturb her--Aunt--please--the doctor is coming."
+
+As if the name had conjured him, a ring announced Doctor Balys' arrival.
+He entered hastily, his emergency bag in his hand.
+
+"Mr. Brencherly, come with me, please," he ordered. "You can tell me the
+details as I work. Miss Marteen and Mrs. Mellows, wait for me, and I'll
+come and tell you the facts just as soon as I know them myself." He
+nodded unceremoniously and followed Brencherly.
+
+As they neared Mrs. Marteen's room the silence was suddenly broken by a
+cry. Balys strode past his guide and threw open the door.
+
+Mrs. Marteen, sitting erect in the bed, held out rigid arms as if in
+desperate appeal. The terrified maid stood by, wringing her hands.
+
+"Gard!" she called. "Marcus Gard! help me! Tell me--I'll believe
+you--I'll believe you--will you tell me the truth!" Her strength left
+her suddenly, and as the physician placed a supporting arm about her,
+she sank back, her eyes closed wearily. As he laid her gently back upon
+the pillows, she sighed softly, her heavy lids unclosed a moment. "I
+knew you'd come," she murmured. "You'll take care of--of Dorothy--you
+will--" Her voice trailed off into nothingness; then "Marcus"--she
+whispered.
+
+The two men turned away. Brencherly coughed. "Is there any hope?" he
+asked, breaking the tense silence that seemed suddenly to have entered
+the room like an actual presence.
+
+The doctor nodded without speaking. "Yes--hope," he said at length, as
+he opened his leather satchel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+It was well into the small hours of the morning when Brencherly sought
+his own rooms in an inconspicuous apartment hotel, where he, his
+activities and, at times, strange companions, were not only tolerated,
+but welcomed. He was weary, but too excited and elated to desire sleep.
+He nodded to the friendly night clerk, and received a favorable response
+to his request, even at that unwholesome hour, for coffee and scrambled
+eggs to be served in his rooms.
+
+He found Long, his assistant, slumbering sonorously in an armchair in
+the living-room of his modest suite. The open door to the chamber
+beyond, sufficiently indicated where his charge had been placed.
+
+Long awoke, and stretched himself with a yawn.
+
+"Three o'clock," he observed, with a glance at the mantel clock. "Made a
+good haul, hey? Well, your kidnapped beauty is in there, dead to the
+world. I tied her feet together before I went to sleep. You can't tell
+when they're going to come to, you know, and I thought it would be
+safer. Now, tell a feller, what's the dope?"
+
+Brencherly entered the adjoining apartment without deigning an answer,
+switched on the lights and approached the bed. The wizen little woman,
+with her disheveled white hair and tumbled garments looked pitifully
+weak and helpless; her thin, claw-like hands clutching at the pillow in
+a childish pose. Her captor stared at her intently, his brain crowded
+with strange thoughts. Who was she? What was her history? He had his
+suspicions, but they all remained to be verified.
+
+He took one of the emaciated wrists in his hand. How frail and small it
+was, and yet, perhaps, an instrument in the hands of Fate. She moved
+uneasily, and, glancing down, he noticed how securely she was bound.
+Leaning over, he loosened the curtain cord with which she had been
+secured. She sighed as if relieved, and, turning, he left her, as a
+discreet tapping at his door announced the coming of the meal he had
+ordered.
+
+A night watchman in shirt sleeves brought in the tray softly and set it
+upon the table, with a glance of curiosity at the adjoining room. There
+was usually an interesting story to be gleaned from the guests that the
+detective brought.
+
+"Come on," said the host eagerly, "fall on it, I'm starved."
+
+"Anything I can do?" inquired the night watchman hopefully.
+
+But Brencherly was still uncommunicative. "Nope, thanks."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Yes. Good-night--or good-morning. Tell 'em down stairs I'm much
+obliged, as usual."
+
+The two men ate heartily and in silence. It was not till the plates were
+scraped that either spoke. With the last sip of the soothing beverage
+Brencherly closed his eyes peacefully.
+
+"Old man," he said, "this night's work is the best luck I've ever had.
+Now, tell me, did the lady say anything at any time? or did she remain
+as she is?"
+
+"She didn't say much. Grumbled a little at being moved around; in fact,
+I thought she was coming out of it for a minute when we first got her in
+here. Then she straightened out for another lap of sleep. Here's her
+kit."
+
+He rose as he spoke, and took from the mantel the package she had clung
+to during all her enforced journey. He untied the parcel, and both men
+bent over its meager contents. Though Brencherly had seen them under the
+wavering arc lights of Washington Square, he now gave each article the
+closest scrutiny. Nothing offered any clew, except the wallet. That,
+worn as it was, showed its costly texture, and the marks of careful
+mountings. It was unmistakably a man's wallet, and its flexibility
+denoted constant use. Brencherly set it on one side.
+
+"Anything else?" he asked.
+
+The other nodded. He had the most important find in reserve.
+
+"These," he said, and drew from his pocket a bunch of newspaper
+clippings. He laid each one on the table. "Now, _what_ do you think of
+_that_?" His lean, cadaverous face took on a look of satisfied cunning.
+If his colleague had not chosen to take him into his confidence, he
+could show him that he was quite capable of drawing his own inferences
+and making his own conclusions. He sat back and nonchalantly lit a
+cigarette.
+
+There were at least twenty cuttings, of all sizes, from a half page from
+a Sunday supplement to a couple of lines from a financial column. But
+all bore the name of Victor Mahr more or less conspicuously displayed.
+Two scraps showed conclusively that they had been cherished and handled
+more than all the others. One was a sketch of the millionaire's country
+estate; the other, a reproduction from a photograph of his old-fashioned
+and imposing city residence.
+
+"H'm!" said Brencherly. "It's pretty clear that she had a reason for
+occupying that park bench, hey? And she certainly has patronized the
+news bureau, or been a patient collector herself. See that?" He pushed
+forward the largest of the clippings. "That's three years old. I
+remember when that came out. It was after Teddy's sensational playing at
+the Yale-Harvard game. They had the limelight well turned on then, you
+remember. And that"--he smoothed another slip--"that announcement of his
+purchase of 'Allanbrae' is at least five years old. She's been
+treasuring all this for a long time. Where did you find them?"
+
+"When I put her on the bed," Long replied, "her collar seemed to be
+choking her, so I loosened it, and a button or two. There was a pink
+string around her throat and a little old chamois bag--like you might
+put a turnip-watch in. I took it in here and found--that stuff--what do
+you think?"
+
+"I think that we're getting near the answer to something we all want to
+know," said Brencherly. "But it means a lot to a lot of people to keep
+the police off--for the present. I want to be sure."
+
+"How do you suppose she got in?" said Long, insinuatingly.
+
+"Don't know yet--but we'll find that out. Meantime, don't use the
+telephone for anything you have to say to anybody. And the other woman,
+let me tell you, has nothing to do with this case. I'll tell you now,
+before your curiosity makes you make a fool of yourself--she's been
+hunted for high and low, because she's had aphasia--forgets who she is,
+and all that, every once in a while, and her people have been offering a
+reward. Just happened to make a double haul, that's all. But you don't
+get in on the first one. Now are you satisfied?" Brencherly looked at
+his companion quizzically.
+
+Long grunted. He was rather annoyed at having the occurrence so simply
+explained.
+
+"Oh, well," he yawned, "you're on this case, and I'm only your lobbygow;
+so I suppose I've got to let it go at that. But, say, I'm tired. Let's
+turn in, or, if you don't want me in your joint, I'll go down stairs and
+get them to bunk me somewhere in the dump." He rose. "I suppose they'll
+fix me up?"
+
+Brencherly went to the telephone and spoke for a moment. "All right," he
+said; "they'll give you number seventy-three on this floor. I want you
+to do something for me to-morrow, so set the bellboy for eight o'clock,
+will you?" A moment later he turned his assistant over to the hotel
+roundsman, and turned to his own well earned rest. Making a neat packet
+of the clippings, he stowed them away once more in their worn
+receptacle--he hesitated, then nodded to himself, having decided to
+replace them. He must gain this woman's confidence. She must not be made
+suspicious. Above all, her anger must not be roused. She might become
+stubborn and uncommunicative. He stepped into the adjoining room and
+turned on the electrics. The quick flash of the light made him shut his
+eyes. When he opened them he gave a cry of dismay. The tumbled bed was
+empty--the window stood wide open. It flashed into his mind, that as he
+had talked with Long over the incriminating bits of paper, he had felt a
+draft of air; but his knowledge that his captive was securely tied had
+eliminated from his mind any idea of the possibility of an attempt at
+escape. Then, cursing himself, he recalled how he had loosened the cords
+about her ankles. With a bound he was at the window, looking down at the
+spidery threads of fire escape ladders, leading down to the utter dark
+of the service alley.
+
+"My God!" he exclaimed aloud. "My God!" He feared to find a crushed and
+broken little body at the foot of those steep iron ladders. It seemed
+impossible for such a frail and aged woman to have, unaided, made her
+way down the sides of that inky precipice. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed
+again, "if only she isn't killed!" He stood looking out, leaning as far
+over the iron railing as he dared, waiting till his eyes should become
+accustomed to the darkness. Gradually the details of the structure
+became clear to his vision. No ominous dark mass took shape on the
+pavement, far beneath. He could vaguely make out the contours of an ash
+can or two and an abandoned wheelbarrow. But the alley from end to end
+held no human form. She had succeeded in making her escape! Then at all
+costs he must find her; and the police must not get hold of her. The
+evidence of the clippings, her angry words as she prepared to attack
+Mrs. Marteen--all outlined a possible solution to the tragedy in
+Washington Square.
+
+He hesitated a moment. His first impulse was to descend the fire escapes
+in turn and look below for further trace of her going. But he realized
+that he could reach the alley quicker by going through the house. He
+cursed himself for a careless fool. How could he have allowed this to
+happen!
+
+He turned quickly, intent on losing no further moments, when he was
+frozen into immobility by a sound, the most curiously unexpected of all
+sounds--a laugh, a faint treble chuckle! It seemed to come from the
+outer air, from nowhere, to hang suspended in the damp air of the shaft.
+It was eerie, ghostly. Was the spirit of the dead man laughing at his
+folly? The detective stepped back on the grating, flattening himself
+against the outer sill of his window. Again the chuckler--now an
+unmistakable laugh floated to his ears. With a smothered exclamation he
+stepped forward again, and looked upward. There, against the violet-gray
+of the star-sprinkled sky, bulked a crouching shape, cuddled on the
+landing above.
+
+Brencherly held his breath. It seemed that the woman must fall from her
+perch, so insecure it seemed. He controlled himself, thinking rapidly.
+Then he laughed in return.
+
+"That _was_ a good joke you played on me," he said. "How did you ever
+think of it?"
+
+"Oh," came the answer, punctuated by smothered peals of laughter.
+"That's the way I got away from the Sanatorium. I just went up instead
+of down, and stayed there, till they'd hunted all the place over. Then
+when I saw where they weren't, I just went down and walked out."
+
+"That was clever," he exclaimed. "But you can't be comfortable up there.
+Won't you come down, and I'll get something for you to eat. You must be
+hungry, and cold, too."
+
+"No," came the response. "I sort of like it here. It reminds me of the
+way I fooled them all back there; and they thinking themselves that
+sharp, too. It's sort of nice, too, looking at the stars--sort of feels
+like a bird in a nest, don't it?"
+
+"I hope to goodness, she don't take it into her head she can fly,"
+thought Brencherly. Aloud he said: "Say, do you mind if I come up there
+and sit with you a while? I'm sort of lonesome here myself." He had
+already moved silently forward, and was slowly mounting the iron
+ladder--very slowly, a rung at a time, talking all the while in a
+cordial, friendly voice. He feared she might take fright and precipitate
+herself to the stones below. But her mood was otherwise.
+
+"I don't mind," she said. "I don't seem to know just how I got here, and
+perhaps you can tell me. I just woke up and found myself sleepin' on
+somebody's bed. I thought at first that I was back in the ward, when I
+found my feet was tied up. Then when I got loose and had time to feel
+around, I saw 'twas some strange place. Then the fire escapes sort of
+looked nice and cool, so I came out."
+
+By this time her visitor had climbed beside her and had seated himself
+on the landing in such fashion that no move of hers could dislodge
+either of the strange couple. He noted with relief that they were
+outside of a door instead of a window, as was the case on all the floors
+below. The drying roof of the hotel only was above them. He did not wish
+this extraordinary interview to be interrupted. His airy nest-mate
+seemed amenable to conversation.
+
+"Well, well!" he resumed, "so _that_ was the way you worked it. Wouldn't
+that make the doctor mad, though--what was the old duffer's name,
+anyway? You did tell me, but I've got such a poor memory--now, yours is
+good, I'll bet a hat."
+
+"Well," she said, "'tain't what it used to be, but I'll never forget old
+Malbey's name as long as I live, nor what he looks like, either. He
+looks like a potato with sprouts for eyes."
+
+Brencherly laughed. He had a very clear, if unflattering, picture of the
+learned physician.
+
+"But, say," she cried suddenly, "you're not trying to get me, are you?"
+
+"Oh, _I'm_ no friend of the doctor's," he said easily. "Why, I brought
+you up here to hide you away safely. That was one of my rooms you woke
+up in. You see, I found you on a bench in the park out there, and you
+went to sleep so suddenly right while I was talking to you, that I
+thought you must be tired out."
+
+She leaned forward, peering at him through the dusk. Her white pinched
+face looked skull-like in the faint light.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "seems to me that I remember some woman saying
+she killed Victor Mahr, and me getting angry about it--and then I don't
+seem to know just _what_ happened. Well, young man, I'm much obliged to
+you, I'm sure. 'Tain't often an old woman like me gets so well taken
+care of."
+
+"But why," he questioned softly, "were you so annoyed with the other
+lady? She had just as much right as you had, I suppose, to kill the
+gentleman?"
+
+"She had not!" she shrilled. "She had not!" Then lowering her voice to a
+whisper, she murmured confidentially: "_My_ name ain't Welles!"
+
+"Why, Mrs. Welles," he exclaimed, "how can you say so? If you aren't
+Mrs. Welles, who are you?"
+
+"Just as if you didn't know!" she retorted scornfully.
+
+"Well, perhaps," he admitted. "But never mind that now. Do you know that
+you lost your bag of clippings?"
+
+Her hand flew to her breast. "Now, gracious me! How could I?"
+
+"Oh, don't worry about them," he soothed. "I've got them all in my room.
+You shall have them again. Don't you want to come down and get them?" He
+was cramped and chilled to the bone; moreover, the stars had paled, and
+a misty fog of floating, impalpable crystal was slowly crossing the
+oblong of sky left visible by the edifices on both sides of the alley.
+He waited anxiously for her to reply, but she seemed lost in thought. He
+looked at her closely. She was asleep, her head resting against the
+blistered paneling of the door. He shifted his position slightly, and
+gazed at the coming of the dawn. Gradually the crystal white gave place
+to faintest violet, then flushed to rose color. The details of the
+coping above them became sharply distinct. Below them the canyon was
+full of blue shadow, but already the depths were becoming translucent.
+He looked at his strange companion. Should he wake her, he wondered.
+Softly he tried the door. It was locked from within. If he allowed her
+to slumber in peace, she might, on awakening, be terrified at the
+visible depths below. Now, all was vague in the blue canyon.
+
+Very gently he pressed her hand and called her. "Mrs. Welles."
+
+She awoke with such a violent start that for an agonized instant he felt
+his hold slipping. He held her firmly, however, and steadied her with
+voice and hand.
+
+"Let's go indoors," he said quite casually. "You see if we sit here much
+longer, it's growing light, and people will see us. Then it won't be
+easy for me to keep you hidden. Now, if you'll just turn about and let
+me go first, I'll get you down quite easily and nobody the wiser for our
+outing."
+
+She looked at him for a moment as if puzzled, then her brow cleared.
+"Very well, young man," she said. "I must have had a nap. Now, how do
+you want me to turn?"
+
+He showed her, and with his arms on the outside of the ladder, her body
+next the rungs--as he had often seen the firemen make their rescues, he
+slowly steadied her to the landing below and assisted her in at the
+window.
+
+With a sigh of relief he closed the window behind them and drew down the
+blinds.
+
+"Now! that's all right, Mrs. Mahr. You're quite safe."
+
+She turned on him her beady eyes and laughed her shrill chuckle. "There,
+didn't I tell you, you knew all the time? I guess you'll own up that
+it's the wife who's got the right to kill a husband, won't you?"
+
+"Sure," he said. "I'll see that nobody else gets the credit, believe
+me!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+With Dorothy clinging to his hand, Marcus Gard watched the door of Mrs.
+Marteen's library with an ever-growing anxiety. Only the presence of the
+child, who clasped his hand in such fear and grief, kept him from giving
+way. The long reign of terror that had dragged his heart and mind to the
+very edge of martyrdom had worn thin his already exhausted nerves, and
+now--now that the lost was found again, it was to learn by what a
+slender thread of life they held her with them.
+
+Every moment he could spare from the demands of his responsibilities was
+spent in close companionship with Dorothy in the house where only the
+sound of soft-footed nurses, the clink of a spoon in a medicine glass or
+the tread of the doctor mounting the stairs broke the waiting silence.
+For many days she had not known them. Now came intervals of
+consciousness and coherence, but weakness so great that the two anxious
+watchers, unused to illness, were appalled by the change it wrought. Now
+for the twentieth time they sat longing for and yet fearing the moment
+when Dr. Balys, with his friendly eyes and grim mouth, would enter to
+them with the tale of his last visit and his hopes or fears for the
+next.
+
+The lamps were lighted, the shades drawn; the fire crackled quietly on
+the hearth. The room was filled with the familiar perfume of violets,
+for Dorothy, true to her mother's custom, kept every vase filled with
+them.
+
+Silently Gard patted the little cold hand in his, as the sound of
+approaching footsteps warned them of the doctor's coming. In silence
+they saw the door open, and welcomed with a throb of relief the smile on
+the physician's face.
+
+"A great, a very great improvement," he said quickly, in answer to
+Dorothy's supplicating eyes. "Quite wonderful. She is a woman of such
+extraordinary character that, once conscious, we can count on her own
+great will to save the day for us--and to-morrow you shall both see her.
+To-night, little girl, you may go in and kiss her, very quietly--not a
+word, you know. Just a kiss and go."
+
+"Now?" whispered Dorothy, as if she were already in the sick room. "May
+I go now?"
+
+"Yes. No tears, you know, and no huggings--just one little kiss--and
+then come back here."
+
+Dorothy flew from the room, light and soundless as blown thistledown.
+The doctor turned to his friend.
+
+"There is something troubling her," he said gravely, "something that is
+eating at her heart. Ordinarily I wouldn't consent to anyone seeing her
+so soon; but she called for you in her delirium; and now that she is
+conscious, she whispers that she must consult you. Perhaps you can
+relieve her trouble, whatever it is. I'm going to chance it; after
+Dorothy has seen her, you may. I don't know exactly what to say,
+but--well, answer the question in her eyes, if you can--but only a
+moment--only give her relief. She must have no excitement."
+
+Gard nodded.
+
+"I think I know," he said slowly.
+
+The doctor nodded in understanding, as the girl appeared, her face drawn
+by emotion.
+
+"Oh, poor mother!" she gasped. "She seemed--so--I don't know
+why--grateful--to me--thanked me for coming to her--_thanked_ me, Dr.
+Balys, as if I wasn't longing every minute to be with her! She is not
+quite over her delirium yet, do you think?"
+
+Balys smiled. "Of course she is grateful to see you. Your mother has
+been very close to the Great Divide, and she, more than any of us,
+realizes it. Now," he said, turning to Gard, "go in and make your little
+speech; and, mind you, say your word and go. No conversation with my
+patient."
+
+Gard stood up, excitement gripping him. He was to see her eyes again,
+open and understanding. He was to hear her voice in coherent tones once
+more! The realization of this wonder thrilled him. He went to her
+presence as some saint of old went to the altar, where, in a dream, the
+vision of miracle had been promised him. All the pain and torture of the
+past seemed nothing in the light of this one thing--that she was herself
+again, to meet him hand to hand and eye to eye. He entered the quiet
+room and crossed its dimly lighted spaciousness to the bed. The nurse
+rose tactfully and busied herself among the bottles on the distant
+dresser.
+
+At last, after the ordeal that they had gone through, in the lonely,
+hollow torture chamber of the heart, they met, and knew. With a sigh of
+understanding, she moved her waxen fingers, and, comprehending her
+gesture, he took her hand and held it, striving to impart to her
+weakness something of his own vigor. For a moment they remained thus.
+Then into her eyes, where at first great repose had shone, there came a
+gleam of questioning. He leaned close above her to catch her whispered
+words.
+
+"She doesn't know?"
+
+"No," he answered. "Dorothy came to me with his letter. I got everything
+from the safe, and I sent her away so no further messages might reach
+her. Now do you see?"
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+Again he took her hand in his and strove to give it life, as a
+transfusion of blood is given through the veins.
+
+There was silence for a moment. Then her white lips framed a request.
+
+"Bring them--all the things from the inner safe--bring them to-morrow to
+me." Her eyes turned toward the fire that glowed on the hearth.
+
+He comprehended her intention.
+
+"To-morrow," he murmured, and, turning, softly left the room. With a few
+words to Dorothy he hurried from the house.
+
+Instinctively he turned to seek the sanctuary of his library, but paused
+ere he gave the order to his chauffeur. No, before he could call the day
+complete, there was something else to do. He gave the address of the
+house on Washington Square. The mansion, as the limousine drew up before
+it, looked dark, almost deserted. He mounted the steps slowly, his mind
+crowded with memories--with what burning hatred in his heart he had come
+to face the owner of that house, to disarm Victor Mahr of his revengeful
+power. With what primeval elation he had stood upon that topmost step
+and drawn long breaths of satisfaction at the thought of the encounter
+in which, with his own hands he had laid his enemy low! Its thrill came
+to him anew. Again he recalled the hurried purposeful visit that had
+ended with his finding the enemy passed forever beyond his reach.
+Vividly he saw before him the silent room--soft lighted, remotely quiet;
+the waxen hand of a man contrasting with the scarlet damask of a huge
+winged chair, that hid the face of its owner. And more distinct than all
+else, staring from the surrounding darkness of the walls, the glorious,
+palpitating semblance of a warrior of long ago. The strangely living
+lips, the dusky hollows where thoughtful eyes gleamed darkling. The
+glint of armor half covered by velvet and fur. A gloved hand that seemed
+to caress a sword hilt, that caught one crashing ruby light upon its
+pommel--the matchless Heim Vandyke--the silent, attentive watcher who
+had seen his sacking of the dead; who seemed, with those deep eyes of
+understanding, to realize and know it all--the futile clash of human
+wills, the little day of love and hate, the infinite mercy, and the
+inexorable law.
+
+Gard paused, his hand upon the bell. Now at last he could enter this
+house, and wish it peace. His errand, even the all-comprehending eyes of
+the dead and gone warrior could look upon without their half-cynic
+sadness.
+
+As he entered the great silent hall, where the footfalls of the servant
+were hushed, as if overawed by tragedy, he seemed to leave behind him,
+as distinctly as he discarded the garment he gave into the lackey's
+hands, the bitterness of the past. He was ushered into a small and
+elaborate waiting room to the right. And a moment later Teddy Mahr
+entered to him, with extended hands.
+
+The boy had aged. His face was white and drawn, but the eyes that looked
+into Gard's face were courageous and clear.
+
+"Thank you for coming," he said frankly. "Shall we sit here, or--in
+Father's room?" His mouth twitched slightly. "It really must be part of
+the house, you know. It was his workshop--and I want it to be mine in
+the future. I haven't been in there since, and, somehow, if you don't
+mind, sir, I'd like you to come with me--to be with me, when I first go
+back."
+
+Gard nodded and smiled rather grimly. "Yes, boy--I'd like to myself. I
+would have asked it of you, but I feared to awaken memories that were
+too painful for you. Let us go in. What I have to talk over with you
+concerns him, too."
+
+They crossed the hall, and Teddy unlocked the heavy door and paused to
+find the switch. The anteroom sprung into light. In silence they crossed
+the intervening space to the inner door, which was in turn unlocked.
+
+As the soft lights were once more renewed, Gard started, so vividly had
+he reconstructed the scene as he had last looked upon it, with that
+hasty yet detailed scrutiny of the stage manager. He was almost
+surprised to find the great damask-covered easy chair untenanted, and
+order restored to the length and breadth of the library table.
+Involuntarily his eyes sought the wall behind the desk, where the
+panoply of ancient arms glinted somberly, then scanned the polished
+surface of the wood in search of what?--of the stiletto that was a foil
+in miniature. Somehow, though he knew that it, along with other relics
+of that dreadful passing, were in charge of the officials of the law, he
+had expected to see it there. Something of the impermanence of life and
+the indifferent, soulless permanence of things, flashed through his
+mind. "Art and art alone, enduring, stays to us," he quoted the words
+aloud unconsciously. "The bust outlasts the throne, the coin--Tiberius."
+His eyes were fixed upon the picture, which, though thrown in no relief
+by the unlighted globes above it, yet in its very obscurity, dominated
+the room with its all but unseen presence.
+
+"Oh, no, not that alone," Teddy Mahr objected. "Don't you think we live
+on, in what we have done, in what we have been, in what we desire to
+do?"
+
+Gard was silent. The words seemed irony. "I believe," he said slowly,
+"that the end is not yet. I believe that we are each accountable for our
+individual being. I believe that every one of us is his brother's
+keeper." He was silent. His own short, newly evolved credo, surprised
+him.
+
+Teddy crossed to the great armchair, and laid his hand on it reverently.
+
+"It was here his Fate found him," he said with quiet self-control.
+"Where will Fate find me--or you--I wonder?"
+
+"Fate _has_ found me," said Gard. "Death isn't the only thing that Fate
+means, but Life also; and it's of Life I came to speak to you--as well
+as the Past, that we must realize _is_--the Past. Of course, you know
+what has been learned--something about what happened here. Now, I want
+to tell you of my plans. I want, if possible, to keep things quiet--Oh,
+it's only comparatively speaking--but we can avoid a great deal of
+publicity, if you will let me handle the matter. It's for your sake, and
+I'm sure your father would desire it--and--pardon me, if I presume on
+grounds I'm not supposed to know anything of--but for Dorothy's, too.
+Dorothy may have to face bereavement too. Publicity, details, the nine
+days' wonder--it's all unpleasant, distressing. I have arranged to see
+the District Attorney to-morrow night. He can, if he will, materially
+aid us. This poor insane woman has delusions that it would be painful
+for you to even know. It would certainly be most unfortunate if she were
+tried or examined in public. I'd rather you didn't come--did not even
+see her at any time. Will you trust me? You have a perfect right to do
+otherwise, I know--but--will you believe me when I say I've given this
+my best thought, and I believe I am giving you the best advice?"
+
+He stood very erect, speaking with formality, with a certainly stilted,
+"learned by rote" manner, very different from his usual fiery
+utterances.
+
+Teddy respected his mood and bowed with courtly deference. "You were my
+father's friend," he said. "You were the last to be with him. I know you
+are giving me the wisest advice a wise man can give, and I accept it
+gratefully, Mr. Gard--for myself, and father and for Dorothy, too."
+
+The older man held out his hand. Their clasp was strong and responsive.
+There were tears in Teddy's eyes, and he turned his head away quickly.
+
+"Then," said Gard briskly, "it is understood. You also know and realize
+why I have kept the whole matter under seal. Why I have secreted this
+poor demented creature, have kept even you in ignorance of her
+whereabouts. Oh, I know I have had your consent all along; I know you
+have given me your complete trust long before this; but to-night I
+wanted your final cooperation in the hardest task of all--to acquiesce,
+while in ignorance, to permit matters that concern you, and you alone
+most truly and deeply, to be placed in the hands of others. I thank you
+for your faith, boy. God bless you."
+
+Teddy saw his guest to the door, stood in the entry watching him descend
+to the street and his car, and turned away with a sigh. He reëntered the
+room they had left, and stood for a moment in grave thought. He sighed
+again as he plunged the apartment in darkness and, leaving, locked the
+doors one after the other. Something, some very vital part of his
+existence was shut behind him forever. There were questions that he
+might not ask himself--there were veils he must not lift--there was a
+door in his heart, the door to the shrine of a dead man--it must be
+locked forever, if he would keep it a sanctuary.
+
+In the hall once more, he turned toward the entrance; his thoughts again
+with the strong, kindly presence of the man who had just left him. He
+wondered why he had never realized the vast, unselfish human force in
+Gard. "What an indomitable soul," he said softly. "I must have been very
+blind."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+The following day found Marcus Gard at the usual morning hour in
+conference with Dorothy. The girl was radiant. The nurses had reported a
+splendid sleep and a calm awakening. She had been allowed a moment with
+her mother, whose voice was no longer faint, but was regaining its old
+vibrant quality.
+
+The doctor entered smiling and grasped Gard's extended hand.
+
+"You said it," he laughed. "Whatever it was, you said it, all right.
+Mrs. Marteen slept like a child, and there's color in her face to-day.
+See if you can do as well again. I'll give you five minutes--no, ten."
+
+Preceded by the doctor, he once more found his way through the
+velvet-hushed corridors to the softly lighted bedroom, where lay the
+woman who had absorbed his every thought. Her eyes, as they met his,
+were bright with anxiety, and her glance at the doctor was almost
+resentful. But it was not part of the physician's plan to interfere with
+any confidence that might relieve the patient's mind. With a casual nod
+to Mrs. Marteen, he called to the nurse and led her from the room, his
+finger rapidly tapping the sick-room chart, as if medical directions
+were first in his mind.
+
+Left alone, Gard approached the bed, and in answer to the unspoken
+question in her eyes, fumbled in his pocket and brought forth the thin
+packets of letters and the folded yellow cheques. One by one he laid
+them where her hands could touch them. He dared not look at her. He felt
+that her newly awakened soul was staring from her eyes at the mute
+evidence of a degrading past.
+
+A moment passed in silence that seemed a year of pain; then, without a
+sob, without a sigh, she slowly handed him a bundle of papers,
+withholding them only a moment as she verified the count; then, with a
+slight movement she indicated the fireplace. He crossed to it and placed
+the papers on the coals, where they flared a moment, casting wavering
+shadows about the silent room, and died to black wisps. Again and again
+he made the short journey from the bed to the grate; each time she
+verified the contents of the envelopes before delivering them to his
+hand.
+
+Last of all the two yellow cheques crisped to ashes. He stood looking
+down upon them as they dropped and collapsed into cinders, and from
+their ashes rose the phoenix of happiness. A glow of joyful relief
+lighted his spirit. There, in those dead ashes, lay a dead past--a past
+that might have been the black future, but was now relinquished forever,
+voluntarily--gone--gone! He realized a supreme moment, a turning point.
+Fate looked him in the eyes.
+
+He turned, and saw a face transfigured. There was a light in Mrs.
+Marteen's eyes that matched the glow in his own heart. Very reverently
+he raised her hand and kissed it; two sudden tears fell hot upon her
+cheeks and her lips quivered.
+
+He had never seen her show emotion, and it went to his heart. He saw her
+gaze at her hands with dilating eyes, and divined before she spoke the
+question she whispered:
+
+"Who killed Victor Mahr?"
+
+He bent above her gravely. "His wife. The wife he had cruelly
+wronged--his wife, who escaped at last from an asylum. She is quite
+mad--now. She is in our hands, and to-night, at eleven o'clock, the
+district attorney will be at my house to see her and have the evidence
+laid before him--to save Teddy," he added quickly.
+
+She looked at him wildly. "His wife--the wife that I--"
+
+He took her hand quickly. He feared to hear the words that he knew she
+was about to say.
+
+"Yes," he nodded. "Yes--she killed him."
+
+Mrs. Marteen sank slowly back upon her pillows and lay with closed eyes.
+A heavy pulse beat in the arteries at her throat, and a scarlet spot
+burned on either cheek.
+
+"Nemesis," she murmured. "Nemesis." She lay still for a moment. "Thank
+God!" she said at length, and let her hands fall relaxed upon the
+counterpane. She seemed as if asleep but for the quick intake of her
+breath.
+
+Gard gazed upon her with infinite tenderness, yet with sudden bitter
+consciousness of the isolation of each individual soul. She was remote,
+withdrawn. Even his eager sympathy could not reach the depths of her
+self-tortured heart. But now at last he knew her, a completed being. The
+soul was there, palpitant, awake. The something he had so sorely missed
+was the living and real presence of spirit. It came over him in a wave
+of realization that he, too, had been unconscious of his own higher self
+until his love had made him feel the need of it in her. They two, from
+the depths of self-satisfied power, had gone blindly in their paths of
+self-seeking--till each had awakened the other. A strange, retarded
+spiritual birth.
+
+He looked back over his long career of remorseless success with
+something of the self-horror he had read in her eyes as he had placed
+the incriminating papers in her frail hands. And as she had cast
+contamination from her, so he promised himself he would thrust predatory
+greed from his own life. They were both born anew. They would both be
+true to their own souls.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+The softened electric light suffused a glamour of glowing color over the
+rich brocade of the walls of Marcus Gard's library, catching a glint
+here and there on iridescent plaques, or a mellow high light on the
+luscious patine of an antique bronze. The stillness, so characteristic
+of the place, seemed to isolate it from the whole world, save when a
+distant bell musically announced the hour.
+
+Brencherly sat facing his employer, respecting his anxious silence,
+while they waited the coming of the district attorney, to whose clemency
+they must appeal--surely common humanity would counsel protective
+measures, secrecy, in the proceeding of the law. The links in the chain
+of evidence were now complete, but more than diplomacy would be required
+in order to bring about the legal closing of the affair without
+precipitating a scandal. Gard's own hasty actions led back to his fear
+for Mrs. Marteen, that in turn involved the cause of that suspicion. To
+convince the newsmongers that the crime was one of an almost accidental
+nature, he felt would be easy. An escaped lunatic had committed the
+murder. That revenge lay behind the insane act would be hidden. If
+necessary, the authorities of the asylum could be silenced with a golden
+gag--but the law?
+
+Neither of the two men, waiting in the silent house, underestimated the
+importance of the coming interview.
+
+The night was already far spent, and the expected visitor still delayed.
+At length the pale secretary appeared at the door to announce his
+coming.
+
+Gard rose from his seat, and extended a welcoming hand to gray-haired,
+sharp-featured District Attorney Field.
+
+Brencherly bowed with awkward diffidence.
+
+Gard's manner was ease and cordiality itself, but his heart misgave him.
+So much depended upon the outcome of this meeting. He would not let
+himself dwell upon its possibilities, but faced the situation with grim
+determination.
+
+"Well, Field," he said genially, "let me thank you for coming. You are
+tired, I know. I'm greatly indebted to you, but I'm coming straight to
+the point. The fact is, we," and he swept an including gesture toward
+his companion, "have the whole story of Victor Mahr's death. Brencherly
+is a detective in my personal employ." Field bowed and turned again to
+his host. "The person of the murderer is in our care," Gard continued.
+"But before we make this public--before we draw in the authorities,
+there are things to be considered."
+
+He paused a moment. The district attorney's eyes had snapped with
+surprise.
+
+"You don't mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you have the key to
+that mystery! Have you turned detective, Mr. Gard? Well, nothing
+surprises me any more. What was the motive? You've learned that, too, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Insanity," said Gard shortly.
+
+"Revenge," said the detective.
+
+"Suppose," said Gard, "a crime were committed by a totally irresponsible
+person, would it be possible, once that fact was thoroughly established,
+to keep investigation from that person; to conduct the matter so quietly
+that publicity, which would crush the happiness of innocent persons,
+might be avoided?"
+
+"It might," said the lawyer, "but there would have to be very good and
+sufficient reasons. Let's have the facts, Mr. Gard. An insane person, I
+take it, killed Mahr. Who?"
+
+"His wife." Gard had risen and stood towering above the others, his face
+set and hard as if carved in flint.
+
+Field instinctively recoiled. "His wife!" he exclaimed. "Why, man alive,
+_you_ are the madman. His wife died years ago."
+
+"No," said Gard. "Teddy Mahr's mother died. His wife is living, and is
+in that next room."
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" Field demanded.
+
+"A pretty plain meaning," Gard rejoined. "The woman escaped from the
+asylum where she was confined. According to her own story, she had kept
+track of her husband from the newspapers. Mahr couldn't divorce her, but
+he married again, secure in his belief that his first marriage would
+never be discovered. Mad as she was, she knew the situation, and she
+planned revenge. Dr. Malky, of the Ottawa Asylum, is here. We sent for
+him. The woman has been recognized by Mahr's butler as the one he
+admitted. There is no possible doubt. And her own confession, while it
+is incomplete in some respects, is nevertheless undoubtedly true.
+
+"But, Field, this woman is hopelessly demented. There is nothing that
+can be done for her. She must be returned to the institution. I want to
+keep the knowledge of her identity from Mahr's son. Why poison the whole
+of his young life; why wreck his trust in his father? Convince yourself
+in every way, Mr. Field, but the part of mercy is a conspiracy of
+silence. Let it be known that an escaped lunatic did the killing--a
+certain unknown Mrs. Welles--and let Brencherly give the reporters all
+they want. For them it's a good story, anyway--such facts as these, for
+instance: he happened by in time to see an attack upon another woman on
+a bench opposite Mahr's house, and to hear her boast of her acts. But I
+ask as a personal favor that the scandal be avoided. Brencherly, tell
+what happened."
+
+The detective looked up. "There was an old story--our office had had
+it--that Mahr was a bigamist. In searching for a motive for the crime, I
+hit on that. I had all our data on the subject sent up to me. I found
+that our informant stated that Mahr had a wife in an asylum somewhere.
+That gave me a suspicion. I found from headquarters that there were two
+escapes reported, and one was a woman. She had broken out of a private
+institution in Ottawa. I got word from there that her bills had been
+paid by a lawyer here--Twickenbaur. I already knew that he was Mr.
+Mahr's confidential lawyer. But all this I looked up later, after I'd
+found the woman. You see, Mr. Gard is employing me on another matter,
+and after he returned from Washington, I gave my report to him here.
+
+"Then I went over to Mahr's house. I had a curiosity to go over the
+ground. It was quite late at night, and I was standing in the dark,
+looking over the location of the windows, when I saw a woman acting
+strangely. She was threatening and talking loudly, crying out that she
+had a right to kill him. I sneaked up behind just in time to stop her
+attack on another woman who was seated on the same bench, and who seemed
+too ill to defend herself. Well, sir, I had to give her three hypos
+before I could take her along. Then I got her to my rooms, and when she
+came around, she told me the story. Of course, sir, you mustn't expect
+any coherent narrative, though she is circumstantial enough. Then I
+brought over the butler, and he identified her at once. Mr. Gard advised
+me not to notify the police until he had seen you. We got the doctor
+from the asylum here as quickly as possible. He's with her in there
+now."
+
+The attorney sat silent a moment, nodding his head slowly. "I'll see
+her, Gard," he said at length. "This is a strange story," he added, as
+Brencherly disappeared into the anteroom.
+
+Field's eyes rested on Gard's face with keen questioning, but he said
+nothing, for the door opened, admitting the black-clad figure of a
+middle-aged woman, escorted by a trained nurse and a heavily built man
+of professional aspect.
+
+"This is--" Field asked, as his glance took in every detail of the
+woman's appearance.
+
+"Mrs. Welles, as she is known to us," the doctor answered; "but she used
+to tell us that that was her maiden name, and she married a man named
+Mahr. We didn't pay much attention to what she said, of course, but she
+was forever begging old newspapers and pointing out any paragraphs about
+Mr. Victor Mahr, saying she was his wife."
+
+Field gazed at the ghastly pallor of the woman's face, the maze of
+wrinkles and the twinkling brightness of her shifting eyes, as she stood
+staring about her unconcernedly. Her glance happened upon Brencherly.
+Her lips began to twitch and her hands to make signals, as if anxious to
+attract his attention. She writhed toward him.
+
+"Young man," she whispered audibly, "they've got me--I knew they would.
+Even you could not keep me so hidden they couldn't find me." She jerked
+an accusing thumb over her shoulder at the corpulent bulk of her
+erstwhile jailer. "They've been trying to make me tell how I got out;
+but I won't tell. I may want to do it again, you see, and you won't
+tell."
+
+"But," said Brencherly soothingly, "you don't want to get out now, you
+know. You've no reason to want to get out."
+
+She nodded, as if considering his statement seriously.
+
+"Of course, since I've got Victor out of the way, I don't much care. And
+I had awful trouble to steal enough money to get about with. Why, I had
+to pick ever so many pockets, and I do hate touching people; you never
+can tell what germs they may have." She shook out her rusty black skirt
+as if to detach any possible contagion.
+
+"But, why," the incisive voice of the attorney inquired, "did you want
+to kill Victor Mahr?"
+
+"Why?" she screamed, her body suddenly stiffening. "Suppose you were his
+wife, and he locked you up in places, and made people call you Mrs.
+Welles, while he went swelling around everywhere, and making millions!
+What'd you do? And besides, it wasn't only _that_, you see. _I_ knew,
+being his wife, that he was a devil--oh, yes, he was; you needn't look
+as if you didn't believe it. But I soon learned that when I said I was
+'Mrs. Victor Mahr' in the places he put me into, they laughed at me, the
+way they do at my roommate, who says she's a sideboard and wants to hold
+a tea-set."
+
+"Tell these gentlemen how cleverly you traced him," suggested
+Brencherly.
+
+"Oh, I knew where he lived and what he was doing well enough." She
+bridled with conscious conceit; "I read the papers and I had it all
+written down. So when I got out and stole the money, I knew just where
+to go. But he's foxy, too. I knew I'd have to _make_ him see me. So I
+stole some of the doctor's letterhead paper, and I wrote on it,
+'Important news from the Institution'--that's what he likes to call his
+boarding house--an institution." She laughed. "It worked!" she went on
+as she regained her breath. "I just sent that message, and they let me
+go right in. 'Well, what is it--what is it?' Victor said, just like
+that." Her tones of mimicry were ghastly. She paused a moment, then
+broke out:
+
+"Now you won't believe it, but I hadn't the slightest idea what I was
+going to kill him with when I went in there--I really didn't. The doctor
+will tell you himself that I'm awfully forgetful. But there, spread out
+before him, he had a whole collection of weapons, just as if he should
+say, 'Mamie, which'll you have?' I couldn't believe my eyes; so I said
+first thing, 'Why, you were expecting me!' He heard my voice, and his
+eyes opened wide; and I thought: 'If I don't do it now, he'll raise the
+house.' So I grabbed the big pistol and hit him! I'm telling you
+gentlemen all this, because I don't want anyone else to get the credit.
+There was a woman I met on a bench, and I just was sure she was going to
+take all the credit, but I told her that was _my_ business. I hate
+people who think they can do everything. There's a woman across my hall
+who says she can make stars--" She broke off abruptly as for the first
+time she became aware of Gard's presence in the room. "Why, there you
+are!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Now, that's good! You can tell these
+people what _you_ found."
+
+"But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you
+struck him with a pistol."
+
+"Oh, I did _that_ afterward." She took up the thread of her narrative.
+"I selected the place very carefully, and pushed the knife way in tight.
+I hate the sight of blood, and I sort of thought that'd stop it, and it
+did. Then, dear me, I had a scare. There's a picture in that room as
+live as life, and I looked up, and saw it looking at me. So I started to
+run out, but somebody was coming, so in the little room off the big one
+I got behind a curtain. Then this gentleman went through the room where
+I was, and into the room where _he_ was. But he shut the door, and I
+couldn't see what he thought of it. After a while he came out and said
+'good-night' to me, though how he knew I was there I can't guess. So I
+waited a very long time, till everything was quiet, and then I went back
+and sat with him. It did me good just to sit and look at him; and every
+little while I'd lift his coat to see if the little sword was still
+there. The room was awful messy, and I tidied it up a bit. Then when
+dawn about came, I got up and walked out. I had a sort of idea of
+getting back to the institution without saying anything, because I was
+afraid they'd punish me."
+
+"Why did you rob Mr. Mahr?" asked Mr. Field.
+
+"Rob nothing!" she retorted.
+
+"But his jewels, his watch," the attorney continued, his eyes riveted on
+her face with compelling earnestness. The woman gave an inarticulate
+growl. "But," interposed Brencherly, "I found his wallet in your
+package." He took from his pocket a worn and battered leather pocketbook
+and held it toward her.
+
+"Oh," she answered indifferently, "I just took it for a souvenir. In
+fact, I came back for it--last thing."
+
+Brencherly shrugged his shoulders expressively. Gard sat far back in his
+chair, his face in shadow.
+
+"How long has it been, Mrs. Welles, since you--accomplished your
+purpose?" he asked slowly.
+
+"You know as well as I do," she cried angrily.
+
+"You were there. It was yesterday--no, the day before."
+
+"It was just a week ago we found her," Brencherly said in a low voice.
+"I had to look up everything and verify everything."
+
+"You don't think I did it?" she burst out angrily. "Well, I'll prove it.
+I tell you I did, and I thought it all out carefully, although the
+doctor says I can't think connectedly. I'll show him." She fumbled in
+the breast of her dress for a moment, and brought out her cherished
+handful of newspaper clippings, which she cast triumphantly upon the
+table. "There's all about him from the papers, and a picture of the
+house. Why, I'd 'a' been a fool not to find him, and I had to. Oh, yes,
+I suppose, as the doctor says, I'm queer; but I wasn't when he first
+began sending me away--no, indeed. I wasn't good enough for him, that
+was all; and I was far from home, and hadn't a friend, and he had money.
+Oh, he was clever--but he's the devil. He used to file his horns off so
+people wouldn't see, but I know. So, I'll tell you everything, except
+how I got away. There's somebody else I may want to find." She glanced
+with infinite cunning at Brencherly, and began her finger signals as if
+practicing a dumb alphabet of which he alone knew the key.
+
+"Where did you receive her from, Doctor?" Field asked.
+
+"From Ogdensburg, sir. Before that they told me she was found wandering,
+and put under observation in Troy. All I knew was that somebody wanted
+her kept in a private institution. She'd always been in one, I fancy."
+
+There was a pause as Field seemed lost in thought. Then he turned to
+Gard.
+
+"May I ask you to clear one point?" he asked "You gave evidence that he
+was alive when you entered the room. According to her story--"
+
+"I lied," said Gard, his pale face suffused with color. "I had to--I was
+most urgently needed in Washington. I would have been detained, perhaps
+prevented altogether from leaving. Who knows--I might even have been
+accused. I plead guilty of suppressing the facts."
+
+There was silence in the room. The attorney's eyes were turned upon the
+self-confessed perjurer. In them was a question. Gard met their gaze
+gravely, without flinching. Field nodded slowly.
+
+"You're right; publicity can only harm," he said at last. "We will see
+what can be done. I'll take the proper steps. It can be done legally and
+verified by the other witnesses. The butler identifies her, you say.
+It's a curious case of retribution. I can't help imagining Mahr's
+feelings when he recognized her voice. Is your patient at all dangerous
+otherwise?" He addressed himself to the nurse.
+
+"No," she answered. "We've never seen it. Irritable, of course, but not
+vicious. I can't imagine her doing such a thing. But you never can tell,
+sir--not with this sort."
+
+Field again addressed Gard, whose admission seemed to have exhausted
+him. "And the son--knows nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Gard. "He worships his father's memory. He is
+engaged, also, to--a very dear little friend of mine--the child of an
+old colleague. I want to shield them--both."
+
+"I understand." He nodded his head slowly, lost in thought.
+
+The woman, childishly interested in the grotesque inkwells on the table,
+stepped forward and raised one curiously. Her bony hands, of almost
+transparent thinness, seemed hardly able to sustain the weight of the
+cast bronze. It was hard to believe such a birdlike claw capable of
+delivering a stunning blow, or forcibly wielding the deadly knife. She
+babbled for a moment in a gentle, not unpleasant voice, while they
+watched her, fascinated.
+
+"She's that way most of the time," said the nurse softly. "Just like a
+ten-year-old girl--plays with dolls, sir, all day long."
+
+Suddenly her expression changed. Over her smiling wrinkles crept the
+whiteness of death. Her eyes seemed to start from her head, her lips
+drew back, while her fingers tightened convulsively on the metal
+inkstand. The nurse, with an exclamation, stepped forward and caught
+her.
+
+There was a gleam of such maniacal fury in the woman's face that Mr.
+Field shuddered. "Hardly a safe child to trust even with a doll," he
+said. "I fancy the recital has excited her. Hadn't you better take her
+away and keep her quiet? And don't let anyone unauthorized by Mr. Gard
+or myself have access to her. It will not be wise to allow her delusion
+that she was the wife of Victor Mahr to become known--you understand?"
+
+Mr. Gard rose stiffly. "I will assume the expense of her care in future.
+Let her have every comfort your institution affords, Dr. Malky. I will
+see you to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you, sir." The physician bowed. "Good night. Come, Mrs. Welles."
+
+Obediently the withered little woman turned and suffered herself to be
+led away.
+
+As the door closed, Field came forward and grasped Gard's hand warmly.
+"It is necessary for the general good," he said, his kindly face grown
+grave, "that this matter be kept as quiet as possible. Believe me, I
+understand, old friend; and, as always, I admire you."
+
+Gard's weary face relaxed its strain. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. "We
+can safely trust the press to Brencherly. He," and he smiled wanly,
+"deserves great credit for his work. I'm thinking, Field, I need that
+young man in my business."
+
+Field nodded. "I was thinking I needed him in mine; but yours is the
+prior claim. And now I'm off. Mr. Brencherly, can I set you down
+anywhere?"
+
+Confusedly the young man accepted the offer, hesitated and blushed as he
+held out his hand. "May I?"
+
+Gard read the good-will in his face, the congratulation in the tone, and
+grasped the extended hand with a warm feeling of friendly regard.
+
+"Good-night--and, thank you both," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+Spring had come. The silvery air was soft with promises of leaf and bud.
+Invitation to Festival and Adventure was in the gold-flecked sunlight.
+Nature stood on tiptoe, ready for carnival, waiting for the opening
+measures of the ecstatic music of life's renewal.
+
+The remote stillness of the great library had given place to the faint
+sounds of the vernal world. A robin preened himself at an open casement,
+cast a calculating eye at the priceless art treasures of the place,
+scorned them as useless for his needs, and fluttered away to an antique
+marble bench in the walled garden, wherefrom he might watch for worms,
+or hop to the Greek sarcophagus and take a bath in accumulated
+rainwater.
+
+Marcus Gard, outwardly his determined, unbending self again, sat before
+his laden table, slave as ever to his tasks. Nine strokes chimed from
+the Gothic clock in the hall; already his busy day had begun.
+
+Denning entered unannounced, as was his special privilege, and stood for
+a moment in silence, looking at his friend. Gard acknowledged his
+presence with a cordial nod, and continued to glance over and sign the
+typewritten notes before him. At last he put down his pen and settled
+back in his chair.
+
+"Well, old friend, how goes it?" he inquired, smiling.
+
+Denning nodded. "Fine, thank you. I thought I'd find you here. I was in
+consultation with Langley last night, and we have decided we are in a
+position now to go ahead as we first planned over a year ago. The
+opposition in Washington has been deflected. Besides, Langley dug up a
+point of law."
+
+Gard rose and crossed to Denning. His manner was quietly conversational,
+and he twirled his _pince-nez_ absently.
+
+"My dear man," he said slowly, "you will have to adjust yourself to a
+shock. We will stick to the understanding as expressed in our interviews
+of last February, whether Mr. Langley has dug up a point of law or not.
+In short, Denning, we are not in future doing business in the old way."
+
+"But you don't understand," gasped the other. "Langley says that it lets
+us completely out. They can't attack us under that ruling--can't you
+see?"
+
+"Quite so--yes. I can imagine the situation perfectly. But we entered
+into certain obligations--understandings, if you will--and we are going
+to live up to them, whether we could climb out of them or not."
+
+Denning sat down heavily.
+
+"Well, I'll be--Why, it's no different from our position in the river
+franchise matter, not in the least--and we did pretty well with that, as
+you know."
+
+Gard nodded. "Yes, we are practically in the same position, as you say.
+The position is the same--but _we_ are different. I suppose you've heard
+a number of adages concerning the irresponsibility of corporations?
+Well, we are going to change all that. I fancy you have already noticed
+a different method in our mercantile madness, and you will notice it
+still more in the future."
+
+Denning pulled his mustache violently, a token with him of complete
+bewilderment.
+
+"H'm--er--exactly," he murmured. "Of course, if that's the way you feel
+now--and you have your reasons, I suppose--I'll call Langley up. He'll
+be horribly disappointed, though. He's pluming himself on landing this
+quick getaway for you. He's been staking out the whole plan."
+
+Gard chuckled. "Do you remember, Denning, how hard you worked to make me
+go to Washington--and how my 'duty to our stockholders' was your
+favorite weapon? Where has all that noble enthusiasm gone--eh?"
+
+Denning blushed. "But we were in a very dangerous hole. Things are
+different now."
+
+"Yes," said Gard with finality, "they are--don't forget it."
+
+"Well," and Denning rose, discomfited, "I'm going. Three o'clock, Gard,
+the directors' meeting. I'll see you then."
+
+He shook hands and turned to the door, paused, turned again as if to
+reopen the subject, checked himself and went out.
+
+As the door closed Gard chuckled. "I bet he's cracking his skull to find
+out my game," he thought with amusement. "By the time he reaches the
+office, he'll have worked it out that I'm more far-sighted than the rest
+of them, and am making character; that I'm trying to do business by the
+Ten Commandments will never occur to him." He returned to the table and
+resumed his task, paused and sat gazing absently at the contorted
+inkwells.
+
+His secretary entered quietly, a sheaf of letters in his hand.
+
+"Saunders," said Marcus Gard, not raising his eyes from their absorbed
+contemplation, "did you ever let yourself imagine how hard it is to do
+business in a strictly honest manner, when the whole world seems to have
+lost the habit--if it ever _had_ the habit?"
+
+Saunders looked puzzled. "I don't know, sir. Mr. Mahr is in the hall and
+wants to see you," he added, glad to change the subject.
+
+"Is he? Good. Tell him to come in." Gard rose with cordial welcome as
+Teddy entered.
+
+There was an air of responsibility about the younger man, calmness,
+observation and concentration, very different from his former
+light-hearted, easy-mannered boyishness. Gard's greeting was
+affectionate. "Well, boy, what brings you out so early? Taking your
+responsibilities seriously? And in what can I help you?"
+
+Teddy blushed. "Mr. Gard," he said, hurrying his words with
+embarrassment, "I wish you'd let me _give_ you the Vandyke--please do. I
+don't want to _sell_ it to you. Duveen's men are bringing it over to you
+this morning; they are on their way now. I want you to have it. I--I--"
+He looked up and gazed frankly in the older man's face, unashamed of the
+mist of tears that blinded him. "I know father would want you to have
+it. And I know, Mr. Gard, what you did to shield his memory. If you
+hadn't gone to Field--if you hadn't taken the matter in charge--" He
+choked and broke off. "I don't _know_ anything--but you handled the
+situation as I could not. Please--won't you take the Vandyke?"
+
+Gard's hand fell on the boy's shoulder with impressive kindliness. "No,"
+he said quietly, "I can't do that, much as I appreciate your wanting to
+give it to me. I have a sentiment, a feeling about that picture. It
+isn't the collector's passion--I want it to remind me daily of certain
+things, things that you'd think I'd want to forget--but not I. I want
+that picture 'In Memoriam'--that's why I asked you to let me have it;
+and I want it by purchase. Don't question my decision any more, Teddy.
+You'll find a cheque at your office, that's all." He turned and
+indicated a space on the velvet-hung wall, where a reflector and
+electric lights had been installed. "It's to hang there, Teddy, where I
+can see it as I sit. It is to dominate my life--how much you can never
+guess. Will you stay with me now, and help me to receive it?"
+
+Teddy was obviously disappointed. "I can't--I'm sorry. I ought to be at
+the office now; but I did so want to make one last appeal to you.
+Anyway, Mr. Gard, your cheque will go to enrich the Metropolitan
+purchase fund."
+
+"That's no concern of mine," Gard laughed. "You can't make me the donor,
+you know. How is Dorothy--to change the subject!"
+
+"What she always is," the boy beamed, "the best and sweetest. My, but
+I'm glad she is back! And Mrs. Marteen, she's herself again. You've seen
+them, of course?"
+
+Gard nodded. "I met them at the train last night. Yes--she is--herself."
+
+"She had an awful close call!" Teddy exclaimed, his face grown grave.
+
+There was reminiscent silence for a moment. With an active swing of his
+athletic body, Dorothy's adorer collected his hat, gloves and cane in
+one sweep, spun on his heel with gleeful ease, smiled his sudden sunny
+smile, and waved a quick good-by.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Teddy Mahr paused for a moment before descending to the street. He was
+honestly disappointed. He had hoped with all his heart to overcome
+Gard's opposition. Not that he was over anxious to pay, in some degree,
+the debt of gratitude that he owed--he had come to regard his benefactor
+as a being so near and dear to him that there was no question of the
+ethics of giving and taking, but he had longed to give himself the keen
+pleasure of bestowing something that his friend really wanted. There was
+just one more chance of achieving his purpose--the intervention of
+Dorothy; her caprices Gard never denied. If he could only induce
+Dorothy--Early as it was he determined to intreat her intercession.
+
+Walking briskly for a few blocks, he entered an hotel and sought the
+telephone booth. The wide awake voice that answered him was very unlike
+the sweet and sleepy drawls of protest his matutinal ringings were wont
+to call forth when Dorothy had been a gay and frivolous débutante. The
+enforced quiet of her mother's prolonged illness, and the sojourn in the
+retirement of a hill sanitarium, had made of her a very different
+creature from the gaudy little night-bird of yore. The experiences
+through which she had passed, their anxiety and pain, had left her
+nature sweetened and deepened; had given her new sympathies and
+understandings. Now her laugh was just as clear--but its ring of light
+coquetry was gone.
+
+"Of course, I'll take a walk with you," came her answer,--"if you'll
+stop for me. I'm quite a pedestrian, you know. I _had_ to take some sort
+of a cure in sheer self-defense, up there in the wilds, so I decided on
+fresh air--and now it's a habit. I'll be ready."
+
+Teddy walked rapidly, his heart singing. He had quite forgotten his
+errand in the anticipated joy of seeing her. If he thought at all of the
+painting, it was an unformulated regret that no living artist could do
+Dorothy justice, or ever hope to transfer to canvas any true semblance
+of her many perfections.
+
+She joined him in the hallway of her home, called back a last happy
+good-by to her mother, and passed with him into the silver and crystal
+morning light. She was simply dressed in a dark tailor suit, with a
+little hat and sensible shoes--a very different silhouette from that of
+the girl who left her room only in time to keep her luncheon
+appointments. He looked at her with approval and laughed happily.
+
+"Hello, Country!--how are the cows to-day?"
+
+"Fine," she answered. "All boiled and sterilized, milked by electricity,
+manicured by steam and dehorned by absent treatment, sir, she said--sir,
+she said."
+
+"May I go with you into your highly sanitary barnyard, my pretty maid?"
+he asked seriously.
+
+"Not unless you take a bath in carbolic solution, are vaccinated twice,
+and wear a surgeon's uniform, sir, she said."
+
+"But, I'm going to marry you, my pretty maid." The words were out before
+he could check them. He blushed furiously. To propose in a nursery rhyme
+was something that shocked his sense of fitness. He was amazed to find
+that he meant what he said in just the very way he had said it.
+
+But Dorothy took his answer as part of their early morning springtime
+madness.
+
+"Nobody asked you to be farm inspector, sir, she said," she replied
+promptly.
+
+But he was silent. His own words had choked him completely. She looked
+at him quickly, but his head was turned away. Her own heart began to
+beat nervously. She felt the magnetic current of his emotion vibrating
+through her being. Her eyes opened wide in wonder. She had for so long
+accustomed herself to the idea that Teddy was her own peculiar property,
+and that, of course, she intended to marry him, that but for his
+half-distressed perturbation, she would have thought no more of the
+momentous "Yes" than of voicing some long-formed opinion. Now his
+throbbing excitement had become contagious. She found herself fluttering
+and tongue-tied. Though she realized suddenly that their ridiculous
+child's-play had turned to earnest, she could not find word or look to
+ease the strain. They walked on in silence, step for step, in a sort of
+mechanical rhythmic physical understanding. Suddenly he spoke.
+
+"Dolly, I wish you'd punch old Marcus!"
+
+The remark was so unexpected that Dorothy slipped a beat in her step and
+shuffled quickly to fall in tune.
+
+"Good Gracious!--what for?" Her surprise was unfeigned.
+
+"Because he won't let me give him the Heim Vandyke--wants to buy it,
+insists on buying it. Asked me to let him have it--and then won't accept
+it. Now, do me a favor, will you? You _make_ him take it. You're the
+only person who can boss him--and he likes to have you do it. Will you
+see him to-day, and fix it?"
+
+"Well of all!--Why, _I_ can't make him do anything he doesn't want to
+do. Of course, he ought to take it, if you want to give it to him; but I
+really don't see--I wonder--" She meditated for a full block in silence.
+"I'm going to lunch with him and Miss Gard and Mother. If I can,
+I'll--no, I _can't_. It's none of my business. It's up to you. How can I
+say--'You ought to do what Teddy says'? He'd tell me I was an
+impertinent little girl, and that he knew how he wanted to deal with
+little boys without being told by their desk-mates."
+
+Teddy scowled. He wanted to get back to the barnyard he had left so
+abruptly, impelled by his new and unaccountable fright. But having
+hitched himself to his new subject of conversation, he felt somehow
+compelled to drag at it. It was up-hill work. To be sure, he had come to
+Dorothy for the purpose of soliciting her help, but Gard and Vandyke had
+both lost interest. Against his will he kept on talking.
+
+"Well, I've done everything I can to make him see my point of view. I've
+told him I owe it to him; that Father would want him to have it; that
+I'll give his money away if he sends it; that I've already shipped the
+thing to him; that I don't want it; that it's unbecoming to my house--he
+won't listen. Just says he's sent his cheque and we'll please change the
+subject."
+
+"Well, you don't have to _cash_ his cheque, do you?" she inquired
+gravely.
+
+"I know that," Teddy scoffed. "But if I don't, he'll send it in my name,
+in cash, to some charity, and that'll be all the same in the final
+addition. He's so confoundedly resourceful, you can't think around him."
+
+"No, you can't," she agreed. "That's one of the wonderful things about
+him. He thinks in his own terms, in terms of you or me, or the janitor,
+or the President. He isn't just himself, he's everybody."
+
+"He isn't thinking in terms of _me_," Teddy complained.
+
+She shook her head. "No," she smiled wisely, "he's thinking in terms of
+himself, this time, and we aren't big enough to see that, too, and
+understand."
+
+They had reached the entrance to the Park and crossed the already
+crowded Plaza to its quieter walks. The tender greens of new grass
+greeted them, and drifts of pink and yellow vaporous color that seemed
+to overhang and envelop every branch of tree and shrub, like faint
+spirits of flower and leaf, clustering about and striving to enter the
+clefts of gray bark, that they might become embodied in tangible and
+fragile beauty. Sweet pungent smells of damp earth rose to their
+nostrils,--fragrance of reviving things, of stirring sap, of diligent
+seeds moling their way to light and air. Mists shifted by softly, now
+gray, now rainbow-hued, now trailing on the grass, now sifting slowly
+through reluctant branches that strove to retain them.
+
+Dorothy sighed happily. The restraint that had troubled them both slowly
+metamorphosed itself into a tender, dreamy content. Why ask anything of
+fate? Why crystallize with a word the cloudland perfection of the mirage
+in which they walked? They were content, happy with the vernal joy of
+young things in harmony with all the world of spring. They were silent
+now--unconscious, and one with the heart of life, as were Adam and Eve
+in the great garden of Eternal Spring--isolated, alone, all in all to
+each other, and kin with all the vibrant life about them, sentient and
+inanimate. For them the rainbow glowed in every drop the trailing mists
+scattered in their wake; for them the pale light of the sun was pure
+gold of dreams; every frail, courageous flower a delicate censor of
+fragrance. There was crooning in the tree-tops and laughter in the
+confidential whisper of the fountains--as if Pan's pipes had enchanted
+all this ruled-and-lined, sophisticated, urban _pleasaunce_ into a dell
+in Arcady.
+
+Teddy looked down at his companion, trudging sturdily by his side. How
+sweet and dear were her eyes of violet, how tender and gentle the slim
+curves of her mouth, how wholly lovely the contour of cheek and chin,
+and the curled tendrils of her moist, dark hair!
+
+She was conscious of his gaze. She felt an impulse to take his arm--that
+strong, strong arm; to walk with him like that--like the old, long
+married couples, who come to sun themselves in the warm light of the
+young day, and the sight of passing lovers. A Judas tree in full blossom
+arrested her attention, and they came to a halt before its lavish
+display.
+
+"There's nothing in the world so beautiful as natural things," she said
+slowly, breaking the enchanted silence.
+
+Teddy was master of himself again. "I know," he said, "and I want to get
+back again to the barnyard we left so suddenly. I said something then--I
+want to say it over again."
+
+It was Dorothy's turn to become frightened and confused.
+
+"Oh," she said with an indifference she was far from feeling. "Barnyard!
+It's such a commonplace spot after all. Don't you like the garden
+better?"
+
+But Teddy was determined. "My pretty maid," he began in a tender voice.
+
+But she moved away suddenly down a tempting path, and, perforce, he
+followed her.
+
+"I've been thinking," she said hurriedly, "about Mr. Gard. I'm sure, if
+he felt he was hurting your feelings, he wouldn't think _all_ his own
+way. Now, if you want me to, I'll try and make him understand it. I'll
+tell him that you came to me in an awful huff--all cut up. I'm sure I
+can put it strongly enough."
+
+"And I shall go to him, and complain that when I want to talk with you,
+you put me off--won't listen to me. I'll ask him to make you listen to
+reason. I'll tell him to put it to you. I'll show him that I _am_ cut
+up, all around the heart. Perhaps he can put it to you strongly
+enough--"
+
+Dorothy stopped short and wheeled around to face him.
+
+"Oh, very well, then," she smiled, "if you are going to get someone else
+to do your love making for you, _I_ apply for the position. Teddy Mahr,
+will you marry the milkmaid?--Honest and true, black and blue?"
+
+"I will!" he cried ecstatically, and caught her in his arms.
+
+Two wrens upon a neighboring branch, tilted forward to watch them, the
+business of nest building for the moment forgotten. A gray squirrel,
+with jerking tail and mincing gate, approached along the path. A florid
+policeman, wandering aimlessly in this remote arbor, stopped short,
+grinned, stuck his thumbs in his belt, and contemplated the picture,
+then wheeled about and stole out of sight in fashion most unmilitary.
+Across the lake the white swans glided, and two little "mandarin" ducks
+sidled up close to shore, regarding the moveless group of humans with
+bright and beady eyes.
+
+Dorothy disengaged herself from his arms with a happy little gurgle, set
+her hat straight upon her tumbled hair, and glanced at the ducks.
+
+"There," she said softly, "that's a lucky sign. In China they always
+send the newlyweds a pair. They are love birds; they die when
+separated--which means, I'm a duck."
+
+"You are," he agreed, and kissed her again.
+
+"Now," she said seriously, "I've found a way to clear all difficulties."
+
+He looked at her, troubled. "I didn't know there were any," he said
+anxiously. "I think your mother likes me, and I don't see--I can keep
+you in hats and candy; and Miss Gard is the only person who has seemed
+to disapprove of me."
+
+"All wrong," she said. "I don't mean that at all. I mean about the
+picture. I have thought it all out while you were kissing me."
+
+He grinned. "Did you, indeed? I'm vastly flattered, I'm sure. In that
+case I shall go to kissing school no later than to-morrow. However,
+since you work out problems in that way, I'll give you another to Q.E.D.
+When will the wedding be?" He folded his arms about her rapturously.
+
+The ducks waddled up the bank; the squirrel climbed to the back of the
+bench; one wren captured a damaged feather from Dorothy's hat that had
+fallen to earth, and made off with his nest contribution.
+
+"Now," Teddy demanded as he released her. "Did you work _that_ out?"
+
+She gasped. "If you act like that, I'll not tell you anything. I'll
+leave you guessing all the rest of your life."
+
+"I expect that," he laughed. "Who am I to escape the common lot?"
+
+She frowned. "As I was saying before you interrupted me so rudely, I
+have found a way to overcome the arguments and refusals of 'Old
+Marcus'--by the way, if he heard you call him that, he'd beat you up,
+and perfectly right. He isn't old, and I wish you had half his sense."
+
+"Dolly, we are _not_ married yet, and I object to unfavorable
+comparisons. Kindly get down to business."
+
+"Well," she said, "I was thinking just this. We can give it to him as a
+wedding present--we've got him there, don't you see?"
+
+"No, I _don't_ see," he replied. "Will you kindly show me how you work
+that out. He'll probably want to give you a Murillo and a town house and
+a Cellini service, and a motor car upholstered in cloth of gold, a
+Florentine bust and an order on Raphael to paint your portrait. If you
+ask me if I see him accepting the Vandyke as a wedding present from
+us--I don't."
+
+"Goose!" she said with withering scorn.
+
+He laughed. "Oh, very well, I'm back in the barnyard, so I don't mind.
+Just a minute ago and you had me a duck. I've lost caste--I was a
+mandarin then."
+
+"I didn't say a wedding present for _our_ wedding, did I?" she inquired
+loftily. "Why don't you stop and think a minute. They don't teach
+observation in college, evidently."
+
+Teddy was nonplussed. "You've got me," he said, his brows drawn together
+in a puzzled frown.
+
+She tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, how else could we be giving him
+a wedding present?" she inquired.
+
+"That's just what I don't see," he replied emphatically.
+
+"When _he_ gets married, of course--heavens! you are dense!"
+
+Teddy was stunned. "When he--why--what nonsense!--he's a confirmed old
+bachelor. There! I knew you couldn't think out problems when I was
+kissing you. I'm glad you didn't answer my second question, if that's
+the way you work things out. Who in the world would he marry!"
+
+"How would you like him for a step-father-in-law?" She looked at him
+with an amused smile.
+
+"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "Why, I never thought of that! Your
+mother!--Oh, by golly! that's great, that's great! Of course, of course.
+Here, I'll kiss you again--you can answer my second question." He
+embraced her with hysterical enthusiasm. "Oh, when did it happen?" he
+begged. "How did you know? Since when have they been engaged? My! I have
+been a bat! Where were my eyes? Of all the jolly luck!" he leaped from
+the bench and executed a triumphal war dance.
+
+"You act just like the kids--I mean, the baby goats, up in the Bronx,"
+she laughed. "Teddy, stop, somebody might see you, and they'd send us
+both to an asylum. Stop it! And besides, my step-father hasn't proposed
+yet."
+
+Teddy ceased his gambols abruptly. "What in the world have you been
+telling me, then?" he demanded, crestfallen. "Here I've been celebrating
+an event that hasn't happened."
+
+"Well, it's going to," she affirmed with an impressive nod of her head.
+"_I_ know. Why, even Mother hasn't the slightest idea of it yet. Poor,
+dear Mother, she's so really humble minded, she wouldn't let herself
+realize how he loves her. But she leans on him, on the very thought of
+him. When we were away recuperating, she used to watch for his
+letters--like--like--I watched for yours, Teddy; and when I'd hand her
+one, she had such a look of calm, of rest. I've found her asleep with
+one crushed up in her hand. I'm sure she used to put them under her
+pillow at night, just as--well--just as I used to put yours, Teddy,
+under mine. Don't you know, that when two women are in love, they know
+it one from another, without a word. Of course, Mother knew all about
+how _I_ felt, I used to catch her looking at me, oh, so wistfully--but
+she never dreamed that wise little daughter had guessed her secret--oh,
+no--mothers never realize that their little chick-children have grown to
+be big geese. But, _I_ know, and, well, Teddy, as you know, if he
+doesn't ask her pretty soon, I'll go and ask him myself--and he never
+refuses me anything. I shall say, 'Dear old Marcus, Teddy and I wish
+you'd hurry up and ask Mother to marry you. We have set our hearts on
+picking out our own "steps." We think of being married in June, and we
+want it all settled.' There," she said with a radiant blush, "I've
+answered all your questions--have you another problem?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Left alone before the empty space reserved for the masterpiece the
+expression on Gard's face changed. Grave and purposeful, he continued to
+regard the blank wall, then, turning, he caught up the desk telephone,
+gave Mrs. Marteen's private number and waited.
+
+A moment later the sweet familiar voice thrilled him.
+
+"It's I--Marcus," he said. "I am coming for you this morning. Yes, I'm
+taking a holiday, and I'm going to bring you back to the library to see
+a new acquisition of mine--that will interest you. Then you and Dorothy
+will lunch with Polly. Dorothy can join us at one o'clock. This is a
+private view--for you alone.... You will? That's good! Good-by."
+
+Noises in the resonant hall and the opening of the great doors announced
+the arrival of the moving van and its precious contents, before
+Saunders, his eyes bulging with excitement, rushed in with the tidings
+of the coming of the world famous Heim Vandyke. With respectful care the
+great canvas was brought in, unwrapped and lifted to its chosen hanging
+place.
+
+Seated in his armchair, Gard with mixed emotions watched it elevated and
+straightened. The pictured face smiled down at him--impersonal yet
+human, glowing, vivid with color, alive with that suggestion of eternal
+life that art alone in its highest expression can give. Card's smile was
+enigmatical; his eyes were sad. His imagination pictured to him Mrs.
+Marteen as she had sat before him in her self-contained stateliness and
+announced with indifferent calm that the Vandyke had been but a ruse to
+gain his private ear.
+
+Gard rose, approached the picture, and for an instant laid his fingers
+upon its darkened frame. The movement was that of a worshiper who makes
+his vow at the touch of some relic infinitely holy.
+
+Then he returned to his seat and for some time remained wrapped in
+thought. These moments of introspection, of deep self-questioning, had
+become more and more frequent. He had made in the past few months a new
+and most interesting acquaintance--himself. All the years of his
+over-hurried, over-cultivated, ambitious life he had delved into the
+psychology of others. It had been his pride to divine motives, to
+dissect personalities, to classify and sort the brains and natures of
+men. Now for the first time he had turned the scalpel upon himself. He
+was amazed, he was shocked, almost frightened. He could not hide from
+himself, he was no longer blind, the searchlight of his own analysis was
+inexorably focused on his own sins and shortcomings--his powers misused,
+his strength misdirected, his weaknesses indulged, because his strength
+protected them. In these hours of what he had grown to grimly call his
+"stock taking," he had become aware of a new and all-important group of
+men. Where before he had reckoned values solely by capacities of brain
+and hand, he found now a new factor--the capacity of heart. Ideals that
+heretofore had borne to his mind the stamp of weakness, now showed
+themselves as real bulwarks of character. The men who had fallen by the
+wayside in the advance of his pitiless march to power, were no longer,
+to his eyes, types of the unfit, to be thrust aside. Some were men,
+indeed, who knew their own souls, and would not barter them.
+
+In his mind a vast readjustment had taken place. Words had become
+bodied, the unseen was becoming the visible--Responsibility, Honesty,
+Fairness, Truth! they had all been words to conjure with--for use in
+political speeches, in interviews--because they seemed to exercise an
+occult influence upon the gullible public. "Law," "Peace," "Order," "The
+Greatest Good to the Greatest Number," he had used them all as an Indian
+medicine-man shakes bone rattles, and waves a cow's tail before the
+tribe, laughing behind his gaping mask at the servile acceptance of his
+prophecies. One and all these Cunjar Gods he had believed to be only
+bits of shell and plaited rope, had come to life--they _were_ gods, real
+presences, real powers. He had invoked them only to deceive others--and,
+behold! he it was who knew not the truth.
+
+The high tower of his heaven-grasping ambitions seemed suddenly insecure
+and founded upon shifting sands. The incense the sycophant world burned
+before him became a stench in his nostrils. The fetishes he had tossed
+to the crowd now faced him as real gods; and they were not to be blinded
+with dust, nor bought with gold. The specious and tortured verbiage of
+twisted law never for one moment deceived the open ears of Justice, even
+though it tied her hands, and her voice was the voice of condemnation.
+Honor--he had sold it. Faith--he had not kept it. Truth--he had
+distorted to fit whatever garb he had chosen for her to wear. And,
+withal, he had hailed himself conqueror; had placed his laurels himself
+upon his head, ranking all others beneath him. The clamor of the mob he
+had interpreted as acclaim. Now he heard above the applause the hoarse
+chorus of disdain and fear. It had been his pride to see men fall back
+and make way at the very mention of his name. Now he felt that they
+shrank from him--not before his greatness, but from his very contact. He
+had driven his fellow creatures from him, and in return, they withdrew
+themselves.
+
+If they came to him fawning, they but showed their lower natures. He had
+not called forth the power for good, from these the necromancy of his
+personality had touched. He had conjured evil, he had pandered to base
+forces.
+
+The realization had not come easily. His habits of thought would return
+and blind him as of old. He had laughed at himself; he had derided the
+new gods, he had disobeyed them and their strange commands--only to
+return crestfallen, contrite, feeling himself unworthy. He became aware
+that he had run a long and victorious race for a prize he had
+craved--only to find that the goal to which it brought him was not that
+of his old desires. That was but withered leaves, spattered with the
+blood of those who lost. He had turned from it, and now his steps sought
+another conquest and another reward. He must strive for a goal unseen,
+but more real and more worthy than the little crowns of little
+victories.
+
+His somber thoughts left him refreshed, as if from a bath of deep, clear
+waters. His spirit felt clean and elated as it rose from the depths. It
+was with a smile that he pushed back his chair and rose from the table
+where, for a full hour, he had sat in silent self-communing. He still
+smiled as he entered the motor and was driven to Mrs. Marteen's.
+
+He found her awaiting him, with outstretched hands, and the look in her
+eyes that he always longed for--the look he had divined rather than seen
+on that day of days, when the Past had been renounced and consumed.
+There was no embarrassment in their meeting. True, there had been daily
+exchange of letters during the months of her enforced exile; but they
+had been only friendly, surface tokens, giving no real hint of the
+realities beneath. But they had grown toward one another, not apart. It
+was as if they had never been sundered; as if all the experiences of all
+the intervening days had been experiences in common.
+
+He gazed at her happily now, rejoicing in the firmness of her step, the
+brightness of her eyes, the healthy color of her skin. She came with him
+gladly at his suggestion and they drove in silence through the crowded
+streets and the silence was in truth, golden. At the door of the great
+house he descended, gave her his hand and conducted her quickly through
+the vast, soft-lighted hall to his own sanctum. He closed the door
+quietly and pressed the electric switch. Instantly the mellow lights
+glowed above the portrait, which throbbed in response, a glittering gem
+of warmth and beauty.
+
+Mrs. Marteen's body stiffened; the color receded from her face, leaving
+it ashen. Her great eyes dilated.
+
+"Do you know why it is there?" he asked at length in a whisper.
+
+"Yes," she murmured. "We have traveled the same road--you and I. I
+understand."
+
+He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "You don't know all that
+this picture recalls to me--and I hope you will never know; but you and
+I," he said slowly, weighing his words, "are not of the breed of those
+who cry out with remorse. We are of those who live differently. That is
+the constant reminder of what _was_. I do not want to forget. I want to
+remember. Every time the iron enters my soul I shall know the more
+keenly that I have at last a soul."
+
+Again they fell silent.
+
+"According to the accepted code I suppose I should make a clean breast
+of it, even to Dorothy, and go into retirement," she said at length. "I
+have thought of that, too; but I cannot _feel_ it. I want to be active;
+to be able to use myself for betterment; make of myself an example of
+good and not of evil. What I did was because of what I was. I am that no
+longer, and my expression must be of the new thing that has become me--a
+soul!" she said reverently.
+
+"A soul," he repeated. "It has come to me, too. And what is left to me
+of life has no place for regrets. I have that which I must live up to--I
+_shall_ live up to it."
+
+"We have, indeed, traveled the same road; but you--have led me." She
+looked at him with complete comprehension.
+
+"We will travel the new road together," he said finally, "hand in hand."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Out of the Ashes
+
+Author: Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13273]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE ASHES ***
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+Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, and PG Distributed Proofreaders
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+</pre>
+
+
+<a name="Page_1"></a>
+<h1>OUT OF THE ASHES</h1><br />
+<br />
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD</h2><br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<h3>NEW YORK</h3>
+<h3>MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY</h3>
+<h3>1913</h3><br />
+
+<a name="Page_2"></a>
+<h3>Copyright, 1913, by</h3>
+<h3>MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY</h3>
+<h3>NEW YORK</h3><br />
+<br />
+<h4>Copyright, 1912, by John Adams Thayer Corporation
+under title of "The Same Road."</h4>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<a href='#I'>CHAPTER I</a><br />
+<a href='#II'>CHAPTER II</a><br />
+<a href='#III'>CHAPTER III</a><br />
+<a href='#IV'>CHAPTER IV</a><br />
+<a href='#V'>CHAPTER V</a><br />
+<a href='#VI'>CHAPTER VI</a><br />
+<a href='#VII'>CHAPTER VII</a><br />
+<a href='#VIII'>CHAPTER VIII</a><br />
+<a href='#IX'>CHAPTER IX</a><br />
+<a href='#X'>CHAPTER X</a><br />
+<a href='#XI'>CHAPTER XI</a><br />
+<a href='#XII'>CHAPTER XII</a><br />
+<a href='#XIII'>CHAPTER XIII</a><br />
+<a href='#XIV'>CHAPTER XIV</a><br />
+<a href='#XV'>CHAPTER XV</a><br />
+<a href='#XVI'>CHAPTER XVI</a><br />
+<a href='#XVII'>CHAPTER XVII</a><br />
+<a href='#XVIII'>CHAPTER XVIII</a><br />
+<a href='#XIX'>CHAPTER XIX</a><br />
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_3"></a><h2><a name='I'></a>I</h2>
+
+
+<p>Marcus Gard sat at his library table apparently in rapt contemplation of
+a pair of sixteenth century bronze inkwells, strange twisted shapes, half
+man, half beast, bearing in their breasts twin black pools. But his
+thoughts were far from their grotesque beauty--centered on vast schemes of
+destruction and reconstruction. The room was still, so quiet, in spite of
+its proximity to the crowded life of Fifth Avenue, that one divined its
+steel construction and the doubled and trebled casing of its many windows.
+The walls, hung with green Genoese velvet, met a carved and coffered
+ceiling, and touched the upper shelf of the breast-high bookcases that
+lined the walls. No picture broke the simple unity of color. Here and there
+a Donatello bronze silhouetted a slim shape, or a Florentine portrait bust
+smiled with veiled meaning from the quiet shadows. The shelves were rich in
+books in splendid bindings, gems of ancient workmanship or modern luxury,
+<a name="Page_4"></a>for the Great Man had the instinct of the
+masterpiece.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened softly, and the secretary entered, a look of uncertainty
+on his handsome young face. The slight sound of his footfall disturbed the
+master's contemplation. He looked up, relieved to be drawn for a moment
+from his reflection.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, Saunders?" he asked, leaning back and grasping the arms of
+his chair with a gesture of control familiar to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Martin Marteen is here, very anxious to see you. She let me
+understand it was about the Heim Vandyke. I knew you were interested, so I
+ventured, Mr. Gard--"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes--quite right. Let her come in here." He rose as he spoke,
+shook his cuffs, pulled down his waistcoat and ran a hand over his bald
+spot and silvery hair. Marcus Gard was still a handsome man. He remained
+standing, and, as the door reopened, advanced to meet his guest. She came
+forward, smiling, and, taking a white-gloved hand from her sable muff,
+extended it graciously.</p>
+
+<p>"Very nice of you to receive me, Mr. Gard," she said, and the tone of
+her mellow voice was clear and decisive. "I know what a busy man you
+are."</p>
+
+<p>"At your service." He bowed, waved her to a <a name="Page_5"></a>seat
+and sank once more into his favorite chair, watching her the while
+intently. If she had come to negotiate the sale of the Heim Vandyke, let
+her set forth the conditions. It was no part of his plan to show how much
+he coveted the picture. In the meantime she was very agreeable to look at.
+Her strong, regular features suggested neither youth nor age. She was of
+the goddess breed. Every detail of the lady's envelope was perfect--velvet
+and fur, a glimpse of exquisite antique lace, a sheen of pearl necklace,
+neither so large as to be ostentatious nor so small as to suggest economy.
+The Great Man's instinct of the masterpiece stirred. "What can I do for
+you?" he said, as she showed no further desire to explain her visit.</p>
+
+<p>"I let fall a hint to Mr. Saunders," she answered--and her smile shone
+suddenly, giving her straight Greek features a fascinating humanity--" that
+I wanted to see you about the Heim Vandyke." She paused, and his eyes
+lit.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes--portrait? A good example, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>She laughed quietly. "As you very well know, Mr. Gard. But that, let me
+own, was merely a ruse to gain your private ear. I have nothing to do with
+that gem of art."</p>
+
+<p>The Great Man's face fell. He was in for a bad quarter of an hour. Lady
+with a hard luck <a name="Page_6"></a>story--he was not unused to the
+type--but Mrs. Martin Marteen! He could not very well dismiss her unheard,
+an acquaintance of years' standing, a friend of his sister's. His curiosity
+was aroused. What could be the matter with the impeccable Mrs. Marteen?
+Perhaps she had been speculating. She read his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite wrong, Mr. Gard. I have not been drawn into the stock market. The
+fact is, I <i>have</i> something to sell, but it isn't a
+picture--autographs. You collect them, do you not? Now I have in my
+possession a series of autograph letters by one of the foremost men of his
+day; one, in fact, in whom you have the very deepest interest."</p>
+
+<p>"Napoleon!" he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>She smiled. "I have heard him so called," she answered. "I have here
+some photographs of the letters. They are amateur pictures--in fact, I took
+them myself; so you will have to pardon trifling imperfections. But I'm
+sure you will see that it is a series of the first importance." From her
+muff she took a flat envelope, slipped off the rubber band with great
+deliberation, glanced at the enclosures and laid them on the table.</p>
+
+<p>The Great Man's face was a study. His usual mask of indifferent
+superiority deserted him. The blow was so unexpected that he was for once
+staggered and off his guard. His hand was shaking, <a name="Page_7"></a>as
+with an oath he snatched up the photographs. It was his own handwriting
+that met his eye, and Mrs. Marteen had not exaggerated when she had
+designated the letters as a "series of the first importance." With the
+shock of recognition came doubt of his own senses. Mrs. Martin Marteen
+blackmailing him? Preposterous! His eyes sought the lady's face. She was
+quite calm and self-possessed.</p>
+
+<p>"I need not point out to you, Mr. Gard, the desirability of adding these
+to your collection. These letters give clear information concerning the
+value to you of the Texas properties mentioned, which are now about to pass
+into the possession of your emissaries if all goes well. Of course, if
+these letters were placed in the hands of those most interested it would
+cause you to make your purchase at a vastly higher figure; it might prevent
+the transaction altogether. But far more important than that, they
+conclusively prove that your company <i>is</i> a monopoly framed in the
+restraint of trade--proof that will be a body blow to your defense if the
+threatened action of the federal authorities takes place.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," continued Mrs. Marteen, as Gard uttered a suppressed oath,
+"you couldn't foresee a year ago what future conditions would make the
+writing of those letters a very dangerous thing; otherwise you would have
+conducted your <a name="Page_8"></a>business by word of mouth. Believe me,
+I do not underrate your genius."</p>
+
+<p>He laid his hands roughly upon the photographs. "I have a mind to have
+you arrested this instant," he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>"But you won't," she added--"not while you don't know where the
+originals are. It means too much to you. The slightest menacing move toward
+me would be fatal to your interests. I don't wish you any harm, Mr. Gard; I
+simply want money."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his perturbation, amazement held him silent. If a shining
+angel with harp and halo had confronted him with a proposition to rob a
+church, the situation could not have astonished him more. She gave him time
+to recover.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you must readjust your concepts, particularly as to me. You
+thought me a rich woman--well, I'm not. I've about twenty-five thousand
+dollars left, and a few--resources. My expenses this season will be
+unusually heavy."</p>
+
+<p>"Why this season?" He asked the question to gain time. He was thinking
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>"My daughter Dorothy makes her d&eacute;but, as perhaps you may have
+heard."</p>
+
+<p>Gard gave another gasp. Here was a mother blackmailing the Gibraltar of
+finance for her little girl's coming-out party. Suddenly, quite as
+unexpectedly <a name="Page_9"></a>to himself as to his hearer, he burst
+into a peal of laughter.</p>
+
+<p>"I see--I see. 'The time has come to talk of many things.'"</p>
+
+<p>She met his mood. "Well, not so <i>much</i> time. You see, not
+<i>all</i> kings are cabbage heads--and while pigs may not have wings,
+riches have."</p>
+
+<p>"You are versatile, Mrs. Marteen. I confess this whole interview has an
+'Alice in Wonderland' quality." He was regaining his composure. "But I see
+you want to get down to figures. May I inquire your price?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fifty thousand dollars." There was finality in her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"And how soon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Within the next week. You know this is a crisis in this affair--I
+waited for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed! You seem to have singular foresight."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded gravely. "Yes, and unusual means of obtaining information, as
+it is needless for me to inform you. I am, I think, making you a very
+reasonable offer, Mr. Gard. You would have paid twice as much for the
+Vandyke."</p>
+
+<p>"And how do you propose, Mrs. Marteen, to effect this little business
+deal without compromising either of us?" His tone was half banter, but her
+reply was to the point.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_10"></a>"I will place my twenty-five thousand with your
+firm, with the understanding that you are to invest for me, in any deal you
+happen to be interested in--Texas, for instance. It wouldn't be surprising
+if my money should treble, would it? In fact, there is every reason to
+expect it--is there not? If all I own is invested in these securities, I
+would not desire them to decline, would I? I merely suggest this method,"
+she continued, with a shrug as if to deprecate its lack of originality,
+"because it would be a transaction by no means unusual to you, and would
+attract no attention."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her grimly. "You think so?" Let me hear how you intend to
+carry out the rest of the transaction--the delivery of the autographs in
+question."</p>
+
+<p>"To begin with, I will place in your hands the plates--all the
+photographs."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I be sure?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"You can't, of course; but you will have to accept my assurance that I
+am honest. I promise to fulfill my part of the bargain--literally to the
+letter. You may verify and find that the series is complete. Your
+attorneys, to whom you wrote these, will doubtless tell you that they
+personally destroyed these documents, but they doubtless have a record of
+the dates of letters received at this time. You can compare; they are all
+there; I hold out nothing."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_11"></a>"But if they say they have destroyed the
+letters--what in the name of--"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no; they destroyed your communications perhaps, after 'contents
+noted.' But they never had your letters, for the simple reason that they
+never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat with
+Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His tremendous
+power had long made his position so secure that he had met extraordinary
+situations with the calm of one who controls them. He had startled and held
+others spellbound by his own infinite foresight, resource and energy. The
+situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated in the fine blue eyes of
+another and more ruthless general.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this <i>coup</i> of yours was
+planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his deep
+chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do you mean to
+tell me <i>that</i>?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes,
+exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have friends
+at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that the 'little
+cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove <a
+name="Page_12"></a>to contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a
+flip of accident that makes the present situation possible. But the rest
+was designed, I regret to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."</p>
+
+<p>"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his
+desk.</p>
+
+<p>"With this end in view," she confessed.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mind, I haven't acceded to your demands," he shouted.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the interview at an end?" she asked, rising and adjusting the furs
+about her throat. "If so, I must tell you the papers are in the hands of
+persons who would be very much interested in their contents. If they don't
+see me--hearing from me won't do, you understand, for a situation is
+conceivable, of course, when I might be coerced into sending a message or
+telephoning one--if they don't <i>see</i> me personally, the packet will be
+opened--and eventually, after the Texas Purchase is adjusted, they will
+find their way into the possession of the District Attorney. I have taken
+every possible precaution."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't doubt that in the least, madam--confound it, I don't! Now when
+will you put the series, lock, stock and barrel, into my hands?"</p>
+
+<p>"When you've done that little turn for me in the market, Mr. Gard. You
+may trust me."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_13"></a>"On the word--of a d&eacute;butante?" he demanded,
+with a snap of his square jaws.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time she flushed, the color mantling to her temples; she
+was a very handsome woman.</p>
+
+<p>"On the word of a d&eacute;butante," she answered, and her voice was
+steady.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then"--he slapped the table with his open hand--"if you'll send
+me, to the office, what you want to invest, I'll give orders that I will
+personally direct that account."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you so much," she murmured, rising.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't go!" he exclaimed, his request a command. "I want to talk with
+you. Don't you know you're the first person, man or woman, who has <i>held
+me up</i>--me, Marcus Gard! I don't see how you had the nerve. I don't see
+how you had the idea." He changed his bullying tone suddenly. "I wish--I
+wish you'd <i>talk</i> to me. I'm as curious as any woman."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Martin Marteen moved toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm selling you your autographs--not my autobiography. I'm <i>so</i>
+glad to have seen you. Good afternoon, Mr. Gard."</p>
+
+<p>She was gone, and the Great Man had not the presence of mind to escort
+his visitor to the door or ring for attendance. He remained standing,
+staring after her. His gaze shifted to the table, where, either by accident
+or design, the photographs <a name="Page_14"></a>remained, scattered. He
+chuckled grimly. Accident! Nothing was accidental with that Machiavelli in
+petticoats. She knew he would read those accursed lines, and realize with
+every sentence that in truth she was "letting him down easy." There was no
+danger of his backing out of his bargain. Seated at the desk, he perused
+his folly, and grunted with exasperation. Well, after all, what of it? He
+had coveted a masterpiece; now he was to have two in one--the contemplation
+of his own blunder, and Mrs. Marteen's criminal genius--cheap at the price.
+How long had this been going on? Whom had she victimized? And how in the
+world had she been able to obtain the whole correspondence? That his
+lawyers should have been deceived by copies was not so surprising--they
+never dreamed of a substitution; the matter, not the letter, was proof
+enough to them of genuineness. But--he thumped his forehead. He had been
+staying with friends at Newport at the time. Had Mrs. Marteen been there?
+Of course! He took up the incriminating documents again and thoroughly
+mastered their contents, every turn of phrase, every between-the-line
+inference. Accidents could happen; he must be prepared for the worst. Not
+that negotiations would fail--but--not until the originals were in his
+hands and personally done away with would he feel secure. He recalled <a
+name="Page_15"></a>Mrs. Marteen's graceful and sumptuously clad figure, her
+clear-cut, beautiful head, the power of her unwavering sapphire eyes, the
+gentle elegance of her voice. And this woman--had--held him up!</p>
+
+<p>He turned on the electric lamp, opened a secret compartment drawer in
+the table, abstracted a tiny key, and, deftly making a packet of the
+scattered proofs, unlocked a small hidden safe behind a row of first
+editions of Bunyan and consigned them to secure obscurity.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later his secretary entered the room in response to his
+ring.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going out," he said. "Lock up, will you, and at any time Mrs.
+Marteen wants to see me admit her at once."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Saunders' face shone. He, too, was a devout worshiper at the shrine
+of art.</p>
+
+<p>"The Vandyke?" he inquired hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, no--but I'm negotiating for a very remarkable series of
+letters--of--er--Napoleon--concerning--er Waterloo."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_16"></a><h2><a name='II'></a>II</h2>
+
+
+<p>When Marcus Gard dressed that evening he was so absent-minded that his
+valet held forth for an hour in the servants' hall, with assurances that
+some mighty <i>coup</i> was toward. Not since the days of B.L. &amp; W. or
+the rate war on the S. &amp; O. had his master shown such complete
+absorption.</p>
+
+<p>"He's like a blind drunk, or a man in a trance, he is--he's just not
+there in the head, and you have to walk around and dress his body, like he
+was a dumb wax-work. If I get the lay, Smathers, I'll tip you off. There
+might be something in it for us. He's due for dinner and bridge at the
+Met., but unless Frenchy puts him out of the motor, he won't know when he
+gets there"--which proved true. Three times the chauffeur respectfully
+advised his master of their arrival, before the wondering eyes of the club
+<i>chasseur</i>, before the Great Man, suddenly recalled to the present,
+descended from his car and was conducted to his waiting host.</p>
+
+<p>The first one of the company to shake hands with him was Victor
+Mahr--and Victor Mahr <a name="Page_17"></a>was a friend of Mrs. Marteen.
+The sudden recollection of this fact made him cast such a glance of
+scrutiny at the gentleman as to quite discompose him.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the old man up to, gimleting me in the eye like that? He's got
+something up his sleeve," thought Mahr.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder did she ever corner <i>him</i>?" was the question uppermost in
+Gard's mind. He hated Mahr, and rather hoped that the lady had, then
+flushed with resentment at the thought that she would stoop to blackmail a
+man so obviously outside the pale. His mood was so unusual that every man
+in the circle was stirred with unrest and misgiving. Dinner brightened the
+general gloom, though there were but trifling inroads into the costly
+vintages. One doesn't play bridge with the Big Ones unless one's head is
+clear. Not till supper time did the talk drift from honors and trumps. Gard
+played brilliantly. His absent-mindedness changed to savage concentration.
+He played to win, and won.</p>
+
+<p>"What's new in the art world?" inquired Denning, as he lit a cigar.
+"There was a rumor you were after the Heim Vandyke."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing new," Gard answered. "Haven't had time to bother. By the way,
+Mahr, what sort of a girl is the little d&eacute;butante daughter of Mrs.
+Marteen--you know her, don't you?" He was <a name="Page_18"></a>watching
+Mahr keenly, and fancied he detected a shifty glance at the mention of the
+name. But Mahr answered easily:</p>
+
+<p>"Dorothy? She's the season's beauty--really a stunning-looking girl. You
+must have seen her; she was in Denning's box with her mother at 'La
+Boh&egrave;me' last week."</p>
+
+<p>"And," added Denning, "she'll be with us again to-morrow night."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," said Card, with indifference. "The dark one--I
+remember--tall--yes, she's like her mother, devilish handsome. Must send
+that child some flowers, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>Gard returned home, disgusted with himself. Why had he forced his mood
+upon these men? Why, above all things, had he mentioned Mrs. Marteen to
+Mahr, whom he despised? For the simple pleasure of speaking of her, of
+mentioning her name? Why had he suspected Mahr of being one of her victims?
+And why, in heaven's name, had he resented the very same notion? He lay in
+bed numbering the men of money and importance whom he knew shared Mrs.
+Marteen's acquaintance. They were numerous, both his friends and enemies.
+What had <i>they</i> done? What was her hold over <i>them</i>? Had she in
+all cases worked as silently, as thoroughly, as understandingly as she had
+with him? Did she always show her hand at the psychological moment? <a
+name="Page_19"></a>Did she rob only the rich--the guilty? Was she Robin
+Hood in velvet, antique lace and sables? Ah, he liked that--Mme. Robin
+Hood. He fell asleep at last and dreamed that he met Mrs. Marteen under the
+greenwood tree, and watched her as with unerring aim she sent a bolt from
+her bow through the heart of a running deer.</p>
+
+<p>He awoke when the valet called him, and was amused with his dream. Not
+in years had such an interest entered his life. He rose, tubbed and
+breakfasted, and went, as was his wont, to his sister's sitting room.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Polly," he roared through the closed doors of her bedroom, "up
+late, as usual, I suppose! Well, I'm off. By the way, we aren't using the
+opera box next Monday night; lend it to Mrs. Marteen. That little girl of
+hers is coming out, you know, and we ought to do something for 'em now and
+again. I'll be at the library after three, if you want me."</p>
+
+<p>At the office he found a courteous note thanking him for his kindness in
+offering to direct her investments and inclosing Mrs. Marteen's cheque for
+twenty-five thousand dollars. Gard studied the handwriting closely. It was
+firm, flowing, refined, yet daring, very straight as to alignment and
+spaced artistically. Good sense, good taste, nice discrimination, he
+commented. He smiled, tickled by a new idea. He would not give the <a
+name="Page_20"></a>usual orders in such matters. When a lovely lady
+inclosed her cheque, begging to remind him of his thoughtful suggestion
+(mostly mythical) at Mrs. So-and-So's dinner, he cynically deposited the
+slip, and wrote out another for double the amount, if he believed the lady
+deserving; if not, a polite note informed the sender that his firm would
+gladly open an account with her, and he was sure her interests "would
+receive the best possible attention and advice." In this case he determined
+to accept the responsibility exactly as it was worded, ignoring the
+circumstances that had forced his hand. He would make her nest egg hatch
+out what was required. It should be an honest transaction in spite of its
+questionable inception. Every dollar of that money should work overtime,
+for results must come quickly.</p>
+
+<p>He gave his orders and laid his plans. Never had his business interests
+appealed to him as keenly as at that moment, and never for a moment did he
+doubt the honesty of the lady's villainy. She would not "hold out on
+him."</p>
+
+<p>His first care that morning had been to make a luncheon appointment with
+his lawyer, and to elicit the information that, as far as his attorney
+knew, the incriminating correspondence had been destroyed when received.
+"As soon as your instructions were carried out, Mr. Gard. Of course, none
+of us quite realized the changes that <a name="Page_21"></a>were
+coming--but--what those letters would mean now! Too much care cannot be
+taken. I've often thought a code might be advisable in the future, when the
+written word must be relied on."</p>
+
+<p>Gard smiled grimly and agreed. "Those letters would make a pretty basis
+for blackmail, wouldn't they? Oh, by the way, you are Victor Mahr's
+lawyers, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>As he had half expected, he surprised a flash of suspicion and knowledge
+in the other's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What makes you speak of him in that connection?" laughed the
+lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't," said Gard. "I happened to be playing bridge with him last
+night and from something he let fall I gathered your firm had been acting
+for him. Well, he needs the best legal advice that's to be had, or I miss
+my guess." He rose and took leave of his friend, entered his motor and was
+driven rapidly uptown.</p>
+
+<p>Still his thoughts were of Mrs. Marteen, and again unaccountable
+annoyance possessed him. Confound it! Mahr <i>had</i> been held up. Clifton
+knew about it; that argued that Mahr had taken the facts, whatever they
+were, to them. Had he told them who it was who threatened him? Then Clifton
+knew that Mrs. Marteen was a--Hang it! What possible right had he to jump
+to the wild conviction that Victor Mahr had been <a
+name="Page_22"></a>blackmailed at all? Because he was a friend of the
+lady's--a pretty reason that! Did men make friends of--Yes, they did; he
+intended to himself; why not that hound of a Mahr? Clifton <i>did</i> know
+something. Mahr was just the sort of scoundrel to drag in a woman's name.
+Why shouldn't he in such a case? Then, with one of his quick changes of
+mood, he laughed at himself. "I'm jealous because I think I'm not the only
+victim! It's time I consulted a physician. I'm going dotty. She's a wonder,
+though, that woman. What a brain, and what a splendid presence! But there's
+something vital lacking; no soul, no conscience--that's the trouble," he
+commented inwardly--little dreaming that he exactly voiced the criticism
+universally passed upon himself. Then his thoughts took a new tack. "Wonder
+what the daughter is like? I'll have to hunt her up. It's a joke--if it
+<i>is</i> on me! Must see my d&eacute;butante. After all, if I'm paying, I
+ought to look her over. She's going to the Opera--in Denning's
+box--h'm!"</p>
+
+<p>Gard broke two engagements, and at the appointed hour found himself
+wandering through the corridor back of the first tier boxes at the
+Metropolitan. Its bare convolutions were as resonant as a sea shell. Vast
+and vague murmurs of music, presages of melodies, undulated through the
+passages, palpitated like the living breath of Euterpe, <a
+name="Page_23"></a>suppressed excitement lurked in every turn, there was
+throb and glow in each pulsating touch of unseen instruments. Gard found
+his heart tightening, his nostrils expanding. A flash of the divine fire of
+youth leaped through his veins. Adventure suddenly beckoned him--the lure
+of the unknown, of the magic <i>x</i> of algebra in human equation. So
+great was his enjoyment that he savored it as one savors a dainty morsel,
+lingering over it, fearful that the next taste may destroy the perfect
+flavor.</p>
+
+<p>He paced the corridor, nodding here and there, pausing for a moment to
+chat with this or that personage, affable, noncommittal, Chesterfieldian,
+handsome and distinguished in his clean, silver-touched middle age.</p>
+
+<p>Inwardly he was fretting for their appearance--his d&eacute;butante and
+Mme. Robin Hood. Of course they must do the conventional thing and be late.
+But to his pleased surprise, just as the overture was drawing to its close,
+he saw Denning and his wife approaching. Behind them he discerned the
+finely held head and chiseled features of the Lady of Compulsion, and close
+beside her a slender, girlish figure, shrouded in a silver and ermine
+cloak, a tinsel scarf half veiled a flower face, gentle, tremulous and
+inspired--a Jeanne d'Arc of high birth and luxurious rearing. Something
+tightened about his heart. The child's <a name="Page_24"></a>very
+appearance was dramatic coupled with the presence of her mother. What the
+one lacked, the other possessed in its clearest essence.</p>
+
+<p>With a hasty greeting to Denning and his diamond-sprinkled spouse, Gard
+turned with real cordiality to Mrs. Marteen.</p>
+
+<p>"This <i>is</i> a pleasure!" He beamed with sincerity. "Dear madam,
+present me to your lovely daughter. We must be friends, Miss Dorothy. Your
+very wise and resourceful mamma has given me many an interesting hour--more
+than she has ever dreamed, I believe."</p>
+
+<p>He turned, accompanied them to the box and assisted the ladies with
+their wraps. Dorothy turned upon him a pair of violet eyes, that at the
+mention of her mother's name had lighted with adoration.</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't she wonderful!" she murmured, casting a bashful glance at Mrs.
+Marteen; then she added with simple gratefulness: "I'm glad you're
+friends." In her child's fashion she had looked him over and approved.</p>
+
+<p>A glow of pride suffused him. The obeisance of the kings of finance was
+not so sweet to his natural vanity. "She's one in a million," he answered
+heartily. "She should have been a man--and yet we would have lost much in
+that case--you, for instance." He turned toward Mrs. Marteen. "I
+congratulate you," he smiled. <a name="Page_25"></a>"She's just the sort of
+a girl that <i>should</i> have a good time--the very best the world can
+give her; the world owes it. But aren't you"--and he lowered his
+voice--"just a little afraid of those ecstatic eyes? Dear child, she must
+keep all the pink and gold illusions--" The end of his sentence he spoke
+really to himself. But an expression in his hearer's face brought him to
+sudden consciousness. Quite unexpectedly he had surprised fear in the
+classic marble of the goddess face. The woman, who had not hesitated to
+commit crime, feared the contact of the world for her child. It was a
+curious revelation. All that was best, most generous and kindly in his
+nature rose to the surface, and his smile was the rare one that endeared
+him to his friends. "Let her have every pleasure that comes her way," he
+added. "By the way, I'm sending you our box for Monday night. I hope you
+will avail yourself of it. My sister will join you, and perhaps you will
+all give me the pleasure of your company at Delmonico's afterward."</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated for a moment, her eyes turning involuntarily toward the
+girl. Then the human dimple enriched her cheeks, and it was with real
+<i>camaraderie</i> that she nodded an acceptance.</p>
+
+<p>His attitude was humbly grateful. "I'll ask the Dennings, too," he
+continued. "They're due elsewhere, I know, but they could join us."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_26"></a>The curtain was already rising and Gard, excusing
+himself, found his way to the masculine sanctuary, the directors' box, of
+which he rarely availed himself, and from a shadowy corner observed his
+d&eacute;butante and her beautiful mother through his powerful opera
+glasses. He found himself taking a throbbing interest in the visitors at
+the loge opposite. He was as interested in Dorothy Marteen's admirers as
+any fond father could be; and yet his eyes turned with strange, fascinated
+jealousy to the older woman's loveliness. Suddenly he drew in the focus of
+his glasses. A face had come within the rim of his observation--the face of
+a man sitting in the row in front of him. That man, too, had his glasses
+turned toward the group on the other side of the diamond horseshoe, and the
+look on his face was not pleasant to see. A lean, triumphant smile curled
+his heavy purple lips, the radiating wrinkles at the corner of his eyes
+were drawn upward in a Mephistophelian hardness.</p>
+
+<p>It was Victor Mahr. His expression suddenly changed to one of intense
+disgust, as a tall young man entered the Denning box and bent in evident
+admiration over Dorothy's smiling face. Victor Mahr rose from his seat, and
+with a curt nod to Gard, who feigned interest elsewhere, disappeared into
+the corridor.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_27"></a><h2><a name='III'></a>III</h2>
+
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen stood at her desk, a mammoth affair of Jacobean type,
+holding in her hand a sheet of crested paper, scrawled over in a large,
+tempestuous hand.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p></p>
+MY DEAR MRS. MARTEEN:
+
+<p>If you will be so good as to drop in at the library at</p>
+five, it will give me great pleasure to go over with you
+the details of my stewardship. The commission with
+which you honored me has, I think, been well directed
+to an excellent result. Moreover, a little chat with you
+will be, as always, a real pleasure to--
+
+<p> Yours in all admiration,</p>
+
+<p> J. MARCUS GARD.</p>
+
+<p>P.S.--I suggest your coming here, as the details of</p>
+business are best transacted in the quiet of a business office,
+and I therefore crave your presence and indulgence.--
+
+<p>J.M.G.</p>
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen was dressing for the street; her hands were gloved, her
+sable muff swung from a gem-studded chain, her veil was nicely adjusted;
+yet she hesitated, her eyes upon a busy silver clock that already marked
+the appointed hour. The room was large, wainscoted in dark paneling; a
+capacious fireplace jutted far out, and was made <a
+name="Page_28"></a>further conspicuous by two settees of worm-eaten oak.
+The chairs that backed along the walls were of stalwart pattern. A
+collection of English silver tankards was the chief decoration, save
+straight hangings of Cordova leather at the windows, and a Spanish
+embroidery, tarnished with age, that swung beside the door. Hardly a
+woman's room, and yet feminine in its minor touches; the gallooned red
+velvet cushions of the Venetian armchair; the violets that from every
+available place shed their fresh perfume on the quiet air, a summer window
+box crowded with hyacinths, the wicker basket, home of a languishing
+Pekinese spaniel, tucked under one corner of the table. Mrs. Marteen
+continued to hesitate, and the hands of the clock to travel
+relentlessly.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly drawing herself erect, she walked with no uncertain tread to
+the right-hand wall of the mantel and pushed back a double panel of the
+wainscoting, revealing the muzzle of a steel safe let into the masonry of
+the wall. A few deft twirls opened the combination, and the metal door
+swung outward. Within the recess the pigeonholes were crammed with papers
+and morocco jewel cases. Pressing a secret spring, a second door jarred
+open in the left inner wall. From this receptacle she withdrew several
+packets of letters and a set of plates with their accompanying prints. Over
+them all she slipped a heavy rubber <a name="Page_29"></a>band, laid them
+aside and closed the hiding place with methodical care. The compromising
+documents disappeared within the warm hollow of her muff, and with a last
+glance around, Mrs. Marteen unlocked the door and descended to the street,
+where her walnut-brown limousine awaited her. Her face, which had been
+vivid with emotion, took on its accustomed mask of cold perfection, and
+when she was ushered into the anxiously awaiting presence of Marcus Gard,
+she was the same perfectly poised machine, wound up to execute a certain
+series of acts, that she had been on the occasion of her former visit. Of
+their friendly acquaintance of the last ten days there was no trace. They
+were two men of business met to consult upon a matter of money. The host
+was thoroughly disappointed. For ten days he had lost no opportunity of
+following up both Dorothy and her mother. Dorothy had responded with
+frank-hearted liking; Mrs. Marteen had suffered herself to be
+interested.</p>
+
+<p>"How's my d&eacute;butante?" he asked cordially, as Mrs. Marteen
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>"She's very well, thank you," the marble personage replied. "I came in
+answer to your note."</p>
+
+<p>"Rather late," he complained. "I've been waiting for you anxiously, most
+anxiously--but now you're here, I'm ready to forgive. Do you know, this is
+the first opportunity I have had, <a name="Page_30"></a>since you honored
+me before, of having one word in private with you?"</p>
+
+<p>She ignored his remark. "I have brought the correspondence of which I
+spoke."</p>
+
+<p>"I never doubted it, my dear lady. But before we proceed to conclude
+this little deal I want to ask you a question or two. Surely you will not
+let me languish of curiosity. I want to know--tell me--how did you ever hit
+upon this plan of yours?"</p>
+
+<p>She unbent from her rigid attitude and answered, almost as if the words
+were drawn from her against her will: "After Martin, my husband died--I--I
+found myself poor, quite to my astonishment, and with Dorothy to support.
+Among his effects--" She paused and turned scarlet; she was angry at
+herself for answering, angry at him for daring to question her thus
+intimately.</p>
+
+<p>"You found--" prompted Gard.</p>
+
+<p>"Well--" she hesitated, and then continued boldly--"some letters
+from--never mind whom. They showed me that my husband had been most cruelly
+robbed and mistreated; men had traded upon his honor, and had ruined him.
+Then and there I saw my way. This man--these men--had political
+aspirations. Their plans were maturing. I waited. Then I 'wondered if they
+would care to have the matter in their opponents' hands.' The swindle would
+be <a name="Page_31"></a>good newspaper matter. They replied that they
+would 'mind very much.' I succeeded in getting back something of what
+Martin had been cheated out of--"</p>
+
+<p>He beamed approval. "And mighty clever and plucky of you. And then?"</p>
+
+<p>This time the delayed explosion of her anger came. "How dare you
+question me? How dare you pry into my life?"</p>
+
+<p>"You dared to pry into mine, remember," he snapped.</p>
+
+<p>"For a definite and established purpose," she retorted; "and let us
+proceed, if you will."</p>
+
+<p>Gard shifted his bulk and grasped the arms of his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"As you please. You deposited with me the sum of twenty-five thousand
+dollars. I personally took charge of that account, and invested it for you.
+The steps of these transactions I will ask you to follow."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it necessary?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is. Also that now you set before me the--autographs, together with
+their reproductions of every kind, on this table, and permit me to verify
+the collection by the list supplied by my lawyers."</p>
+
+<p>She frowned, and taking the packet from its resting place, unslipped the
+band and spread out its contents.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_32"></a>"They are all there," she said slowly, and there
+was hurt pride in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Without stopping to consult either the memoranda or the letters, he
+swept the whole together, and, striding to the fireplace, consigned them to
+the flames.</p>
+
+<p>"The plates!" she gasped, rising and following him. "They must be
+destroyed completely."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled at her grimly. "I'll take care of that. And now, if you will
+come to the table, I will explain your account with my firm. I bought L.U.
+&amp; Y. for you at the opening, the day following our compact, feeling
+sure we would get at least a five-point rise, and that would be earning a
+bit of interest until I could put you in on a good move. I had private
+information the following day in Forward Express stock. I sold for you, and
+bought F.E. If you have followed that market you will see what happened--a
+thirty-point rise. Then I drew out, cashed up and clapped the whole thing
+into Union Short. I had to wait three days for that, but when it
+came--there, look at the figures for yourself. Your account with Morley
+&amp; Gard stands you in one hundred thousand dollars, and it will be more
+if you don't disturb the present investment for a few days."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen's eyes were wide.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you doing this for?" she said <a name="Page_33"></a>calmly.
+"That wasn't the bargain. I'll not touch a penny more."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did I do it? Because I won't have any question of blackmail between
+us. Like the good friend that you are, you gave me something which might
+otherwise have been to my hurt. On the other hand, I invested your money
+for you wisely, honestly, sanely and with all the best of my experience and
+knowledge. It's clean money there, Mrs. Marteen, and I'm ready to do as
+much again whenever you need it. You say you won't take it--why, it's
+yours. You must. I want to be friends. I don't want this thing lying
+between us, crossing our thoughts. If I ask you impertinent questions,
+which I undoubtedly shall, I want them to have the sanction of good will. I
+want you to know that I feel nothing but kindness for you--nothing but
+pleasure in your company."</p>
+
+<p>He paused, confounded by the blank wall of her apparent indifference.
+Marcus Gard was accustomed to having his friendly offices solicited. That
+his overtures should be rebuffed was incredible. Moreover, he had looked
+for feminine softening, had expected the moist eye and quivering lip as a
+matter of course; it seemed the inevitable answer to that cue. It was not
+forthcoming. Again the conviction of some great psychic loss disturbed
+him.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_34"></a>"My dear Mr. Gard," the level, colorless voice was
+saying, "I fear we are quite beside the subject, are we not? I am not
+requesting anything. I am not putting myself under obligations to you; I
+trust you understand."</p>
+
+<p>Had an explosion wrecked the building, without a doubt Marcus Gard, the
+resourceful and energetic leader of men, would, without an instant's
+hesitation, have headed the fire brigade. Before this moral bomb he
+remained silent, paralyzed, uncertain of himself and of all the world. He
+could not adjust himself to that angle of the situation. Mrs. Marteen
+somehow conveyed to his distracted senses that blackmail was a mere detail
+of business, and "being under obligations" a heinous crime. At that rate
+the number of criminals on his list was legion, and certainly appeared
+unconscious of the enormity of their offense. It dawned upon him that he,
+the Great Man, was being "put in his place"; that his highly laudable
+desire for righteousness was being treated as forward and rather ridiculous
+posing. The buccaneer had outpointed him and taken the wind out of his
+sails, which now flapped ignominiously. The pause due to his mental
+rudderlessness continued till Mrs. Marteen herself broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"You appear to consider my attitude an inexplicable one. It is merely
+unexpected. I feel sure that when you have considered the matter you <a
+name="Page_35"></a>will see, as I do, that business affairs must be free
+from any hint--of--shall we say, favoritisms?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard found his voice, his temper and his curiosity at the same
+instant.</p>
+
+<p>"No, hang it, I <i>don't</i> see!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him with tolerance, as a mother upon an excited child.</p>
+
+<p>"I have specified a certain sum as the price of certain articles. You
+accepted my terms. I do not ask you for a bonus. I do not ask you to take
+it upon yourself to rehabilitate me in your own estimation. I cannot accept
+this cheque, Mr. Gard, however I may appreciate your generosity." She
+pushed the yellow paper toward him.</p>
+
+<p>The action angered him. "If," he roared, "you had obtained these by any
+mere chance, I might see your position. But according to your own account
+you obtained them by elaborate fraud, feeling sure of their eventual value;
+and yet you sit up and say you don't care to be reinstated in my
+regard--just as if money could do that--you--"</p>
+
+<p>She interrupted him. "Then why this?" and she held out the statement. He
+was silent. "I repeat," she said, "I will not be under obligations to you
+or to anyone." She rose with finality, picked up the statement and cheque,
+crossed to the fire and dropped both the papers on the blazing <a
+name="Page_36"></a>logs. "If you will have the kindness to send me the
+purchase money, plus the sum I consigned to your keeping--as a blind to
+others, not to ourselves--I shall be very much indebted to you."</p>
+
+<p>Gard watched her with varying emotions. "Well," he said slowly, "that
+money belongs to you. I made it for you and you're going to have it. In the
+meantime, as you may require the 'purchase money,' as you call it, to
+settle bills for soda water and gardenias, I'll make you out another
+cheque; the remainder will stay with the firm on deposit for you--whether
+you wish it or not. This is one time when I'm not to be dictated to--no,
+nor blackmailed." He spoke roughly and glanced at her quickly. Not an
+eyelash quivered. His voice changed. "I wish I understood you," he
+grumbled. "I wish I did. But perhaps that would, after all, be a great
+pity. You're an extraordinary woman, Mrs. Marteen. You've 'got me going,'
+as the college boys say--but I like you, hanged if I don't. And I repeat,
+at the risk of having you sneer at me again, I meant every word I said, and
+I still mean it; and I'm sorry you don't see it that way."</p>
+
+<p>Her smile glorified her face.</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't think I reject your proffered friendship," she said,
+extending her hand.</p>
+
+<p>He would have taken it in both of his, but something in her manner
+warned him to meet it <a name="Page_37"></a>with the straight, firm grasp
+of manly assurance.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Au revoir, mon ami</i>." She nodded and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>For several moments he stood by the door that had closed after her. Then
+he chuckled, frowned, chuckled again and sat down once more before his work
+table.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_38"></a><h2><a name='IV'></a>IV</h2>
+
+
+<p>The <i>salons</i> of Mrs. Marteen's elaborate apartment were gay with
+flowers and palms, sweet with perfumes and throbbing with music. Dorothy,
+an airy, dazzling figure in white, her face radiant with innocent
+excitement, stood by her mother, whose marble beauty had warmed with
+happiness as Galatea may have thrilled to life. Everyone who was anybody
+crowded the rooms, laughing, gossiping, congratulating, nibbling at
+dainties and sipping beverages. The throng ebbed, renewed, passed from room
+to room, to return again for a final look at the lovely d&eacute;butante
+and a final word with her no less attractive mother. A dozen distinguished
+men, both young and old, sought to ingratiate themselves, but Dorothy's
+joyous heart beat only for the day itself--her coming out, the launching of
+her little ship upon the bright waters frequented by Sirens, Argonauts and
+other delightful and adventurous people hitherto but shadow fictions. It
+was as exciting and wonderful as Christmas. She had been showered with
+presents, buried in roses. Everyone was filled with friendly thoughts of
+which she was the center. <a name="Page_39"></a>There was no envy, hatred
+or malice in all the world.</p>
+
+<p>Marcus Gard advanced into the drawing room, the sound of his name,
+announced at the door, causing sudden and free passage to the center of
+attraction. He beamed upon Mrs. Marteen with real pleasure in her stately
+loveliness, and turned to Dorothy, who, her face alight with greeting, came
+frankly toward him. From the moment of their first meeting there had been
+instant understanding and liking. Gard took her outstretched hands with an
+almost fatherly thrill.</p>
+
+<p>"You are undoubtedly a pleasing sight, Miss Marteen," he smiled; "and a
+long life and a merry one to you. Your daughter does you credit, dear
+lady," he added, turning to his hostess.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy, bubbling over with enthusiasm, claimed his hand again. "It was
+so sweet of you to send me that necklace in those wonderful flowers.
+See--I'm wearing it." She fondled a slender seed pearl rope at her throat.
+"Mother told me it was far too beautiful and I must send it back. But I was
+most undutiful. I said I wouldn't--just wouldn't. I know you picked it out
+for me yourself--now, didn't you?" He nodded somewhat whimsically. "There!
+I told mother so; and it would be rude, most rude, not to accept
+it--wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed gruffly. "It certainly would--and, <a
+name="Page_40"></a>really, you know your mother has a mania for refusing
+things. Why, I owe her--never mind, I won't tell you now--but I would have
+felt very much hurt, Miss Debutante, if you'd thrown back my little
+present. I'm sure I selected something quite modest and inconspicuous....
+Dear me, I'm blocking the whole doorway. Pardon me."</p>
+
+<p>He stepped back, nodding here and there to an acquaintance. Finally
+catching sight of his sister in the dining room, he joined her, and stood
+for a moment gazing at the commonplace comedy of presentations.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gard yawned. "My dear Marcus, who ever heard of you attending a
+tea? Really, I didn't know you knew these people so well."</p>
+
+<p>Gard was glad of this opportunity. His sister had a praiseworthy manner
+of distributing his slightest word--of which he not infrequently took
+advantage.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you see, I was indebted to Marteen for a number of kindnesses in
+the early days, though we'd rather drifted apart before he died--had some
+slight business differences, in fact. But I'd like to do all I can for his
+widow and that really sweet child of theirs. I have a small nest egg in
+trust for her--some investments I advised Mrs. Marteen to make. Who is that
+chap who's so devoted?" he asked suddenly, switching the subject, <a
+name="Page_41"></a>as his quick eye noted the change of Dorothy's
+expression under the admiring glances of a tall young man of athletic
+proportions, whose face seemed strangely familiar.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Gard lorgnetted. "That? Oh, that's only Teddy Mahr, Victor Mahr's
+son. He was a famous 'whaleback'--I think that's what they call it--on the
+Yale football team. They say that he's the one thing, besides himself, that
+the old cormorant really cares about."</p>
+
+<p>Marcus Gard stiffened, and his jaw protruded with a peculiar bunching of
+the cheek muscles, characteristic of him in his moments of irritation. He
+looked again at Dorothy, absorbed in the conversation of the "whaleback"
+from Yale, recognized the visitor at the Denning box, and, with an
+untranslatable grunt, abruptly took his departure, leaving his sister to
+wonder over the strangeness of his actions.</p>
+
+<p>Once out of the house, his anger blazed freely, and his chauffeur
+received a lecture on the driving and care of machines that was as
+undeserved as it was vigorous and emphatic.</p>
+
+<p>Moved by a strange mingling of anger, curiosity and jealousy, Gard's
+first act on entering his library was to telephone to a well known
+detective agency--no surprising thing on his part, for not infrequently he
+made use of their services to obtain sundry details as to the movements of
+his opponents, <a name="Page_42"></a>and when, as often happened, cranks
+threatened the thorny path of wealth and prominence, he had found
+protection with the plain clothes men.</p>
+
+<p>"Jordan," he growled over the wire, "I want Brencherly up here right
+away. Is he there?....All right. I want some information he may be able to
+give me offhand. If not--well, send him now."</p>
+
+<p>He hung up the receiver and paced the room, his eyes on the rug, his
+hands behind his back, disgusted and angry with his own anger and
+disgust.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour had passed, when a young man of dapper appearance was
+ushered in. Gard looked up, frowning, into the mild blue eyes of the
+detective.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Brencherly. Know Victor Mahr?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the youth.</p>
+
+<p>"Tell me about him," snapped Gard. "Sit down."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly sat. "Well, he's the head of the lumber people. Rated at six
+millions. Got one son, named Theodore; went to Yale. Wife was Mary
+Theobald, of Cincinnati--"</p>
+
+<p>Gard interrupted. "I don't want the 'who's who,' Brencherly, or I
+wouldn't have sent for you. I want to know the worst about him. Cut
+loose."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, his deals haven't been square, you know. <a
+name="Page_43"></a>He's had two or three nasty suits against him; he's got
+more enemies than you can shake a stick at. His confidential lawyer is
+Twickenbaur, the biggest scoundrel unhung. Of course nobody knows that;
+Twickenbaur's reputation is too bad--Mahr goes to <i>your</i> lawyers,
+apparently."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't any blackmail in any of <i>that</i>," the older man
+snarled.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" cried the youth, his blue eyes lighting. "Oh, it's blackmail you
+want! Well, the only thing that looks that way is a story that nobody has
+been able to substantiate. We heard it as we hear lots of things that don't
+get out; but there was a yarn that Mahr was a bigamist; that his first wife
+was living when he married Miss Theobald. She died when the boy was born,
+and in that case she was never his legal wife, and of course now never can
+be. The other woman's dead, too, they say; but who's to prove it? That
+would be a fine tale for the coin, if anyone had the goods to show."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose the office looked that up when they got it, didn't they? Good
+for the coin, eh? What did you find?"</p>
+
+<p>The informant actually blushed. "You aren't accusing us, Mr. Gard!"</p>
+
+<p>"Accusing nothing. I know a few things, Brencherly, remember. Baker
+Allen told me your office held him up good and plenty to turn in a <a
+name="Page_44"></a>different report when his wife employed you, and you
+'got the goods on him.' Now, don't give me any bluff. I want facts, and I
+pay you for them, don't I? Well, when you got that story, you looked it up
+hard, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly, thoroughly cowed, nodded assent. "But we couldn't get a line
+on it anywhere. If there were any proofs, somebody else had them--that's
+all."</p>
+
+<p>"U'm!" said Marcus, and sat a moment silent. When he spoke again it was
+with an apparent frankness that would have deceived the devil himself. "See
+here, I'll tell you my reason for all this, so perhaps you can answer more
+intelligently. Martin Marteen was a friend of mine, and I'm interested in
+his little daughter, who has just come out. Theodore Mahr is attentive to
+her, and I'm not keen about it, and what you tell me about his father
+doesn't make me any happier. What sort of a woman is Mrs. Marteen--from
+your point of view? Of course I know her well socially, but what's her
+rating with you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ai, sir," Brencherly answered promptly. "Exceptionally fine woman--very
+intelligent. I should say that, with a word from you, she ought to be able
+to handle the situation, and any girl living. But the boy's all right, Mr.
+Gard, even if Mahr isn't. And after all, there may not be a word of truth
+in that romance I spun to you. <a name="Page_45"></a>We couldn't land a
+thing. What made us think there might be something in it was that we got it
+second hand from an old servant of Mahr's. <i>He</i> told the man that told
+us; but the old boy's gone, too."</p>
+
+<p>Gard rose from his chair and resumed his pacing. Brencherly remained
+seated, patiently waiting. Presently Gard turned on him.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do, Brencherly. You may go; and don't let me catch you tipping
+Mahr off that I've been having you rate him, do you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>The detective sprang to his feet with alacrity. "Oh, no, Mr. Gard--never
+a word. You know, sir, you're one of our very best clients."</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Gard sat down wearily, ran his hands through his hair, then
+held his throbbing temples between his clenched fists. Somehow, on his
+slender evidence, that was no evidence in fact, he was convinced of the
+truth of Mahr's perfidy; convinced that the lady rated A1 by the keenest
+detective bureau in the country had obtained the proofs of guilt and used
+them with the same perfect business sagacity she had used in his own case.
+It sickened him. Somehow he could forgive her handling such a case as his.
+It was purely commercial; but this other was uglier stuff. His soul
+rebelled. He would not have it so; he would not believe--and yet he was
+convinced against his own logic. He had tried to cheat the arithmetic <a
+name="Page_46"></a>when he had tried to make her extortion money an
+honestly made acquisition. And she had refused to be a party to the flimsy
+self-deception.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen was a blackmailer, an extortioner--that was the truth, the
+truth that he would not let himself recognize. Her depredations probably
+had much wider scope than he guessed. He must save her from herself; he
+must somehow reach the submerged personality and awaken it to the
+hideousness of that other, the soulless, heartless automaton that schemed
+and executed crimes with mechanical exactitude. He took a long breath of
+determination, and again grinned at the farce he was playing for his own
+benefit. Through repetition he was beginning to believe in the fiction of
+his former intimacy with Marteen. True, he had known him slightly, had once
+or twice snatched a hasty luncheon in his company at one of his clubs; but
+far from liking each other, the two men had been fundamentally
+antagonistic. Neither was Dorothy an excuse for his peculiar state of mind.
+He was drawn to her with strong protective yearning. Her childlike beauty
+pleased him. He wished she were his daughter, or a little sister to pet and
+spoil. But it was not for her sake that he savagely longed to make the
+mother into something different, "remolded nearer to his heart's desire."
+Was it the woman herself, or her enigmatic dual personality that held <a
+name="Page_47"></a>him? He wished he knew. He found his mind divided, his
+emotions many and at cross purposes. His keen, almost clairvoyant intuition
+was at fault for once. It sent no sure signal through the fog of his
+troubled heart.</p>
+
+<p>How would it all end? Ah, how would it end? He sensed the situation as
+one of climax. It could not quietly dissolve itself and be absorbed in the
+sea of time and forgotten commonplace.</p>
+
+<p>As an outlet for his mental discomfort, his restless spirit busied
+itself in hating Victor Mahr. He had always disliked the man; now he
+malignantly resented his very existence; Mahr became the personification of
+the thing he most wished to forget--the victimizing power of the woman who
+had enthralled him. Gard had met the one element he could not control or
+change--the past; and his conquering soul raged at its own impotence.</p>
+
+<p>"There shall be no more of this!" he said aloud. "She sha'n't again.
+I'll--"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll what?" the demon in his brain jeered at him. "What will you do?
+She will not 'be under obligations.' Perhaps, even, she likes her strange
+profession; perhaps she finds the delight of battle, that you know so well,
+in pitting her wits against the brains of the mighty; perhaps she has a
+cynic soul that finds a savage joy in running down the faults of the
+seemingly faultless--running <a name="Page_48"></a>them to earth and taking
+her profit therefrom. Who are you, Marcus Gard, to cavil at the lust of
+conquest--to sneer at the controlling of destinies?"</p>
+
+<p>"I won't be beaten," declared his ego, "even if I have no weapon. I'll
+search till I find the way to the citadel, and if there is none open, I'll
+smash one through!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_49"></a><h2><a name='V'></a>V</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Mrs. Martin Marteen requests the pleasure of Mr. Marcus Gard's company
+at dinner"--the usual engraved invitation, with below a girlish scrawl:
+"You'll come, won't you? It's my very last dinner before we go
+South.--D."</p>
+
+<p>He took a stubby quill, which, for some occult reason, he preferred for
+his intimate correspondence, and scribbled: "Of course, little friend. The
+crowned heads can wait." He tossed the envelope on the pile for special
+delivery, and speared the invitation on a letter file.</p>
+
+<p>Two months had passed, and he was no nearer the solution of the problem
+he had set himself. His affection for the girl had deepened--become
+ratified by his experience of her sweetness and intelligence. They were
+"pally," as she put it, happily contented in each other's society. On the
+other hand, the fascination that Mrs. Marteen exercised over him was far
+from being placid enjoyment. She continued to vex his heart and irritate
+his imagination. Her tolerance of young Mahr's attentions to Dorothy drove
+him distracted, his <a name="Page_50"></a>only relief being that Miss Gard,
+his sister, swayed, as always, by his slightest wish, had developed a most
+maternal delight in Dorothy's presence, and was doing all in her power to
+make the girl's season a most successful one; also, in accord with his
+obvious desire--her influence was antagonistic to Mahr, his son and his
+motor car, his house and his flowers, everything that was his; in spite of
+which, Dorothy's manner toward Teddy Mahr was undoubtedly one of
+encouragement. Honesty compelled Gard to own that he could not find in the
+boy the echo of the objectionable sire. Perhaps the long dead mother, who
+was never a lawful wife, had, by some retributive turn of justice, endowed
+him wholly with her own qualities. Gard could almost find it in his breast
+to like the big, large-hearted, gentle boy, but for a final irony of
+fate--the son's blind adoration of his father, and that father's obvious
+but helpless dislike of the impending romance. Every element of
+contradiction seemed to be present in the tangle and to bind the older
+watchers to silence. What could anyone do or say? And meanwhile, in the
+pause before the storm, Dorothy's violet eyes smiled into her Teddy's brown
+devoted ones with tender approval.</p>
+
+<p>One move only had Gard made with success, and the doing thereof had
+given him supreme satisfaction. The account opened in his office in Mrs. <a
+name="Page_51"></a>Marteen's name had been transferred to Dorothy, and with
+such publicity that Mrs. Marteen was unable to raise objections. Right and
+left he told the tale of his having desired to advise the widow of his old
+friend, of his successful operations, of Mrs. Marteen's refusal to accept
+her just gains as "too great," and his determination that the account,
+transferred to the daughter, should reach its proper destination. The first
+result of his outwitting of the beneficiary was a doubling of the usual
+letters inclosing a cheque and requesting advice. The secretary was plainly
+disgusted, but Gard grimly paid the price of his checkmate, and by his
+generosity certainly precluded any accusation of favoritism. As he read
+Dorothy's note on the invitation, he chuckled at the thought of his own
+cleverness, and rejoiced in the knowledge that his d&eacute;butante had
+become somewhat his ward and prot&eacute;g&eacute;e.</p>
+
+<p>The bell of his private telephone rang--only his intimates had the
+number of that wire--and he raised the receiver with sudden conviction that
+the voice he would hear was Dorothy's. "Well, my dear?" he said. There was
+a little gurgle, and an obviously disguised voice replied:</p>
+
+<p>"And who do you think this is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, the queen of the d&eacute;butantes, of course. I felt it in my
+bones; it was a pleasurable sensation."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_52"></a>"Wrong," the voice came back, "quite wrong. This
+is the superintendent of the Old Ladies' Home, and we want autographed
+photographs of you for all the old ladies' dressers--to cheer them up, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my dear madam; they shall be sent at once. To your
+apartment, I suppose. Is there anything else?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; you might bring them yourself. Did you know that mother has been
+ordered off to Bermuda at once? The doctor says she's dreadfully run down.
+She won't let me go with her. She wants me to do a lot of things; and then
+in three weeks we all go South. Mother's doctor says she mustn't wait.
+Isn't it a bore? And Tante Lydia is coming to-day to chaperon me. Did you
+get my invitation?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard's heart sank. "Dear me! That's bad news. How long will your mother
+be gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just the voyage and straight home again. But do come in this
+afternoon and have tea; perhaps you could persuade her to stay a week
+there--she won't obey me."</p>
+
+<p>"They are very insubordinate in the Old Ladies' Home. I'll drop in this
+afternoon. Good-by, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>He hung up the receiver and glowered. "Not well! Mrs. Marteen in the
+doctor's care!" <a name="Page_53"></a>He could not associate her perfection
+with illness of any kind. It gave him a distinct pang, and for the first
+time a feeling of protective tenderness. This instantly translated itself
+into a lavish order of violets, and a mental note to see that, her
+stateroom was made beautiful for her voyage.</p>
+
+<p>Adding his signature to the pile of letters that Saunders handed him
+served to pass the moments till he could officially declare himself free
+for the day and be driven to the abode of the two beings who had so
+absorbed his interest.</p>
+
+<p>He found Mrs. Marteen reclining on a <i>chaise-longue</i> in her
+library-sitting room, the Pekinese spaniel in her lap and Dorothy by her
+side. She looked weary, but not ill, and Gard felt a glow of comfort.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear lady, I came at once. Dorothy advised me of your impending
+journey, and led me to believe you were not well. But I am reassured--you
+do not seem a drooping flower."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen laughed. "How 1830! Couldn't you put it into a madrigal? It
+really is absurd, though, sending me off like this. But they threatened me
+with nerves--fancy that--nerves! And never having had an attack of that
+sort, of course I'm terrified. I shall leave my butterfly in good hands,
+however. My sister is to take my place; and I sha'n't be gone long, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_54"></a>"We hope not, don't we, Dorothy? What boat do you
+honor, and what date?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen hesitated. "I'm not sure. The <i>Bermudian</i> sails this
+week. If I cannot go then, and that is possible, I may take the
+<i>Cecelia</i>, and make the Caribbean trip. It's a little longer, but on
+my return I would join Dorothy and Mrs. Trevor, crossing directly from
+Bermuda to Florida. It's absurd, isn't it, to play the invalid! But
+insomnia is really getting its hold on me. A good sleep would be a novelty
+just now, and bromides depress me, so--there you are! I suppose I must take
+the doctor's advice and my maid, and fly for my health's sake."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of the natural tone and her apparent frankness, Gard remained
+unconvinced. He could not have explained why. All his life he had found his
+intuitions superior to his logical deductions. They had led him to his
+present exalted position and had kept him there. No sooner had this inner
+self refused to accept Mrs. Marteen's story than his mind began supplying
+reasons for her departure--and the very first held him spellbound. Was it
+another move in her perpetual game? Was she on the track of someone's
+secret? Was her scheming mind now following some new clew that must lead to
+the discovery of a hidden or forgotten crime--the burial place of some well
+entombed family skeleton? He shivered.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_55"></a>Mrs. Marteen observed him narrowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Gard is cold, Dorothy. Send for the tea, dear--or will you have
+something else? Really, <i>you</i> look like the patient who should seek
+climate and rest."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you're right," he said slowly. "Perhaps I <i>will</i>
+go--perhaps with you. It would be pleasant to have your society for so many
+weeks, uninterrupted and almost alone. I'll think of it--if I can arrange
+my affairs."</p>
+
+<p>He had been watching her closely, and seemed to surprise in the depths
+of her eyes and the slow assuming of her impenetrable manner, that his
+suggestion was far from receiving approval.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my dear sir," she answered, "much as that would be my pleasure,
+would it be wise for you? Everyone tells me the next few weeks will be
+crucial. Your presence may be needed in Washington."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I suppose it will," he retorted almost angrily. "But I've a
+pretty good idea what the result will be, and my sails are trimmed."</p>
+
+<p>"Then do come," she invited cordially; "it will be delightful!" She had
+read the meaning of his tone; knew quite as well as he that her words had
+brought home to him the impossibility of his leaving. She could afford to
+be pressing.</p>
+
+<p>More and more convinced of some ulterior motive in Mrs. Marteen's
+departure, his irritation <a name="Page_56"></a>made him gruff. Even
+Dorothy, seeing his ill-temper, retired to the far corner of the room, and
+eyed him with surprise above her embroidery. Feeling the discord of his
+present mood, he rose to take his leave.</p>
+
+<p>"Do arrange to come," smiled Mrs. Marteen, with just a touch of irony in
+her clear voice.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind," he answered; "but, somehow, I'm not so sure you
+want me."</p>
+
+<p>He bowed himself out and, sore-hearted, sought the crowded solitude of
+the Metropolitan Club. His next move was characteristic. Having got Gordon
+on the wire, he requested as complete a list as possible of the passengers
+to sail by the <i>Bermudian</i> and the <i>Cecelia</i>. A new possibility
+had presented itself. If the psychological moment in someone's affairs was
+eventuating, something for which she had long planned the
+d&eacute;nouement. That person might be sailing. If only he could accompany
+her, perhaps in the isolated world of a steamer's life, he might bring his
+will to bear--force from her a promise to cease from her pernicious
+activities, and an acceptance of his future aid in all financial
+matters--two things he had found it impossible to accomplish, or even
+propose, heretofore. But she was right; the moment was critical, and his
+presence might be necessary in Washington at any moment.</p>
+
+<p>When, later that night, the lists were delivered <a
+name="Page_57"></a>at his home, he spent a throbbing half-hour. There were
+several possibilities. Mrs. Allison was Bermuda bound; so was Morgan
+Beresford. Both had fortunes, a whispered past and ambitions. The Honorable
+Fortescue, the wealthy and impeccable Senator, the shining light of
+"practical politics," was Havana bound on the <i>Cecelia</i>, so was Max
+Brutgal, the many-millioned copper baron. Mrs. Allison he discarded as a
+possibility. He was sure that Mme. Robin Hood would disdain such an easy
+victim and refuse to hound one of her own sex. Looking over the list, he
+singled out Brutgal, if it were the <i>Cecelia</i>, and Beresford, if it
+were the <i>Bermudian</i>. Beresford was devoted to the lovely and somewhat
+severe Mrs. Claigh. He might be more than willing to suppress some event in
+his patchwork past.</p>
+
+<p>Gard threw the lists from him angrily. After all, what right had he to
+interfere? What business of his was it which fly was elected to feed the
+spider? He went to bed, and passed a sleepless night trying to determine,
+nevertheless, which was the doomed insect. He would have liked to prevent
+the ships from leaving the harbor, or invent a situation that would make it
+as impossible for Mrs. Marteen to leave as it was for him to accompany
+her.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later, when Mrs. Marteen finally announced her intention of
+departing on the longer <a name="Page_58"></a>cruise, Gard seriously
+contemplated a copper raid that would keep Brutgal at the ticker. Then he
+as furiously abandoned the idea, washed his hands of the whole affair and
+did not go near Mrs. Marteen for three days. At the end of that time,
+having thoroughly punished himself, he relented, and continued to shower
+the lady with attentions until the very moment of her final leave taking.
+He accompanied her to the steamer, saw her gasp of pleasure at the bower of
+violets prepared for her and formally accepted the post of sub-guardian to
+Dorothy.</p>
+
+<p>As the tugs dragged out the unwilling vessel from her berth, he caught a
+glimpse of Brutgal, his coarse, heavy face set off by an enormous sealskin
+collar, join Mrs. Marteen at the rail and bid blatantly for her attention.
+Gard turned his back, took Dorothy by the arm, and, in spite of her
+protestations, left the wharf. His motor took Tante Lydia and Dorothy to
+their apartment, where he left them with many assurances of his desire to
+be of service.</p>
+
+<p>He sent a wireless message and was comforted. He wondered how, in the
+old days that were only yesterdays, people could have endured separation
+without any means of communication, and he blessed the name of Marconi as
+cordially as he cursed the name of Brutgal. To exasperate him further, the
+rest of the day seemed obsessed by <a name="Page_59"></a>Victor Mahr. He
+was in the elevator that took him up to his office; he was at the club in
+the afternoon; he was a guest at the Chamber of Commerce banquet in the
+evening, and was placed opposite Marcus Gard. Despite his desire to let the
+man alone, he could not resist the temptation to talk with him.</p>
+
+<p>Mahr, whatever else he might be, was no fool, and even as Gard seemed a
+prey to nervous irritation, so Mahr appeared to experience a bitter
+pleasure in parrying his adversary's vicious thrusts and lunging at every
+opening in the other's arguments. Both men appeared to ease some inner
+turbulence, for they calmed down as the dinner progressed, and ended the
+evening in abstraction and silence, broken as they parted by Gard's sudden
+question:</p>
+
+<p>"And how's that good-looking son of yours, Mahr?"</p>
+
+<p>Mahr shot an underbrow glance at Gard, and took his time to answer.</p>
+
+<p>"If he does what I want him to," he said at last, "he'll take a year or
+two out West and learn the lumber business--and I think he will."</p>
+
+<p>"Good idea," said Gard curtly. "Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>One day of restlessness succeeded another. Ill at ease, Gard felt
+himself waiting--for what? It was the strain of anxiety, such as a miner
+feels deep in the heart of the earth, knowing that far <a
+name="Page_60"></a>down the black corridor the dynamite has been placed and
+the fuse laid. Why was the expected explosion delayed? One must not go
+forward to learn. One must sit still and wait. A thousand times he asked
+himself the meaning of this latent dread. He set it down to his suspicions
+of Mrs. Marteen's departure. Then why this fibril anxiety never to be long
+beyond call? Surely, and the demon in his brain laughed with amusement, he
+did not expect her to send him a cryptic wireless--"Everything arranged;
+operation a success; appendix removed without opposition," or "Patient
+unmanageable; must use anesthetic."</p>
+
+<p>Four days had passed, four miserable days, relieved only by a few
+pleasant hours with Dorothy and the enjoyment he always found in watching
+her keen delight in every entertainment. He went everywhere, where he felt
+sure of seeing her, and could he have removed Teddy Mahr from the obviously
+reserved place at Dorothy's side, he could have enjoyed those moments
+without the undercurrent of his troubled fears. That Mahr was rebelliously
+angry at the situation was evident. Gard had seen the look in his eyes on
+more than one occasion, and it boded evil to someone. What had he meant
+when he spoke of his son's probable absence of a year or more "to study the
+lumber business"? Gard approached the young man and found him quite
+innocent of any such plan.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_61"></a>"Oh, yes," he had answered, "father's keen on my
+being what he calls practical, but," and he had smiled frankly at his
+questioner, "I wouldn't leave now--not for the proud possession of every
+tree, flat or standing, this side of the Pacific."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy, when questioned, blushed and smiled and evaded, assuring Gard
+that of all the men she had met that season he alone came up to her ideal,
+and employed every artifice a woman uses between the ages of nine and
+ninety, when she does not want to give an answer that answers. The very
+character of her replies, however, convinced Gard that there was more than
+a passing interest in her preference. There was something sweetly ingenuous
+in her evasions, a softness in her violet eyes at the mention of Teddy's
+prosaic name that was not to be misunderstood. Gard sighed. Still the sense
+of impending danger oppressed him. He found himself neglectful of his many
+and vital interests. He took himself severely in hand, and set himself to
+unrelenting work, fixing his attention on the matters in hand as if he
+would drive a nail through them. Heavy circles appeared under his eyes, and
+the lines from nose to chin sharpened perceptibly. More than ever he looked
+the eagle, stern and remote, capable of daring the very sun in high
+ambitious flight, or of sudden and death-dealing descent; but deep in his
+heart fear had entered.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_62"></a><h2><a name='VI'></a>VI</h2>
+
+
+<p>"Hello! Oh, good morning. Is that you, Teddy? Yes, you did wake me
+up--but I'm very glad. Half past ten?--good gracious!--you never telephone
+me before that?--Oh, what a whopper! You called me at half past eight--day
+before yesterday--Why, of course--I know that--but you did just the same.
+Why, yes, I'd love to. What time to-morrow? That will be jolly; but do have
+the wind-shield--I hate to be blown out of the car--no, it <i>isn't</i>
+becoming--You're a goose!--besides, my hair tickles my nose. No, I haven't
+had a word from mother, and I don't understand it at all. She might have
+sent me a wireless. Yes, I'm awfully lonely--who wouldn't miss her?--Well,
+now, you don't have a chance to miss me much--Oh, really!--I'm dreadfully
+sorry for you!--poor old dear! Well, I can't, positively,
+to-day--to-morrow, at three; and I'll be ready--yes, <i>really</i> ready.
+Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy hung up the receiver, yawned as daintily as a Persian kitten,
+rubbed her eyes and rang the maid's bell. She smiled happily at the golden
+<a name="Page_63"></a>sunlight that crept through the slit of the drawn
+pink curtains. Another beautiful brand new day to play with, a day full of
+delightful, adventurous surprises--a d&eacute;butante's luncheon, a
+matin&eacute;e, a th&eacute; dansant, a dinner, too. Dorothy swung her
+little white feet from under the covers and crinkled her toes delightedly
+ere she thrust them in the cozy satin slippers that awaited them; a
+negligee to match, with little dangling bunches of blue flower buds, she
+threw over her shoulders with a delicate shiver, as the maid closed the
+window and admitted the full light of day. Hopping on one foot by way of
+waking up exercises, she crossed to the dressing-table, dabbed a brush at
+her touseled hair, then concealed it under a fluffy boudoir cap. She paused
+to innocently admire her reflection in the silver rimmed mirror, turning
+her head from side to side, the better to observe the lace frills and
+twisted ribbons of her coiffe. Breakfast arrived, steaming on its little
+white and chintz tray, and Dorothy smacked hungry lips.</p>
+
+<p>"Oo--oo--how perfectly lovely--crumpets! and scrambled eggs! I'm
+starved!" She settled herself, eagerly cooing over the fragrant coffee.
+"Now, if only Mother were here," she exclaimed. "It's so lonely
+breakfasting without her!"</p>
+
+<p>But her loneliness was not for long. An avalanche of Aunt Lydia entered
+the room, quite filling <a name="Page_64"></a>it with her fluttering
+presence. Tante Lydia's morning cap was quite as youthful as that of her
+niece, her flowered wrapper as belaced and befurbelowed as the
+lingi&egrave;re could make it, and her high heeled mules were at least two
+sizes too small, and slapped as she walked.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear," she bubbled girlishly, thrusting a stray lock of questionable
+gold beneath her cap, "I thought I'd just run in and sit with you. I've had
+my breakfast ages ago--indeed, yes--and seen the housekeeper, and ordered
+everything. It was shockingly late when we got in last night, my dear. I
+really hadn't a notion it was after three, till you came after me into the
+conservatory. That <i>was</i> a delightful affair last night, I must say,
+even if Mrs. May <i>is</i> so loud. She isn't stingy in the way she
+entertains, like Mrs. Best's, where we were Wednesday. That was positively
+a shabby business. Now, dear, what do we do to-day? I've just looked over
+my calendar, and I want to see yours. Really, we are so crowded that we've
+got to cut something out--we really have." As she spoke she crossed to
+Dorothy's slim-legged, satin wood writing desk, and picked up an engagement
+book. "You lunch with the Wootherspoons--that's good. Then I can go to the
+Caldens for bridge in the afternoon at four. You won't be back from the
+matin&eacute;e and tea at the Van Vaughns' until after six, and we dine at
+the Belmans' <a name="Page_65"></a>at eight. That'll do very nicely. And
+then, dear, about my dress at Bendel's; I do wish you could find a minute
+to see my fitting. I can't tell whether I ought to have that mauve so near
+my face, or whether it ought to be pink; and you know that fitter doesn't
+care <i>how</i> I look, just so she gets that gown <i>of</i> her hands, and
+I <i>can't</i> make up my mind--when I can't see myself at a distance
+<i>from</i> myself, and those fitting rooms are <i>so</i> small!"</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy paused in the midst of a bite. "Tante Lydia, you <i>know</i> if
+she said 'mauve' you'd want 'pink' and 'mauve' if she said 'pink,' and all
+you really need is somebody to argue with; and, besides, they both look the
+same at night."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mellows pouted fat pink lips, and looked more than ever an elderly
+infant about to burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Dorothy," she sniffed, "I do think you are the most trying child! I
+only wish to look well for <i>your</i> sake. I have no vanity--why should I
+have? It's only my desire to be presentable on your account." Her blue orbs
+suffused with tears.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy leaped from the divan, to the imminent danger of the breakfast
+tray. "Now, Aunt Lydia, don't be foolish. I didn't mean to hurt your
+feelings, and, besides, you know you are the really, truly belle of the
+ball. Why, you bad thing! Where were you all last evening? <a
+name="Page_66"></a>Didn't I have to go after you--and into the
+conservatory, at that! And what did I find, pray--you and a beautiful
+white-haired beau, with a goatee! And now you say you are <i>only</i>
+dressing for <i>me</i>--Oh, fie!--oh, fie!--oh, fie!" She kissed her aunt
+on a moist blue eye, and bounced back to her seat.</p>
+
+<p>The chaperon was mollified and flattered. "But, my dear," she returned
+to the charge, "you know mauve is so unbecoming; if one should become a
+trifle pale--"</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy snipped a bit of toast in her aunt's direction. "But, why, my
+dear Lydia," she teased, "should one ever be pale? There are first aids to
+beauty, you know--and a very <i>nice</i> rouge can be had--"</p>
+
+<p>"Dorothy, how can you!" exclaimed the lady, overcome with horror.
+"Rouge! What <i>are</i> you saying, and what <i>are</i> young girls coming
+to! At your age, I'd never heard the word, no, indeed. And, besides, my
+love, it is indecorous of you to address me as 'Lydia.' I am your mother's
+sister, remember."</p>
+
+<p>Her charge giggled joyously. "Nobody would believe it, never in the
+world! You aren't one day older than I am, not a day. If you were, you
+wouldn't care whether it was mauve or pink--nor flirt in the
+conservatories."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_67"></a>"You're teasing me!" was Mrs. Mellows' belated
+exclamation. "And, my dear, I don't think it <i>quite</i> nice,
+really."</p>
+
+<p>The insistent call of the telephone arrested the conversation. Dorothy
+took up the receiver, and Aunt Lydia became all attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello!--Oh, it's you again--I thought I rang off--Oh, really--no, I'm
+not!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is it?" questioned Aunt Lydia in a sibilant whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy went on talking, carefully refraining from any mention of names.
+"Yes--did you?--that's awfully kind--yes, I love violets; no, they haven't
+come, by messenger--how extravagant! No, I'm not going out <i>just</i>
+yet--not in this get up. What color? Pink--<i>and</i> a lace cap--a duck of
+a lace cap. Send the photographs around--Oh, <i>that's</i> all right; Aunt
+Lydia is here--aren't you, Aunt Lydia?--Oh, oh--what a horrid word!--unsay
+it at once! All right, you're forgiven. I'm busy <i>all</i> day--<i>all,
+all</i> day--yes, and this evening. No, orchids won't go with my gown
+to-night--don't be silly--of course, gardenias go with everything,
+but--now, what nonsense!--I'm going to hang up--Indeed, I <i>will</i>.
+Good-b--what? Now, listen to me--"</p>
+
+<p>A tap at the door, and Aunt Lydia, hypnotized <a name="Page_68"></a>as
+she was by the telephone conversation, had presence of mind enough to open
+the door and receive a square box tied with purple ribbon. She dexterously
+untied the loose bow knot, and withdrew from its tissue wrappings, a
+fragrant bouquet of violets. An envelope enclosing a card fell to the
+floor. With suppleness hardly to be expected from one of her years, she
+stooped to pick it up, and in a twinkling had the donor's name before
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy hung up the receiver and turned. "So you know who sent the
+flowers, and who was on the 'phone," she laughed. "Tante, you should have
+been a detective--you really should."</p>
+
+<p>"How can you!" almost wept Mrs. Mellows. "I only opened it to save you
+the trouble. Of course, I knew all along that it was Teddy Mahr--I
+guessed--why not? Really, Dorothy, you misinterpret my interest in you,
+really, you do."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy laughed. "Now, now," she scolded, "don't say that. Here, I'll
+divide with you." She separated the fragrant bunch into its components of
+smaller bunches, snipped the purple ribbon in two, and neatly devised two
+corsage adornments. "Here," she bubbled, "one for you and one for me--and
+don't say such mean things about me any more. If you do, I'll tell Mother
+about all your flirtations the minute she gets back--I will, too!"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_69"></a>"That reminds me, my dear," said Mrs. Mellows, her
+apple-pink face becoming suddenly serious, "I don't understand why we
+haven't had any news from your mother, really, I don't. She might have sent
+us just a wireless or something."</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> odd." Dorothy's laugh broke off midway in a silvery
+chuckle. "But something may have gone wrong with the telegraphic apparatus,
+you know. We might get the company, and find out if any other messages have
+been received from her."</p>
+
+<p>"I never thought of that," exclaimed Mrs. Mellows. "You are quick
+witted, Dorothy, I will say that for you. Suppose you do find out."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy turned to the telephone and made her inquiry. "There," she said
+at length, "I guessed it--no messages at all; they are sure it's out of
+order. Well, that does relieve one's mind. It isn't because she's ill, or
+anything like that. Now, Aunt Lydia, that's <i>my</i> mail."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, child!" the mature Cupid protested, "<i>I</i> wasn't going to open
+your letters. Indeed, I think you are positively insulting to me! Here,
+that's from your cousin Euphemia, I know her hand; and that's just a
+circular, I'm sure--and Tappe's bill. My dear, you've been perfectly
+foolish about hats this winter. This is a handwriting I don't know, but
+it's smart stationery--and, dear me, look at all these little cards. I
+really don't see how the postman bothers to see that <a
+name="Page_70"></a>they're all delivered; they're such little slippery
+things--more teas--and bridge."</p>
+
+<p>"And how about yours?" questioned Dorothy, amused. "What did you
+get?"</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Lydia bridled. "Oh, nothing much. Some cards, a bill or two--"</p>
+
+<p>"Bill or coo, you mean," said her niece with a playful clutch at her
+chaperon's lap-full of missives. "If that isn't a man's letter, I'll eat my
+cap, ribbons and all--and that one, and that one."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mellows rose hastily, gathered her flowing negligee about her and
+beat a retreat.</p>
+
+<p>She turned at the door, "You're a rude little girl, and I shan't count
+on you to go to Bendel's. If you want me, I'll be here from half past two
+to four, when I go for bridge." With the air of a Christian martyr she
+betook herself to the seclusion of her own rooms.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy suffered herself to be dressed as she opened her mail. Aunt
+Lydia had diagnosed it with almost psychic exactness, and its mystery had
+ceased to be interesting. Last of all she opened a plain envelope with
+typewritten directions. The enclosure, also typewritten, gave a first
+impression of an announcement of a special sale, or request for assistance
+from some charitable organization. Idly she glanced at it, flipped it over,
+and found it to be unsigned. A word or two caught her attention. She turned
+back, and read:</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_71"></a></p>
+<blockquote>
+Miss DOROTHY MARTEEN:
+
+<p>"That the sins of the parents should be visited upon</p>
+the children is, perhaps, hard. But we feel it time for
+you to understand thoroughly your situation, in order
+that you may determine what your future is to be. You
+have been reared all your life on stolen, or what is worse,
+extorted money. We hope you have not inherited the
+callous nature of your mother, and that this information
+will not leave you unashamed. Not a gown you have
+worn, nor a possession you have enjoyed, but has been
+yours through theft. That you may verify this statement,
+open the steel safe, back of the second panel of the
+library wall to the left of the fireplace. The combination
+is, 2.2.9.6.0. A button on the inner edge on the
+right releases a spring, opening a second compartment,
+where the material of your future luxuries is stored. A
+look will be sufficient. I hardly think you will then
+care to occupy the position in the lime light to which
+you have been brought by such means. Obscurity is better--perhaps,
+even exile. Talk it over with your
+mother. We think she will agree with us.
+</blockquote>
+
+<p>The words danced before Dorothy's eyes, a sudden stopping of the heart,
+a hot flush, a painful dizziness that was at once physical and mental, made
+her clutch at the table for support. She dropped the letter, and stood
+staring at it, fascinated, as in a nightmare.</p>
+
+<p>An anonymous letter, a cruel, hateful, wicked atrocity! Why should she
+receive such a thing? she, who never in her whole life, had wished anyone
+ill. It couldn't be so. She had misread, misunderstood. <a
+name="Page_72"></a>She picked up the message and looked at it again. It was
+surely intended for her, there could be no mistake. Then fear came upon
+her. The abrupt entrance of the maid, carrying her hat and veil, gave her a
+spasm of panic. No one must see, no one must know. The wretched sender of
+this hideous libel must believe it ignored--never received. She thrust the
+paper hastily into the bosom of her dress. Its very contact seemed to
+burn.</p>
+
+<p>"That will do," she said. "I'm not going out just yet. I--I have some
+notes to write; don't bother me now."</p>
+
+<p>Her voice sounded strange. She glanced quickly at the maid, fearing to
+surprise a look of suspicion. It seemed impossible that that cracked voice
+of hers would pass unnoticed. But the maid bowed, carefully placed a pair
+of white gloves by the hat and jacket, and went out as if nothing had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy, left alone, stood still for a moment as if robbed of all
+volition. Then, with a suppressed cry, she dragged out the accusing
+document and carried it to the light. Who could do such a thing! Who would
+be such a lying coward! Her helplessness made her rage. Oh, to be able to
+confront this traducer, this libeler. To see him punished, to tell him to
+his face what she thought of him I Somewhere he was in the world, laughing
+<a name="Page_73"></a>to himself in the safety of his namelessness--knowing
+her futile anger and indignation--satisfied to have shamed and insulted
+her--and her mother--her great, resourceful, splendid mother, away and ill
+when this dastardly attack was made. Impulsively she turned to run to her
+aunt, and lay the matter before her, but paused and sat down on the little
+chair before her writing desk. Covering her eyes with her clenched hands
+she tried to think. Tante Lydia was worse than useless, scatterbrained,
+self-centered, incapable. What would she do? Lament and call all her
+friends in conclave; send in the police; acknowledge her fright, and give
+this nameless writer the satisfaction of knowing that his shaft had found
+its mark?</p>
+
+<p>Teddy! Teddy would come to her at once. But what could he do? Sympathy
+was not what she wanted; it was support and guidance. With a trembling hand
+she smoothed the paper before her and, controlling herself, reread every
+word with minutest care. But this third perusal left her more at sea than
+before. What did this enmity mean? What could have incited it? Why did this
+wretch give her such minute instructions? She knew of no safe in the
+library--could it be just possible that such a thing <i>did</i> exist?
+Could it be possible that this liar had obtained knowledge of her mother's
+private affairs to such an extent that he knew of facts that had remained
+unknown even to <a name="Page_74"></a>her?--the daughter! A new cause for
+fear loomed before her. Had this venomous enemy access to the house? Was he
+able to come and go at will, ferreting out its secrets?</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy turned about quickly, almost expecting to see some sinister
+shadow leering at her from the doorway, or disappearing into the wardrobe.
+Her terror had something in it of childish nightmare. Acting as if under a
+spell of compulsion, she rose and tiptoed to the door. She looked down the
+hall, and found it empty. The querulous voice of Mrs. Mellows came to her,
+raised in complaint against hooked-behind dresses. Like a lovely little
+ghost she flitted down the corridor to the library, paused for an instant
+with a beating heart, and, entering, closed the door with infinite
+precautions and shot the bolt.</p>
+
+<p>She was panting as if from some painful exertion. Her hands were damp
+and chill, her temples throbbed. The room seemed strange, close shuttered
+and silent, as if it sheltered the silent, unresponsive dead. The air was
+oppressive, and the light that filtered through the dim blinds was vague
+and uncanny.</p>
+
+<p>It was some moments before she felt herself under sufficient control to
+cross by the big Jacobean table, and face the hooded fireplace--"to the
+left, the second panel." She stared at it. To all appearances it was
+reassuringly the same as all the <a name="Page_75"></a>others. Gently she
+pushed it right and left, then up and down, but her pressure was so slight
+and nervous that it did not stir the heavy wood. She breathed a great sigh
+of relief, and beginning now to believe herself the victim of some cruel
+hoax, she dared a firmer pressure. The panel responded--moved--slid slowly
+behind its fellow--revealing the steel muzzle of a safe let into the solid
+masonry. It seemed the result of some evil witchcraft; her blood chilled.
+Yet, with renewed eagerness, she turned the combination. She did not need
+to refer to the letter, she knew it by heart--the numbers were seared
+there. The heavy door swung outward. Within she saw well-remembered cases
+of velvet and morocco. This contained her mother's diamond collar; that her
+lavalli&egrave;re; the emerald pendant was in the box of ivory velvet; the
+earrings and the antique diamond rings in the little round-topped casket,
+embossed and inlaid. Sliding her finger along the inner frame of the safe,
+she felt a knob, and pressed it. One side of the receptacle clicked open,
+revealing an inner compartment.</p>
+
+<p>Then panic seized her. She could never recall shutting the safe door and
+replacing the panel, the movements were automatic. She was out of the
+library and running down the corridor before she realized it. Once more in
+the sanctuary of her own room, she threw herself upon the bed, buried <a
+name="Page_76"></a>her face in the tumbled pillow and gasped for
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>"What shall I do!--what shall I do!" she moaned aloud. "I'm afraid--Oh,
+I'm afraid!" like a little child crying in the night in the awful isolation
+of an empty house. Suddenly she sat up. The tears dried upon her curved
+lashes. Of course, of course--Mr. Gard, her friend, her mother's friend.
+The very thought of him steadied her. The terrified child of her untried
+self, vanished before the coming of a new and active womanhood. She thought
+quickly and clearly. "He would be at his office," she reasoned. "He had
+mentioned an important meeting. She would go there at once--cancelling her
+luncheon engagement on the ground of some simple ailment. Tante Lydia must
+not know. Once let Gard, with his master grip, control the situation, and
+she would feel safe as in a walled castle strongly defended. A tower of
+strength--a tower of strength." She repeated the words to herself as if
+they were a talisman. She felt as if, from afar, her mother had counseled
+her. She would go to him. It was the right thing, the only thing to do.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_77"></a><h2><a name='VII'></a>VII</h2>
+
+
+<p>The morning of the fifth day since Mrs. Marteen's departure found Gard
+in early consultation in the directors' room of his Wall Street office,
+facing a board of directors with but one opinion--he must go at once to
+Washington. Strangely enough, the plan met with stubborn resistance from
+his inner self. There was every reason for his going, but he did not want
+to go. His advisers and fellow directors looked in amazement as they saw
+him hesitate, and for once the Great Man was at a loss to explain. He knew,
+and they knew, that there was nothing that should detain him, nothing that
+could by any twist be construed into a valid excuse for refusal. He amazed
+himself and them by abruptly rising from his seat, bunching the muscles of
+his jaw in evident antagonism and hurling at them his ultimatum in a voice
+of defiance.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, gentlemen, it is evident that I must go, and I will. The
+situation requires it. But I ask you to name someone else--the
+vice-president, and you, Corrighan--in case something arises to prevent my
+leaving the city."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_78"></a>Langley, the lawyer, rose protesting.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Mr. Gard, no one <i>can</i> take your place. It's the penalty,
+perhaps, of being what and who you are, but the honor of your
+responsibilities demands it. There is more at stake than your own
+interests, or the interest of your friends. There's the public, your
+stockholders. You owe it to them and to yourself to shoulder this
+responsibility without any 'ifs,' 'ands' or 'buts.'"</p>
+
+<p>Gard turned as if to rend him. "I have told you I'll go, haven't I?
+But--and there <i>is</i> a but--gentlemen, you must select another
+delegate, or delegation, in case circumstances arise--"</p>
+
+<p>Denning's voice interrupted from the end of the table. "Gard, what
+excuse is the only excuse for not returning one's partner's lead? Sudden
+death."</p>
+
+<p>"Or when you <i>must</i> have the lead yourself," snapped Gard. "I
+cannot go into this matter with you, gentlemen. The contingency I speak of
+is very remote--if it is a contingency at all. But I must be frank. I
+cannot have you take my enforced absence, if such should be necessary, as
+defalcation or a shirking of my duty--so I warn you."</p>
+
+<p>"The chance is remote," Denning replied in quiet tones that palliated.
+"Let us decide, then, who, in case this vague possibility should shape
+itself, will act as delegates. I do not think we can <a
+name="Page_79"></a>improve on the president's suggestion, but," and he
+turned to Gard sternly, "I trust the contingency is <i>so</i> remote that
+we may consider it an impossibility for all our sakes, and your own."</p>
+
+<p>Gard did not answer. In silence he heard the motion carried, and
+silently and without his usual affability he turned and left the room. The
+others eyed each other with open discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, gentlemen, the meeting is over," said Denning gloomily. "We may
+as well adjourn."</p>
+
+<p>A very puzzled and uneasy group dispersed before the tall marble office
+building, while in his own private office Gard paced the floor, from time
+to time punching the open palm of his left hand with the clenched fist of
+his right, in fury at himself.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I mad--am I mad?" he repeated mechanically. "Has the devil gotten
+into me?" His confidential clerk knocked, and seeing the Great Man's face,
+paused in trepidation. "What is it? What is it?" snapped Gard.</p>
+
+<p>"There's Brenchcrly, sir, in the outer office. He wouldn't give his
+message--said you'd want to see him in private; so I ventured--"</p>
+
+<p>"Brencherly!" Gard's heart missed a beat. He stopped short. He felt the
+mysterious dread from which he had suffered to be shaping itself from the
+darkness of uncertainty. "Show him in," he ordered, and, turning to the
+window, gazed <a name="Page_80"></a>blindly out, centering his
+self-control. "Well?" he said without turning, as he heard the door open
+and close again.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Gard," came the quiet voice of the detective, "I've a piece of
+information, that, from what you told me the other day, I thought might
+interest you. I have found out that Mr. Mahr is making every effort to find
+out the combination of Mrs. Marteen's private safe."</p>
+
+<p>"What!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. I learned it from one of the men in the Cole agency. Mr. Mahr
+didn't come to us. I'm not betraying any trust, you see. It was Balling,
+one of the cleverest men they've got, but he drinks. I was out with him
+last night, and he let it out; he said it was the rummiest job they'd had
+in a long day, and that his chief wouldn't have taken it, but he had a lot
+of commissions from Mahr, and I guess, besides, he gave some reason for
+wanting it that sort of squared him. Anyhow, that's how it stands."</p>
+
+<p>"Have they got it?" Gard demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"No, they hadn't, but he said they expected to land it O.K. They know
+the make, and they've got access to the company's books, and the company's
+people, and if she hasn't changed the combination lately, they'll land that
+all right. I tried to find out if they'd put anyone into the apartment, but
+Balling sobered up a bit by <a name="Page_81"></a>that time and shut down
+on the talk. But it's dollars to doughnuts he's after something, and
+they've put a flattie around somewhere. Of course I don't know how this
+frames up with what you told me about young Mahr, but I thought you might
+dope it out, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>Gard sat down before his writing table, and wrote out a substantial
+cheque.</p>
+
+<p>"There, Brencherly, that's for you. Thank you. Now I put you on this
+officially. Find out for me, if you can, if they have put anyone in the
+house. Find out what they're after. Anything at all that concerns this
+matter is of interest to me. Put a man to shadow Balling; have a watch put
+on anyone you think is acting for Mahr. I will take it upon myself to have
+the combination changed. I'll send a message to Mrs. Marteen."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly shook his head. "If you do that they'll tumble to you, Mr.
+Gard. It's an even chance Mr. Mahr would have any messages reported. He
+could, you know; he's a pretty important stockholder in the transmission
+companies. You'd better have a watchman or an alarm attachment on the safe,
+if you can."</p>
+
+<p>Gard sat silent. He was reasoning out the motive of Mahr's move. Did
+Mrs. Marteen still retain evidence against him which he was anxious to
+obtain during her absence? It seemed the obvious conclusion, and yet there
+was the possibility <a name="Page_82"></a>that Mahr contemplated vengeance,
+that in the safe he hoped to obtain evidence against Mrs. Marteen herself
+that would put her into his hands. On the whole, that seemed the most
+likely explanation, and one that offered such possibilities that he ground
+his teeth. He was roused from his reverie by Brencherly's hesitating
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"I think, Mr. Gard, I'd better go at once. I want to get a trailer after
+Balling, and if I'm a good guesser, we haven't any time to lose."</p>
+
+<p>"You're right; go on. I was thinking what precautions had best be taken
+at Mrs. Marteen's home. I'll plan that--you do the rest. Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly sidled to the door, bowed and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell on the table rang sharply. Gard took down the
+receiver absently, but the voice that trembled over the wire startled him
+like an electric shock. It was Dorothy's, but changed almost beyond
+recognition, a frightened, uncertain little treble.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this Mr. Gard?" A sigh of relief greeted his affirmative. "Please,
+please, Mr. Gard, can I see you right away?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you, Dorothy? Of course; I'm at your service always. What is
+it?" he asked, conscious that his own voice betrayed his agitation.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_83"></a>"I'm downstairs, in the building. You don't mind,
+do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mind! Come up at once--or I'll send down for you."</p>
+
+<p>"No--I'm coming now; thank you so much."</p>
+
+<p>The receiver clicked, and Gard, anxious and puzzled, pressed the desk
+button for his man.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Marteen is coming. Show her in here."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later Dorothy entered. Her face was pale and her eyes seemed
+doubled in size. She sat down in the chair he advanced for her, as if no
+longer able to stand erect, gave a little gasp and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Dorothy, Dorothy!" begged Gard, distressed beyond measure. "Come, come,
+little girl, what is the matter? Tell me!"</p>
+
+<p>She continued to sob, but reaching blindly for his hand, seemed to find
+encouragement and assurance in his firm clasp. At last she steadied
+herself, wiped her eyes and faced him.</p>
+
+<p>"This morning," she began faintly, "a messenger brought this." From an
+inner pocket she took out a crumpled letter, and laid it on the table. "I
+didn't know what to do. Read it--read it!" she blazed. "It's too
+horrid--too cowardly--too wicked!"</p>
+
+<p>He picked up the envelope. It was directed to Dorothy in typewritten
+characters. The paper <a name="Page_84"></a>was of the cheapest. He
+withdrew the enclosure, closely covered with typewriting, glanced over the
+four pages and turned to the end. Then he read through.</p>
+
+<p>Gard crushed the letter in his hand in a frenzy of fury. So this--this
+was Mahr's objective, this the cowardly vengeance his despicable mind had
+evolved! He would strike his enemy through the heart of a child--he would
+humiliate the girl so that, with shame and horror, she would turn away from
+all that life held for her! He knew that if the bolt found lodgment in her
+heart she would consider herself a thing too low, too smirched, to face her
+world. The marriage, that Mahr feared and hated, would never take place.
+Doubtless that evidence which Mrs. Marteen had once wielded was now in his
+possession and with all precautions taken he was fearless of any
+retaliation. The obscurity and exile he suggested would be sought as the
+only issue from intolerable conditions. No, no, a thousand times no! Mahr
+had leveled his stroke at a defenseless girl, but the weapon that should
+parry it would be wielded by a man's strong arm, backed by all the
+resources of brain and wealth.</p>
+
+<p>As these thoughts raced through his mind, he had been standing erect and
+silent, his eyes staring at the paper that crackled in his clenched fist.
+Dorothy's voice sounded far away repeating something. <a
+name="Page_85"></a>It was not till a strange hysterical note crept into her
+voice that he realized what she was saying.</p>
+
+<p>"Speak to me, please! What shall I do? What ought I to do? Tell me, tell
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Do?" he exclaimed. "Do? Why, nothing, my dear. It's a damnable,
+treacherous snake-in-the-grass lie! Shake it out of your pretty head, and
+leave me to trace this thing and deal with the scoundrel who wrote it; and
+I'll promise you, my dear, that it will be such punishment as will satisfy
+<i>me</i>--and I am not easily satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy rose from the table. "Mr. Gard," she whispered, "you won't think
+badly of me, will you, if I tell you something? And you will believe it
+wasn't because I believed one word of that detestable thing that I did what
+I did--you promise me that?"</p>
+
+<p>He could feel his face grow ashen, but his voice was very gentle. "What
+was it, my dear? Of course I know you couldn't have noticed such a vile
+slander. What do you want to tell me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I was frightened." Dorothy raised brimming eyes to his, pleading excuse
+for what she felt must seem lack of faith. "I felt as if the house were
+filled with dangerous people. I wanted to see how much they really knew. I
+never heard mother speak of the safe in the library. I didn't want to speak
+to Tante Lydia. I--"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_86"></a>Gard's heart stood still. "You went to the library
+and located the safe--and then?"</p>
+
+<p>"The combination they give is the right one--I opened it with that. Then
+I was so terrified that anyone--a wicked person like that--could know so
+much about things in our house--I slammed it shut and ran away. I could not
+stay in the house another minute. I felt as if I were suffocating."</p>
+
+<p>The sigh that he drew was one of immeasurable relief. "Well, you are
+awake now, my dear, and the goblin sha'n't chase you any more. But I'm
+greatly troubled about what you tell me, about your having opened the safe.
+I want you to come with me now. Is your aunt home? Yes? Well, I'll
+telephone my sister to call for her and take her out somewhere. Then we'll
+return, and I will take all the responsibility of what I think it's best to
+do. One thing is quite evident: your mother's valuables are not safe, if
+they haven't already been tampered with and stolen. You see--well, I'll
+explain as we go. I'll get rid of Mrs. Mellows first."</p>
+
+<p>A few telephone calls arranged matters, and a message brought his motor
+from its neighboring waiting place. "You see," he continued, as the machine
+throbbed its way northward, "there are several possibilities. One is, that
+this anonymous person is mad. In that case, we can't take too <a
+name="Page_87"></a>many precautions. The ingenuity of the insane is
+proverbial. Then, this may be a vicious vengeance; someone who hates your
+splendid mother, and would hurt her through you. You can see that if you
+had believed this detestable story it would have broken her heart. Now such
+a person, hoping that you would investigate, would have been quite capable
+of stocking your mother's secret compartment with stuff that at the first
+glance would have seemed to substantiate the story. You see, they knew all
+about the combination and the inner compartment, and they must have had
+access to your home. They probably took you for a silly little fool, full
+of curiosity, and counted on the shock of falling into their trap being so
+great that you would be in no condition to reason matters out; that you and
+your mother would be hopelessly estranged, or at least that you would so
+hurt and distress her that they could gloat over her unhappiness. You know
+you are the one thing she loves in all the world, Dorothy."</p>
+
+<p>He had talked looking straight ahead of him, striving to give his words
+judicial weight. Now he glanced down at Dorothy's face. It was calm, and a
+little color was returning to her cheeks. She pressed his hand
+fervently.</p>
+
+<p>"But it's so wicked!" she repeated. "It frightens me to think of such
+viciousness so near to us, and we don't know and can't guess who it
+is."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_88"></a>"We'll find a clew. I'll have detectives to watch
+the house, and to trace the messenger who brought that letter, if possible.
+Say nothing to anyone, not even to Tante Lydia. Perhaps it would be best
+not to worry your mother at all about it. She's not well, you see. In the
+meantime, I'm going to take everything out of the safe, and transfer it to
+my own. I'll make a list. Then we'll change the combination."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I wish I'd come to you the very first minute," sighed Dorothy.
+"You're such a tower of strength, and you make everything so easy and
+simple. I'm ashamed of my fright, and my crying like a baby. You are so
+good to me--I--I just love you."</p>
+
+<p>For a second she rested her head on his shoulder with an abandon of
+childlike confidence, and his heart thrilled. His inner consciousness,
+however, warned him that a deeper motive than his desire to save Dorothy
+actuated him--he must shield the mother from the danger that had threatened
+the one vulnerable point in her armor of indifference, the love and respect
+of her child.</p>
+
+<p>At the apartment, inquiry for Aunt Lydia elicited the information that
+the lady had that moment left in company with Miss Gard, and the two
+conspirators proceeded alone to the library.</p>
+
+<p>Gard closed the door, drew the heavy leather curtain, and turned
+questioningly to Dorothy. <a name="Page_89"></a>With slow, reluctant
+movements she approached the wall, released the panel and exposed the front
+of the safe. With inexpert fingers, she set the combination and pulled back
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is the spring?" demanded Gard. He could not bear to have her
+touch what might lie behind the second partition. "Here, dear, take out
+these jewel cases and see if they are all right." He swept the velvet and
+morocco boxes into her hands, and felt better as he heard their clattering
+fall upon the table. He paused, listening for an instant to the beating of
+his own heart. He pressed the spring, and with swimming eyes looked at what
+the shelves revealed. "Dorothy," he called, and his voice was brittle as
+thin glass, "take a pencil and make a list as I dictate: One package of
+government bonds; a sheaf of bills, marked $2,000; two small boxes, wrapped
+and sealed; three large envelopes, sealed; two vouchers pinned together.
+Have you got that? I'll take possession for the present. Make a copy of
+that list for me." He snapped fast the inner door, and turned as he thrust
+the last of the packets into an inner pocket. "Now, thank you, my dear; and
+how about the valuables?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing missing," said Dorothy, handing him a written slip,
+"except things I know mother took with her. So robbery wasn't the motive. I
+think you must be right. It's some <a name="Page_90"></a>crank. But, oh, if
+you only knew how afraid I am to stay here! I'm afraid of my own shadow;
+I'm afraid of the clock chimes; when the telephone rings I'm in a panic.
+Don't you think I could go away somewhere, with Tante Lydia--just go
+away?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard grasped at the suggestion. He could be sure that she would be
+beyond the reach of Mahr and his poisonous vengeance until he had time to
+crush him once and for all.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he nodded, "you should go away. This crank may be dangerous. We
+know he is cunning. You should go with your chaperon--say nothing about
+where to anyone, not to a soul, mind; not to the servants here, not even to
+Teddy Mahr. Just run down incognito to Atlantic City or Lakewood, or better
+still, to some little place where you are not known. Write your polite
+little notes, and say your first season has been too strenuous, and run
+away. When can you go? To-night? To-morrow morning?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I could be ready to-night; but what shall we say to Tante
+Lydia?"</p>
+
+<p>"Half the truth," he answered. "I'll take the responsibility. I'll tell
+her I've been informed by my private people that an anonymous person has
+been threatening you; that they are trying to locate him; and that as he is
+known to be dangerous, I've advised your leaving at once and quietly. <a
+name="Page_91"></a>I'll tell her a few of my experiences in that line, that
+will make her believe that 'discretion is the better part of valor.'" He
+laughed bitterly. "The kind attentions I've had in the way of infernal
+machines and threats by telephone and letter. And I see only a few, you
+know. What my secretaries stop and the police get on to besides would
+exhaust one. It's the penalty of the limelight, my dear. But don't take
+this too seriously. I'll have everything in hand in a day or two. Now I'm
+off to put your mother's valuables in a place of safety. Let's stow those
+jewel cases in a handbag. Can you lend me one?" She left the room and
+returned presently with a traveling case, into which Gard tossed the
+elaborate boxes without ceremony. "I've been thinking," he said presently,
+"that my sister's place in Westchester is open. She goes down often for
+week ends. There's a train at eight that will get you in by nine-thirty,
+and I can telephone instructions to meet you and have everything ready. If
+you motored down, you see, the chauffeur would know and you must be quite
+incognito. It'll be dead quiet, my dear, but you need a rest, and we can
+keep in touch with one another so easily."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy leaned forward and gazed at him with burning eyes. "You are so
+good," she murmured. "Of course I'll go. I know mother would want me
+to--don't you think so?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_92"></a>He smiled grimly. "I'm certain she would. Now here
+are your directions; I'll attend to all the rest. All you have to do is
+pack. I'll send for you." He wrote for a moment, handed Dorothy the slip
+and began a note of explanation for Mrs. Mellows. "There," he said, as he
+handed over the missive for Dorothy's approval, "that covers the case. And
+now, my dear, the rest is my affair, and whoever he is--may God have mercy
+on his soul!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_93"></a><h2><a name='VIII'></a>VIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Early on the morning following Dorothy's hurried departure, Marcus Gard,
+having dismissed his valet, was finishing his dressing in the presence of
+Brencherly.</p>
+
+<p>"I tried to get you last night," he rasped; "anyhow, you're here. What
+have you to report to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly shook his head. "As far as I can learn, sir, there's nobody
+slipped in the Marteen place, sir. All the information about the safe they
+have they got from the manufacturers and the people who installed it--only
+a short time ago."</p>
+
+<p>Gard frowned. "Well, I happen to know they got what they were after in
+the way of information. But I took the liberty of being custodian of the
+contents of that strong box--with Miss Marteen's permission, of course--so
+there is nothing more to be done in that direction. Now, have you had a man
+trailing Mahr? What I want is an interview with him in informal and quiet
+surroundings, with a view to clearing the matter up, you understand. But
+I'd rather not ask him for a <a name="Page_94"></a>meeting. All I know
+about his mode of life is: Metropolitan Club after five, usually; the Opera
+Monday nights. Neither of these habits will assist me in the least. I want
+by to-morrow a pretty good list of his engagements and a general map of his
+day--or perhaps you know enough now to oblige me with that
+information."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly cast an inquisitive look at Gard. He had never accepted
+Gard's explanation of his interest in Mahr's affairs.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," he began slowly, "I put our men on the other end of the
+case--Balling, the Essex Safe Company and all that, and I went after Mahr
+myself. I think I can give you a fair idea of his daily life. He's at the
+office early--before nine, usually--and by twelve he's off, unless
+something unusual happens. He lunches with a club of men, as I guess you
+know. He goes for an hour to Tim McCurdy's, the ex-pugilist, for training.
+Then he's home for an hour with his secretary, going over private business
+and correspondence. Then he goes to the club for bridge, and in the evening
+he's usually out somewhere--any place that's A1 with the crowd. His son he
+has tied as tight to the office as any tenpenny clerk; doesn't get off till
+after five, and then he makes a beeline for the Marteens' or goes wherever
+he'll find the girl. I think--but, perhaps you know best." He paused, with
+one of his characteristic shuffles.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_95"></a>Gard noted the sign and interpreted it
+correctly.</p>
+
+<p>"If you've got a good idea, it's worth your while," he said shortly.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly blushed as guilelessly as a girl. "Oh, it's nothing, only I
+think--perhaps if you want to see him alone, you might pretend some
+business and go to his house about the time he's there every
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"And discuss our affairs before a secretary?" sneered Gard. "You can bet
+Mahr'd have him in the office--I know his way."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, his den is pretty near sound-proof, like yours, sir. And besides,
+I could arrange with Mr. Long, the secretary, to have a headache, or a bad
+fall, or any little thing, the day you might mention--he's a personal
+friend of mine."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, just now I don't much care how you manage it. What I want is that
+interview. Is your friend, Mr. Long, a confidential secretary?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think," said Brencherly demurely, "that Mr. Mahr is very
+confidential even to himself."</p>
+
+<p>"Could you reach him--Mr. Long, I mean--at any time?" asked Gard--he was
+planning rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>The detective nodded toward the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," growled his employer, "could your man suggest to Mahr that he
+had had wind of something in Cosmopolitan Telephone? I'll see <a
+name="Page_96"></a>that there's a move to corroborate it by noon to-day, if
+Long gets in his tip early. And suggest, too, that I'm sore because he
+bought the Heim Vandyke; but that if he asked me to come and see it, I'd
+go, and he might have a chance to pump me. I happen to know that Mahr is in
+the telephone pool up to his eyes, and he'd do anything to get into quick
+communication with me. He is probably going to the club to-day, and I'll
+not be there--see?"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, if things turn
+out--um--fishy, Long loses his job. But he's a good man to have well
+placed. I guess we could land him a berth."</p>
+
+<p>Gard sickened. He could read the detective's secret satisfaction in the
+association of that "we" in a shady transaction. Naturally, to have a man
+on whom they "had something" in a place of trust might be a great
+asset.</p>
+
+<p>"Long will be taken care of," he snapped, replacing his scarf pin for
+the twentieth time, and making an unspoken promise to himself to send the
+secretary so far away from the scene of Brencherly's activities that he
+would at least have a chance to begin life anew without fear of the
+past.</p>
+
+<p>"May I?" queried Brencherly, with a jerk of his head toward the
+telephone.</p>
+
+<p>"Rather you didn't--from here. Go out, get <a name="Page_97"></a>your
+man and tell me when he will tip Mahr. That means my orders in the Street.
+Tell him there is news of federal action. I drop out enough stock to sink
+the quotations a few points--it's the truth, too, hang it! But it won't get
+very far."</p>
+
+<p>A crafty smile curled the detective's lips as he rose to go. "Very good,
+sir. We'll pull it off all right. I suppose the office will find you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Gard. "And I see you intend to take a flier on your inside
+information. Well, all I say is, don't hang on too long. Get busy now;
+there's no time to waste."</p>
+
+<p>He rang for his valet to show the man out, descended to the dining room,
+dispatched his simple breakfast and turned his face and thoughts
+officeward. With that move came the thought of Washington. He cast it from
+him angrily, yet when the swirl of business affairs closed around him he
+experienced a certain pleasure and relief in stemming its tides and
+battling with its current. True, the current was swift and boded the
+whirlpool, but the rage that was in him seemed to give him added strength,
+added foresight. At least in this struggle he was gaining, mastering the
+flood and directing it to his will. Would his mastery be proven in this
+other and more personal affair? He set his teeth and redoubled his efforts,
+intent on proving his own power to himself. Even as Napoleon believed in
+his star, Gard trusted in <a name="Page_98"></a>his luck, and it was with a
+smothered laugh of sardonic satisfaction that news of the first move in his
+campaign came over the wire.</p>
+
+<p>"My man has tipped his hand," came Brencherly's voice. "The other one is
+more than interested--excited. Make your cast and you get a bite on your
+picture bait."</p>
+
+<p>Gard telephoned his orders to several brokers to sell and sell quickly
+and make no secret of it, then returned to work with a laugh upon his
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>Contrary to his habit he remained in his office during the luncheon
+hour, having a tray sent in. He was to remain invisible. Mahr would
+doubtless make every effort to find him by what might appear accident.
+Later a message, asking him to join a bridge game at the Metropolitan Club,
+caused him to chuckle. His would-be host was a friend of Mahr's. He
+answered curtly that he was sick of wasting his time at cards, and had
+decided to drop it for a while, hanging up the receiver so abruptly that
+the conversation ceased in the midst of a word. An hour later Mahr
+addressed him over the wire.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Gard, is that you? I called you up to tell you the Heim Vandyke has
+just been sent up to me. I hear you were interested in it yourself, though
+you saw only the photograph. Don't you want to stop in on your way uptown
+and see it? <a name="Page_99"></a>It's a gem. You'll be sorry you didn't
+bid on it. But, joking aside, you're the connoisseur whose opinion I want.
+I don't give a continental about the dealers; they'll fill you up with
+anything." Gard growled a brief acceptance. "I'll be glad to see you.
+Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Abruptly he terminated his interviews and conferences, adjourning all
+business till the following day. Mentioning an hour when, if necessary, he
+might be found in his home, he dismissed his officials, slipped into his
+overcoat, secured his hat, turned at the door of his private office,
+muttering something about his stick, and, quickly crossing the room, opened
+a drawer of his writing table and drew forth a small, snub-nosed revolver.
+He hesitated a moment, tossed it back, and squaring his shoulders strode
+from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later he entered the spacious lobby of Victor Mahr's
+ostentatious dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Mahr is expecting you, sir," said the solemn servant, who conducted
+him to a vast anteroom, hung with trophies of armor, and bowed him into a
+second room, book-lined and businesslike, evidently the secretary's private
+office, deserted now and in some confusion, as if the occupant had left in
+haste. The servant crossed to a door opposite, and having discreetly
+knocked and announced the distinguished visitor, bowed and retired. The
+lackey would have taken Gard's overcoat <a name="Page_100"></a>and hat, but
+he retained his hold upon them, as if determined that his stay should be
+short.</p>
+
+<p>Mahr rose to greet him, his hand extended. Gard's impedimenta seemed to
+preclude the handshake, and the host hastened to insist upon his guest
+being relieved.</p>
+
+<p>Gard shook his head. "I have only a moment to inspect your picture,
+Mahr," he said coldly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, don't say that. Have a highball; you will find everything on
+the table. What can I give you? This Scotch is excellent."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Gard sternly. "Excuse me; I am here for one purpose."</p>
+
+<p>Mahr was chagrined, but switched on the electric lights above the canvas
+occupying the place of honor on the crowded wall. The portrait stood
+revealed, a jewel of color, rich as a ruby, mysterious as an autumn night,
+vivid in its humanity, divine in its art, palpitating with life, yet remote
+as death itself. The marvelous canvas glowed before them--a thing to quell
+anger, to stifle love, to still hate itself in an impulse of
+admiration.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Marcus Gard began to laugh, as he had laughed that day long
+ago, at his own discomfiture.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" stuttered Mahr, amazed. "Don't you think it genuine?"
+There was panic in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>Gard laughed again, then broke off as suddenly <a name="Page_101"></a>as
+he had begun; and passion thrilled in his voice as he turned fierce eyes
+upon his enemy.</p>
+
+<p>"I am laughing at the singular role this painting has played in my life.
+We have met before--the Heim Vandyke and I. If Fate chooses to turn
+painter, we must grind his colors, I suppose. But what I intend to grind
+first, is you, Victor Mahr! You--you cowardly hound! No--stand where you
+are; don't go near that bell. It's hard enough for me to keep my hands off
+you as it is!"</p>
+
+<p>The attack had been so unexpected that Mahr was honestly at a loss to
+account for it. He looked anxiously toward the door, remembered the absence
+of his secretary and gasped in fear. He was at the mercy of the madman.
+With an effort he mastered his terror.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be angry," he stammered. "Don't be annoyed with me; it's all a
+mistake, you know. Are you--are you feeling quite well? Do let me give you
+something--a--a glass of champagne, perhaps. I'll call a servant."</p>
+
+<p>Gard's smile was so cruel that Mahr's worst fears were confirmed. But
+the torrent of accusation that burst from Gard's lips bore him down with
+the consciousness of the other's knowledge.</p>
+
+<p>"You scoundrel!" roared the enraged man. "You squirming, poisonous
+snake! You would strike at a woman through her daughter, would <a
+name="Page_102"></a>you! You would send anonymous letters to a child about
+her mother! You would hire sneaks for your sneaking vileness!--coward,
+brute that you are! Well, I know it all--<i>all</i>, I say. And as true as
+I live, if ever you make one move in that direction again, I shall find it
+out, and I will kill you! But first I'll go to your boy, Victor Mahr, and I
+shall tell him: 'Your father is a criminal--a bigamist. Your mother never
+was his wife. Sneak and beast from first to last, he found it easier to
+desert and deceive. You are the nameless child of an outcast father, the
+whelp of a cur.' I'll say in your own words, Victor Mahr: 'Obscurity is
+best, perhaps, even exile.' Do you remember those words? Well, never forget
+them again as long as you live, or, by God, you'll have no time on earth to
+make your peace!"</p>
+
+<p>Mahr's face was gray; his hands trembled. He looked at that moment as if
+the death the other threatened was already come upon him. There was a
+moment of silence, intense, charged with the electricity of emotions--a
+silence more sinister than the noise of battles. Twice Mahr attempted to
+speak, but no sound came from his contracted throat. Slowly he pulled
+himself together. A look awful, inhuman, flashed over his convulsed
+features. Words came at last, high, cackling and cracked, like the voice of
+senility.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_103"></a>"It's you--it's <i>you</i>!" he quavered. "So she
+told you everything, did she? So you and she--"</p>
+
+<p>The sentence ended in a hoarse gasp, as Mahr launched himself at Gard
+with the spring of an animal goaded beyond endurance.</p>
+
+<p>Gard was the larger man, and his wrath had been long demanding
+expression. They closed with a jar that rocked the electric lamp on the
+desk. There was a second of straining and uncertainty. Then with a jerk
+Gard lifted his adversary clear off his feet, and shook him, shook him with
+the fury of a bulldog, and as relentlessly. Then, as if the temptation to
+murder was more than he could longer resist, he flung him from him.</p>
+
+<p>Mahr fell full length upon the heavy rug, limp and inert, yet
+conscious.</p>
+
+<p>Gard stooped, picked up his hat and gloves from where they had fallen
+and turned upon his heel.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment the outside door of the secretary's office opened and
+closed, and footsteps sounded in the room beyond.</p>
+
+<p>"Get up," said Gard quietly, "unless you care to have them see you
+there."</p>
+
+<p>The sound had acted like magic upon the prostrate man. He did not need
+the admonition. He had already dragged his shaking body to an upright
+position, ere he slowly sank down into the embrace of one of the huge
+armchairs.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_104"></a>A quick knock was followed by the appearance of
+Teddy Mahr. The room was in darkness save for the light on the table and
+the clustered radiance concentrated upon the glowing portrait, that had
+smiled down remote and serene upon the scene just enacted, as it had
+doubtless gazed upon many another as strange.</p>
+
+<p>"Father!" exclaimed the boy, and as he came within the ring of light,
+his face showed pale and anxious.</p>
+
+<p>Gard did not give him time for a reply. "Good evening," he said. "I have
+been admiring the Vandyke. A wonderful canvas, and one thing that your
+father may well be proud of."</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of the voice the young man turned and advanced with an
+exclamation of welcome. "Mr. Gard, the very one I most wanted to see. Tell
+me--what is the matter? Where has Dorothy gone? I've been to the house, and
+either they don't know or they won't tell me. She didn't let me know. I
+can't understand it. For heaven's sake, tell me! Nothing is wrong, is
+there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, of course, you should know, Teddy." For the first time he used the
+familiar term. "I quite forgot about you young people. You see, Dorothy
+received threatening letters from some crank, and as we weren't sure what
+might occur I sent her off. <i>Mahr, shall I tell your son?</i>"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_105"></a>He turned to where the limp figure showed huddled
+in the depths of red upholstery. There was a question and a threat in the
+measured words.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, tell him Miss Marteen's address," and in that answer there
+was a prayer.</p>
+
+<p>"Then here." Gard wrote a few words on his card and gave it into the
+boy's eager hand. "Run up and see her. She's with her aunt. I can bring her
+home any time now, however. We've located the trouble and got the man under
+restraint. Good-night."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_106"></a><h2><a name='IX'></a>IX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Though the heat in the Pullman was intense the tall woman in the first
+seat was heavily veiled. She had come out from the drawing room to allow
+more freedom to her maid, who was packing a dressing-case and rolling up
+steamer rugs. Her fellow travelers eyed her with curiosity. She was
+doubtless some great and exclusive personage, for she had not appeared in
+public, not even in the diner. She sank into the vacant seat with an air of
+hopeless weariness, yet her restless hands never ceased their groping, her
+slim fingers slipped in and out, in and out of the loop of her long neck
+chain, or nervously twined one with another in endless intertouch.</p>
+
+<p>The long journey north was over at last. The weary days and nights of
+hurried travel. Only a moment more and the familiar sights and sounds of
+the great city would greet her once again. She was going home--to what?
+Mrs. Marteen did not dare to picture the future. Pursued, as if by the
+Furies themselves, she had been driven, madly, blind with suffering, back
+to the scene of disaster--to know--to know--the worst, perhaps--but to
+know!</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_107"></a>Day and night, night and day, her iron will had
+fought the fever that burned in her veins. Silent, self-controlled, she had
+given no sign of her suffering and her terror, though her eyes were ringed
+with sleeplessness and her mouth had grown stiff with its effort to
+command. The tension was torture. Her heart strings were drawn to the
+snapping point; her mind was a bowstring never relaxed, till every fiber of
+her resistant body ached for relief.</p>
+
+<p>At last they had arrived. At last the hollow rumble of the train in the
+vast echoing station warned her of her journey's end. Instinctively she
+gave her orders, thrusting her baggage checks into the hands of her
+maid.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going on at once," she said. "Attend to everything. Give me my
+little n&eacute;cessaire. I don't feel quite well, and I want to get home
+as quickly as possible."</p>
+
+<p>She hurried away before the servant could ask a question, and was
+directed to the open cab stand. As she stepped in, she reeled. Trepidation
+took hold upon her, but with enforced calm, she seated herself, and gave
+the address to the starter. As the motor drew away from the great
+buildings, she threw back her veil for the first time, and opened a window.
+The rush of cool air revived her somewhat, but her heart beat
+spasmodically, her blood seemed a thin, unliving stream. Street <a
+name="Page_108"></a>after street slipped by like a panorama on a screen,
+familiar, yet unreal. The world, her world, had changed in its essence, in
+its every manifestation.</p>
+
+<p>At last the taxi drew up before the door of her home--was it home still?
+she wondered. Her hand trembled so she could not unfasten the latch, and
+the chauffeur, descending from his seat, came to her assistance.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait," she said in a strangled voice. "Wait; I may want you."</p>
+
+<p>At the door of her apartment she had to pause, before she rang, to
+gather courage, to obtain control of her whirling brain. At last the ornate
+door swung inward and her butler faced her with welcoming eye.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Marteen! Pray pardon the undress livery! No word had been
+received."</p>
+
+<p>She took note of the darkened rooms. Only one switch, whose glow she had
+seen turned on as the servant came to the door, gave light. The place was
+hollow and unlived in as an outworn shell.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Dorothy?" she said, striving to give her voice a natural tone.</p>
+
+<p>The butler h'mmed. "Miss Dorothy has gone, Madam, with Madam's
+sister--since yesterday. They left no address, and said nothing about when
+they might be expected. Mr. Gard had been with Miss Dorothy in the
+afternoon."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_109"></a>Mrs. Marteen caught hold of the broad and solid
+back of a carved hall chair and stood motionless, leaning her full weight
+on its ancient oak for support.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right, Stevens," she said at length. "You needn't notify the
+other servants that I have returned--for the present. I'm going right out
+again. I just stopped in for some important papers I may have need of. Just
+light the hall and the library, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>With the falling of the sword that severed her last hope a new
+self-possession came to her--the quiet of despair. Her brain cleared, her
+fevered pulse became normal, the weariness that had racked her frame passed
+from her. She only asked to be alone for a little--alone with her love and
+her memories. She quarreled no more with Fate.</p>
+
+<p>The butler preceded her, lighting the way. At the door of the library,
+she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Calmly she entered and softly
+closed the door behind her. In the blaze of the electrics she saw every
+nook and corner of the room--photographically--every tone and color, every
+glint and gleam, but her mind fastened itself with remorseless logic to one
+thing only--the sliding panel. In her distracted vision it seemed to move,
+to slip back even as she gazed. The grain of the wood appeared to writhe,
+to <a name="Page_110"></a>creep up and down and ripple as if with the evil
+life of what lay behind. She forced herself to walk across the room to lay
+her weakened fingers, from which all sense of touch seemed to have
+withdrawn, upon that vibrating panel. The face of the safe stood revealed.
+Slowly with growing fear she turned the numbers of the combination and
+paused--she could not face the ordeal, but with the releasing of the
+clutch, the weight of the door caused it to open slowly, as if an invisible
+force drew it outward and Mrs. Marteen saw before her the empty shelves
+within. As if in a dream she pressed the spring, and realized that the
+carefully planned hiding place, was hiding place no more. She stood still
+with outstretched arms, as if crucified. The mute evidence of that opened
+door was not to be refuted. Her enemy had triumphed; her own sin had found
+her out. No self-pity eased the awful moments. Hot pity poured in upon her
+heart, but not for herself in this hour of misery--but for her daughter,
+for the innocent sweet soul of truth, whose faith had been shattered, whose
+deepest love had been betrayed, whose belief in honor had been destroyed.
+Where had she fled? Into whose heart had she poured the torrent of her
+grief and shame? Could there be one thought of love, of forgiveness? Ah,
+she was a mother no longer. <a name="Page_111"></a>She had sold her sacred
+trust. She had no rights, no privileges. She must go--go quickly, efface
+herself forever. That was her duty, that was the only way. Like a mortally
+wounded creature, she thought only of some small, cramped, sheltered
+corner, some lair wherein to die.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort she turned from the room, closed the door, and stood
+uncertain where to turn. Down the corridor, at its far end, was Dorothy's
+room. The thought drew her. She turned the knob, found the switch, and
+hesitated on the thresh-hold. Should she go in? Should she, the sin-stained
+soul, dare profane the sanctuary, the virginal altar of the pure in heart!
+Yes--ah, yes!--for this last time! She was a mother still.</p>
+
+<p>She entered, and cast herself on her knees by the little pink and white
+bed. She had no tears--the springs of relief were dried in the flame of her
+heart's hell. She found Dorothy's pillow, a mass of dainty embroidery and
+foolish frills. She laid her hot cheek on its cool linen surface. In a
+passion of loss she kissed each leaf and rose of its needlework
+garland.</p>
+
+<p>Then she rose to her feet. She must go, she must disappear--now, and
+forever from the world that had known her. She would send one message when
+the time came--one message--to the one man she trusted, to the one man who
+<a name="Page_112"></a>would fulfill her wish--that in the years to come,
+his watchful care should guard her child from further harm. But that, too,
+must wait. She rose to her feet, and crossed to the dressing-table. There
+was Dorothy's picture--her little girl's picture, the one she preferred to
+all the others. She slipped it from its silver frame, and clasped it to her
+breast. She could not bear to look upon the room as she left it. She turned
+off the light, and crept away like a thief. She was trembling now. The
+calmness that had been hers as she heard her death sentence, was gone. Her
+overtaxed body and mind rebelled. It was with difficulty that she made her
+way through the deserted rooms and stumbled to the street and the waiting
+cab.</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" the chauffeur asked.</p>
+
+<p>She gave the name of one of the large hotels. Yes, once in some such
+caravanserai, she might elude all pursuit. In one door and out of
+another--and who was to find her trace in the seething mass of the city's
+life? The simple transaction of paying her fare, and entering the hotel
+became strangely difficult. Words eluded her, she was conscious that the
+chauffeur eyed her oddly as he handed her her bag.</p>
+
+<p>Then came a blank. She found herself once more out-of-doors, in an
+unfamiliar cross street. She saw a number on a lamppost, and realized <a
+name="Page_113"></a>that she had walked many blocks. She imagined that she
+was pursued--someone was lurking behind her in the shadow of an
+area--someone had peeped at her from behind drawn blinds. She started to
+run, but her bursting heart restrained her. She tried to still its beating;
+it seemed loud, clamorous as a drum; everyone must hear it and wonder what
+consciousness of guilt could make a heart beat so loudly in one's breast.
+She began walking again as rapidly as she dared. She must not attract
+attention. She must not let the shadows that followed her know that she
+feared them. If they guessed her panic they would lurk no longer; they
+would crowd close, rush upon her in vaporous throngs, stifling her like hot
+smoke.</p>
+
+<p>She paused for breath in her painful flight. The glare from the entrance
+of a moving picture show fell upon her. Somehow, in that light she felt
+safe. The shadows could not cross its yellow glare. She breathed more
+easily for a moment, then became tense. A man was coming out of the white
+and gold ginger-bread entrance, like a maggot from some huge cake. The man
+was small, middle-aged, dark, with unwieldy movements and evil, predatory
+eyes--"Like Victor Mahr!" she said aloud; "like Victor Mahr!" The man
+passed before her and was gone from the circle of light into the darkness
+of the outer street. She gave a gasp, and her mad eyes dilated. <a
+name="Page_114"></a>The suggestion had gripped her. Sudden furious hate
+entered her soul. Victor Mahr--her enemy! The cause of all her heart break.
+She had forgotten how or why this was the case; but she knew herself the
+victim--he, the torturer. She wanted vengeance, she wanted relief from her
+own torment. It was he who held the key to the whole trouble. She must find
+him out. She must tear it from him. She strove to think clearly, to
+remember where she might find him. She started walking again; standing
+still would not find him, that was certain. Unconsciously she followed the
+directions her subconscious mind offered. As she walked, there came a sense
+of approval. She was on the right track now. Her footfalls became less
+dragging and aimless. She was going somewhere--to a definite place, where
+she would find something vastly necessary, imperative to her very life.</p>
+
+<p>She neared a church; passed it. Yes, that was right. It was a landmark
+on her road. A white archway loomed before her in the gloom. Her journey's
+end--her journey's end! With that realization fatigue mastered her. She
+must rest before making any further effort, or she could not accomplish
+anything. Her limbs refused to do her bidding. The weight of her traveling
+case had become a crushing burden. But before she rested she must find
+something important that she <a name="Page_115"></a>had come so far to
+see--a house, a large house--what house?</p>
+
+<p>She looked about her at the stately mansions fronting the square. Then
+recognition leaped into her eyes, and she sank upon a bench facing the
+familiar entrance. Now she could afford to wait. Her enemy could not escape
+while she sat watching. He--could--not--escape--</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_116"></a><h2><a name='X'></a>X</h2>
+
+
+<p>As Marcus Gard stood upon the steps of Mahr's residence, and heard the
+soft closing of its door behind him, he shut his eyes, drew himself erect
+and breathed deep of the keen, cold air. A rush of youth expanded every
+vein and artery. He experienced the physical and mental exultation of the
+strong man who has met and conquered his enemy. The mere personal
+expression of his anger had relieved him. He felt strong, alert, almost
+happy. He descended to the street and turned his steps homeward. At last
+something was accomplished. The serpent's fangs were drawn. He experienced
+a cynical amusement in the thought that the path of true love had been
+smoothed by such equivocal means. Neither of the children would ever know
+of the shadows that had gathered so closely around them.</p>
+
+<p>But, Mrs. Marteen--what of her? Again the longing came upon him--to know
+her awake to herself and to her own soul; to know the predatory instinct
+forever quieted, that upsurging of some remote inconscience of the race's
+history of rapine in the open, and acquisition by stealth, <a
+name="Page_117"></a>forever conquered; to know her spirit triumphant. The
+momentary joy of successful battle passed, leaving him deeply troubled. All
+his fears returned. The sense of impending disaster, that had withdrawn for
+the moment, overwhelmed him once more.</p>
+
+<p>He entered his own home absently, listened, abstracted, to the various
+items Saunders thought important enough to mention, dismissed him, and
+turned wearily to a pile of personal mail. His eye caught a familiar
+handwriting on a thick envelope.</p>
+
+<p>From Mrs. Marteen evidently--postmarked St. Augustine. He broke the
+seal, wondering how her letter came to bear that mark. What change had been
+made in her plans? He hesitated, panic-stricken, like a woman before an
+unexpected telegram. He withdrew the enclosure, noting at a glance a
+variety of papers--the appearance of a diary.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear friend," it began, "I must write--I must, and to you,
+because you know--you know, and yet you have made me your friend--to you,
+because you love my little girl. They are killing me, killing me through
+her. I'm coming home, as fast as I can; I don't yet know how, for I'm
+heading the other way, and I can't stop the steamer, but I'm coming. I
+received a message, the second day out. It had been given to the purser <a
+name="Page_118"></a>for delivery and marked with the date--that's nothing
+unusual; I've had steamer letters delivered, one each day, during a whole
+crossing. I never gave it a thought when he handed it to me, I never
+divined. It seems to me now that I should have sensed it. I read it,
+and--but how to tell you? I have it here; I'll send it to you."</p>
+
+<p>A sheet of notepaper was pinned to the letter. Sick at heart, Gard
+unfastened it. Mahr's name appeared at the bottom. Gard read: "Dear lady,
+you forgot to give your daughter the combination of the jewel safe and its
+inner compartment before you sailed. I am attending to that for you, and
+have no doubt that she will at once inventory the contents. We are always
+glad to return favors conferred upon us."</p>
+
+<p>Gard's heart stood still. A sweeping regret invaded him that he had not
+slain the man when his hands were upon him. He threw the note aside and
+turned again to Mrs. Marteen's letter.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," he read, "there is nothing for me to do. A wireless to
+Dorothy? She has doubtless had the information since the hour of my
+departure. What can I do? I have thought of you; but how make you, who know
+nothing of Victor Mahr, understand anything in a message that would not
+reveal all to everyone who must aid in its transmission? That at least
+mustn't happen. I am praying every minute that she will <a
+name="Page_119"></a>go to you--you, who know and have tolerated me. I can't
+bear for her to know--I can't--it's killing me! My heart contracts and
+stops when I think of it."</p>
+
+<p>Further down the page, in another ink, evidently written later, was a
+single note:</p>
+
+<p>"I've left a message with the wireless operator, a sort of desperate
+hope that it may be of some use--to Dorothy, telling her to consult you on
+all matters of importance. I've written one to you, telling you to find
+her. The man says he'll send them out as soon as he gets into touch with
+anyone."</p>
+
+<p>A still later entry:</p>
+
+<p>"Two P.M.--I'm in my cabin all the time. I think that I shall go mad.
+That sounds conventional, doesn't it--reminiscent of melodrama! I assure
+you it's worse than real. I feel as if for years and years I've been
+asleep, and now've wakened up into a nightmare. I <i>can</i> write to you;
+that's the one thing that gives me relief. Your kindness seems a shield
+behind which I can crawl. I can't sleep; I can only--not think--no, it
+isn't thinking I do--it's realizing--and everything is terrible. The
+sunlight makes ripples on my cabin ceiling; they weave and part and
+wrinkle. I try to fix my attention on them, and hypnotize myself into
+lethargy. Sometimes I almost succeed, and then I begin realizing again. And
+in the <a name="Page_120"></a>night I stare at the electric light till my
+eyes ache, and try to numb my thoughts. Must my little girl know what I am?
+Can't that be averted? I know it can't--I know, and yet I pray and
+pray--I--<i>pray!"</i></p>
+
+<p>Another sheet, evidently torn from a pad: "The wireless is out of order;
+they couldn't send my messages. You don't know the despair that has taken
+hold of me. My mind feels white--that's the only way I can describe
+it--cold and white--frozen, a blank. My body is that way, too. I hold my
+hands to the light, and it doesn't seem as if there was even the faintest
+red. They are the hands of a dead person--I wish they were! But I must
+know--must know. We are due in Havana to-morrow. I shall take the first
+boat out--to anywhere, where I can get a train, that's the quickest. Oh,
+you, who have so often told me I must stop and think and realize things!
+Did you know what it <i>was</i> you wanted me to do? Have you any idea what
+torture <i>is?</i> You couldn't! I don't believe even Mahr would have done
+this to me--if he had known; nobody could--nobody could. Now, all sorts of
+things are assailing me; not only the horror that Dorothy should
+<i>know</i>, but the horror of having <i>done</i> such things. I can't feel
+that it was I; it must have been somebody else. Why, I couldn't have; it's
+impossible; and yet I did, I did, I did! Sometimes <a name="Page_121"></a>I
+laugh, and then I am frightened at myself--I did it just then; it was at
+the thought that here am I, <i>writing letters</i>--I, who have always
+thought letters that incriminate were the weakness of fools, the blind spot
+of intelligence--I, who have profited by letters--written in anger, in
+love, in the passion of money-getting--everything--I'm writing--writing
+from my bursting heart. Ah, you wanted me to realize; I'm fulfilling your
+wish. Oh, good, kind soul that you are, forgive me! I'm clinging to the
+thought of you to save me; I'm trusting in you blindly. It's five days
+since I left."</p>
+
+<p>The sheet that followed was on beflagged yachting paper:</p>
+
+<p>"What luck! I happened on the Detmores the moment I landed. They were
+just sailing. I transferred to them. I'm on board and homeward bound. We
+reach St. Augustine to-morrow night; then I'm coming through as fast as I
+can. I've thought it all over now. Since the wireless messages weren't
+sent, I shall send no cable or telegram. I shall find out what the
+situation is, and perhaps it will be better for me just to disappear. It
+may be best that Dorothy shall never see me again. I shall go straight
+home. I'm posting this in St. Augustine; it will probably go on the same
+train with me. When you receive this and have read it, come to me. I shall
+need you, I know--but <a name="Page_122"></a>perhaps you won't care to;
+perhaps you won't want to be mixed up in an affair that may already be the
+talk of the town. It's one thing to know a criminal who goes unquestioned
+and another to befriend one revealed and convicted. Don't come, then. I am
+at the very end of my endurance now. What sort of a wreck will walk into
+that disgraced home of mine? And still I pray and pray--"</p>
+
+<p>Gard stood up. A sudden dizziness seized him. Go to her! Of course he
+must, at once, at once; there was not a moment to be lost. He calculated
+the length of time the letter had taken to reach him since its delivery in
+the city--hours at least. And she had returned home to find--what? He
+almost cried out in his anguish--to find Dorothy gone, no one at the house
+knew where. What must she think?</p>
+
+<p>He snatched up the telephone and called her number, his voice shaking in
+spite of his effort to control it.</p>
+
+<p>The butler answered. Yes; madam had returned suddenly; had gone to the
+library for something; had asked for Miss Dorothy, and when she heard she
+was away, had made no comment, and left shortly afterwards. Yes, she
+appeared ill, very ill.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming over," Gard cut in. "I'll be there in a few minutes."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_123"></a>He rang, ordered the servant to stop the first
+taxi, seized his coat and hat, left a peremptory order to his physician not
+to be beyond call, tumbled into his outer garments and made for the street.
+The taxi sputtered at the curb, but just as he dashed down the steps a
+limousine drew up, and Denning sprang from its opened door. His hand fell
+heavily upon Gard's shoulder as he stooped to enter the cab. Gard turned,
+his overwrought nerves stinging with the shock of the other's restraining
+touch.</p>
+
+<p>Denning's hand fell, for the face of his friend was distorted beyond
+recognition. The words his lips had framed to speak died upon his tongue,
+as with a furious heave Gard shook him off, entered the cab and slammed the
+door. Denning stood for a moment surprised into inaction, then, with an
+order to follow, he leaped into his own car and started in pursuit.</p>
+
+<p>When Gard reached the familiar entrance, his anxiety had grown, like
+physical pain, almost to the point where human endurance ceases and becomes
+brute suffering. He felt cornered and helpless. At the door of Mrs.
+Marteen's apartment a sort of unreasoning rage filled him. To ring; the
+bell seemed a futility; he wanted to break in the painted glass and batter
+down the door. The calm expression of the butler who answered his <a
+name="Page_124"></a>summons was like a personal insult. Were they all mad
+that they did not realize?</p>
+
+<p>"Where is Mrs. Marteen?" he demanded hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>The servant shook his head. "She left two hours ago, at least," he
+answered, with a glance toward the hall clock.</p>
+
+<p>"What did she say--what message did she leave?" Gard pushed by him
+impatiently, making for the stairs leading to the upper floor and the
+library.</p>
+
+<p>The butler stared. "Why, nothing, sir. She asked for Miss Dorothy, and
+when none of us could tell her where she went, or why--which we all thought
+queer enough, sir--she didn't seem surprised; so I suppose she knows, sir.
+Madam just went upstairs to the library first, and then to Miss Dorothy's
+room--the maid saw her, sir--and then she came down and went out. She had
+on a heavy veil, but she looked scarce fit to stand for all that, and she
+went--never said a word about her baggage or anything--just went out to the
+cab that was waiting. Then about a half hour later, Mary, her maid, came in
+with the boxes. I hope there's nothing wrong, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard listened, his heart tightening with apprehension. "Call White
+Plains, 56," he ordered sharply. "Tell Miss Dorothy to come at once and <a
+name="Page_125"></a>then send for me, quick, now!" he commanded; and as the
+wondering flunky turned toward the telephone, he sprang up the stairs,
+threw open the library door and entered. The electric lights were blazing
+in the heat and silence of the closed room. The odor of violets hung
+reminiscent in the stale air. The panel by the mantelpiece was thrust back,
+and the door of the safe, so uselessly concealed, hung open, revealing the
+empty shelves within and the deep shadow of the inner compartment. He saw
+it all in a flash of understanding; the frantic woman's rush to the place
+of concealment,--the ravaged hiding place. What could she argue, but that
+all that her enemy had planned had befallen? Her child knew all, and had
+gone--fled from her and the horror of her life, leaving no sign of
+forgiveness or pity.</p>
+
+<p>Sick, and faint, Gard turned away. One door in the corridor stood open,
+left so, he divined, by the hurried passing of the mother from the empty
+nest, Dorothy's room, all pink and white and girlish in its simplicity. One
+fragrant pillow, with its dainty embroidered cover, was dented, as if still
+warm from the burning cheek that had pressed it in an agony of loss.
+Nothing about the chamber was displaced; only an empty photograph frame
+lying upon the dressing table told of the trembling, pale hands that had
+bereft it of its jewel. She had taken her little girl's <a
+name="Page_126"></a>picture with the heartbroken conviction that never
+again would she see its original, or that those girlish eyes would look
+upon her again save in fear and loathing. The empty case dropped from his
+hands to the silver-crowded, lace-covered table; he was startled to see in
+the mirror, hung with its frivolous load of cotillion favors and dance
+cards, his own face convulsed with grief, and turned, appalled, from his
+own image. His resourceful brain refused its functions. He could not guess
+her movements after that silent, definitive leave taking. He could but
+picture her tall, erect figure, outwardly composed and nonchalant, as she
+must have stood, facing the outer world, looking out to what--to what? A
+mad hope rose in his breast. Would she turn to him? Would her instinctive
+steps lead her to seek his protection.</p>
+
+<p>Yes. He must be where she could find him; he must be within reach. It
+could not be that she would pass thus silently into some unknown life--or--
+He would not concede the other possibility.</p>
+
+<p>Turning blindly from the room, he descended to the lower floor, where
+the butler, with difficulty suppressing his curiosity, informed him that
+Miss Dorothy had answered that she would return to town at once.</p>
+
+<p>Gard hesitated, then turned sharply upon the servant. "Your mistress has
+been ill, as you <a name="Page_127"></a>know. We have reason to believe
+that she is not quite herself. If you learn anything of her, notify me at
+once. No matter what orders she may give, you understand, or no matter how
+slight the clew--send for me."</p>
+
+<p>Once again in the street, he paused, uncertain. His eye fell upon
+Denning's limousine drawn up behind his waiting cab. Fury at this espionage
+sent him toward it. Thrusting his face In at the open window, he glared at
+his pursuer.</p>
+
+<p>"What are you here for?" he snarled.</p>
+
+<p>Denning looked at him coldly. "To see that you keep faith, that's all.
+Your personal concerns must wait. Have you forgotten that you are to take
+the midnight train to Washington? I'm here to see that you do it."</p>
+
+<p>Gard wrenched open the door of the car. "You are, are you? Let the whole
+damned thing go!" he cried. "Send your proxies. This is a matter of life
+and death!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know it," said Denning; "it is--to a lot of people who trust you; and
+you are going to do your duty if I have to kidnap you to do it. You have
+two hours before your train leaves. My private car is waiting for you. Make
+what plans you like till then; but I'll not leave you; neither will
+Langley--he's following you, too. Come, buck up. Are you mad that you
+desert in the face of shipwreck?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_128"></a>Gard turned suddenly, ordered his taxi to follow
+and got in beside Denning. His mood and voice were changed. "I've got to
+think. Don't speak to me. Get me home as soon as you can."</p>
+
+<p>He leaned back, closed his eyes and concentrated all his energies. In
+the first place, Denning was right--he must not desert, even with his own
+disaster close upon him. He owed his public his life, if necessary. As a
+king must go to the defense of his people in spite of every private grief
+or necessity, so he must go now. The very form of his decision surprised
+him. He realized that his yearning for another soul's awakening had
+awakened his own soul. He had willed her a conscience and developed one
+himself. But, his decision reached with that sudden precision
+characteristic of him, his anxious fears demanded that every possible
+precaution be taken, every effort made that could tend to save or relieve
+the desperate situation he must leave behind him. First of all his
+physician--to him he must speak the truth, and to him alone. Brencherly
+should be his active tool. Mahr must be impressed.</p>
+
+<p>Springing from the motor at his own door, he snapped an order to his
+butler, and sent him with the cab to bring the doctor instantly. Once in
+the library, he telephoned for the detective. He then called up Victor
+Mahr, requested that however <a name="Page_129"></a>late he might call, a
+visitor be admitted at once, on a matter of the first importance and
+received the assurance that his wishes would be complied with; he asked
+Denning, who had followed him, to wait in another room, thrust back the
+papers on his table and settled himself to write.</p>
+
+<p>"No one knows anything," he scrawled, "neither Dorothy nor anyone else."
+With succinct directness he covered the whole story--explained, elucidated.
+Through every word the golden thread of his deep devotion glowed steadily.
+Would the letter ever reach her? Would her eyes ever see the reassuring
+lines? He refused to believe his efforts useless. She must come. He sealed
+and directed the letter, as Brencherly was admitted. Gard turned and eyed
+the young man sharply, wondering how much, how little he dared tell
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"Brencherly," he said slowly, "I'm giving you the biggest commission of
+your life. You've got to take my place here, for I'm going to the front.
+I've got to rely on you, and if you fail me, well, you know me--that's
+enough. Now, I want discretion first, last and all the time. Then I want
+foresight, tact, genius--everything in you that can think and plan. Here
+are the facts: Mrs. Marteen has come back--suddenly. She's been ill. Her
+mind, from all I can learn, is affected. <a name="Page_130"></a>She has
+delusions; she may have suicidal mania. She has disappeared, and she must
+be found--as secretly as possible. Her delusions and illness must not
+become a newspaper headline. I needn't tell you it would make 'a story.'
+There's one chance in fifty that she may come here, or telephone for me.
+You are not to leave this room. Answer that telephone--you know her voice,
+don't you? You are to tell her that I have her letter and she has nothing
+to worry about; that I have had charge of all her affairs in her absence;
+that her daughter knows of her return and wants her at once. Tell her that
+I have left a letter for her--this one. When Miss Marteen calls up, tell
+her to go to her home; that her mother has come back, but has left again,
+and is ill; that I'm doing all in my power to find her. Tell her to call me
+at once on the long distance telephone to Washington, at the New Willard.
+Wherever I have to be I'll arrange that I can be called at once. Do you
+understand?</p>
+
+<p>"Dr. Balys will be here in a few moments. He will have the hospitals
+canvassed. If you locate her, Brencherly, send my doctor to her at once.
+Get her to her own apartment, and don't let her talk. I want you to pick a
+man to watch the morgue; to look up every case of reported suicide that by
+any chance might be Mrs. Marteen--here or in other cities." Gard felt the
+blood leave his <a name="Page_131"></a>heart as he said the words, though
+there was no quaver in his voice. "If they should find her, don't let her
+identity be known if there is any chance of concealing it, not until you
+reach me. Don't let Miss Marteen know. Put another man on the hotel
+arrivals. She left St. Augustine--Here--" He--jotted down times and dates
+on a slip. "Work on that. Keep the police off. I'll have Balys stay here,
+unless he locates her in any of the hospitals. My secretary is yours; and
+there are half a dozen telephones in the house; you can keep 'em all going.
+But, mind, there must be no leak. Watch her apartment, too. Question her
+maid up there. Of course that letter on the table there might interest you,
+but I think I had better trust you, since I make you my deputy. This is no
+small matter, Brencherly. Honesty is the best policy--and there <i>are</i>
+rewards and punishments."</p>
+
+<p>The strain of grief and anxiety had set its mark on Gard's face. His
+deadly earnestness and evident effort at self-control sent a thrill of
+pitying admiration through the detective's hardened indifference. A rush of
+loyalty filled his heart; he wanted to help, without thought of reward or
+punishment. He felt hot shame that his calling had deserved the suspicion
+his employer cast upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll do my honest best," he said with such <a
+name="Page_132"></a>dear-eyed sincerity that Gard smiled wanly and held out
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," he said simply.</p>
+
+<p>The interview with the doctor lasted another half-hour. Time seemed to
+fly. Another hour and he must leave to others the quest that his soul
+demanded. Unquestioning and determined, Denning took him once more in the
+limousine. They were silent during the drive to Victor Mahr's address. Gard
+descended before the house, leaving Denning in the car.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry," he said as he closed the door of the automobile. "I'll
+not be long; I give you my word."</p>
+
+<p>Denning smiled. "That's all that's wanted in Washington, old man. You've
+got a quarter of an hour to spare."</p>
+
+<p>Denning switched on the electric light and, taking a bundle of papers
+from his inside pocket, began to pencil swift annotation.</p>
+
+<p>Gard ran lightly up the steps. It was quite on the cards that Mrs.
+Marteen in her anguish and despair might make an effort to see and upbraid
+the man whose hatred and vengeance had wrecked her life. Mahr must be
+warned of all that had taken place, and schooled to meet the situation--to
+confess at once that his plans had been thwarted, that his tongue was
+forever bound to silence and that his intended victim was free. <a
+name="Page_133"></a>He, Marcus Gard, must dictate every word that might be
+said, foresee every possible form in which a meeting might come, and
+dictate the terms of Mahr's surrender. Words and sentences formed and
+shifted in his mind as he waited impatiently for his summons to be
+answered. The butler bowed, murmuring that Mr. Mahr was expecting Mr. Gard,
+and preceded him across the anteroom to the well-remembered door of the
+inner sanctum, which he threw open before the guest, and retired
+silently.</p>
+
+<p>Closing the door securely behind him, Gard turned toward the sole
+occupant of the room. Mahr did not heed his coming nor rise to greet him.
+The ticking of the carved Louis XV clock on the mantel seemed
+preternaturally loud in the oppressive silence.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly and unreasonably Gard choked with fear. In one bound he crossed
+the room and stood staring down at the face of his host. For an instant he
+stood paralyzed with amazement and horror. Then, as always, when in the
+heart of the tempest, he became calm, and his mind, as if acting under some
+heroic stimulant, became intensely clarified. Mahr was dead. He leaned
+forward and lifted the head; the body was still warm, and it fell forward,
+limp and heavy. On the left temple was a large contusion and a slight cut.
+The cause was not far to seek. On the <a name="Page_134"></a>table lay an
+ancient flintlock pistol, somewhat apart from a heap of small arms
+belonging to an eighteenth century trophy.</p>
+
+<p>Murder! Murder--and Mrs. Marteen! His imagination pictured her beautiful
+still face suddenly becoming maniacal with fury and pain. Gard suppressed
+an exclamation. Well, he would swear Mahr was alive at half after eleven,
+when he had seen him. If anyone knew of her coming before that, she would
+be cleared. No one knew of his own feud with Mahr; no one suspected it. His
+word would be accepted.</p>
+
+<p>Mahr's face, repulsive in life, was hideous in death--a mask of
+selfishness, duplicity and venomous cunning from which departing life had
+taken its one charm of intelligence. He looked at the wound again. The blow
+must have been sudden and of great force. Acting on an impulse, he tiptoed
+to one of the curtained windows, unlocked the fastening and raised it
+slightly. A robbery--why not? Silently moving back into the room, he
+approached the corpse and with nervous rapidity looted the dead man of
+everything of value, leaving the torn wallet, a wornout crumpled affair,
+lying on the floor. He opened and emptied the table drawers, as if a
+hurried search had been made. Slipping the compromising jewels into his
+overcoat pocket, he turned about and faced the room like a stage manager
+judging of a play's setting. <a name="Page_135"></a>The luxurious
+furnishings, the long mahogany table warmly reflecting the lights of the
+heavily shaded lamp; the wide, gaping fireplace; the lurking shadows of the
+corners; the curtain by the opened window bellying slightly in the draught;
+above, in the soft radiance of the hooded electrics, the glowing, living,
+radiant personality of the Vandyke; below, the stark, evil face of the
+dead, with its blue bruised temple and blood-clotted hair.</p>
+
+<p>Gard strove to reconstruct the crime as the next entrant would judge
+it--the thief gliding in by the window; the collector busy over the
+examination of his curios; the blow, probably only intended to stun; the
+hasty theft and stealthy exit.</p>
+
+<p>His heart pounded in his breast, but it was with outward calm that he
+crossed the threshold, calling back a "Good-night," whose grim irony was
+not lost upon him. In the hall, as he put on his hat, he addressed the
+servant casually:</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Mahr says you may lock up and go. He does not want to be disturbed,
+as he has some papers that will keep him late. Remind Mr. Mahr to call me
+at the New Willard in the morning; I may have some news."</p>
+
+<p>As he left the house he staggered; he felt his knees shaking. With a
+superhuman effort he steadied himself--Denning must not suspect anything
+unusual. He descended the steps with a firm tread, and pausing at the last
+step, twisted as <a name="Page_136"></a>if to reach an uncomfortably
+settled coat collar--his quick glance taking in the contour of the house
+and the probability of access by the window. The glimpse was reassuring. By
+means of the iron railing a man might readily gain the ledge below the
+first floor windows. He entered the limousine and nodded to Denning.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said. "On to Washington."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_137"></a><h2><a name='XI'></a>XI</h2>
+
+
+<p>Through the long, hours of the night Gard lay awake, living over the
+gruesome moments spent in the ill-omened house on Washington Square. The
+ghastly face of the dead man seemed to stare at him from every corner of
+the luxurious room.</p>
+
+<p>Had he done wisely, Gard wondered, in setting the scene of robbery? Had
+he done it convincingly? That he could become involved in the case in
+another character than that of witness, occurred to him, but he dismissed
+it with a shrug. He was able, he felt, to cope with any situation.
+Nevertheless, the valuables he had taken from the corpse seemed to take on
+bulk. He thanked his stars that his valet was not with him--at least he
+would not have to consider the ever present danger of discovery. He had
+hoped to dispose of the compromising articles while crossing the ferry, but
+when, on his suggestion of the benefits of cool night air, he had descended
+from the motor and advanced to the rail, Denning had accompanied him and
+remained at his elbow, discussing future moves in their giant financial
+game. Once on <a name="Page_138"></a>board the private car, he had
+considered disposing of the jewels from the car window or the observation
+platform, but abandoned that scheme as worse than useless. The track
+walkers' inevitable discovery would only bring suspicion upon someone
+traveling along the line--and who but himself must eventually he
+suspected?</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing for it but to break up the horde piece by piece and
+lose the compromising gems in unrecognizable fragments. The impulse was
+upon him to switch on the electrics and begin the work of destruction here
+in his stateroom at once. But he feared Denning; he feared Langley. Then
+his thoughts reverted to Mrs. Marteen. Where was she? Where was she hiding?
+Had she made away with herself after her desperate deed? His heart ached
+and yearned toward her while his senses revolted in horror of the crime.
+His world was torn asunder. The awful discovery he had made had once and
+for all precluded a change of plans. Sudden resistance on his part would
+have been enigmatical to Denning--or he must confess the state of affairs
+in the silent house he had just left. At least by his ruse he had gained
+time for her, perhaps even protection.</p>
+
+<p>Her letter, her frantic record of pain and misery, was in his pocket. He
+found it, and feeling that even if he were observed to be absorbed in <a
+name="Page_139"></a>reading, it could only appear natural in view of his
+mission, he propped himself with pillows and reread the tear-blistered
+pages. His spirit rebelled. No, no; the woman who had written those
+searing, bitter lines of awakening could not be guilty of monstrous murder.
+He hated himself that his mind had accused her. He cursed himself that by
+his intervention he had perhaps thrown investigation upon the wrong scent,
+while the truth, he assured himself, must exonerate her and bring the real
+criminal to justice. What could have made him be such a fool? The next
+instant he thanked his stars that he had been cool enough to plan the
+scene. As he read the throbbing pages, tears rose to his eyes again and
+again; he had to lay the letter down and compose himself. Ah, he was wrong,
+always at fault. By his well-intended interference, he had arranged
+Dorothy's flight, with results he trembled to foresee. And Dorothy! What
+was he to tell the child? How was he to prepare her to bear the present
+strain and the knowledge of what might come?</p>
+
+<p>The fevered hours passed slowly. It was with a wrenching effort that he
+forced his mind to concentrate on the business in hand for the coming day.
+Yet, for his own honor and the sake of his people, it must be done, and
+well done. Moreover, there must be no wavering on his part, nothing to let
+anyone infer an unusual disturbance of <a name="Page_140"></a>mind. He must
+be prepared to play shocked surprise when the tragic news reached him.</p>
+
+<p>Utter exhaustion finally overpowered his fevered brain and he fell into
+a troubled sleep, from which he was aroused by Denning's voice. The car was
+not in motion, and he divined that it had been shunted to await their
+pleasure. He dressed hastily, his heart still aching with dread and
+uncertainty.</p>
+
+<p>As he faced himself in the mirror he noted his sunken eyes and ghastly
+color, and Denning, entering behind him, noted it, too, with a quick thrill
+of sympathy. He had come to accept as fact his fear, expressed in the
+directors' room. Gard must be suffering from some deadly disease.</p>
+
+<p>"You look all in, Gard," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry I had to drive
+you so." He hesitated. "Has--have the doctors been giving you a scare about
+yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard divined the other's version of his strange actions, and jumped at
+an excuse that explained and covered much.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't talk about it," he said gruffly. "You know it won't do to have
+rumors about my health going round."</p>
+
+<p>Denning took the remark as a tacit acquiescence. His face expressed
+genuine sympathy and compassion.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_141"></a>Gard looked up and frowned, yet the kindliness
+extended, though it was for an imaginary reason, was grateful to him.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I can take all the extra sympathy anyone has just now," he
+answered in a tone that carried conviction. "I've had a good deal to
+struggle against recently--but I'm not whipped yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you'll be all right," Denning encouraged. "You're a young man
+still, and you've got the energy of ten young bucks. I'll back you to win.
+Cheer up; you've got a hard day ahead." Gard nodded. How hard a day his
+friend little guessed. "We'll go on to the hotel when you are ready. Your
+first appointment is at nine thirty. Jim is making breakfast for us
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Gard; "I'll join you in a minute. Go ahead and get
+your coffee." Left alone, he hurriedly pocketed Mahr's jewelry, paused a
+moment to grind the stone of the scarf pin from its setting--among the
+cinders of the terminus the gem and its mangled mounting could both be
+easily lost. His one desire now was to put himself in telephonic
+communication with New York, but he did not dare to be too pressing.
+However, once at the hotel, he made all arrangements to have a call
+transferred, and opened connection with Brencherly. He was shaking with
+nervousness. "Any news?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"None, Mr. Gard, I'm sorry," the detective's <a
+name="Page_142"></a>voice sounded over the wire, "except that I've followed
+your instructions with regard to the young lady. I've not left the 'phone,
+sir; slept right here in your armchair. The hospitals have been questioned,
+and there is nothing reported at police headquarters that could possibly
+interest you. I've looked over the morning papers carefully to see if there
+was anything the reporters had that might be a clew. There's nothing. I
+took the liberty of sending Dr. Balys over to the young lady this
+morning--she seemed in such a state; he'll be back any minute, though. I've
+got every line pulling on the quiet. I've done my best, sir."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly's voice ceased, and Gard drew a sigh of relief. At least
+there was no bad news, and as yet nothing in public print concerning the
+tragedy. The discovery had probably been made early that morning by the
+servant, whose duty it was to care for the master's private apartments. The
+first afternoon papers would contain all the details, and perhaps the
+ticker would have the news before. He realized that all the haggard night
+he had been fearing that the morning would bring him knowledge of Mrs.
+Marteen's death--drowned, asphyxiated, poisoned--the many shapes of the one
+terrible deed had presented themselves to his subconscious mind, to be
+thrust away by his stubborn will. Dorothy, summoned to the telephone, had
+nothing to add to Brencherly's <a name="Page_143"></a>information, but
+seemed to derive comfort and consolation from Gard's assurances that all
+would be well. She would call him again at noon, she said.</p>
+
+<p>He came from the booth almost glad. His step was light, his troubled
+eyes clear once more. He was ready to play his part in every sense,
+grateful for the respite from his pain. His confidence in himself returned,
+and he went to the trying and momentous meetings of the morning with his
+gigantic mental grasp and convincing methods at their best.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy's message did not reach him till after midday had come and gone.
+Once Larkin had left the conclave and returned with his face big with
+consternation and surprise. Gard divined that the news of the murder was
+out, but nothing was brought up except the business of the corporation.</p>
+
+<p>When at last he left the meeting he motored back to the hotel, refusing
+the hospitality cordially extended to him, his one desire to be again in
+touch with events transpiring in New York. He had hardly shown himself in
+the lobby when a page summoned him to the telephone.</p>
+
+<p>It was Dorothy, her voice faint with fright.</p>
+
+<p>"It's you," she cried--"it's you! Have you learned anything about
+mother? We haven't any news--nothing at all. Mr. Brencherly and the <a
+name="Page_144"></a>doctor tell me that everything's being done. But I'm
+almost wild--and listen; something awful has happened. It's your friend,
+Mr. Mahr, Teddy's father--he's been murdered!"</p>
+
+<p>"What!" exclaimed Gard, thankful that she could not see his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," she continued, "murdered in his own room--they found him
+this morning--they say you were the last person to see him before it was
+done. Oh, Mr. Gard, aren't you coming home soon? It seems as if terrible
+things happen all the time--and I'm frightened. Please, come back!"</p>
+
+<p>The voice choked in a sob, and her hearer longed to take her in his arms
+and comfort her, shield her from the terrible possibilities that loomed big
+on their horizon.</p>
+
+<p>"My darling little girl, I'm coming, just as fast as I can. I wouldn't
+be here, leaving you to face this anxiety alone, if I could possibly help
+it--you know that, dear," he pleaded. "I've one more important, unavoidable
+interview; then my car couples on to the first express. Give Teddy all my
+sympathy. I can hardly realize what you say. Why, I saw him only last night
+just before I took the train. Keep up your courage, and don't be
+frightened."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try," came the pathetic voice; "I will--but, oh, come soon!"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_145"></a>Gard excused himself to everyone, pleading the
+necessity of rest, and once alone in his room, set about ripping and
+smashing the incriminating evidence, until nothing but a few loose stones
+and crumpled bits of gold remained. He broke the monogrammed case of the
+watch from its fastening and crushed its face. Now to contrive to scatter
+the fragments would be a simple matter. He secreted them in an inner
+pocket, and his pressing desire of their destruction satisfied, he
+telephoned to Langley to join him in his private room at a hurried
+luncheon. Next he sent for the afternoon papers. Not a line as yet,
+however; and Langley and Denning having evidently decided it to be unwise
+to deflect his thoughts from matters in hand, did not mention Mahr. Even
+when he brought up the name himself with a casual mention of the
+possibility of acquiring the Heim Vandyke, there was nothing said to give
+him an opportunity to speak and he was breathless for details, to learn if
+his ruse had succeeded. At last he called Brencherly, both Denning and
+Langley endeavoring to divert him from his intention.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes," snapped Gard; "what's the news?"</p>
+
+<p>His companions exchanged dubious glances.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing learned yet about the matter, sir, on which you engaged me,
+nothing at all. But--there's <a name="Page_146"></a>something else--I think
+you ought to know--Victor Mahr is dead!"</p>
+
+<p>"Dead! How? When?" Gard feigned surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Murdered last night," came the reply. "Found this morning. Our man
+watching the house learned it as soon as anyone did. A case of robbery,
+they say--but the coroner's verdict hasn't been given yet. He was hit in
+the head with a pistol--but--I think, sir, they'll want you; you saw him
+last night, they say--after you left me. Have you any instructions to give
+me, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard reflected. "I don't know," he wavered. "Hold all the good men in
+your service you can for me--and remember what I told you." He turned to
+the two men. "Mahr's dead--murdered!" he blurted out, as if startled by the
+news.</p>
+
+<p>They nodded. "Yes, we knew. But," Denning added, "we didn't want to
+upset you any further. It came out on the ticker at eleven. How are you
+feeling?" he asked with friendly solicitude. "I wish you'd eat
+something--you've not touched anything but coffee for nearly twenty-four
+hours."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't," said Gard grimly. "Let's go to the Capitol and get it over
+with. Have you 'phoned Senator Ryan? I'm all right," he assured them, as he
+caught sight of Langley's dubious expression. <a name="Page_147"></a>"I
+want to get through here as quickly as possible and get back. I suppose you
+realize that I'll be wanted in the city in more ways than one. I was the
+last person, except the murderer, to see Mahr. Come on."</p>
+
+<p>As they came from the Capitol at the close of their conference, Langley
+and Denning fell behind for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"What a wonder the man is!" exclaimed Denning with enthusiasm. "Sick as
+he is, and with all these other troubles on him, he's bucked up and
+buffaloed this whole thing into shape. He forgets nothing!"</p>
+
+<p>Gard entered the motor first, and, as he leaned forward, dropped from
+the opposite window a fragment of twisted gold. An hour later, in the
+waiting room they had traversed, a woman picked up a pigeon blood ruby, but
+the grinding wheels of trains and engines had left no trace of the trifles
+they had destroyed. In the yard near the private siding, a coupling hand
+came upon a twisted gold watch case, so crushed that the diamond monogram
+it once had boasted was unrecognizable.</p>
+
+<p>"At every stop, Jim," said Gard, as he threw himself wearily into a
+lounging chair in the saloon end of the car, "I want you to go out and get
+me all the latest editions of the New York papers."</p>
+
+<p>The negro bowed, disappeared into the cook's galley and returned with
+glasses and a bottle of <a name="Page_148"></a>champagne. He poured a
+glass, which Gard drank gratefully.</p>
+
+<p>Gard heard Langley and Denning moving about their stateroom. The noise
+of the terminal rang an iron chorus, accompanied by whistles and the hiss
+of escaping steam. The private car was attached to the express, and the
+return journey began. His irritated nerves would have set him tramping
+pantherwise, but sheer weariness kept him in his chair. Presently his
+fellow travelers joined him, but he took little or no heed of their
+conversation. Once he drank again, a toast to the successful issue of their
+combined efforts. He lay back, striving to control his rising anxiety. What
+would the story be that would greet him from the heavy leads of the
+newspapers?</p>
+
+<p>"Baltimore--Baltimore--Baltimore"--the wheels seemed to pound the name
+from the steel rails; the car rocked to it. By the time they reached that
+city the New York afternoon editions would have been distributed. At last
+they glided up to the station and the porter swung off into the waiting
+room. Gard rose and stood waiting, chewing savagely on his unlighted
+cigar.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Mahr," he apologized to Denning. "I want to learn the facts." His
+hand shook as he snatched the smudgy sheets from the negro.</p>
+
+<p>In big letters across the front page he caught the headline:</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_149"></a></p>
+<center>
+MURDER OF VICTOR MAHR<br />
+<br />
+FAMOUS CLUBMAN AND FINANCIER<br />
+STABBED TO DEATH IN HIS OWN LIBRARY<br />
+<br />
+EVIDENCE OF ROBBERY<br />
+<br />
+WOMAN SUSPECTED OF THE CRIME<br />
+</center>
+
+<p>"Stabbed to death ... Woman suspected." His brain reeled. How "stabbed
+to death"? He himself had seen--"Woman suspected." Then all his despairing
+efforts to save her had been in vain! The train, starting suddenly, gave
+him ample excuse to clutch the back of the chair for support, and to fall
+heavily upon its cushions. He could not have held himself upright another
+moment. An absurd scheme flashed through his brain. He would, if necessary,
+take the blame upon himself--anything to shield her. He would say they had
+quarreled over the Vandyke.</p>
+
+<p>He became aware that Denning was asking for one of the three papers he
+was clutching. He gave it to him, suddenly realizing that he was not alone.
+He knew his face was deathly, and he could feel his heart's slow pound
+against his ribs. If they did not believe him a sick man, they must believe
+him a guilty one. To control his agitation seemed impossible. The page swam
+before his eyes, and it was some moments before he could focus upon the
+finer print of the sensational article.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_150"></a>The gruesome discovery was made by a servant,
+entering the library at eight that morning. She found her master lying in
+the chair and thought him asleep. She knew that the night before he had
+dismissed the butler, declaring his intention to sit up late over some
+important business. He might have been overcome by weariness. She tiptoed
+out and went in search of the valet. His orders had been to call his master
+at nine and he hesitated about waking him earlier, but at last decided to
+do so, as it was nearing the hour. On entering the apartment he had noticed
+the disorder of the room. He put out the electric light from the switch by
+the door, drew the curtains and raised the blind. At once he realized that
+death confronted him. Terrified, he had rushed to the hall calling for the
+servants. Theodore Mahr, Victor Mahr's only son, who was on his way to
+breakfast, rushed at once upon the scene.</p>
+
+<p>There was a cut and contusion on the temple of the victim, evidently
+inflicted by a weapon lying upon the table, which was believed to be the
+cause of death, until the arrival of the coroner and Mr. Mahr's own
+physician, when it was discovered that the victim's heart had been pierced
+by a very slender blade or stiletto. The wound was so small and the
+aperture closed by the head of the weapon in such a manner that no blood
+had issued.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_151"></a>An enterprising reporter had gained access to the
+chamber of death, and described in detail the rifling of the drawers, the
+partially open window; he had picked up a small gold link, evidently torn
+from the sleeve buttons of the deceased. Mr. Mahr was last seen alive by
+his friend, Marcus Gard, who called to see him on important business before
+taking his departure to Washington. Just prior to this, however, a strange
+woman, heavily veiled, had sent in a note and been admitted to Mr. Mahr.
+This woman was not seen to leave the house; in fact, the servant had
+supposed her present when Mr. Gard called, and a party to the business
+under discussion; it was now believed that she might have remained
+concealed in the outer room until after the great financier had taken his
+departure. Of this, however, there was no present evidence. Mahr had
+dismissed the butler and told him to lock up--yet the woman had not been
+seen to leave. Of course she could have let herself out, or Mr. Mahr could
+have opened the door for her--no one seemed to recall whether the chain was
+on in the morning or not.</p>
+
+<p>Was the crime one of anger or revenge? Why, then, the robbery? The
+appearance of the table drawers would seem to indicate someone in search of
+papers, yet the dead man's valuables appeared to have been removed by
+force--the cuff link had been broken, the watch snatched from its <a
+name="Page_152"></a>pocket with such violence that the cloth had been torn.
+At present the mystery that surrounded the crime was impenetrable. The dead
+man's son was prostrated with grief.</p>
+
+<p>Gard finished reading and rose, crushing the paper in his hand. "It's a
+horrible thing--horrible! I hope you gentlemen will excuse me. I am not
+well, and this--has affected me--unaccountably." He turned to his
+stateroom. "I'm going to rest, if I can."</p>
+
+<p>The two men looked at each other in deep concern.</p>
+
+<p>"I hope we don't lose him," muttered Denning.</p>
+
+<p>Alone in the silence of his swaying room, Gard threw himself face down
+upon the bed. He could not reason any longer. His whole being gave way to a
+voiceless cry. He shook as if with cold, and beat his hands rhythmically on
+the pillows. He rolled over at last, and lay staring at the curved ceiling
+of the car. One thought obsessed him. She had been there, in that room,
+hidden--watching him, doubtless, as he committed the ghastly theft. Even in
+the awful situation in which she found herself, what must she think of
+<i>him</i>? Criminal, blackmailer, murderess, perhaps--but what could she
+think of him? The blood tingled through his veins and his waxen face
+flushed scarlet with vivid shame. In his weakened, <a
+name="Page_153"></a>overwrought condition, this aspect of the case
+outranked all others. He forgot the horrible publicity that threatened not
+only Dorothy and her mother but Victor Mahr's son--when the motive of the
+crime was learned. He forgot the yearning of his soul for the saving of its
+sister spirit. He forgot the dread vision of the chair of death in the keen
+personal shame of the creature she must believe him to be.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly a new angle of the case presented itself--Brencherly! He sat up
+gasping. Brencherly must have guessed--the inevitable logic of the
+situation led straight to the solution of the enigma. The detective knew of
+Mahr's efforts to obtain the combination of Mrs. Marteen's safe; he,
+himself, had told him that those efforts had been successful. Brencherly
+knew of Mrs. Marteen's sudden return, her visit to her home and her
+mysterious disappearance. The motive of the murder was supplied, the
+disappearance accounted for. Already the detective's trained mind had
+doubtless pieced together the fragments of these broken lives. It was
+Brencherly who had told him of Mahr's former marriage. Everything,
+everything was in his hands. Would the man remain true to him? What
+wouldn't one of the great newspapers pay for the inside story! Could
+Brencherly be trusted? His well seasoned dislike of the whole detective and
+police service <a name="Page_154"></a>made him sure of treachery. But
+before him rose the vision of the boyish, candid face, as the detective had
+taken the Great Man's proffered hand, the honesty in his voice as he had
+given his word--"I'll do my best, sir," and into Gard's black despair crept
+a pale ray of hope.</p>
+
+<p>Gard had not been mistaken when he surmised that Brencherly must
+inevitably connect the murder with the sequence of events. But the
+conclusion reached with relentless finality by that astute young man was
+far from being what Gard had feared. To the detective's mind the answer was
+plain--his employer was guilty.</p>
+
+<p>The motive obviously concerned Mrs. Marteen. It was evident, from Mahr's
+efforts to gain access to that lady's safe, that she possessed something of
+which Mahr stood in fear or desired to possess. It was possible that she
+had obtained proof against Mahr. Perhaps she opposed young Teddy's
+attentions to her daughter. Perhaps Mahr was responsible for the
+disappearance. At any rate, Gard had been the last person to see Mahr as
+far as anyone knew; and a bitter feud existed, which no one guessed.
+Brencherly did not place great reliance in the woman theory. Doubtless one
+had called, but she had probably left. That she had gone out unseen was no
+astonishing matter. A servant delinquent in his hall duty was by no means a
+novelty even in the best regulated mansions. <a name="Page_155"></a>The
+robbery in that case could have been only a blind for an act of anger or
+revenge. The search for papers might have a deeper significance.</p>
+
+<p>He intended to "stand by the boss," Brencherly told himself. Gard was a
+great man and a decent sort; Mahr was an unworthy specimen. Brencherly
+decided that at all Costs Marcus Gard must be protected. He cursed the
+promise that kept him at his post. He longed to get into personal touch
+with every tangible piece of evidence, every clew, noted and unnoted. His
+men were on the spot and reporting to him; but that could not make up for
+personal investigation. In view of these new developments, what would be
+Mrs. Marteen's next move? Some secret bond connected the three--Mahr, Gard
+and Mrs. Marteen.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly, alone in Gard's library, rose and paced the room, glancing
+at the desk clock every time his line of march took him past the table. His
+employer was coming home fast as steam could bring him. He longed for his
+arrival and the council of war that must ensue; longed to be relieved of
+the tedium of room-tied waiting. He no longer looked for any communication
+from Mrs. Marteen. She had her reasons for concealment, no doubt, and he
+felt assured that neither hospital nor morgue would yield her up. It was <a
+name="Page_156"></a>with genuine delight that he at last heard the familiar
+voice on the telephone, though it was but a hurried inquiry for news.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, haggard and worn beyond belief, Gard hurried into
+the library and held out his hand.</p>
+
+<p>The young man looked at his face in astonishment as Gard threw himself
+into the chair and turned toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll pardon me," he faltered. "There's nothing that can't wait, and
+you need rest, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Not till I can get it without nightmares," he snapped. "Now give me
+this Mahr affair--all of it. I've seen the papers, of course, but I imagine
+you have the inside; then I want to hear what you think."</p>
+
+<p>The detective gave a start and colored to the roots of his hair. No
+doubt about it, Gard was a great man, if he could meet such a situation in
+such a manner and get away with it.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, the papers have it straight enough this time, as it happens.
+There's nothing different."</p>
+
+<p>"What was the weapon?"</p>
+
+<p>"A stiletto paper cutter, that he always had on his table. It had a top
+like a fencing foil; in fact, that's what it was in miniature, except that
+it was edged. It was that top, flattened close down, that stopped any flow
+of blood, so that everyone <a name="Page_157"></a>thought at first it was
+the blow on the temple that killed him. There's this about it, though: I'm
+told they say he was stunned first and stabbed afterward. That doesn't look
+like the work of a common thief, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>His hearer could not control a shudder. "Why not?" he parried. "He may
+have known the knockout was only temporary, and he was afraid he'd come to;
+or the man might have been known to Mahr, and he'd recognized him."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly shook his head incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"And the woman? What description did the servants give?" There was a
+perceptible pause before he asked the question.</p>
+
+<p>"The woman? The description is pretty vague--dressed in black, a heavy
+veil, black gloves; nothing extraordinary. The servant did say he thought
+her hair was gray, or it might have been light. He caught a glimpse of the
+back of her head when he showed her into the room. She sent in a note
+first; just a plain envelope; it wasn't directed."</p>
+
+<p>"Did they find any letter or enclosure that might explain why she was
+admitted?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, nothing."</p>
+
+<p>The two men eyed each other in silence. Each felt the other's
+reticence.</p>
+
+<p>"And what do you advise now?" Gard inquired.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_158"></a>Brencherly's gaze shifted to the bronze
+inkwells.</p>
+
+<p>"If I knew just how this event affected you, sir, I might be able to
+advise."</p>
+
+<p>It was his employer's turn to look away.</p>
+
+<p>"I know absolutely nothing about the cause of Mahr's death. I do know
+that there was no love lost between us; also that I was the last person
+known to have been with him. Isn't that enough to show you how I am
+affected?"</p>
+
+<p>"And the motive of your quarrel?" The detective felt his heart thump and
+wondered at his own daring.</p>
+
+<p>"We were rival competitors for the Heim Vandyke--he got it away from
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Does that answer my question, sir?" Again Brencherly gasped at his own
+temerity.</p>
+
+<p>"Young man," bellowed Gard, half rising from his chair, "what are you
+trying to infer?"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly stood up. "Please, Mr. Gard, be frank with me. I want to help
+you; I want to see you through. It can be done--I'm sure of it. No one
+knows about your trouble with Mahr. What he wanted with the combination of
+that safe I can't guess, but it was for no good; and you told me yourself
+that he had secured it. But everything may work out all right if you let me
+help you. I'm used to this cross-examination business, and I can coach you
+so they won't get a thing. <a name="Page_159"></a>I don't pretend to be in
+a class with you, sir; don't think I'm so conceited. I'm just specialized,
+that's all. I want to help, and I can if you'll let me."</p>
+
+<p>Gard's face underwent a kaleidoscopic series of changes; then
+astonishment and relief finally triumphed, and were followed by hysterical
+laughter. Brencherly was disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, so you think <i>I</i> did it!" he said at last. "I wish I had!" he
+added. "That wouldn't worry me in the least."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Marteen!" Brencherly exclaimed, and stood aghast and silent.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" thundered Gard, and then leaned forward brokenly with his head in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly the detective's mind readjusted itself, and the look in his eyes
+fixed upon Gard's bowed figure was all pitying understanding. Then he shook
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, she didn't do it," he said--"never! I don't believe it!"</p>
+
+<p>The stricken man looked up gratefully, but his head sank forward again.
+"He had done a horrible thing to her," he said. "You're right; you must
+have my confidence if you are to help--us. He had tried to estrange Dorothy
+from her mother. I--happened to be able to stop that. I used what you told
+me to quiet him. I threatened to tell his son the whole story. It was
+bluffing, for we knew nothing positive. But the story <a
+name="Page_160"></a>is all true. He was putty in my hand when I held that
+threat over him--putty. I went to him that night to dictate what he was to
+do in case he obtained any clew of Mrs. Marteen. I thought she might try to
+see him--to--reproach him. We knew she was very ill, had been when she went
+away, and then--nerve shock. I went to him--and found him already dead. You
+understand--Mrs. Marteen--I couldn't but believe--so I set the stage for
+robbery. I bluffed it off with everyone. I gave the message to lock up and
+leave Mahr undisturbed. I wanted an alibi for her--or at least to gain
+time."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly remained silent. A man's devotion to another commands awed
+respect, however it may manifest itself. But he was thinking rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"You know District Attorney Field, don't you?" he asked at length.</p>
+
+<p>Gard nodded. "An old personal friend; but I can't go to him with that
+story. I'd rather a thousand times he suspected me than give one clew that
+would lead to her. I'll stick to my story. Field wouldn't cover up a thing
+like that--he couldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"I know," returned Brencherly; "there's got to be a victim for justice
+first, or else prove that nothing, not even the ends of justice, can be
+gained before you can get the wires pulled. But that's what I'm setting out
+to do. I don't believe, Mr. <a name="Page_161"></a>Gard, that Mrs. Marteen
+committed that murder--not that there may not have been plenty of reason
+for it, but the way of it--no! I've got an idea. I don't want to say too
+much or raise any hopes that I can't make good; but there's just this: when
+I leave the house it will be to start on another trail. In the meantime,
+everything is being done that is humanly possible to find Mrs. Marteen.
+There's only one other way, and that, for the present, won't do--it's
+newspaper publicity, photographic reproductions and a reward. I think she
+is somewhere under an assumed name. But there are two lodestones that will
+draw her if she is able to move. One is the house of Victor Mahr, and the
+other her own home. There is love and hate to count on, and sooner or later
+one will draw her within reach. I'll have the closest watch put about that
+I can devise. There's nothing you can do, sir--now. If you'll rest
+to-night, you'll be better able to stand to-morrow, and if I can verify my
+idea in the least I'll tell you. Let your secretary watch here; and good
+night, Mr. Gard."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_162"></a><h2><a name='XII'></a>XII</h2>
+
+
+<p>The woman in the narrow bed tossed in a heavy, unnatural sleep. Her lips
+were swollen and cracked with fever, her cheeks scarlet and dry. She was
+alone in a narrow, plain room, sparsely but newly furnished. On a dressing
+table an expensive gold-fitted traveling bag stood open. Over a bent-wood
+chair hung a costly dark blue traveling suit, and the garments scattered
+about the room were of the finest make and material. On the floor lay a
+diamond-encrusted watch, ticking faintly, and a gold mesh bag, evidently
+flung from under the pillow by the movements of the sleeper. This much the
+landlady noticed as she softly opened the unlocked door and stood upon the
+threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, dear!" she murmured, and, habit strong upon her, she gathered up
+the scattered garments, folded them neatly, and hung up the gown in the
+scanty closet, having first examined the tailor's mark on the collar.
+"Dear, dear!" she said again. "It's noon; now whatever can be the matter?
+Is she sick? Looks like fever." Again she hesitated and paused to pick up a
+sheer <a name="Page_163"></a>handkerchief-linen blouse, upon the Irish lace
+collar of which a circle of pinhead diamonds held a monogram of the same
+material. "H'm," ruminated the landlady. "Martin! Yes, there's an 'M,' and
+a 'Y' and a 'J'--h'm! She said she's a friend of Mrs. Bell's, but Mrs. Bell
+has been in Europe six months. Wonder who her friends are, if she's going
+to be sick?"</p>
+
+<p>She moved toward the bed to examine her guest more closely, but her
+attention was distracted by the luxuriousness of the objects in the
+dressing case. She fingered them with awe and observed the marking. She
+stooped for the purse and watch, which she examined with equal attention.
+Once more her eyes turned to the flushed face on the tumbled pillow. The
+sleeper had not awakened. The woman leaned over and took one of the
+restless hands in hers. "It's fever, sure," she said. At the touch and
+sound of her voice the other opened her eyes, wide with sudden
+astonishment. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Martin," said the visitor, "but it's
+after twelve o'clock, and I began to get anxious--you a stranger and all. I
+think, ma'am, you've a fever. Better let me call the doctor; there's one on
+the block."</p>
+
+<p>The woman sat up in bed. "Mrs. Martin?" she said faintly. "Yes--I've--My
+head hurts--and my eyes--" She stared about her with a puzzled expression
+that convinced her observer <a name="Page_164"></a>that delirium had set
+in. "A doctor? Do I need a doctor? Why? What was it the doctor said? That
+my nerves were in--in--what was it? And I must travel and rest--yes, that
+was it; I remember now."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," the other woman commented, "he doesn't seem to have done you a
+world of good, and you better try another."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Mrs. Marteen with decision, "no, I don't want one--not now,
+anyway. It's a headache. May I have some tea? Then I'll lie quiet, if
+you'll lower that blind, please."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm sorry Mrs. Bell's away, or I'd send for her," ventured the
+landlady.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Bell?" the sick woman echoed with the same tone of puzzled
+surprise. "Why, she's away--yes--she's away." She sank back among the
+pillows and waved a dismissing hand.</p>
+
+<p>Still the landlady waited. She deemed it most unwise not to call a
+doctor, but feared to make herself responsible for the bill if her guest
+refused. But she had seen enough to convince her that the lady's visible
+possessions were ample to cover any bill she might run up through illness,
+provided, of course, it were not contagious. She turned reluctantly and
+descended to the kitchen to brew the desired tea.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, the patient sat up and looked about her with strained and
+frightened eyes. Then she <a name="Page_165"></a>began to wring her hands,
+slowly, as if such a gesture of torment was foreign to her habit. Her wide,
+clear brow knitted with puzzled fear. Her lips were distorted as one who
+would cry out and was held dumb. Presently she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I?" There was a long pause of nerve-racking effort as she
+strove to remember. "<i>Who</i> am I?" she cried hysterically. She sprang
+out of bed and ran to the mirror over the dressing table. The face that
+looked back at her was familiar, but she could not give it its name. A
+muffled scream escaped her lips, and she held her clenched fists to her
+temples as if she feared her brain would burst. "Martin!" she said at last.
+"Martin--she called me Mrs. Martin. Who is she? When did I come here?"</p>
+
+<p>She seized her dressing case and went through its contents. Each article
+was familiar; they were hers; she knew their faults and advantages. The
+letter case had a spot on the back; she turned it over and found it there.
+Letter case--the thought was an aspiration. With trembling eagerness she
+clutched at the papers in the side pocket. Yes, there were letters. She
+read the address, "Mrs. Martin Marteen"--yes, that was herself. How
+strange! She had forgotten. The address was a steamer--that seemed
+possible. There was a journey, a long journey--she vaguely recalled that.
+But why? Where? <a name="Page_166"></a>She read the notes eagerly; casual
+<i>bon voyage</i> and good wishes; letters referring to books, flowers or
+bonbons. The signatures were all familiar, but no corresponding image rose
+in her brain. The last she read gave her a distinct feeling of affection,
+of admiration, though the signature "M.G." meant nothing. She reread the
+few scrawled sentences with a longing that frightened her. Who was
+M.G.--that her bound and gagged mentality cried out for? She felt if she
+could only reach that mysterious identity all would be well. M.G. would
+bring everything right.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the idea of insanity crossed her mind. She sat down abruptly.
+The room began to sway; her head ached as if the blows of a hammer were
+descending on her brow. She clutched the iron foottrail to keep from being
+tossed from the heaving, rocking bed. The ceiling seemed to lower and crush
+her. Then an enormous hand and arm entered at the window and turned off the
+sun which was burning at the end of a gas jet in the room. All was
+dark.</p>
+
+<p>She recovered consciousness slowly, aware of immeasurable weakness. She
+lay very still, lying, as it were, within her body. She felt that should
+she require that weary body to do anything it must refuse. Through her
+half-closed lids she saw the woman who had first aroused her enter the room
+with a tray.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_167"></a>"Dear, dear!" she heard her say. "You must cover
+up. Don't lie on the outside of the bed; get under the covers."</p>
+
+<p>To Mrs. Marteen's intense inner surprise, the weary body obeyed,
+crawling feebly beneath the sheets. She had not realized that she had lain
+where she had fainted, at the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Now take some tea," the controlling will ordered; "you'll feel better;
+and a bit of dry toast. Sick headaches are awful, I know, and tea's the
+best thing."</p>
+
+<p>Once more the body obeyed, and sat up and drank the steaming cup to the
+great comfort of the inner being. So reviving was its influence that Mrs.
+Marteen decided to try her own will and speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you--" her lips spoke, and she felt elated. She made another
+effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No--no toast now--but
+is there some more tea?"</p>
+
+<p>She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images
+were forming; memories were coming back now--scraps of things. There was a
+young girl whom she loved dearly. She had brown hair, very blue eyes and a
+delicious profile. She was tall and slender. She wore a blue serge suit.
+Her name--was--was Dorothy. She spread her palms upon the sheet and felt it
+cool and refreshing.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_168"></a>"I'm afraid I've had a fever," she said slowly.
+"I think I have it still. I--I have such nightmares when I sleep--such
+nightmares." She shuddered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the landlady cheerfully, "you'll feel better now. Take it
+from me, tea's the thing." She gathered up the napkin, cup and saucer and
+placed them on the tray. "Well, I'll let you be quiet, and I'll drop in
+again about five."</p>
+
+<p>Now another memory came, a conscious thought connection. She remembered
+that Mrs. Bell had told her of her faithful landlady, Mrs. Mellen, with
+whom she always stopped when she came North; she remembered calling there
+many times for Mary, her smart motor waking the quiet, unpretentious
+street. Now she remembered recalling the boarding house and seeking shelter
+there in her fear and pain. Fear and pain--why, what was it? There was
+something cataclysmic, overpowering, that had happened. What could it be?
+Something was hanging over her head, some dreadful punishment. Her struggle
+to clear the mists from her brain rendered her more wildly feverish, then
+stupefied her to heavy sleep.</p>
+
+<p>When she awoke again it was to see the kindly fat face of Mrs. Mellen
+beaming at her from the foot of the bed.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it," she nodded approvingly; "you've had a nice nap. Head's
+better, I'm sure. Here's <a name="Page_169"></a>another cup of tea, and I
+brought you up the evening paper; thought you might want to look it over.
+And if you'll give me your trunk checks, I'll send the expressman after
+your baggage."</p>
+
+<p>"My trunk checks--what did I do with them? Why, of course, I gave them
+to my maid."</p>
+
+<p>A sudden instinct that she did not wish to see her maid, or be followed
+by her baggage, made her stop short in her speech.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, your maid!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I'm glad you told me--I'll have to
+hold a room. You didn't say anything about her last night, so I hadn't made
+any provision. Dear, dear! And when do you calculate she's liable to get
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen took refuge in her headache. "I don't know," she said
+wearily; "perhaps not to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, never mind. I dare say I can manage," Mrs. Mellen assured
+her. "If you've got everything you want, I'll have to go. Do you think
+you'll be able to get down to dinner--seven, you know; or would you rather
+have a plate of nice hot soup up here? Here, I guess. Well, it's no trouble
+at all, and you're right to starve your head; it's what I always do."</p>
+
+<p>She backed smiling out of the door, which she closed gently.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen lay back with closed eyes for a moment, then restlessness
+seizing her, she sat bolt <a name="Page_170"></a>upright and firmly held
+her own pulse. "I'm certainly ill," she said aloud. "I wonder where Marie
+is? Of course I left her at the station, and told her to bring the baggage
+on. But that was long ago; what has kept her? But this isn't my home," she
+argued to herself. She was too weak to trouble with further questioning.
+Instinctively she put out her hand and drew the newspaper toward her. She
+raised it idly.</p>
+
+<p>"Murder of Victor Mahr"--the big headlines met her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She felt a shock as if a blinding flash of lightning had enveloped her;
+she remembered.</p>
+
+<p>She sat as if turned to stone, staring at the ominous words. Her nerves
+tingled from head to foot; her very life seemed a strained and vibrating
+string that might snap with any breath. Slowly, as if the Fates had decided
+not as yet to break that attenuated thread, the tingling, stinging shock
+passed. She found strength to read the whole article, almost intelligently,
+though at times her mind would wander to inconsequent things, and the beat
+of her own heart seemed to deaden her understanding. She remembered now
+everything, nearly everything, till she turned from her own door, a
+desperate, homeless outcast. She recalled a cab going somewhere, and then
+after what appeared to be an interval of unconsciousness, she was walking,
+walking, instinctively seeking the <a name="Page_171"></a>darkened streets,
+a satchel in her hand. Somewhere, footsore and exhausted, she had sat upon
+a bench. Then came the inspiration to go to the quiet house where her
+friend had stayed. The friend was far away; she could remain there and not
+be found--stay until she had courage to do the thing that had suggested
+itself as the only issue--to end it all.</p>
+
+<p>But who had killed Victor Mahr? She gave a gasp of horror and held up
+her hands--was there blood upon them? But how--how? Try as she would, no
+answering picture of horror rose from her darkened mind. There was a long,
+long period she could not account for--not yet; perhaps it would come back,
+as these other terrible memories had returned to assail her. She rolled
+over, hiding her face in the pillow, and groaned. The twilight deepened;
+the shadows thickened in the room.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she rose and began dressing in frenzied haste, overcoming her
+bodily weakness with set purpose. Habit came to her rescue, for she was
+hardly conscious of her movements. Her toilet completed, she began hastily
+packing her traveling case, the impulse of flight urging her to trembling
+speed. But when she lifted the bag its weight discouraged her. Setting it
+down again upon the dressing table, she lowered her veil and staggered into
+the dark hallway. Economy dictated <a name="Page_172"></a>delayed
+illumination in the Mellen household. All was quiet. Somewhat reassured,
+she descended the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail. The fever which had
+relaxed for a brief interval renewed its grip, and filled with vague,
+indescribable fears, she fled blindly. Something in her subconscious brain
+suggested Victor Mahr, and it was toward Washington Square that she bent
+her hurried steps.</p>
+
+<p>She entered the park, forcing her failing strength to one supreme
+effort, and sank, gasping, upon a bench. It faced toward the darkened
+residence of the murdered man. A few stragglers stood grouped on the
+pavement before the house, of asked questions of the policeman stationed
+near by. The electric lights threw lace patterns that wavered over the
+unfrequented paths. She leaned back, staring at the dark bulk of the
+mansion with the darker streak at the doorway, which one divined to be the
+sinister mark of death. Suddenly she sat erect, her aching weariness
+forgotten. She knew, past peradventure, that <i>she had sat there upon that
+very seat the night before</i>. The memory was but a flash. Already
+delirium was returning. She was powerless to move. Hours passed, and still
+she sat staring, unseeing, straight before her. Once a policeman passed and
+turned to look at her, but her evident refinement quieted his suspicions,
+and he moved on.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_173"></a>She was roused at last by a movement of the bench
+as someone took a place beside her. She looked up and vaguely realized that
+it was a woman, darkly dressed and heavily veiled like herself. She, too,
+leaned back and seemed lost in contemplation of the house opposite.
+Presently she raised the veil, as if it obstructed her vision too greatly,
+revealing a withered face, narrow and long, with a singularly white skin.
+She had the look of a respectable working woman, and her black-gloved hands
+were folded over a neat paper package. Her curious glance turned toward the
+lady beside her, and seemed to find satisfaction in the elegance that even
+the darkness could not quite conceal. She moved nearer, and with a birdlike
+twist of the head, leaned forward and frankly gazed in her companion's
+face. The other did not resent the action.</p>
+
+<p>The woman slowly nodded her head. "Don't know what she's doin', not she.
+She's one of the silly kind." She put out a hand like a claw, and touched
+Mrs. Marteen's shoulder. Mrs. Marteen turned her flushed and troubled face
+toward the woman with something akin to intelligence in her eyes. "What are
+you settin' here fur, lady?" asked the woman harshly. "Watchin' his house?
+Well, it's no use; he won't come out again for you or your likes--never
+again, never again," and she chuckled.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_174"></a>"I was here last night. I sat here last night,"
+said Mrs. Marteen, her mind reverting to its last conscious moment.</p>
+
+<p>The woman peered at her closely, striving to see through the meshes of
+the veil where the electric light touched her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"You did? What fur? Was he comin' out to ye, or did ye want to be let
+inside?"</p>
+
+<p>The insult was lost on the sufferer.</p>
+
+<p>The woman shifted her position, and changed her tone to one of cunning
+ingratiation.</p>
+
+<p>"Goin' to the funeral?" she inquired, and without waiting for an answer,
+continued to talk. "I am. I won't be asked, of course--they don't know I'm
+here; but I'm goin'. I wouldn't miss it--no, not for--nothing. I ought to
+have some crape, I know, but I don't see's I can. It would be the right
+thing, though. I'll ride in a carriage," she boasted. "I suppose they'll
+have black horses. I haven't seen anything back where I come from, so's I'd
+know just what <i>is</i> the fashionable thing. It'll be a fashionable
+funeral, won't it? He's a great big man, he is. Everybody knows him--and
+everybody <i>don't</i> know him; but I do--he's a devil I And women love
+him, always did love him, the fools! Why, <i>I</i> used to love him. You
+wouldn't think that now, would you? Well, I did." She laughed a broken
+cackle, and seemed surprised that her <a name="Page_175"></a>listener
+remained mute. "Did you love him?" demanded the crone sneeringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Love him--love him?" exclaimed Mrs. Marteen, her emotions responding
+where her mind was unreceptive. "I hated him--I hated him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you hated him. How could a lady help hating him?" murmured
+the questioner. "But would <i>you</i> have the courage to kill him--that's
+what I want to know!"</p>
+
+<p>Under the inquisition Mrs. Marteen half roused to consciousness. She was
+in the semi-lucid state of a sleepwalker.</p>
+
+<p>"Kill him!" She held up her hands and looked at them as she had done
+after reading the account of the murder. "I'm not sure I didn't kill him;
+perhaps I did--I can't remember--I can't remember," she moaned more and
+more faintly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you take the credit of <i>that</i>!" shouted the woman, so loudly
+that a young man who had been aimlessly walking up and down as if intent
+upon some rendezvous, stopped short to gaze at them keenly.</p>
+
+<p>The older woman, with a movement so rapid that it seemed almost
+prestidigitation, lifted and threw back her companion's veil. The young man
+gave a start and approached hastily, amazement in every feature. But the
+two women were <a name="Page_176"></a>unaware of his presence, and what he
+next heard made him pause, turn, and by a slight detour come up close
+behind the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"Keep your hands off. Don't you say you killed him. What right have
+<i>you</i> to take his life, I'd like to know! Don't let me hear you say
+that again--don't you dare! Just remember that killing him is <i>my</i>
+business. You sha'n't try to rob me--it's my right!" She leaned forward
+threateningly.</p>
+
+<p>A hand closed over her wrist. The woman screamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Hold on, Mother, none of that." The young man, still retaining his
+hold, came from behind the seat and stood over her.</p>
+
+<p>She began to whimper and tremble. "Don't hit me," she begged pitifully.
+"Don't hit me, and I'll be good, indeed, I will."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen had taken no notice of her providential protector. Her head
+was sunk upon her breast and her hands hung limp in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>The young man whistled twice, never relaxing his hold. A moment later a
+form detached itself from the group before the door of the house opposite,
+crossed the street and joined them quickly, yet with no impression of
+hurry.</p>
+
+<p>"What's up?" the newcomer asked quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"Here, take hold. Don't let her get away from you." With a glance round,
+he took a <a name="Page_177"></a>hypodermic needle from hi» pocket, and a
+quick prick in the wrist instantly quieted the struggling, captive. "Get a
+cab," he ordered, "and bring her over to my rooms. The utmost
+importance--not a sound to anybody. I've got my job cut out for me--no
+police in this, mind."</p>
+
+<p>He turned, his manner all gentleness. "Mrs. Marteen--Mrs. Marteen," he
+repeated. She raised her head slightly. "Will you come with me? My name is
+Brencherly, and Mr. Gard sent me for you. Come."</p>
+
+<p>She rose obediently. The name he had spoken seemed to inspire
+confidence, trust and peace, like a word of power; but her limbs refused to
+move, and she sank back again. Brencherly took her unresisting hand in his,
+felt her pulse and shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Long!" he called. "Get a cab. I'll take Mrs. Marteen; stop somewhere
+and send a taxi back for you; it might look queer to see two of us with
+unconscious patients."</p>
+
+<p>When his subordinate turned to go, Brencherly leaned toward the drugged
+woman, took the bundle from her listless hands and rapidly examined its
+contents. A coarse nightdress, a black waist and a worn and ragged empty
+wallet rewarded his search. He tied them up again, put the package in its
+place and turned once more to Mrs. Marteen. "She's a mighty sick woman," <a
+name="Page_178"></a>he murmured. "Well, it's home for hers, and then me for
+the old man."</p>
+
+<p>A taxi drove up, and his assistant descended. With his help Brencherly
+half supported, half carried his charge to the curb.</p>
+
+<p>Directing the chauffeur to stop at a nearby hotel before proceeding to
+Mrs. Marteen's apartment, he climbed in beside the patient, and as the
+machine gathered headway, murmured a fervent "Thank God!"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen lay back upon the cushioned seat inert and passive. In the
+flash of each passing street-light her face showed waxen pale, a cameo
+against the dark background; so drawn and pinched were her features, that
+Brencherly, in panic, seized her pulse, in order to assure himself that
+life had not already fled. Obedient to his orders the cab ran up to an
+hotel entrance, and Brencherly, leaning out, called the starter.</p>
+
+<p>"Here!" he snapped, "send a taxi over to the park--the bench opposite
+No. --, and pick up a man with an old lady. She's unconscious."</p>
+
+<p>For an instant the light glinted on his metal badge as he threw back his
+coat. The starter nodded. Brencherly settled back again in his place with a
+sigh of relief. It was only a matter of moments now, and he would have
+brought to an unexpectedly successful close the task he had <a
+name="Page_179"></a>set himself. He began to build air castles; to
+construct for himself a little niche in his own selected temple of Fame. He
+was aroused from his revery by a voice at his side. Mrs. Marteen was
+speaking, at first indistinctly, then with insistent repetition.</p>
+
+<p>"I can't remember--I can't remember."</p>
+
+<p>He turned to her with gentle questioning, but she did not heed him.
+Slowly, with infinite effort, as if her slender hands were weighted down,
+she lifted them before her face. She stared at them with growing horror
+depicted on her face. He was suddenly reminded of an electrifying
+performance of Macbeth he had once witnessed. A red glare from a ruby lamp
+at a fire-street corner splashed her frail fingers with vivid color as they
+passed it by. She gave a scream that ended in a moan, and mechanically
+wiped her hands back and forth, back and forth, upon her coat. Brencherly's
+heart ached for her. Over and over he repeated reassuring words in her
+deafened ears, striving to lay the awful ghost that had fastened like a
+vampire on her heart. But to no avail. She was as beyond his reach as if
+she were a creature of another planet. Never in his active, efficient life
+had he felt so helpless. It was with thanksgiving that at last he saw the
+ornate entrance of Mrs. Marteen's home.</p>
+
+<p>"Watch her!" he ordered the chauffeur, as he <a
+name="Page_180"></a>leaped up the steps and into the vestibule to prepare
+for her reception.</p>
+
+<p>A message to her apartment brought the maid and butler in haste. With
+many exclamations of alarm and sympathy they bore her to her own room once
+more, and laid her upon the bed. She lay limp and still, while they hurried
+about her with restoratives.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly was at the telephone. Almost at once, in answer to his ring,
+Doctor Balys' voice sounded over the wire in hasty congratulations and
+promises of immediate assistance. Hanging up the receiver, he turned again
+to his patient.</p>
+
+<p>Through the silent apartment the sound of the doorbell buzzed with
+sudden shock. The butler stood as if transfixed.</p>
+
+<p>"It's Miss Dorothy!" he exclaimed in consternation. "She went out to
+walk a little, with young Mr. Mahr. She was nervous and couldn't rest, and
+telephoned for him to come--in spite of--in spite of--" He hesitated.
+"Anyway, Mr. Mahr--young Mr. Mahr--came for her, sir. Mr.--Mr.--I think
+you'd better break it to her, sir. She mustn't see her mother like
+this--without warning!"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly ran down the hall, the servant preceding him. As the door
+swung wide, Dorothy, followed by Teddy Mahr, entered the hallway. She
+stopped suddenly, face to face with a stranger.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_181"></a>"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked,
+sudden fear and suspicion in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly explained quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Gard employed me, Miss Marteen, to find your mother, if
+possible--and--she is here. Don't be alarmed."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy sank into a chair, weak with relief. Teddy put forth his hand to
+help her. Instinctively she remained clasping his arm as if his presence
+gave her strength.</p>
+
+<p>"And she's all right--she isn't hurt--or--or anything?" she implored
+breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"She's very ill, I'm afraid," said Brencherly. "I think you--had better
+not go to her till the doctor comes. I've sent for him."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! but I must--I must!" she cried, tears in her voice.</p>
+
+<p>In the rush of happenings no one had thought of Mrs. Mellows. Hers was
+not a personality to commend itself in moments of stress. Now she suddenly
+appeared, her eyes swollen with sleep, her ample form swathed in a dressing
+gown.</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter?" she complained. "I told you, Dorothy, that
+I thought it very bad form, indeed, for you and Mr. Mahr to go out. In
+bereavements, such as yours, sir, it's not the proper thing for you to be
+making exhibitions of yourself. Like as not the reporters have been taking
+pictures. And at any time they may find out that my poor <a
+name="Page_182"></a>dear sister is ill and wandering. I don't know
+<i>what</i> to say! The papers will be full of it. And you!" she exclaimed,
+having for the first time become aware of the detective's presence. "Who
+are you. How did you get in? I hope and pray you're not a
+reporter!--Dorothy, don't tell me you've brought a reporter in here--or I
+shall leave this house at once!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Aunt, no!" cried Dorothy. "This--this gentleman, has brought my
+mother home. She's in her room now--she's--"</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Mellows turned and made a rush down the corridor. Four pairs of
+hands stayed her in her flight.</p>
+
+<p>"No--no!" begged Dorothy. "This gentleman says she is very ill. We
+mustn't disturb her--Aunt--please--the doctor is coming."</p>
+
+<p>As if the name had conjured him, a ring announced Doctor Balys' arrival.
+He entered hastily, his emergency bag in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Brencherly, come with me, please," he ordered. "You can tell me the
+details as I work. Miss Marteen and Mrs. Mellows, wait for me, and I'll
+come and tell you the facts just as soon as I know them myself." He nodded
+unceremoniously and followed Brencherly.</p>
+
+<p>As they neared Mrs. Marteen's room the silence was suddenly broken by a
+cry. Balys strode past his guide and threw open the door.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_183"></a>Mrs. Marteen, sitting erect in the bed, held out
+rigid arms as if in desperate appeal. The terrified maid stood by, wringing
+her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"Gard!" she called. "Marcus Gard! help me! Tell me--I'll believe
+you--I'll believe you--will you tell me the truth!" Her strength left her
+suddenly, and as the physician placed a supporting arm about her, she sank
+back, her eyes closed wearily. As he laid her gently back upon the pillows,
+she sighed softly, her heavy lids unclosed a moment. "I knew you'd come,"
+she murmured. "You'll take care of--of Dorothy--you will--" Her voice
+trailed off into nothingness; then "Marcus"--she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>The two men turned away. Brencherly coughed. "Is there any hope?" he
+asked, breaking the tense silence that seemed suddenly to have entered the
+room like an actual presence.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor nodded without speaking. "Yes--hope," he said at length, as
+he opened his leather satchel.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_184"></a><h2><a name='XIII'></a>XIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>It was well into the small hours of the morning when Brencherly sought
+his own rooms in an inconspicuous apartment hotel, where he, his activities
+and, at times, strange companions, were not only tolerated, but welcomed.
+He was weary, but too excited and elated to desire sleep. He nodded to the
+friendly night clerk, and received a favorable response to his request,
+even at that unwholesome hour, for coffee and scrambled eggs to be served
+in his rooms.</p>
+
+<p>He found Long, his assistant, slumbering sonorously in an armchair in
+the living-room of his modest suite. The open door to the chamber beyond,
+sufficiently indicated where his charge had been placed.</p>
+
+<p>Long awoke, and stretched himself with a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>"Three o'clock," he observed, with a glance at the mantel clock. "Made a
+good haul, hey? Well, your kidnapped beauty is in there, dead to the world.
+I tied her feet together before I went to sleep. You can't tell when
+they're going to come to, you know, and I thought it would be safer. Now,
+tell a feller, what's the dope?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_185"></a>Brencherly entered the adjoining apartment
+without deigning an answer, switched on the lights and approached the bed.
+The wizen little woman, with her disheveled white hair and tumbled garments
+looked pitifully weak and helpless; her thin, claw-like hands clutching at
+the pillow in a childish pose. Her captor stared at her intently, his brain
+crowded with strange thoughts. Who was she? What was her history? He had
+his suspicions, but they all remained to be verified.</p>
+
+<p>He took one of the emaciated wrists in his hand. How frail and small it
+was, and yet, perhaps, an instrument in the hands of Fate. She moved
+uneasily, and, glancing down, he noticed how securely she was bound.
+Leaning over, he loosened the curtain cord with which she had been secured.
+She sighed as if relieved, and, turning, he left her, as a discreet tapping
+at his door announced the coming of the meal he had ordered.</p>
+
+<p>A night watchman in shirt sleeves brought in the tray softly and set it
+upon the table, with a glance of curiosity at the adjoining room. There was
+usually an interesting story to be gleaned from the guests that the
+detective brought.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on," said the host eagerly, "fall on it, I'm starved."</p>
+
+<p>"Anything I can do?" inquired the night watchman hopefully.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_186"></a>But Brencherly was still uncommunicative. "Nope,
+thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Good-night--or good-morning. Tell 'em down stairs I'm much
+obliged, as usual."</p>
+
+<p>The two men ate heartily and in silence. It was not till the plates were
+scraped that either spoke. With the last sip of the soothing beverage
+Brencherly closed his eyes peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>"Old man," he said, "this night's work is the best luck I've ever had.
+Now, tell me, did the lady say anything at any time? or did she remain as
+she is?"</p>
+
+<p>"She didn't say much. Grumbled a little at being moved around; in fact,
+I thought she was coming out of it for a minute when we first got her in
+here. Then she straightened out for another lap of sleep. Here's her
+kit."</p>
+
+<p>He rose as he spoke, and took from the mantel the package she had clung
+to during all her enforced journey. He untied the parcel, and both men bent
+over its meager contents. Though Brencherly had seen them under the
+wavering arc lights of Washington Square, he now gave each article the
+closest scrutiny. Nothing offered any clew, except the wallet. That, worn
+as it was, showed its costly texture, and the marks of careful mountings.
+It was unmistakably a man's wallet, <a name="Page_187"></a>and its
+flexibility denoted constant use. Brencherly set it on one side.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything else?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The other nodded. He had the most important find in reserve.</p>
+
+<p>"These," he said, and drew from his pocket a bunch of newspaper
+clippings. He laid each one on the table. "Now, <i>what</i> do you think of
+<i>that</i>?" His lean, cadaverous face took on a look of satisfied
+cunning. If his colleague had not chosen to take him into his confidence,
+he could show him that he was quite capable of drawing his own inferences
+and making his own conclusions. He sat back and nonchalantly lit a
+cigarette.</p>
+
+<p>There were at least twenty cuttings, of all sizes, from a half page from
+a Sunday supplement to a couple of lines from a financial column. But all
+bore the name of Victor Mahr more or less conspicuously displayed. Two
+scraps showed conclusively that they had been cherished and handled more
+than all the others. One was a sketch of the millionaire's country estate;
+the other, a reproduction from a photograph of his old-fashioned and
+imposing city residence.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm!" said Brencherly. "It's pretty clear that she had a reason for
+occupying that park bench, hey? And she certainly has patronized <a
+name="Page_188"></a>the news bureau, or been a patient collector herself.
+See that?" He pushed forward the largest of the clippings. "That's three
+years old. I remember when that came out. It was after Teddy's sensational
+playing at the Yale-Harvard game. They had the limelight well turned on
+then, you remember. And that"--he smoothed another slip--"that announcement
+of his purchase of 'Allanbrae' is at least five years old. She's been
+treasuring all this for a long time. Where did you find them?"</p>
+
+<p>"When I put her on the bed," Long replied, "her collar seemed to be
+choking her, so I loosened it, and a button or two. There was a pink string
+around her throat and a little old chamois bag--like you might put a
+turnip-watch in. I took it in here and found--that stuff--what do you
+think?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think that we're getting near the answer to something we all want to
+know," said Brencherly. "But it means a lot to a lot of people to keep the
+police off--for the present. I want to be sure."</p>
+
+<p>"How do you suppose she got in?" said Long, insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know yet--but we'll find that out. Meantime, don't use the
+telephone for anything you have to say to anybody. And the other woman, let
+me tell you, has nothing to do with this case. I'll tell you now, before
+your curiosity <a name="Page_189"></a>makes you make a fool of
+yourself--she's been hunted for high and low, because she's had
+aphasia--forgets who she is, and all that, every once in a while, and her
+people have been offering a reward. Just happened to make a double haul,
+that's all. But you don't get in on the first one. Now are you satisfied?"
+Brencherly looked at his companion quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>Long grunted. He was rather annoyed at having the occurrence so simply
+explained.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well," he yawned, "you're on this case, and I'm only your lobbygow;
+so I suppose I've got to let it go at that. But, say, I'm tired. Let's turn
+in, or, if you don't want me in your joint, I'll go down stairs and get
+them to bunk me somewhere in the dump." He rose. "I suppose they'll fix me
+up?"</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly went to the telephone and spoke for a moment. "All right," he
+said; "they'll give you number seventy-three on this floor. I want you to
+do something for me to-morrow, so set the bellboy for eight o'clock, will
+you?" A moment later he turned his assistant over to the hotel roundsman,
+and turned to his own well earned rest. Making a neat packet of the
+clippings, he stowed them away once more in their worn receptacle--he
+hesitated, then nodded to himself, having decided to replace them. He must
+gain this woman's confidence. She must not be made suspicious. <a
+name="Page_190"></a>Above all, her anger must not be roused. She might
+become stubborn and uncommunicative. He stepped into the adjoining room and
+turned on the electrics. The quick flash of the light made him shut his
+eyes. When he opened them he gave a cry of dismay. The tumbled bed was
+empty--the window stood wide open. It flashed into his mind, that as he had
+talked with Long over the incriminating bits of paper, he had felt a draft
+of air; but his knowledge that his captive was securely tied had eliminated
+from his mind any idea of the possibility of an attempt at escape. Then,
+cursing himself, he recalled how he had loosened the cords about her
+ankles. With a bound he was at the window, looking down at the spidery
+threads of fire escape ladders, leading down to the utter dark of the
+service alley.</p>
+
+<p>"My God!" he exclaimed aloud. "My God!" He feared to find a crushed and
+broken little body at the foot of those steep iron ladders. It seemed
+impossible for such a frail and aged woman to have, unaided, made her way
+down the sides of that inky precipice. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed again, "if
+only she isn't killed!" He stood looking out, leaning as far over the iron
+railing as he dared, waiting till his eyes should become accustomed to the
+darkness. Gradually the details of the structure became clear to his
+vision. No ominous dark mass took shape on <a name="Page_191"></a>the
+pavement, far beneath. He could vaguely make out the contours of an ash can
+or two and an abandoned wheelbarrow. But the alley from end to end held no
+human form. She had succeeded in making her escape! Then at all costs he
+must find her; and the police must not get hold of her. The evidence of the
+clippings, her angry words as she prepared to attack Mrs. Marteen--all
+outlined a possible solution to the tragedy in Washington Square.</p>
+
+<p>He hesitated a moment. His first impulse was to descend the fire escapes
+in turn and look below for further trace of her going. But he realized that
+he could reach the alley quicker by going through the house. He cursed
+himself for a careless fool. How could he have allowed this to happen!</p>
+
+<p>He turned quickly, intent on losing no further moments, when he was
+frozen into immobility by a sound, the most curiously unexpected of all
+sounds--a laugh, a faint treble chuckle! It seemed to come from the outer
+air, from nowhere, to hang suspended in the damp air of the shaft. It was
+eerie, ghostly. Was the spirit of the dead man laughing at his folly? The
+detective stepped back on the grating, flattening himself against the outer
+sill of his window. Again the chuckler--now an unmistakable laugh floated
+to his ears. With a smothered exclamation he stepped forward <a
+name="Page_192"></a>again, and looked upward. There, against the
+violet-gray of the star-sprinkled sky, bulked a crouching shape, cuddled on
+the landing above.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly held his breath. It seemed that the woman must fall from her
+perch, so insecure it seemed. He controlled himself, thinking rapidly. Then
+he laughed in return.</p>
+
+<p>"That <i>was</i> a good joke you played on me," he said. "How did you
+ever think of it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," came the answer, punctuated by smothered peals of laughter.
+"That's the way I got away from the Sanatorium. I just went up instead of
+down, and stayed there, till they'd hunted all the place over. Then when I
+saw where they weren't, I just went down and walked out."</p>
+
+<p>"That was clever," he exclaimed. "But you can't be comfortable up there.
+Won't you come down, and I'll get something for you to eat. You must be
+hungry, and cold, too."</p>
+
+<p>"No," came the response. "I sort of like it here. It reminds me of the
+way I fooled them all back there; and they thinking themselves that sharp,
+too. It's sort of nice, too, looking at the stars--sort of feels like a
+bird in a nest, don't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hope to goodness, she don't take it into her head she can fly,"
+thought Brencherly. Aloud he said: "Say, do you mind if I come up there and
+sit with you a while? I'm sort of lonesome here <a
+name="Page_193"></a>myself." He had already moved silently forward, and was
+slowly mounting the iron ladder--very slowly, a rung at a time, talking all
+the while in a cordial, friendly voice. He feared she might take fright and
+precipitate herself to the stones below. But her mood was otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind," she said. "I don't seem to know just how I got here, and
+perhaps you can tell me. I just woke up and found myself sleepin' on
+somebody's bed. I thought at first that I was back in the ward, when I
+found my feet was tied up. Then when I got loose and had time to feel
+around, I saw 'twas some strange place. Then the fire escapes sort of
+looked nice and cool, so I came out."</p>
+
+<p>By this time her visitor had climbed beside her and had seated himself
+on the landing in such fashion that no move of hers could dislodge either
+of the strange couple. He noted with relief that they were outside of a
+door instead of a window, as was the case on all the floors below. The
+drying roof of the hotel only was above them. He did not wish this
+extraordinary interview to be interrupted. His airy nest-mate seemed
+amenable to conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well!" he resumed, "so <i>that</i> was the way you worked it.
+Wouldn't that make the doctor mad, though--what was the old duffer's name,
+anyway? You did tell me, but I've got <a name="Page_194"></a>such a poor
+memory--now, yours is good, I'll bet a hat."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "'tain't what it used to be, but I'll never forget old
+Malbey's name as long as I live, nor what he looks like, either. He looks
+like a potato with sprouts for eyes."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly laughed. He had a very clear, if unflattering, picture of the
+learned physician.</p>
+
+<p>"But, say," she cried suddenly, "you're not trying to get me, are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>I'm</i> no friend of the doctor's," he said easily. "Why, I
+brought you up here to hide you away safely. That was one of my rooms you
+woke up in. You see, I found you on a bench in the park out there, and you
+went to sleep so suddenly right while I was talking to you, that I thought
+you must be tired out."</p>
+
+<p>She leaned forward, peering at him through the dusk. Her white pinched
+face looked skull-like in the faint light.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she said slowly, "seems to me that I remember some woman saying
+she killed Victor Mahr, and me getting angry about it--and then I don't
+seem to know just <i>what</i> happened. Well, young man, I'm much obliged
+to you, I'm sure. 'Tain't often an old woman like me gets so well taken
+care of."</p>
+
+<p>"But why," he questioned softly, "were you so annoyed with the other
+lady? She had just as <a name="Page_195"></a>much right as you had, I
+suppose, to kill the gentleman?"</p>
+
+<p>"She had not!" she shrilled. "She had not!" Then lowering her voice to a
+whisper, she murmured confidentially: "<i>My</i> name ain't Welles!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mrs. Welles," he exclaimed, "how can you say so? If you aren't
+Mrs. Welles, who are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just as if you didn't know!" she retorted scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, perhaps," he admitted. "But never mind that now. Do you know that
+you lost your bag of clippings?"</p>
+
+<p>Her hand flew to her breast. "Now, gracious me! How could I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't worry about them," he soothed. "I've got them all in my room.
+You shall have them again. Don't you want to come down and get them?" He
+was cramped and chilled to the bone; moreover, the stars had paled, and a
+misty fog of floating, impalpable crystal was slowly crossing the oblong of
+sky left visible by the edifices on both sides of the alley. He waited
+anxiously for her to reply, but she seemed lost in thought. He looked at
+her closely. She was asleep, her head resting against the blistered
+paneling of the door. He shifted his position slightly, and gazed at the
+coming of the dawn. Gradually the crystal white gave place to faintest
+violet, then flushed to <a name="Page_196"></a>rose color. The details of
+the coping above them became sharply distinct. Below them the canyon was
+full of blue shadow, but already the depths were becoming translucent. He
+looked at his strange companion. Should he wake her, he wondered. Softly he
+tried the door. It was locked from within. If he allowed her to slumber in
+peace, she might, on awakening, be terrified at the visible depths below.
+Now, all was vague in the blue canyon.</p>
+
+<p>Very gently he pressed her hand and called her. "Mrs. Welles."</p>
+
+<p>She awoke with such a violent start that for an agonized instant he felt
+his hold slipping. He held her firmly, however, and steadied her with voice
+and hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go indoors," he said quite casually. "You see if we sit here much
+longer, it's growing light, and people will see us. Then it won't be easy
+for me to keep you hidden. Now, if you'll just turn about and let me go
+first, I'll get you down quite easily and nobody the wiser for our
+outing."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him for a moment as if puzzled, then her brow cleared.
+"Very well, young man," she said. "I must have had a nap. Now, how do you
+want me to turn?"</p>
+
+<p>He showed her, and with his arms on the outside of the ladder, her body
+next the rungs--as <a name="Page_197"></a>he had often seen the firemen
+make their rescues, he slowly steadied her to the landing below and
+assisted her in at the window.</p>
+
+<p>With a sigh of relief he closed the window behind them and drew down the
+blinds.</p>
+
+<p>"Now! that's all right, Mrs. Mahr. You're quite safe."</p>
+
+<p>She turned on him her beady eyes and laughed her shrill chuckle. "There,
+didn't I tell you, you knew all the time? I guess you'll own up that it's
+the wife who's got the right to kill a husband, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure," he said. "I'll see that nobody else gets the credit, believe
+me!"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_198"></a><h2><a name='XIV'></a>XIV</h2>
+
+
+<p>With Dorothy clinging to his hand, Marcus Gard watched the door of Mrs.
+Marteen's library with an ever-growing anxiety. Only the presence of the
+child, who clasped his hand in such fear and grief, kept him from giving
+way. The long reign of terror that had dragged his heart and mind to the
+very edge of martyrdom had worn thin his already exhausted nerves, and
+now--now that the lost was found again, it was to learn by what a slender
+thread of life they held her with them.</p>
+
+<p>Every moment he could spare from the demands of his responsibilities was
+spent in close companionship with Dorothy in the house where only the sound
+of soft-footed nurses, the clink of a spoon in a medicine glass or the
+tread of the doctor mounting the stairs broke the waiting silence. For many
+days she had not known them. Now came intervals of consciousness and
+coherence, but weakness so great that the two anxious watchers, unused to
+illness, were appalled by the change it wrought. Now for the twentieth time
+they sat longing for and yet fearing the moment <a name="Page_199"></a>when
+Dr. Balys, with his friendly eyes and grim mouth, would enter to them with
+the tale of his last visit and his hopes or fears for the next.</p>
+
+<p>The lamps were lighted, the shades drawn; the fire crackled quietly on
+the hearth. The room was filled with the familiar perfume of violets, for
+Dorothy, true to her mother's custom, kept every vase filled with them.</p>
+
+<p>Silently Gard patted the little cold hand in his, as the sound of
+approaching footsteps warned them of the doctor's coming. In silence they
+saw the door open, and welcomed with a throb of relief the smile on the
+physician's face.</p>
+
+<p>"A great, a very great improvement," he said quickly, in answer to
+Dorothy's supplicating eyes. "Quite wonderful. She is a woman of such
+extraordinary character that, once conscious, we can count on her own great
+will to save the day for us--and to-morrow you shall both see her.
+To-night, little girl, you may go in and kiss her, very quietly--not a
+word, you know. Just a kiss and go."</p>
+
+<p>"Now?" whispered Dorothy, as if she were already in the sick room. "May
+I go now?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. No tears, you know, and no huggings--just one little kiss--and
+then come back here."</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy flew from the room, light and soundless as blown thistledown.
+The doctor turned to his friend.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_200"></a>"There is something troubling her," he said
+gravely, "something that is eating at her heart. Ordinarily I wouldn't
+consent to anyone seeing her so soon; but she called for you in her
+delirium; and now that she is conscious, she whispers that she must consult
+you. Perhaps you can relieve her trouble, whatever it is. I'm going to
+chance it; after Dorothy has seen her, you may. I don't know exactly what
+to say, but--well, answer the question in her eyes, if you can--but only a
+moment--only give her relief. She must have no excitement."</p>
+
+<p>Gard nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I know," he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor nodded in understanding, as the girl appeared, her face drawn
+by emotion.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, poor mother!" she gasped. "She seemed--so--I don't know
+why--grateful--to me--thanked me for coming to her--<i>thanked</i> me, Dr.
+Balys, as if I wasn't longing every minute to be with her! She is not quite
+over her delirium yet, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>Balys smiled. "Of course she is grateful to see you. Your mother has
+been very close to the Great Divide, and she, more than any of us, realizes
+it. Now," he said, turning to Gard, "go in and make your little speech;
+and, mind you, say your word and go. No conversation with my patient."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_201"></a>Gard stood up, excitement gripping him. He was to
+see her eyes again, open and understanding. He was to hear her voice in
+coherent tones once more! The realization of this wonder thrilled him. He
+went to her presence as some saint of old went to the altar, where, in a
+dream, the vision of miracle had been promised him. All the pain and
+torture of the past seemed nothing in the light of this one thing--that she
+was herself again, to meet him hand to hand and eye to eye. He entered the
+quiet room and crossed its dimly lighted spaciousness to the bed. The nurse
+rose tactfully and busied herself among the bottles on the distant
+dresser.</p>
+
+<p>At last, after the ordeal that they had gone through, in the lonely,
+hollow torture chamber of the heart, they met, and knew. With a sigh of
+understanding, she moved her waxen fingers, and, comprehending her gesture,
+he took her hand and held it, striving to impart to her weakness something
+of his own vigor. For a moment they remained thus. Then into her eyes,
+where at first great repose had shone, there came a gleam of questioning.
+He leaned close above her to catch her whispered words.</p>
+
+<p>"She doesn't know?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," he answered. "Dorothy came to me with his letter. I got everything
+from the safe, <a name="Page_202"></a>and I sent her away so no further
+messages might reach her. Now do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>Again he took her hand in his and strove to give it life, as a
+transfusion of blood is given through the veins.</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for a moment. Then her white lips framed a
+request.</p>
+
+<p>"Bring them--all the things from the inner safe--bring them to-morrow to
+me." Her eyes turned toward the fire that glowed on the hearth.</p>
+
+<p>He comprehended her intention.</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow," he murmured, and, turning, softly left the room. With a few
+words to Dorothy he hurried from the house.</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively he turned to seek the sanctuary of his library, but paused
+ere he gave the order to his chauffeur. No, before he could call the day
+complete, there was something else to do. He gave the address of the house
+on Washington Square. The mansion, as the limousine drew up before it,
+looked dark, almost deserted. He mounted the steps slowly, his mind crowded
+with memories--with what burning hatred in his heart he had come to face
+the owner of that house, to disarm Victor Mahr of his revengeful power.
+With what primeval elation he had stood upon that topmost step and drawn
+long breaths of satisfaction at the thought of the encounter <a
+name="Page_203"></a>in which, with his own hands he had laid his enemy low!
+Its thrill came to him anew. Again he recalled the hurried purposeful visit
+that had ended with his finding the enemy passed forever beyond his reach.
+Vividly he saw before him the silent room--soft lighted, remotely quiet;
+the waxen hand of a man contrasting with the scarlet damask of a huge
+winged chair, that hid the face of its owner. And more distinct than all
+else, staring from the surrounding darkness of the walls, the glorious,
+palpitating semblance of a warrior of long ago. The strangely living lips,
+the dusky hollows where thoughtful eyes gleamed darkling. The glint of
+armor half covered by velvet and fur. A gloved hand that seemed to caress a
+sword hilt, that caught one crashing ruby light upon its pommel--the
+matchless Heim Vandyke--the silent, attentive watcher who had seen his
+sacking of the dead; who seemed, with those deep eyes of understanding, to
+realize and know it all--the futile clash of human wills, the little day of
+love and hate, the infinite mercy, and the inexorable law.</p>
+
+<p>Gard paused, his hand upon the bell. Now at last he could enter this
+house, and wish it peace. His errand, even the all-comprehending eyes of
+the dead and gone warrior could look upon without their half-cynic
+sadness.</p>
+
+<p>As he entered the great silent hall, where the <a
+name="Page_204"></a>footfalls of the servant were hushed, as if overawed by
+tragedy, he seemed to leave behind him, as distinctly as he discarded the
+garment he gave into the lackey's hands, the bitterness of the past. He was
+ushered into a small and elaborate waiting room to the right. And a moment
+later Teddy Mahr entered to him, with extended hands.</p>
+
+<p>The boy had aged. His face was white and drawn, but the eyes that looked
+into Gard's face were courageous and clear.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you for coming," he said frankly. "Shall we sit here, or--in
+Father's room?" His mouth twitched slightly. "It really must be part of the
+house, you know. It was his workshop--and I want it to be mine in the
+future. I haven't been in there since, and, somehow, if you don't mind,
+sir, I'd like you to come with me--to be with me, when I first go
+back."</p>
+
+<p>Gard nodded and smiled rather grimly. "Yes, boy--I'd like to myself. I
+would have asked it of you, but I feared to awaken memories that were too
+painful for you. Let us go in. What I have to talk over with you concerns
+him, too."</p>
+
+<p>They crossed the hall, and Teddy unlocked the heavy door and paused to
+find the switch. The anteroom sprung into light. In silence they crossed
+the intervening space to the inner door, which was in turn unlocked.</p>
+
+<p>As the soft lights were once more renewed, <a name="Page_205"></a>Gard
+started, so vividly had he reconstructed the scene as he had last looked
+upon it, with that hasty yet detailed scrutiny of the stage manager. He was
+almost surprised to find the great damask-covered easy chair untenanted,
+and order restored to the length and breadth of the library table.
+Involuntarily his eyes sought the wall behind the desk, where the panoply
+of ancient arms glinted somberly, then scanned the polished surface of the
+wood in search of what?--of the stiletto that was a foil in miniature.
+Somehow, though he knew that it, along with other relics of that dreadful
+passing, were in charge of the officials of the law, he had expected to see
+it there. Something of the impermanence of life and the indifferent,
+soulless permanence of things, flashed through his mind. "Art and art
+alone, enduring, stays to us," he quoted the words aloud unconsciously.
+"The bust outlasts the throne, the coin--Tiberius." His eyes were fixed
+upon the picture, which, though thrown in no relief by the unlighted globes
+above it, yet in its very obscurity, dominated the room with its all but
+unseen presence.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not that alone," Teddy Mahr objected. "Don't you think we live
+on, in what we have done, in what we have been, in what we desire to
+do?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard was silent. The words seemed irony. "I believe," he said slowly,
+"that the end is not <a name="Page_206"></a>yet. I believe that we are each
+accountable for our individual being. I believe that every one of us is his
+brother's keeper." He was silent. His own short, newly evolved credo,
+surprised him.</p>
+
+<p>Teddy crossed to the great armchair, and laid his hand on it
+reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"It was here his Fate found him," he said with quiet self-control.
+"Where will Fate find me--or you--I wonder?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fate <i>has</i> found me," said Gard. "Death isn't the only thing that
+Fate means, but Life also; and it's of Life I came to speak to you--as well
+as the Past, that we must realize <i>is</i>--the Past. Of course, you know
+what has been learned--something about what happened here. Now, I want to
+tell you of my plans. I want, if possible, to keep things quiet--Oh, it's
+only comparatively speaking--but we can avoid a great deal of publicity, if
+you will let me handle the matter. It's for your sake, and I'm sure your
+father would desire it--and--pardon me, if I presume on grounds I'm not
+supposed to know anything of--but for Dorothy's, too. Dorothy may have to
+face bereavement too. Publicity, details, the nine days' wonder--it's all
+unpleasant, distressing. I have arranged to see the District Attorney
+to-morrow night. He can, if he will, materially aid us. This poor insane
+woman has <a name="Page_207"></a>delusions that it would be painful for you
+to even know. It would certainly be most unfortunate if she were tried or
+examined in public. I'd rather you didn't come--did not even see her at any
+time. Will you trust me? You have a perfect right to do otherwise, I
+know--but--will you believe me when I say I've given this my best thought,
+and I believe I am giving you the best advice?"</p>
+
+<p>He stood very erect, speaking with formality, with a certainly stilted,
+"learned by rote" manner, very different from his usual fiery
+utterances.</p>
+
+<p>Teddy respected his mood and bowed with courtly deference. "You were my
+father's friend," he said. "You were the last to be with him. I know you
+are giving me the wisest advice a wise man can give, and I accept it
+gratefully, Mr. Gard--for myself, and father and for Dorothy, too."</p>
+
+<p>The older man held out his hand. Their clasp was strong and responsive.
+There were tears in Teddy's eyes, and he turned his head away quickly.</p>
+
+<p>"Then," said Gard briskly, "it is understood. You also know and realize
+why I have kept the whole matter under seal. Why I have secreted this poor
+demented creature, have kept even you in ignorance of her whereabouts. Oh,
+I know I have had your consent all along; I know you have <a
+name="Page_208"></a>given me your complete trust long before this; but
+to-night I wanted your final cooperation in the hardest task of all--to
+acquiesce, while in ignorance, to permit matters that concern you, and you
+alone most truly and deeply, to be placed in the hands of others. I thank
+you for your faith, boy. God bless you."</p>
+
+<p>Teddy saw his guest to the door, stood in the entry watching him descend
+to the street and his car, and turned away with a sigh. He re&euml;ntered
+the room they had left, and stood for a moment in grave thought. He sighed
+again as he plunged the apartment in darkness and, leaving, locked the
+doors one after the other. Something, some very vital part of his existence
+was shut behind him forever. There were questions that he might not ask
+himself--there were veils he must not lift--there was a door in his heart,
+the door to the shrine of a dead man--it must be locked forever, if he
+would keep it a sanctuary.</p>
+
+<p>In the hall once more, he turned toward the entrance; his thoughts again
+with the strong, kindly presence of the man who had just left him. He
+wondered why he had never realized the vast, unselfish human force in Gard.
+"What an indomitable soul," he said softly. "I must have been very
+blind."</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_209"></a><h2><a name='XV'></a>XV</h2>
+
+
+<p>The following day found Marcus Gard at the usual morning hour in
+conference with Dorothy. The girl was radiant. The nurses had reported a
+splendid sleep and a calm awakening. She had been allowed a moment with her
+mother, whose voice was no longer faint, but was regaining its old vibrant
+quality.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor entered smiling and grasped Gard's extended hand.</p>
+
+<p>"You said it," he laughed. "Whatever it was, you said it, all right.
+Mrs. Marteen slept like a child, and there's color in her face to-day. See
+if you can do as well again. I'll give you five minutes--no, ten."</p>
+
+<p>Preceded by the doctor, he once more found his way through the
+velvet-hushed corridors to the softly lighted bedroom, where lay the woman
+who had absorbed his every thought. Her eyes, as they met his, were bright
+with anxiety, and her glance at the doctor was almost resentful. But it was
+not part of the physician's plan to interfere with any confidence that
+might relieve the patient's mind. With a casual nod to Mrs. Marteen, he
+called to the nurse and led her from the room, his <a
+name="Page_210"></a>finger rapidly tapping the sick-room chart, as if
+medical directions were first in his mind.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Gard approached the bed, and in answer to the unspoken
+question in her eyes, fumbled in his pocket and brought forth the thin
+packets of letters and the folded yellow cheques. One by one he laid them
+where her hands could touch them. He dared not look at her. He felt that
+her newly awakened soul was staring from her eyes at the mute evidence of a
+degrading past.</p>
+
+<p>A moment passed in silence that seemed a year of pain; then, without a
+sob, without a sigh, she slowly handed him a bundle of papers, withholding
+them only a moment as she verified the count; then, with a slight movement
+she indicated the fireplace. He crossed to it and placed the papers on the
+coals, where they flared a moment, casting wavering shadows about the
+silent room, and died to black wisps. Again and again he made the short
+journey from the bed to the grate; each time she verified the contents of
+the envelopes before delivering them to his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all the two yellow cheques crisped to ashes. He stood looking
+down upon them as they dropped and collapsed into cinders, and from their
+ashes rose the phoenix of happiness. A glow of joyful relief lighted his
+spirit. There, in those dead ashes, lay a dead past--a past that might have
+been the black future, but was now relinquished <a
+name="Page_211"></a>forever, voluntarily--gone--gone! He realized a supreme
+moment, a turning point. Fate looked him in the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He turned, and saw a face transfigured. There was a light in Mrs.
+Marteen's eyes that matched the glow in his own heart. Very reverently he
+raised her hand and kissed it; two sudden tears fell hot upon her cheeks
+and her lips quivered.</p>
+
+<p>He had never seen her show emotion, and it went to his heart. He saw her
+gaze at her hands with dilating eyes, and divined before she spoke the
+question she whispered:</p>
+
+<p>"Who killed Victor Mahr?"</p>
+
+<p>He bent above her gravely. "His wife. The wife he had cruelly
+wronged--his wife, who escaped at last from an asylum. She is quite
+mad--now. She is in our hands, and to-night, at eleven o'clock, the
+district attorney will be at my house to see her and have the evidence laid
+before him--to save Teddy," he added quickly.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at him wildly. "His wife--the wife that I--"</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand quickly. He feared to hear the words that he knew she
+was about to say.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he nodded. "Yes--she killed him."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Marteen sank slowly back upon her pillows and lay with closed eyes.
+A heavy pulse beat in the arteries at her throat, and a scarlet spot burned
+on either cheek.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_212"></a>"Nemesis," she murmured. "Nemesis." She lay still
+for a moment. "Thank God!" she said at length, and let her hands fall
+relaxed upon the counterpane. She seemed as if asleep but for the quick
+intake of her breath.</p>
+
+<p>Gard gazed upon her with infinite tenderness, yet with sudden bitter
+consciousness of the isolation of each individual soul. She was remote,
+withdrawn. Even his eager sympathy could not reach the depths of her
+self-tortured heart. But now at last he knew her, a completed being. The
+soul was there, palpitant, awake. The something he had so sorely missed was
+the living and real presence of spirit. It came over him in a wave of
+realization that he, too, had been unconscious of his own higher self until
+his love had made him feel the need of it in her. They two, from the depths
+of self-satisfied power, had gone blindly in their paths of
+self-seeking--till each had awakened the other. A strange, retarded
+spiritual birth.</p>
+
+<p>He looked back over his long career of remorseless success with
+something of the self-horror he had read in her eyes as he had placed the
+incriminating papers in her frail hands. And as she had cast contamination
+from her, so he promised himself he would thrust predatory greed from his
+own life. They were both born anew. They would both be true to their own
+souls.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_213"></a><h2><a name='XVI'></a>XVI</h2>
+
+
+<p>The softened electric light suffused a glamour of glowing color over the
+rich brocade of the walls of Marcus Gard's library, catching a glint here
+and there on iridescent plaques, or a mellow high light on the luscious
+patine of an antique bronze. The stillness, so characteristic of the place,
+seemed to isolate it from the whole world, save when a distant bell
+musically announced the hour.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly sat facing his employer, respecting his anxious silence,
+while they waited the coming of the district attorney, to whose clemency
+they must appeal--surely common humanity would counsel protective measures,
+secrecy, in the proceeding of the law. The links in the chain of evidence
+were now complete, but more than diplomacy would be required in order to
+bring about the legal closing of the affair without precipitating a
+scandal. Gard's own hasty actions led back to his fear for Mrs. Marteen,
+that in turn involved the cause of that suspicion. To convince the
+newsmongers that the crime was one of an almost accidental nature, he felt
+would be easy. An escaped lunatic had committed the murder. <a
+name="Page_214"></a>That revenge lay behind the insane act would be hidden.
+If necessary, the authorities of the asylum could be silenced with a golden
+gag--but the law?</p>
+
+<p>Neither of the two men, waiting in the silent house, underestimated the
+importance of the coming interview.</p>
+
+<p>The night was already far spent, and the expected visitor still delayed.
+At length the pale secretary appeared at the door to announce his
+coming.</p>
+
+<p>Gard rose from his seat, and extended a welcoming hand to gray-haired,
+sharp-featured District Attorney Field.</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly bowed with awkward diffidence.</p>
+
+<p>Gard's manner was ease and cordiality itself, but his heart misgave him.
+So much depended upon the outcome of this meeting. He would not let himself
+dwell upon its possibilities, but faced the situation with grim
+determination.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Field," he said genially, "let me thank you for coming. You are
+tired, I know. I'm greatly indebted to you, but I'm coming straight to the
+point. The fact is, we," and he swept an including gesture toward his
+companion, "have the whole story of Victor Mahr's death. Brencherly is a
+detective in my personal employ." Field bowed and turned again to his host.
+"The person of the murderer is in our care," Gard continued. <a
+name="Page_215"></a>"But before we make this public--before we draw in the
+authorities, there are things to be considered."</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment. The district attorney's eyes had snapped with
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you have the key to
+that mystery! Have you turned detective, Mr. Gard? Well, nothing surprises
+me any more. What was the motive? You've learned that, too, I suppose?"</p>
+
+<p>"Insanity," said Gard shortly.</p>
+
+<p>"Revenge," said the detective.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose," said Gard, "a crime were committed by a totally irresponsible
+person, would it be possible, once that fact was thoroughly established, to
+keep investigation from that person; to conduct the matter so quietly that
+publicity, which would crush the happiness of innocent persons, might be
+avoided?"</p>
+
+<p>"It might," said the lawyer, "but there would have to be very good and
+sufficient reasons. Let's have the facts, Mr. Gard. An insane person, I
+take it, killed Mahr. Who?"</p>
+
+<p>"His wife." Gard had risen and stood towering above the others, his face
+set and hard as if carved in flint.</p>
+
+<p>Field instinctively recoiled. "His wife!" he exclaimed. "Why, man alive,
+<i>you</i> are the madman. His wife died years ago."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_216"></a>"No," said Gard. "Teddy Mahr's mother died. His
+wife is living, and is in that next room."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the meaning of this?" Field demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"A pretty plain meaning," Gard rejoined. "The woman escaped from the
+asylum where she was confined. According to her own story, she had kept
+track of her husband from the newspapers. Mahr couldn't divorce her, but he
+married again, secure in his belief that his first marriage would never be
+discovered. Mad as she was, she knew the situation, and she planned
+revenge. Dr. Malky, of the Ottawa Asylum, is here. We sent for him. The
+woman has been recognized by Mahr's butler as the one he admitted. There is
+no possible doubt. And her own confession, while it is incomplete in some
+respects, is nevertheless undoubtedly true.</p>
+
+<p>"But, Field, this woman is hopelessly demented. There is nothing that
+can be done for her. She must be returned to the institution. I want to
+keep the knowledge of her identity from Mahr's son. Why poison the whole of
+his young life; why wreck his trust in his father? Convince yourself in
+every way, Mr. Field, but the part of mercy is a conspiracy of silence. Let
+it be known that an escaped lunatic did the killing--a certain unknown Mrs.
+Welles--and let Brencherly give <a name="Page_217"></a>the reporters all
+they want. For them it's a good story, anyway--such facts as these, for
+instance: he happened by in time to see an attack upon another woman on a
+bench opposite Mahr's house, and to hear her boast of her acts. But I ask
+as a personal favor that the scandal be avoided. Brencherly, tell what
+happened."</p>
+
+<p>The detective looked up. "There was an old story--our office had had
+it--that Mahr was a bigamist. In searching for a motive for the crime, I
+hit on that. I had all our data on the subject sent up to me. I found that
+our informant stated that Mahr had a wife in an asylum somewhere. That gave
+me a suspicion. I found from headquarters that there were two escapes
+reported, and one was a woman. She had broken out of a private institution
+in Ottawa. I got word from there that her bills had been paid by a lawyer
+here--Twickenbaur. I already knew that he was Mr. Mahr's confidential
+lawyer. But all this I looked up later, after I'd found the woman. You see,
+Mr. Gard is employing me on another matter, and after he returned from
+Washington, I gave my report to him here.</p>
+
+<p>"Then I went over to Mahr's house. I had a curiosity to go over the
+ground. It was quite late at night, and I was standing in the dark, looking
+over the location of the windows, when <a name="Page_218"></a>I saw a woman
+acting strangely. She was threatening and talking loudly, crying out that
+she had a right to kill him. I sneaked up behind just in time to stop her
+attack on another woman who was seated on the same bench, and who seemed
+too ill to defend herself. Well, sir, I had to give her three hypos before
+I could take her along. Then I got her to my rooms, and when she came
+around, she told me the story. Of course, sir, you mustn't expect any
+coherent narrative, though she is circumstantial enough. Then I brought
+over the butler, and he identified her at once. Mr. Gard advised me not to
+notify the police until he had seen you. We got the doctor from the asylum
+here as quickly as possible. He's with her in there now."</p>
+
+<p>The attorney sat silent a moment, nodding his head slowly. "I'll see
+her, Gard," he said at length. "This is a strange story," he added, as
+Brencherly disappeared into the anteroom.</p>
+
+<p>Field's eyes rested on Gard's face with keen questioning, but he said
+nothing, for the door opened, admitting the black-clad figure of a
+middle-aged woman, escorted by a trained nurse and a heavily built man of
+professional aspect.</p>
+
+<p>"This is--" Field asked, as his glance took in every detail of the
+woman's appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Welles, as she is known to us," the doctor answered; "but she used
+to tell us that that <a name="Page_219"></a>was her maiden name, and she
+married a man named Mahr. We didn't pay much attention to what she said, of
+course, but she was forever begging old newspapers and pointing out any
+paragraphs about Mr. Victor Mahr, saying she was his wife."</p>
+
+<p>Field gazed at the ghastly pallor of the woman's face, the maze of
+wrinkles and the twinkling brightness of her shifting eyes, as she stood
+staring about her unconcernedly. Her glance happened upon Brencherly. Her
+lips began to twitch and her hands to make signals, as if anxious to
+attract his attention. She writhed toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"Young man," she whispered audibly, "they've got me--I knew they would.
+Even you could not keep me so hidden they couldn't find me." She jerked an
+accusing thumb over her shoulder at the corpulent bulk of her erstwhile
+jailer. "They've been trying to make me tell how I got out; but I won't
+tell. I may want to do it again, you see, and you won't tell."</p>
+
+<p>"But," said Brencherly soothingly, "you don't want to get out now, you
+know. You've no reason to want to get out."</p>
+
+<p>She nodded, as if considering his statement seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, since I've got Victor out of the way, I don't much care. And
+I had awful trouble <a name="Page_220"></a>to steal enough money to get
+about with. Why, I had to pick ever so many pockets, and I do hate touching
+people; you never can tell what germs they may have." She shook out her
+rusty black skirt as if to detach any possible contagion.</p>
+
+<p>"But, why," the incisive voice of the attorney inquired, "did you want
+to kill Victor Mahr?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why?" she screamed, her body suddenly stiffening. "Suppose you were his
+wife, and he locked you up in places, and made people call you Mrs. Welles,
+while he went swelling around everywhere, and making millions! What'd you
+do? And besides, it wasn't only <i>that</i>, you see. <i>I</i> knew, being
+his wife, that he was a devil--oh, yes, he was; you needn't look as if you
+didn't believe it. But I soon learned that when I said I was 'Mrs. Victor
+Mahr' in the places he put me into, they laughed at me, the way they do at
+my roommate, who says she's a sideboard and wants to hold a tea-set."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell these gentlemen how cleverly you traced him," suggested
+Brencherly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I knew where he lived and what he was doing well enough." She
+bridled with conscious conceit; "I read the papers and I had it all written
+down. So when I got out and stole the money, I knew just where to go. But
+he's foxy, too. I knew I'd have to <i>make</i> him see me. So I stole some
+of the doctor's letterhead paper, and <a name="Page_221"></a>I wrote on it,
+'Important news from the Institution'--that's what he likes to call his
+boarding house--an institution." She laughed. "It worked!" she went on as
+she regained her breath. "I just sent that message, and they let me go
+right in. 'Well, what is it--what is it?' Victor said, just like that." Her
+tones of mimicry were ghastly. She paused a moment, then broke out:</p>
+
+<p>"Now you won't believe it, but I hadn't the slightest idea what I was
+going to kill him with when I went in there--I really didn't. The doctor
+will tell you himself that I'm awfully forgetful. But there, spread out
+before him, he had a whole collection of weapons, just as if he should say,
+'Mamie, which'll you have?' I couldn't believe my eyes; so I said first
+thing, 'Why, you were expecting me!' He heard my voice, and his eyes opened
+wide; and I thought: 'If I don't do it now, he'll raise the house.' So I
+grabbed the big pistol and hit him! I'm telling you gentlemen all this,
+because I don't want anyone else to get the credit. There was a woman I met
+on a bench, and I just was sure she was going to take all the credit, but I
+told her that was <i>my</i> business. I hate people who think they can do
+everything. There's a woman across my hall who says she can make stars--"
+She broke off abruptly as for the first time she became aware of Gard's
+presence in the room. "Why, there you <a name="Page_222"></a>are!" she
+exclaimed delightedly. "Now, that's good! You can tell these people what
+<i>you</i> found."</p>
+
+<p>"But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you
+struck him with a pistol."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I did <i>that</i> afterward." She took up the thread of her
+narrative. "I selected the place very carefully, and pushed the knife way
+in tight. I hate the sight of blood, and I sort of thought that'd stop it,
+and it did. Then, dear me, I had a scare. There's a picture in that room as
+live as life, and I looked up, and saw it looking at me. So I started to
+run out, but somebody was coming, so in the little room off the big one I
+got behind a curtain. Then this gentleman went through the room where I
+was, and into the room where <i>he</i> was. But he shut the door, and I
+couldn't see what he thought of it. After a while he came out and said
+'good-night' to me, though how he knew I was there I can't guess. So I
+waited a very long time, till everything was quiet, and then I went back
+and sat with him. It did me good just to sit and look at him; and every
+little while I'd lift his coat to see if the little sword was still there.
+The room was awful messy, and I tidied it up a bit. Then when dawn about
+came, I got up and walked out. I had a sort of idea of getting back to the
+institution <a name="Page_223"></a>without saying anything, because I was
+afraid they'd punish me."</p>
+
+<p>"Why did you rob Mr. Mahr?" asked Mr. Field.</p>
+
+<p>"Rob nothing!" she retorted.</p>
+
+<p>"But his jewels, his watch," the attorney continued, his eyes riveted on
+her face with compelling earnestness. The woman gave an inarticulate growl.
+"But," interposed Brencherly, "I found his wallet in your package." He took
+from his pocket a worn and battered leather pocketbook and held it toward
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she answered indifferently, "I just took it for a souvenir. In
+fact, I came back for it--last thing."</p>
+
+<p>Brencherly shrugged his shoulders expressively. Gard sat far back in his
+chair, his face in shadow.</p>
+
+<p>"How long has it been, Mrs. Welles, since you--accomplished your
+purpose?" he asked slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"You know as well as I do," she cried angrily.</p>
+
+<p>"You were there. It was yesterday--no, the day before."</p>
+
+<p>"It was just a week ago we found her," Brencherly said in a low voice.
+"I had to look up everything and verify everything."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't think I did it?" she burst out angrily. "Well, I'll prove it.
+I tell you I did, and I thought it all out carefully, although the <a
+name="Page_224"></a>doctor says I can't think connectedly. I'll show him."
+She fumbled in the breast of her dress for a moment, and brought out her
+cherished handful of newspaper clippings, which she cast triumphantly upon
+the table. "There's all about him from the papers, and a picture of the
+house. Why, I'd 'a' been a fool not to find him, and I had to. Oh, yes, I
+suppose, as the doctor says, I'm queer; but I wasn't when he first began
+sending me away--no, indeed. I wasn't good enough for him, that was all;
+and I was far from home, and hadn't a friend, and he had money. Oh, he was
+clever--but he's the devil. He used to file his horns off so people
+wouldn't see, but I know. So, I'll tell you everything, except how I got
+away. There's somebody else I may want to find." She glanced with infinite
+cunning at Brencherly, and began her finger signals as if practicing a dumb
+alphabet of which he alone knew the key.</p>
+
+<p>"Where did you receive her from, Doctor?" Field asked.</p>
+
+<p>"From Ogdensburg, sir. Before that they told me she was found wandering,
+and put under observation in Troy. All I knew was that somebody wanted her
+kept in a private institution. She'd always been in one, I fancy."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause as Field seemed lost in thought. Then he turned to
+Gard.</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask you to clear one point?" he asked <a name="Page_225"></a>"You
+gave evidence that he was alive when you entered the room. According to her
+story--"</p>
+
+<p>"I lied," said Gard, his pale face suffused with color. "I had to--I was
+most urgently needed in Washington. I would have been detained, perhaps
+prevented altogether from leaving. Who knows--I might even have been
+accused. I plead guilty of suppressing the facts."</p>
+
+<p>There was silence in the room. The attorney's eyes were turned upon the
+self-confessed perjurer. In them was a question. Gard met their gaze
+gravely, without flinching. Field nodded slowly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're right; publicity can only harm," he said at last. "We will see
+what can be done. I'll take the proper steps. It can be done legally and
+verified by the other witnesses. The butler identifies her, you say. It's a
+curious case of retribution. I can't help imagining Mahr's feelings when he
+recognized her voice. Is your patient at all dangerous otherwise?" He
+addressed himself to the nurse.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she answered. "We've never seen it. Irritable, of course, but not
+vicious. I can't imagine her doing such a thing. But you never can tell,
+sir--not with this sort."</p>
+
+<p>Field again addressed Gard, whose admission seemed to have exhausted
+him. "And the son--knows nothing?"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_226"></a>"Nothing," answered Gard. "He worships his
+father's memory. He is engaged, also, to--a very dear little friend of
+mine--the child of an old colleague. I want to shield them--both."</p>
+
+<p>"I understand." He nodded his head slowly, lost in thought.</p>
+
+<p>The woman, childishly interested in the grotesque inkwells on the table,
+stepped forward and raised one curiously. Her bony hands, of almost
+transparent thinness, seemed hardly able to sustain the weight of the cast
+bronze. It was hard to believe such a birdlike claw capable of delivering a
+stunning blow, or forcibly wielding the deadly knife. She babbled for a
+moment in a gentle, not unpleasant voice, while they watched her,
+fascinated.</p>
+
+<p>"She's that way most of the time," said the nurse softly. "Just like a
+ten-year-old girl--plays with dolls, sir, all day long."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly her expression changed. Over her smiling wrinkles crept the
+whiteness of death. Her eyes seemed to start from her head, her lips drew
+back, while her fingers tightened convulsively on the metal inkstand. The
+nurse, with an exclamation, stepped forward and caught her.</p>
+
+<p>There was a gleam of such maniacal fury in the woman's face that Mr.
+Field shuddered. "Hardly a safe child to trust even with a doll," <a
+name="Page_227"></a>he said. "I fancy the recital has excited her. Hadn't
+you better take her away and keep her quiet? And don't let anyone
+unauthorized by Mr. Gard or myself have access to her. It will not be wise
+to allow her delusion that she was the wife of Victor Mahr to become
+known--you understand?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Gard rose stiffly. "I will assume the expense of her care in future.
+Let her have every comfort your institution affords, Dr. Malky. I will see
+you to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir." The physician bowed. "Good night. Come, Mrs.
+Welles."</p>
+
+<p>Obediently the withered little woman turned and suffered herself to be
+led away.</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed, Field came forward and grasped Gard's hand warmly.
+"It is necessary for the general good," he said, his kindly face grown
+grave, "that this matter be kept as quiet as possible. Believe me, I
+understand, old friend; and, as always, I admire you."</p>
+
+<p>Gard's weary face relaxed its strain. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. "We
+can safely trust the press to Brencherly. He," and he smiled wanly,
+"deserves great credit for his work. I'm thinking, Field, I need that young
+man in my business."</p>
+
+<p>Field nodded. "I was thinking I needed him in mine; but yours is the
+prior claim. And now <a name="Page_228"></a>I'm off. Mr. Brencherly, can I
+set you down anywhere?"</p>
+
+<p>Confusedly the young man accepted the offer, hesitated and blushed as he
+held out his hand. "May I?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard read the good-will in his face, the congratulation in the tone, and
+grasped the extended hand with a warm feeling of friendly regard.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night--and, thank you both," he said.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_229"></a><h2><a name='XVII'></a>XVII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Spring had come. The silvery air was soft with promises of leaf and bud.
+Invitation to Festival and Adventure was in the gold-flecked sunlight.
+Nature stood on tiptoe, ready for carnival, waiting for the opening
+measures of the ecstatic music of life's renewal.</p>
+
+<p>The remote stillness of the great library had given place to the faint
+sounds of the vernal world. A robin preened himself at an open casement,
+cast a calculating eye at the priceless art treasures of the place, scorned
+them as useless for his needs, and fluttered away to an antique marble
+bench in the walled garden, wherefrom he might watch for worms, or hop to
+the Greek sarcophagus and take a bath in accumulated rainwater.</p>
+
+<p>Marcus Gard, outwardly his determined, unbending self again, sat before
+his laden table, slave as ever to his tasks. Nine strokes chimed from the
+Gothic clock in the hall; already his busy day had begun.</p>
+
+<p>Denning entered unannounced, as was his special privilege, and stood for
+a moment in silence, looking at his friend. Gard acknowledged his <a
+name="Page_230"></a>presence with a cordial nod, and continued to glance
+over and sign the typewritten notes before him. At last he put down his pen
+and settled back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, old friend, how goes it?" he inquired, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Denning nodded. "Fine, thank you. I thought I'd find you here. I was in
+consultation with Langley last night, and we have decided we are in a
+position now to go ahead as we first planned over a year ago. The
+opposition in Washington has been deflected. Besides, Langley dug up a
+point of law."</p>
+
+<p>Gard rose and crossed to Denning. His manner was quietly conversational,
+and he twirled his <i>pince-nez</i> absently.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear man," he said slowly, "you will have to adjust yourself to a
+shock. We will stick to the understanding as expressed in our interviews of
+last February, whether Mr. Langley has dug up a point of law or not. In
+short, Denning, we are not in future doing business in the old way."</p>
+
+<p>"But you don't understand," gasped the other. "Langley says that it lets
+us completely out. They can't attack us under that ruling--can't you
+see?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite so--yes. I can imagine the situation perfectly. But we entered
+into certain obligations--understandings, <a name="Page_231"></a>if you
+will--and we are going to live up to them, whether we could climb out of
+them or not."</p>
+
+<p>Denning sat down heavily.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll be--Why, it's no different from our position in the river
+franchise matter, not in the least--and we did pretty well with that, as
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>Gard nodded. "Yes, we are practically in the same position, as you say.
+The position is the same--but <i>we</i> are different. I suppose you've
+heard a number of adages concerning the irresponsibility of corporations?
+Well, we are going to change all that. I fancy you have already noticed a
+different method in our mercantile madness, and you will notice it still
+more in the future."</p>
+
+<p>Denning pulled his mustache violently, a token with him of complete
+bewilderment.</p>
+
+<p>"H'm--er--exactly," he murmured. "Of course, if that's the way you feel
+now--and you have your reasons, I suppose--I'll call Langley up. He'll be
+horribly disappointed, though. He's pluming himself on landing this quick
+getaway for you. He's been staking out the whole plan."</p>
+
+<p>Gard chuckled. "Do you remember, Denning, how hard you worked to make me
+go to Washington--and how my 'duty to our stockholders' <a
+name="Page_232"></a>was your favorite weapon? Where has all that noble
+enthusiasm gone--eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Denning blushed. "But we were in a very dangerous hole. Things are
+different now."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Gard with finality, "they are--don't forget it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," and Denning rose, discomfited, "I'm going. Three o'clock, Gard,
+the directors' meeting. I'll see you then."</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands and turned to the door, paused, turned again as if to
+reopen the subject, checked himself and went out.</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed Gard chuckled. "I bet he's cracking his skull to find
+out my game," he thought with amusement. "By the time he reaches the
+office, he'll have worked it out that I'm more far-sighted than the rest of
+them, and am making character; that I'm trying to do business by the Ten
+Commandments will never occur to him." He returned to the table and resumed
+his task, paused and sat gazing absently at the contorted inkwells.</p>
+
+<p>His secretary entered quietly, a sheaf of letters in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Saunders," said Marcus Gard, not raising his eyes from their absorbed
+contemplation, "did you ever let yourself imagine how hard it is to do
+business in a strictly honest manner, when the <a name="Page_233"></a>whole
+world seems to have lost the habit--if it ever <i>had</i> the habit?"</p>
+
+<p>Saunders looked puzzled. "I don't know, sir. Mr. Mahr is in the hall and
+wants to see you," he added, glad to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he? Good. Tell him to come in." Gard rose with cordial welcome as
+Teddy entered.</p>
+
+<p>There was an air of responsibility about the younger man, calmness,
+observation and concentration, very different from his former
+light-hearted, easy-mannered boyishness. Gard's greeting was affectionate.
+"Well, boy, what brings you out so early? Taking your responsibilities
+seriously? And in what can I help you?"</p>
+
+<p>Teddy blushed. "Mr. Gard," he said, hurrying his words with
+embarrassment, "I wish you'd let me <i>give</i> you the Vandyke--please do.
+I don't want to <i>sell</i> it to you. Duveen's men are bringing it over to
+you this morning; they are on their way now. I want you to have it. I--I--"
+He looked up and gazed frankly in the older man's face, unashamed of the
+mist of tears that blinded him. "I know father would want you to have it.
+And I know, Mr. Gard, what you did to shield his memory. If you hadn't gone
+to Field--if you hadn't taken the matter in charge--" He choked and broke
+off. <a name="Page_234"></a>"I don't <i>know</i> anything--but you handled
+the situation as I could not. Please--won't you take the Vandyke?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard's hand fell on the boy's shoulder with impressive kindliness. "No,"
+he said quietly, "I can't do that, much as I appreciate your wanting to
+give it to me. I have a sentiment, a feeling about that picture. It isn't
+the collector's passion--I want it to remind me daily of certain things,
+things that you'd think I'd want to forget--but not I. I want that picture
+'In Memoriam'--that's why I asked you to let me have it; and I want it by
+purchase. Don't question my decision any more, Teddy. You'll find a cheque
+at your office, that's all." He turned and indicated a space on the
+velvet-hung wall, where a reflector and electric lights had been installed.
+"It's to hang there, Teddy, where I can see it as I sit. It is to dominate
+my life--how much you can never guess. Will you stay with me now, and help
+me to receive it?"</p>
+
+<p>Teddy was obviously disappointed. "I can't--I'm sorry. I ought to be at
+the office now; but I did so want to make one last appeal to you. Anyway,
+Mr. Gard, your cheque will go to enrich the Metropolitan purchase
+fund."</p>
+
+<p>"That's no concern of mine," Gard laughed. "You can't make me the donor,
+you know. How is Dorothy--to change the subject!"</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_235"></a>"What she always is," the boy beamed, "the best
+and sweetest. My, but I'm glad she is back! And Mrs. Marteen, she's herself
+again. You've seen them, of course?"</p>
+
+<p>Gard nodded. "I met them at the train last night. Yes--she
+is--herself."</p>
+
+<p>"She had an awful close call!" Teddy exclaimed, his face grown
+grave.</p>
+
+<p>There was reminiscent silence for a moment. With an active swing of his
+athletic body, Dorothy's adorer collected his hat, gloves and cane in one
+sweep, spun on his heel with gleeful ease, smiled his sudden sunny smile,
+and waved a quick good-by.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_236"></a><h2><a name='XVIII'></a>XVIII</h2>
+
+
+<p>Teddy Mahr paused for a moment before descending to the street. He was
+honestly disappointed. He had hoped with all his heart to overcome Gard's
+opposition. Not that he was over anxious to pay, in some degree, the debt
+of gratitude that he owed--he had come to regard his benefactor as a being
+so near and dear to him that there was no question of the ethics of giving
+and taking, but he had longed to give himself the keen pleasure of
+bestowing something that his friend really wanted. There was just one more
+chance of achieving his purpose--the intervention of Dorothy; her caprices
+Gard never denied. If he could only induce Dorothy--Early as it was he
+determined to intreat her intercession.</p>
+
+<p>Walking briskly for a few blocks, he entered an hotel and sought the
+telephone booth. The wide awake voice that answered him was very unlike the
+sweet and sleepy drawls of protest his matutinal ringings were wont to call
+forth when Dorothy had been a gay and frivolous d&eacute;butante. The
+enforced quiet of her mother's <a name="Page_237"></a>prolonged illness,
+and the sojourn in the retirement of a hill sanitarium, had made of her a
+very different creature from the gaudy little night-bird of yore. The
+experiences through which she had passed, their anxiety and pain, had left
+her nature sweetened and deepened; had given her new sympathies and
+understandings. Now her laugh was just as clear--but its ring of light
+coquetry was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course, I'll take a walk with you," came her answer,--"if you'll
+stop for me. I'm quite a pedestrian, you know. I <i>had</i> to take some
+sort of a cure in sheer self-defense, up there in the wilds, so I decided
+on fresh air--and now it's a habit. I'll be ready."</p>
+
+<p>Teddy walked rapidly, his heart singing. He had quite forgotten his
+errand in the anticipated joy of seeing her. If he thought at all of the
+painting, it was an unformulated regret that no living artist could do
+Dorothy justice, or ever hope to transfer to canvas any true semblance of
+her many perfections.</p>
+
+<p>She joined him in the hallway of her home, called back a last happy
+good-by to her mother, and passed with him into the silver and crystal
+morning light. She was simply dressed in a dark tailor suit, with a little
+hat and sensible shoes--a very different silhouette from that of the girl
+who left her room only in time to keep her luncheon <a
+name="Page_238"></a>appointments. He looked at her with approval and
+laughed happily.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Country!--how are the cows to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," she answered. "All boiled and sterilized, milked by electricity,
+manicured by steam and dehorned by absent treatment, sir, she said--sir,
+she said."</p>
+
+<p>"May I go with you into your highly sanitary barnyard, my pretty maid?"
+he asked seriously.</p>
+
+<p>"Not unless you take a bath in carbolic solution, are vaccinated twice,
+and wear a surgeon's uniform, sir, she said."</p>
+
+<p>"But, I'm going to marry you, my pretty maid." The words were out before
+he could check them. He blushed furiously. To propose in a nursery rhyme
+was something that shocked his sense of fitness. He was amazed to find that
+he meant what he said in just the very way he had said it.</p>
+
+<p>But Dorothy took his answer as part of their early morning springtime
+madness.</p>
+
+<p>"Nobody asked you to be farm inspector, sir, she said," she replied
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>But he was silent. His own words had choked him completely. She looked
+at him quickly, but his head was turned away. Her own heart began to beat
+nervously. She felt the magnetic current of his emotion vibrating through
+her being. <a name="Page_239"></a>Her eyes opened wide in wonder. She had
+for so long accustomed herself to the idea that Teddy was her own peculiar
+property, and that, of course, she intended to marry him, that but for his
+half-distressed perturbation, she would have thought no more of the
+momentous "Yes" than of voicing some long-formed opinion. Now his throbbing
+excitement had become contagious. She found herself fluttering and
+tongue-tied. Though she realized suddenly that their ridiculous
+child's-play had turned to earnest, she could not find word or look to ease
+the strain. They walked on in silence, step for step, in a sort of
+mechanical rhythmic physical understanding. Suddenly he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Dolly, I wish you'd punch old Marcus!"</p>
+
+<p>The remark was so unexpected that Dorothy slipped a beat in her step and
+shuffled quickly to fall in tune.</p>
+
+<p>"Good Gracious!--what for?" Her surprise was unfeigned.</p>
+
+<p>"Because he won't let me give him the Heim Vandyke--wants to buy it,
+insists on buying it. Asked me to let him have it--and then won't accept
+it. Now, do me a favor, will you? You <i>make</i> him take it. You're the
+only person who can boss him--and he likes to have you do it. Will you see
+him to-day, and fix it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well of all!--Why, <i>I</i> can't make him do <a
+name="Page_240"></a>anything he doesn't want to do. Of course, he ought to
+take it, if you want to give it to him; but I really don't see--I wonder--"
+She meditated for a full block in silence. "I'm going to lunch with him and
+Miss Gard and Mother. If I can, I'll--no, I <i>can't</i>. It's none of my
+business. It's up to you. How can I say--'You ought to do what Teddy says'?
+He'd tell me I was an impertinent little girl, and that he knew how he
+wanted to deal with little boys without being told by their
+desk-mates."</p>
+
+<p>Teddy scowled. He wanted to get back to the barnyard he had left so
+abruptly, impelled by his new and unaccountable fright. But having hitched
+himself to his new subject of conversation, he felt somehow compelled to
+drag at it. It was up-hill work. To be sure, he had come to Dorothy for the
+purpose of soliciting her help, but Gard and Vandyke had both lost
+interest. Against his will he kept on talking.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I've done everything I can to make him see my point of view. I've
+told him I owe it to him; that Father would want him to have it; that I'll
+give his money away if he sends it; that I've already shipped the thing to
+him; that I don't want it; that it's unbecoming to my house--he won't
+listen. Just says he's sent his cheque and we'll please change the
+subject."</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_241"></a>"Well, you don't have to <i>cash</i> his cheque,
+do you?" she inquired gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"I know that," Teddy scoffed. "But if I don't, he'll send it in my name,
+in cash, to some charity, and that'll be all the same in the final
+addition. He's so confoundedly resourceful, you can't think around
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"No, you can't," she agreed. "That's one of the wonderful things about
+him. He thinks in his own terms, in terms of you or me, or the janitor, or
+the President. He isn't just himself, he's everybody."</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't thinking in terms of <i>me</i>," Teddy complained.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head. "No," she smiled wisely, "he's thinking in terms of
+himself, this time, and we aren't big enough to see that, too, and
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>They had reached the entrance to the Park and crossed the already
+crowded Plaza to its quieter walks. The tender greens of new grass greeted
+them, and drifts of pink and yellow vaporous color that seemed to overhang
+and envelop every branch of tree and shrub, like faint spirits of flower
+and leaf, clustering about and striving to enter the clefts of gray bark,
+that they might become embodied in tangible and fragile beauty. Sweet
+pungent smells of damp earth rose to <a name="Page_242"></a>their
+nostrils,--fragrance of reviving things, of stirring sap, of diligent seeds
+moling their way to light and air. Mists shifted by softly, now gray, now
+rainbow-hued, now trailing on the grass, now sifting slowly through
+reluctant branches that strove to retain them.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy sighed happily. The restraint that had troubled them both slowly
+metamorphosed itself into a tender, dreamy content. Why ask anything of
+fate? Why crystallize with a word the cloudland perfection of the mirage in
+which they walked? They were content, happy with the vernal joy of young
+things in harmony with all the world of spring. They were silent
+now--unconscious, and one with the heart of life, as were Adam and Eve in
+the great garden of Eternal Spring--isolated, alone, all in all to each
+other, and kin with all the vibrant life about them, sentient and
+inanimate. For them the rainbow glowed in every drop the trailing mists
+scattered in their wake; for them the pale light of the sun was pure gold
+of dreams; every frail, courageous flower a delicate censor of fragrance.
+There was crooning in the tree-tops and laughter in the confidential
+whisper of the fountains--as if Pan's pipes had enchanted all this
+ruled-and-lined, sophisticated, urban <i>pleasaunce</i> into a dell in
+Arcady.</p>
+
+<p>Teddy looked down at his companion, trudging sturdily by his side. How
+sweet and dear were <a name="Page_243"></a>her eyes of violet, how tender
+and gentle the slim curves of her mouth, how wholly lovely the contour of
+cheek and chin, and the curled tendrils of her moist, dark hair!</p>
+
+<p>She was conscious of his gaze. She felt an impulse to take his arm--that
+strong, strong arm; to walk with him like that--like the old, long married
+couples, who come to sun themselves in the warm light of the young day, and
+the sight of passing lovers. A Judas tree in full blossom arrested her
+attention, and they came to a halt before its lavish display.</p>
+
+<p>"There's nothing in the world so beautiful as natural things," she said
+slowly, breaking the enchanted silence.</p>
+
+<p>Teddy was master of himself again. "I know," he said, "and I want to get
+back again to the barnyard we left so suddenly. I said something then--I
+want to say it over again."</p>
+
+<p>It was Dorothy's turn to become frightened and confused.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh," she said with an indifference she was far from feeling. "Barnyard!
+It's such a commonplace spot after all. Don't you like the garden
+better?"</p>
+
+<p>But Teddy was determined. "My pretty maid," he began in a tender
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>But she moved away suddenly down a tempting path, and, perforce, he
+followed her.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_244"></a>"I've been thinking," she said hurriedly, "about
+Mr. Gard. I'm sure, if he felt he was hurting your feelings, he wouldn't
+think <i>all</i> his own way. Now, if you want me to, I'll try and make him
+understand it. I'll tell him that you came to me in an awful huff--all cut
+up. I'm sure I can put it strongly enough."</p>
+
+<p>"And I shall go to him, and complain that when I want to talk with you,
+you put me off--won't listen to me. I'll ask him to make you listen to
+reason. I'll tell him to put it to you. I'll show him that I <i>am</i> cut
+up, all around the heart. Perhaps he can put it to you strongly
+enough--"</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy stopped short and wheeled around to face him.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well, then," she smiled, "if you are going to get someone else
+to do your love making for you, <i>I</i> apply for the position. Teddy
+Mahr, will you marry the milkmaid?--Honest and true, black and blue?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will!" he cried ecstatically, and caught her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>Two wrens upon a neighboring branch, tilted forward to watch them, the
+business of nest building for the moment forgotten. A gray squirrel, with
+jerking tail and mincing gate, approached along the path. A florid
+policeman, wandering aimlessly in this remote arbor, stopped short, <a
+name="Page_245"></a>grinned, stuck his thumbs in his belt, and contemplated
+the picture, then wheeled about and stole out of sight in fashion most
+unmilitary. Across the lake the white swans glided, and two little
+"mandarin" ducks sidled up close to shore, regarding the moveless group of
+humans with bright and beady eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Dorothy disengaged herself from his arms with a happy little gurgle, set
+her hat straight upon her tumbled hair, and glanced at the ducks.</p>
+
+<p>"There," she said softly, "that's a lucky sign. In China they always
+send the newlyweds a pair. They are love birds; they die when
+separated--which means, I'm a duck."</p>
+
+<p>"You are," he agreed, and kissed her again.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," she said seriously, "I've found a way to clear all
+difficulties."</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her, troubled. "I didn't know there were any," he said
+anxiously. "I think your mother likes me, and I don't see--I can keep you
+in hats and candy; and Miss Gard is the only person who has seemed to
+disapprove of me."</p>
+
+<p>"All wrong," she said. "I don't mean that at all. I mean about the
+picture. I have thought it all out while you were kissing me."</p>
+
+<p>He grinned. "Did you, indeed? I'm vastly flattered, I'm sure. In that
+case I shall go to kissing school no later than to-morrow. However, <a
+name="Page_246"></a>since you work out problems in that way, I'll give you
+another to Q.E.D. When will the wedding be?" He folded his arms about her
+rapturously.</p>
+
+<p>The ducks waddled up the bank; the squirrel climbed to the back of the
+bench; one wren captured a damaged feather from Dorothy's hat that had
+fallen to earth, and made off with his nest contribution.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," Teddy demanded as he released her. "Did you work <i>that</i>
+out?"</p>
+
+<p>She gasped. "If you act like that, I'll not tell you anything. I'll
+leave you guessing all the rest of your life."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect that," he laughed. "Who am I to escape the common lot?"</p>
+
+<p>She frowned. "As I was saying before you interrupted me so rudely, I
+have found a way to overcome the arguments and refusals of 'Old Marcus'--by
+the way, if he heard you call him that, he'd beat you up, and perfectly
+right. He isn't old, and I wish you had half his sense."</p>
+
+<p>"Dolly, we are <i>not</i> married yet, and I object to unfavorable
+comparisons. Kindly get down to business."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," she said, "I was thinking just this. We can give it to him as a
+wedding present--we've got him there, don't you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I <i>don't</i> see," he replied. "Will you <a
+name="Page_247"></a>kindly show me how you work that out. He'll probably
+want to give you a Murillo and a town house and a Cellini service, and a
+motor car upholstered in cloth of gold, a Florentine bust and an order on
+Raphael to paint your portrait. If you ask me if I see him accepting the
+Vandyke as a wedding present from us--I don't."</p>
+
+<p>"Goose!" she said with withering scorn.</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "Oh, very well, I'm back in the barnyard, so I don't mind.
+Just a minute ago and you had me a duck. I've lost caste--I was a mandarin
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say a wedding present for <i>our</i> wedding, did I?" she
+inquired loftily. "Why don't you stop and think a minute. They don't teach
+observation in college, evidently."</p>
+
+<p>Teddy was nonplussed. "You've got me," he said, his brows drawn together
+in a puzzled frown.</p>
+
+<p>She tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, how else could we be giving him
+a wedding present?" she inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I don't see," he replied emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>"When <i>he</i> gets married, of course--heavens! you are dense!"</p>
+
+<p>Teddy was stunned. "When he--why--what nonsense!--he's a confirmed old
+bachelor. There! I knew you couldn't think out problems when I was kissing
+you. I'm glad you didn't <a name="Page_248"></a>answer my second question,
+if that's the way you work things out. Who in the world would he
+marry!"</p>
+
+<p>"How would you like him for a step-father-in-law?" She looked at him
+with an amused smile.</p>
+
+<p>"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "Why, I never thought of that! Your
+mother!--Oh, by golly! that's great, that's great! Of course, of course.
+Here, I'll kiss you again--you can answer my second question." He embraced
+her with hysterical enthusiasm. "Oh, when did it happen?" he begged. "How
+did you know? Since when have they been engaged? My! I have been a bat!
+Where were my eyes? Of all the jolly luck!" he leaped from the bench and
+executed a triumphal war dance.</p>
+
+<p>"You act just like the kids--I mean, the baby goats, up in the Bronx,"
+she laughed. "Teddy, stop, somebody might see you, and they'd send us both
+to an asylum. Stop it! And besides, my step-father hasn't proposed
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>Teddy ceased his gambols abruptly. "What in the world have you been
+telling me, then?" he demanded, crestfallen. "Here I've been celebrating an
+event that hasn't happened."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's going to," she affirmed with an impressive nod of her head.
+"<i>I</i> know. Why, even Mother hasn't the slightest idea of it yet. Poor,
+<a name="Page_249"></a>dear Mother, she's so really humble minded, she
+wouldn't let herself realize how he loves her. But she leans on him, on the
+very thought of him. When we were away recuperating, she used to watch for
+his letters--like--like--I watched for yours, Teddy; and when I'd hand her
+one, she had such a look of calm, of rest. I've found her asleep with one
+crushed up in her hand. I'm sure she used to put them under her pillow at
+night, just as--well--just as I used to put yours, Teddy, under mine. Don't
+you know, that when two women are in love, they know it one from another,
+without a word. Of course, Mother knew all about how <i>I</i> felt, I used
+to catch her looking at me, oh, so wistfully--but she never dreamed that
+wise little daughter had guessed her secret--oh, no--mothers never realize
+that their little chick-children have grown to be big geese. But, <i>I</i>
+know, and, well, Teddy, as you know, if he doesn't ask her pretty soon,
+I'll go and ask him myself--and he never refuses me anything. I shall say,
+'Dear old Marcus, Teddy and I wish you'd hurry up and ask Mother to marry
+you. We have set our hearts on picking out our own "steps." We think of
+being married in June, and we want it all settled.' There," she said with a
+radiant blush, "I've answered all your questions--have you another
+problem?"</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+
+
+
+<a name="Page_250"></a><h2><a name='XIX'></a>XIX</h2>
+
+
+<p>Left alone before the empty space reserved for the masterpiece the
+expression on Gard's face changed. Grave and purposeful, he continued to
+regard the blank wall, then, turning, he caught up the desk telephone, gave
+Mrs. Marteen's private number and waited.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the sweet familiar voice thrilled him.</p>
+
+<p>"It's I--Marcus," he said. "I am coming for you this morning. Yes, I'm
+taking a holiday, and I'm going to bring you back to the library to see a
+new acquisition of mine--that will interest you. Then you and Dorothy will
+lunch with Polly. Dorothy can join us at one o'clock. This is a private
+view--for you alone.... You will? That's good! Good-by."</p>
+
+<p>Noises in the resonant hall and the opening of the great doors announced
+the arrival of the moving van and its precious contents, before Saunders,
+his eyes bulging with excitement, rushed in with the tidings of the coming
+of the world famous Heim Vandyke. With respectful care the great canvas was
+brought in, unwrapped and lifted to its chosen hanging place.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_251"></a>Seated in his armchair, Gard with mixed emotions
+watched it elevated and straightened. The pictured face smiled down at
+him--impersonal yet human, glowing, vivid with color, alive with that
+suggestion of eternal life that art alone in its highest expression can
+give. Card's smile was enigmatical; his eyes were sad. His imagination
+pictured to him Mrs. Marteen as she had sat before him in her
+self-contained stateliness and announced with indifferent calm that the
+Vandyke had been but a ruse to gain his private ear.</p>
+
+<p>Gard rose, approached the picture, and for an instant laid his fingers
+upon its darkened frame. The movement was that of a worshiper who makes his
+vow at the touch of some relic infinitely holy.</p>
+
+<p>Then he returned to his seat and for some time remained wrapped in
+thought. These moments of introspection, of deep self-questioning, had
+become more and more frequent. He had made in the past few months a new and
+most interesting acquaintance--himself. All the years of his over-hurried,
+over-cultivated, ambitious life he had delved into the psychology of
+others. It had been his pride to divine motives, to dissect personalities,
+to classify and sort the brains and natures of men. Now for the first time
+he had turned the scalpel upon himself. He was amazed, he was shocked,
+almost frightened. He could not hide from himself, he was no longer blind,
+the <a name="Page_252"></a>searchlight of his own analysis was inexorably
+focused on his own sins and shortcomings--his powers misused, his strength
+misdirected, his weaknesses indulged, because his strength protected them.
+In these hours of what he had grown to grimly call his "stock taking," he
+had become aware of a new and all-important group of men. Where before he
+had reckoned values solely by capacities of brain and hand, he found now a
+new factor--the capacity of heart. Ideals that heretofore had borne to his
+mind the stamp of weakness, now showed themselves as real bulwarks of
+character. The men who had fallen by the wayside in the advance of his
+pitiless march to power, were no longer, to his eyes, types of the unfit,
+to be thrust aside. Some were men, indeed, who knew their own souls, and
+would not barter them.</p>
+
+<p>In his mind a vast readjustment had taken place. Words had become
+bodied, the unseen was becoming the visible--Responsibility, Honesty,
+Fairness, Truth! they had all been words to conjure with--for use in
+political speeches, in interviews--because they seemed to exercise an
+occult influence upon the gullible public. "Law," "Peace," "Order," "The
+Greatest Good to the Greatest Number," he had used them all as an Indian
+medicine-man shakes bone rattles, and waves a cow's tail before the tribe,
+laughing <a name="Page_253"></a>behind his gaping mask at the servile
+acceptance of his prophecies. One and all these Cunjar Gods he had believed
+to be only bits of shell and plaited rope, had come to life--they
+<i>were</i> gods, real presences, real powers. He had invoked them only to
+deceive others--and, behold! he it was who knew not the truth.</p>
+
+<p>The high tower of his heaven-grasping ambitions seemed suddenly insecure
+and founded upon shifting sands. The incense the sycophant world burned
+before him became a stench in his nostrils. The fetishes he had tossed to
+the crowd now faced him as real gods; and they were not to be blinded with
+dust, nor bought with gold. The specious and tortured verbiage of twisted
+law never for one moment deceived the open ears of Justice, even though it
+tied her hands, and her voice was the voice of condemnation. Honor--he had
+sold it. Faith--he had not kept it. Truth--he had distorted to fit whatever
+garb he had chosen for her to wear. And, withal, he had hailed himself
+conqueror; had placed his laurels himself upon his head, ranking all others
+beneath him. The clamor of the mob he had interpreted as acclaim. Now he
+heard above the applause the hoarse chorus of disdain and fear. It had been
+his pride to see men fall back and make way at the very mention of his
+name. Now he felt that they shrank from him--not before his greatness, <a
+name="Page_254"></a>but from his very contact. He had driven his fellow
+creatures from him, and in return, they withdrew themselves.</p>
+
+<p>If they came to him fawning, they but showed their lower natures. He had
+not called forth the power for good, from these the necromancy of his
+personality had touched. He had conjured evil, he had pandered to base
+forces.</p>
+
+<p>The realization had not come easily. His habits of thought would return
+and blind him as of old. He had laughed at himself; he had derided the new
+gods, he had disobeyed them and their strange commands--only to return
+crestfallen, contrite, feeling himself unworthy. He became aware that he
+had run a long and victorious race for a prize he had craved--only to find
+that the goal to which it brought him was not that of his old desires. That
+was but withered leaves, spattered with the blood of those who lost. He had
+turned from it, and now his steps sought another conquest and another
+reward. He must strive for a goal unseen, but more real and more worthy
+than the little crowns of little victories.</p>
+
+<p>His somber thoughts left him refreshed, as if from a bath of deep, clear
+waters. His spirit felt clean and elated as it rose from the depths. It was
+with a smile that he pushed back his chair and rose from the table where,
+for a full hour, he <a name="Page_255"></a>had sat in silent
+self-communing. He still smiled as he entered the motor and was driven to
+Mrs. Marteen's.</p>
+
+<p>He found her awaiting him, with outstretched hands, and the look in her
+eyes that he always longed for--the look he had divined rather than seen on
+that day of days, when the Past had been renounced and consumed. There was
+no embarrassment in their meeting. True, there had been daily exchange of
+letters during the months of her enforced exile; but they had been only
+friendly, surface tokens, giving no real hint of the realities beneath. But
+they had grown toward one another, not apart. It was as if they had never
+been sundered; as if all the experiences of all the intervening days had
+been experiences in common.</p>
+
+<p>He gazed at her happily now, rejoicing in the firmness of her step, the
+brightness of her eyes, the healthy color of her skin. She came with him
+gladly at his suggestion and they drove in silence through the crowded
+streets and the silence was in truth, golden. At the door of the great
+house he descended, gave her his hand and conducted her quickly through the
+vast, soft-lighted hall to his own sanctum. He closed the door quietly and
+pressed the electric switch. Instantly the mellow lights glowed above the
+portrait, which throbbed in response, a glittering gem of warmth and
+beauty.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Page_256"></a>Mrs. Marteen's body stiffened; the color receded
+from her face, leaving it ashen. Her great eyes dilated.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know why it is there?" he asked at length in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she murmured. "We have traveled the same road--you and I. I
+understand."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "You don't know all that
+this picture recalls to me--and I hope you will never know; but you and I,"
+he said slowly, weighing his words, "are not of the breed of those who cry
+out with remorse. We are of those who live differently. That is the
+constant reminder of what <i>was</i>. I do not want to forget. I want to
+remember. Every time the iron enters my soul I shall know the more keenly
+that I have at last a soul."</p>
+
+<p>Again they fell silent.</p>
+
+<p>"According to the accepted code I suppose I should make a clean breast
+of it, even to Dorothy, and go into retirement," she said at length. "I
+have thought of that, too; but I cannot <i>feel</i> it. I want to be
+active; to be able to use myself for betterment; make of myself an example
+of good and not of evil. What I did was because of what I was. I am that no
+longer, and my expression must be of the new thing that has become me--a
+soul!" she said reverently.</p>
+
+<p>"A soul," he repeated. "It has come to me, <a name="Page_257"></a>too.
+And what is left to me of life has no place for regrets. I have that which
+I must live up to--I <i>shall</i> live up to it."</p>
+
+<p>"We have, indeed, traveled the same road; but you--have led me." She
+looked at him with complete comprehension.</p>
+
+<p>"We will travel the new road together," he said finally, "hand in
+hand."</p>
+
+<p>THE END</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Out of the Ashes
+
+Author: Ethel Watts Mumford
+
+Release Date: August 25, 2004 [EBook #13273]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE ASHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, and PG Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+OUT OF THE ASHES
+
+BY
+ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD
+
+
+1913
+
+
+I
+
+
+Marcus Gard sat at his library table apparently in rapt contemplation of
+a pair of sixteenth century bronze inkwells, strange twisted shapes,
+half man, half beast, bearing in their breasts twin black pools. But his
+thoughts were far from their grotesque beauty--centered on vast schemes
+of destruction and reconstruction. The room was still, so quiet, in
+spite of its proximity to the crowded life of Fifth Avenue, that one
+divined its steel construction and the doubled and trebled casing of its
+many windows. The walls, hung with green Genoese velvet, met a carved
+and coffered ceiling, and touched the upper shelf of the breast-high
+bookcases that lined the walls. No picture broke the simple unity of
+color. Here and there a Donatello bronze silhouetted a slim shape, or a
+Florentine portrait bust smiled with veiled meaning from the quiet
+shadows. The shelves were rich in books in splendid bindings, gems of
+ancient workmanship or modern luxury, for the Great Man had the instinct
+of the masterpiece.
+
+The door opened softly, and the secretary entered, a look of uncertainty
+on his handsome young face. The slight sound of his footfall disturbed
+the master's contemplation. He looked up, relieved to be drawn for a
+moment from his reflection.
+
+"What is it, Saunders?" he asked, leaning back and grasping the arms of
+his chair with a gesture of control familiar to him.
+
+"Mrs. Martin Marteen is here, very anxious to see you. She let me
+understand it was about the Heim Vandyke. I knew you were interested, so
+I ventured, Mr. Gard--"
+
+"Yes, yes--quite right. Let her come in here." He rose as he spoke,
+shook his cuffs, pulled down his waistcoat and ran a hand over his bald
+spot and silvery hair. Marcus Gard was still a handsome man. He remained
+standing, and, as the door reopened, advanced to meet his guest. She
+came forward, smiling, and, taking a white-gloved hand from her sable
+muff, extended it graciously.
+
+"Very nice of you to receive me, Mr. Gard," she said, and the tone of
+her mellow voice was clear and decisive. "I know what a busy man you
+are."
+
+"At your service." He bowed, waved her to a seat and sank once more into
+his favorite chair, watching her the while intently. If she had come to
+negotiate the sale of the Heim Vandyke, let her set forth the
+conditions. It was no part of his plan to show how much he coveted the
+picture. In the meantime she was very agreeable to look at. Her strong,
+regular features suggested neither youth nor age. She was of the goddess
+breed. Every detail of the lady's envelope was perfect--velvet and fur,
+a glimpse of exquisite antique lace, a sheen of pearl necklace, neither
+so large as to be ostentatious nor so small as to suggest economy. The
+Great Man's instinct of the masterpiece stirred. "What can I do for
+you?" he said, as she showed no further desire to explain her visit.
+
+"I let fall a hint to Mr. Saunders," she answered--and her smile shone
+suddenly, giving her straight Greek features a fascinating humanity--"
+that I wanted to see you about the Heim Vandyke." She paused, and his
+eyes lit.
+
+"Yes--portrait? A good example, I believe."
+
+She laughed quietly. "As you very well know, Mr. Gard. But that, let me
+own, was merely a ruse to gain your private ear. I have nothing to do
+with that gem of art."
+
+The Great Man's face fell. He was in for a bad quarter of an hour. Lady
+with a hard luck story--he was not unused to the type--but Mrs. Martin
+Marteen! He could not very well dismiss her unheard, an acquaintance of
+years' standing, a friend of his sister's. His curiosity was aroused.
+What could be the matter with the impeccable Mrs. Marteen? Perhaps she
+had been speculating. She read his thoughts.
+
+"Quite wrong, Mr. Gard. I have not been drawn into the stock market. The
+fact is, I _have_ something to sell, but it isn't a picture--autographs.
+You collect them, do you not? Now I have in my possession a series of
+autograph letters by one of the foremost men of his day; one, in fact,
+in whom you have the very deepest interest."
+
+"Napoleon!" he exclaimed.
+
+She smiled. "I have heard him so called," she answered. "I have here
+some photographs of the letters. They are amateur pictures--in fact, I
+took them myself; so you will have to pardon trifling imperfections. But
+I'm sure you will see that it is a series of the first importance." From
+her muff she took a flat envelope, slipped off the rubber band with
+great deliberation, glanced at the enclosures and laid them on the
+table.
+
+The Great Man's face was a study. His usual mask of indifferent
+superiority deserted him. The blow was so unexpected that he was for
+once staggered and off his guard. His hand was shaking, as with an oath
+he snatched up the photographs. It was his own handwriting that met his
+eye, and Mrs. Marteen had not exaggerated when she had designated the
+letters as a "series of the first importance." With the shock of
+recognition came doubt of his own senses. Mrs. Martin Marteen
+blackmailing him? Preposterous! His eyes sought the lady's face. She was
+quite calm and self-possessed.
+
+"I need not point out to you, Mr. Gard, the desirability of adding these
+to your collection. These letters give clear information concerning the
+value to you of the Texas properties mentioned, which are now about to
+pass into the possession of your emissaries if all goes well. Of course,
+if these letters were placed in the hands of those most interested it
+would cause you to make your purchase at a vastly higher figure; it
+might prevent the transaction altogether. But far more important than
+that, they conclusively prove that your company _is_ a monopoly framed
+in the restraint of trade--proof that will be a body blow to your
+defense if the threatened action of the federal authorities takes place.
+
+"Of course," continued Mrs. Marteen, as Gard uttered a suppressed oath,
+"you couldn't foresee a year ago what future conditions would make the
+writing of those letters a very dangerous thing; otherwise you would
+have conducted your business by word of mouth. Believe me, I do not
+underrate your genius."
+
+He laid his hands roughly upon the photographs. "I have a mind to have
+you arrested this instant," he snarled.
+
+"But you won't," she added--"not while you don't know where the
+originals are. It means too much to you. The slightest menacing move
+toward me would be fatal to your interests. I don't wish you any harm,
+Mr. Gard; I simply want money."
+
+In spite of his perturbation, amazement held him silent. If a shining
+angel with harp and halo had confronted him with a proposition to rob a
+church, the situation could not have astonished him more. She gave him
+time to recover.
+
+"Of course you must readjust your concepts, particularly as to me. You
+thought me a rich woman--well, I'm not. I've about twenty-five thousand
+dollars left, and a few--resources. My expenses this season will be
+unusually heavy."
+
+"Why this season?" He asked the question to gain time. He was thinking
+hard.
+
+"My daughter Dorothy makes her debut, as perhaps you may have heard."
+
+Gard gave another gasp. Here was a mother blackmailing the Gibraltar of
+finance for her little girl's coming-out party. Suddenly, quite as
+unexpectedly to himself as to his hearer, he burst into a peal of
+laughter.
+
+"I see--I see. 'The time has come to talk of many things.'"
+
+She met his mood. "Well, not so _much_ time. You see, not _all_ kings
+are cabbage heads--and while pigs may not have wings, riches have."
+
+"You are versatile, Mrs. Marteen. I confess this whole interview has an
+'Alice in Wonderland' quality." He was regaining his composure. "But I
+see you want to get down to figures. May I inquire your price?"
+
+"Fifty thousand dollars." There was finality in her tone.
+
+"And how soon?"
+
+"Within the next week. You know this is a crisis in this affair--I
+waited for it."
+
+"Indeed! You seem to have singular foresight."
+
+She nodded gravely. "Yes, and unusual means of obtaining information, as
+it is needless for me to inform you. I am, I think, making you a very
+reasonable offer, Mr. Gard. You would have paid twice as much for the
+Vandyke."
+
+"And how do you propose, Mrs. Marteen, to effect this little business
+deal without compromising either of us?" His tone was half banter, but
+her reply was to the point.
+
+"I will place my twenty-five thousand with your firm, with the
+understanding that you are to invest for me, in any deal you happen to
+be interested in--Texas, for instance. It wouldn't be surprising if my
+money should treble, would it? In fact, there is every reason to expect
+it--is there not? If all I own is invested in these securities, I would
+not desire them to decline, would I? I merely suggest this method," she
+continued, with a shrug as if to deprecate its lack of originality,
+"because it would be a transaction by no means unusual to you, and would
+attract no attention."
+
+He looked at her grimly. "You think so?" Let me hear how you intend to
+carry out the rest of the transaction--the delivery of the autographs in
+question."
+
+"To begin with, I will place in your hands the plates--all the
+photographs."
+
+"How can I be sure?" he demanded.
+
+"You can't, of course; but you will have to accept my assurance that I
+am honest. I promise to fulfill my part of the bargain--literally to the
+letter. You may verify and find that the series is complete. Your
+attorneys, to whom you wrote these, will doubtless tell you that they
+personally destroyed these documents, but they doubtless have a record
+of the dates of letters received at this time. You can compare; they are
+all there; I hold out nothing."
+
+"But if they say they have destroyed the letters--what in the name of--"
+
+"Oh, no; they destroyed your communications perhaps, after 'contents
+noted.' But they never had your letters, for the simple reason that they
+never received them. Very excellent copies they were--most excellent."
+
+Mr. Marcus Gard was experiencing more sensations during his chat with
+Mrs. Marteen than had fallen to his lot for many a long day. His
+tremendous power had long made his position so secure that he had met
+extraordinary situations with the calm of one who controls them. He had
+startled and held others spellbound by his own infinite foresight,
+resource and energy. The situation was reversed. He gazed fascinated in
+the fine blue eyes of another and more ruthless general.
+
+"My dear madam, do you mean to infer that this _coup_ of yours was
+planned and executed a year ago, when I, even I," and he thumped his
+deep chest, "had no idea what these letters might come to mean? Do you
+mean to tell me _that_?"
+
+"Yes"--and she smiled at his evident reluctance to believe--"yes,
+exactly. You see, I saw what was coming--I knew the trend. I have
+friends at court--the Supreme Court, it happens--and I was certain that
+the 'little cloud no larger than a man's hand' might very well prove to
+contain the whirlwind; so--well, there was just a flip of accident that
+makes the present situation possible. But the rest was designed, I
+regret to admit--cold-blooded design on my part."
+
+"With this end in view?" He tapped the photographs strewn upon his desk.
+
+"With this end in view," she confessed.
+
+He was silent a moment, lost in thought; then he turned upon her
+suddenly.
+
+"Mind, I haven't acceded to your demands," he shouted.
+
+"Is the interview at an end?" she asked, rising and adjusting the furs
+about her throat. "If so, I must tell you the papers are in the hands of
+persons who would be very much interested in their contents. If they
+don't see me--hearing from me won't do, you understand, for a situation
+is conceivable, of course, when I might be coerced into sending a
+message or telephoning one--if they don't _see_ me personally, the
+packet will be opened--and eventually, after the Texas Purchase is
+adjusted, they will find their way into the possession of the District
+Attorney. I have taken every possible precaution."
+
+"I don't doubt that in the least, madam--confound it, I don't! Now when
+will you put the series, lock, stock and barrel, into my hands?"
+
+"When you've done that little turn for me in the market, Mr. Gard. You
+may trust me."
+
+"On the word--of a debutante?" he demanded, with a snap of his square
+jaws.
+
+For the first time she flushed, the color mantling to her temples; she
+was a very handsome woman.
+
+"On the word of a debutante," she answered, and her voice was steady.
+
+"Well, then"--he slapped the table with his open hand--"if you'll send
+me, to the office, what you want to invest, I'll give orders that I will
+personally direct that account."
+
+"Thank you so much," she murmured, rising.
+
+"Don't go!" he exclaimed, his request a command. "I want to talk with
+you. Don't you know you're the first person, man or woman, who has _held
+me up_--me, Marcus Gard! I don't see how you had the nerve. I don't see
+how you had the idea." He changed his bullying tone suddenly. "I wish--I
+wish you'd _talk_ to me. I'm as curious as any woman."
+
+Mrs. Martin Marteen moved toward the door.
+
+"I'm selling you your autographs--not my autobiography. I'm _so_ glad to
+have seen you. Good afternoon, Mr. Gard."
+
+She was gone, and the Great Man had not the presence of mind to escort
+his visitor to the door or ring for attendance. He remained standing,
+staring after her. His gaze shifted to the table, where, either by
+accident or design, the photographs remained, scattered. He chuckled
+grimly. Accident! Nothing was accidental with that Machiavelli in
+petticoats. She knew he would read those accursed lines, and realize
+with every sentence that in truth she was "letting him down easy." There
+was no danger of his backing out of his bargain. Seated at the desk, he
+perused his folly, and grunted with exasperation. Well, after all, what
+of it? He had coveted a masterpiece; now he was to have two in one--the
+contemplation of his own blunder, and Mrs. Marteen's criminal
+genius--cheap at the price. How long had this been going on? Whom had
+she victimized? And how in the world had she been able to obtain the
+whole correspondence? That his lawyers should have been deceived by
+copies was not so surprising--they never dreamed of a substitution; the
+matter, not the letter, was proof enough to them of genuineness. But--he
+thumped his forehead. He had been staying with friends at Newport at the
+time. Had Mrs. Marteen been there? Of course! He took up the
+incriminating documents again and thoroughly mastered their contents,
+every turn of phrase, every between-the-line inference. Accidents could
+happen; he must be prepared for the worst. Not that negotiations would
+fail--but--not until the originals were in his hands and personally done
+away with would he feel secure. He recalled Mrs. Marteen's graceful and
+sumptuously clad figure, her clear-cut, beautiful head, the power of her
+unwavering sapphire eyes, the gentle elegance of her voice. And this
+woman--had--held him up!
+
+He turned on the electric lamp, opened a secret compartment drawer in
+the table, abstracted a tiny key, and, deftly making a packet of the
+scattered proofs, unlocked a small hidden safe behind a row of first
+editions of Bunyan and consigned them to secure obscurity.
+
+A moment later his secretary entered the room in response to his ring.
+
+"I'm going out," he said. "Lock up, will you, and at any time Mrs.
+Marteen wants to see me admit her at once."
+
+Mr. Saunders' face shone. He, too, was a devout worshiper at the shrine
+of art.
+
+"The Vandyke?" he inquired hopefully.
+
+"Well, no--but I'm negotiating for a very remarkable series of
+letters--of--er--Napoleon--concerning--er Waterloo."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+When Marcus Gard dressed that evening he was so absent-minded that his
+valet held forth for an hour in the servants' hall, with assurances that
+some mighty _coup_ was toward. Not since the days of B.L. & W. or the
+rate war on the S. & O. had his master shown such complete absorption.
+
+"He's like a blind drunk, or a man in a trance, he is--he's just not
+there in the head, and you have to walk around and dress his body, like
+he was a dumb wax-work. If I get the lay, Smathers, I'll tip you off.
+There might be something in it for us. He's due for dinner and bridge at
+the Met., but unless Frenchy puts him out of the motor, he won't know
+when he gets there"--which proved true. Three times the chauffeur
+respectfully advised his master of their arrival, before the wondering
+eyes of the club _chasseur_, before the Great Man, suddenly recalled to
+the present, descended from his car and was conducted to his waiting
+host.
+
+The first one of the company to shake hands with him was Victor
+Mahr--and Victor Mahr was a friend of Mrs. Marteen. The sudden
+recollection of this fact made him cast such a glance of scrutiny at the
+gentleman as to quite discompose him.
+
+"What's the old man up to, gimleting me in the eye like that? He's got
+something up his sleeve," thought Mahr.
+
+"I wonder did she ever corner _him_?" was the question uppermost in
+Gard's mind. He hated Mahr, and rather hoped that the lady had, then
+flushed with resentment at the thought that she would stoop to blackmail
+a man so obviously outside the pale. His mood was so unusual that every
+man in the circle was stirred with unrest and misgiving. Dinner
+brightened the general gloom, though there were but trifling inroads
+into the costly vintages. One doesn't play bridge with the Big Ones
+unless one's head is clear. Not till supper time did the talk drift from
+honors and trumps. Gard played brilliantly. His absent-mindedness
+changed to savage concentration. He played to win, and won.
+
+"What's new in the art world?" inquired Denning, as he lit a cigar.
+"There was a rumor you were after the Heim Vandyke."
+
+"Nothing new," Gard answered. "Haven't had time to bother. By the way,
+Mahr, what sort of a girl is the little debutante daughter of Mrs.
+Marteen--you know her, don't you?" He was watching Mahr keenly, and
+fancied he detected a shifty glance at the mention of the name. But Mahr
+answered easily:
+
+"Dorothy? She's the season's beauty--really a stunning-looking girl. You
+must have seen her; she was in Denning's box with her mother at 'La
+Boheme' last week."
+
+"And," added Denning, "she'll be with us again to-morrow night."
+
+"Oh," said Card, with indifference. "The dark one--I
+remember--tall--yes, she's like her mother, devilish handsome. Must send
+that child some flowers, I suppose."
+
+Gard returned home, disgusted with himself. Why had he forced his mood
+upon these men? Why, above all things, had he mentioned Mrs. Marteen to
+Mahr, whom he despised? For the simple pleasure of speaking of her, of
+mentioning her name? Why had he suspected Mahr of being one of her
+victims? And why, in heaven's name, had he resented the very same
+notion? He lay in bed numbering the men of money and importance whom he
+knew shared Mrs. Marteen's acquaintance. They were numerous, both his
+friends and enemies. What had _they_ done? What was her hold over
+_them_? Had she in all cases worked as silently, as thoroughly, as
+understandingly as she had with him? Did she always show her hand at the
+psychological moment? Did she rob only the rich--the guilty? Was she
+Robin Hood in velvet, antique lace and sables? Ah, he liked that--Mme.
+Robin Hood. He fell asleep at last and dreamed that he met Mrs. Marteen
+under the greenwood tree, and watched her as with unerring aim she sent
+a bolt from her bow through the heart of a running deer.
+
+He awoke when the valet called him, and was amused with his dream. Not
+in years had such an interest entered his life. He rose, tubbed and
+breakfasted, and went, as was his wont, to his sister's sitting room.
+
+"Well, Polly," he roared through the closed doors of her bedroom, "up
+late, as usual, I suppose! Well, I'm off. By the way, we aren't using
+the opera box next Monday night; lend it to Mrs. Marteen. That little
+girl of hers is coming out, you know, and we ought to do something for
+'em now and again. I'll be at the library after three, if you want me."
+
+At the office he found a courteous note thanking him for his kindness in
+offering to direct her investments and inclosing Mrs. Marteen's cheque
+for twenty-five thousand dollars. Gard studied the handwriting closely.
+It was firm, flowing, refined, yet daring, very straight as to alignment
+and spaced artistically. Good sense, good taste, nice discrimination, he
+commented. He smiled, tickled by a new idea. He would not give the usual
+orders in such matters. When a lovely lady inclosed her cheque, begging
+to remind him of his thoughtful suggestion (mostly mythical) at Mrs.
+So-and-So's dinner, he cynically deposited the slip, and wrote out
+another for double the amount, if he believed the lady deserving; if
+not, a polite note informed the sender that his firm would gladly open
+an account with her, and he was sure her interests "would receive the
+best possible attention and advice." In this case he determined to
+accept the responsibility exactly as it was worded, ignoring the
+circumstances that had forced his hand. He would make her nest egg hatch
+out what was required. It should be an honest transaction in spite of
+its questionable inception. Every dollar of that money should work
+overtime, for results must come quickly.
+
+He gave his orders and laid his plans. Never had his business interests
+appealed to him as keenly as at that moment, and never for a moment did
+he doubt the honesty of the lady's villainy. She would not "hold out on
+him."
+
+His first care that morning had been to make a luncheon appointment with
+his lawyer, and to elicit the information that, as far as his attorney
+knew, the incriminating correspondence had been destroyed when received.
+"As soon as your instructions were carried out, Mr. Gard. Of course,
+none of us quite realized the changes that were coming--but--what those
+letters would mean now! Too much care cannot be taken. I've often
+thought a code might be advisable in the future, when the written word
+must be relied on."
+
+Gard smiled grimly and agreed. "Those letters would make a pretty basis
+for blackmail, wouldn't they? Oh, by the way, you are Victor Mahr's
+lawyers, aren't you?"
+
+As he had half expected, he surprised a flash of suspicion and knowledge
+in the other's eyes.
+
+"What makes you speak of him in that connection?" laughed the lawyer.
+
+"I don't," said Gard. "I happened to be playing bridge with him last
+night and from something he let fall I gathered your firm had been
+acting for him. Well, he needs the best legal advice that's to be had,
+or I miss my guess." He rose and took leave of his friend, entered his
+motor and was driven rapidly uptown.
+
+Still his thoughts were of Mrs. Marteen, and again unaccountable
+annoyance possessed him. Confound it! Mahr _had_ been held up. Clifton
+knew about it; that argued that Mahr had taken the facts, whatever they
+were, to them. Had he told them who it was who threatened him? Then
+Clifton knew that Mrs. Marteen was a--Hang it! What possible right had
+he to jump to the wild conviction that Victor Mahr had been blackmailed
+at all? Because he was a friend of the lady's--a pretty reason that! Did
+men make friends of--Yes, they did; he intended to himself; why not that
+hound of a Mahr? Clifton _did_ know something. Mahr was just the sort of
+scoundrel to drag in a woman's name. Why shouldn't he in such a case?
+Then, with one of his quick changes of mood, he laughed at himself. "I'm
+jealous because I think I'm not the only victim! It's time I consulted a
+physician. I'm going dotty. She's a wonder, though, that woman. What a
+brain, and what a splendid presence! But there's something vital
+lacking; no soul, no conscience--that's the trouble," he commented
+inwardly--little dreaming that he exactly voiced the criticism
+universally passed upon himself. Then his thoughts took a new tack.
+"Wonder what the daughter is like? I'll have to hunt her up. It's a
+joke--if it _is_ on me! Must see my debutante. After all, if I'm paying,
+I ought to look her over. She's going to the Opera--in Denning's
+box--h'm!"
+
+Gard broke two engagements, and at the appointed hour found himself
+wandering through the corridor back of the first tier boxes at the
+Metropolitan. Its bare convolutions were as resonant as a sea shell.
+Vast and vague murmurs of music, presages of melodies, undulated through
+the passages, palpitated like the living breath of Euterpe, suppressed
+excitement lurked in every turn, there was throb and glow in each
+pulsating touch of unseen instruments. Gard found his heart tightening,
+his nostrils expanding. A flash of the divine fire of youth leaped
+through his veins. Adventure suddenly beckoned him--the lure of the
+unknown, of the magic _x_ of algebra in human equation. So great was his
+enjoyment that he savored it as one savors a dainty morsel, lingering
+over it, fearful that the next taste may destroy the perfect flavor.
+
+He paced the corridor, nodding here and there, pausing for a moment to
+chat with this or that personage, affable, noncommittal,
+Chesterfieldian, handsome and distinguished in his clean, silver-touched
+middle age.
+
+Inwardly he was fretting for their appearance--his debutante and Mme.
+Robin Hood. Of course they must do the conventional thing and be late.
+But to his pleased surprise, just as the overture was drawing to its
+close, he saw Denning and his wife approaching. Behind them he discerned
+the finely held head and chiseled features of the Lady of Compulsion,
+and close beside her a slender, girlish figure, shrouded in a silver and
+ermine cloak, a tinsel scarf half veiled a flower face, gentle,
+tremulous and inspired--a Jeanne d'Arc of high birth and luxurious
+rearing. Something tightened about his heart. The child's very
+appearance was dramatic coupled with the presence of her mother. What
+the one lacked, the other possessed in its clearest essence.
+
+With a hasty greeting to Denning and his diamond-sprinkled spouse, Gard
+turned with real cordiality to Mrs. Marteen.
+
+"This _is_ a pleasure!" He beamed with sincerity. "Dear madam, present
+me to your lovely daughter. We must be friends, Miss Dorothy. Your very
+wise and resourceful mamma has given me many an interesting hour--more
+than she has ever dreamed, I believe."
+
+He turned, accompanied them to the box and assisted the ladies with
+their wraps. Dorothy turned upon him a pair of violet eyes, that at the
+mention of her mother's name had lighted with adoration.
+
+"Isn't she wonderful!" she murmured, casting a bashful glance at Mrs.
+Marteen; then she added with simple gratefulness: "I'm glad you're
+friends." In her child's fashion she had looked him over and approved.
+
+A glow of pride suffused him. The obeisance of the kings of finance was
+not so sweet to his natural vanity. "She's one in a million," he
+answered heartily. "She should have been a man--and yet we would have
+lost much in that case--you, for instance." He turned toward Mrs.
+Marteen. "I congratulate you," he smiled. "She's just the sort of a girl
+that _should_ have a good time--the very best the world can give her;
+the world owes it. But aren't you"--and he lowered his voice--"just a
+little afraid of those ecstatic eyes? Dear child, she must keep all the
+pink and gold illusions--" The end of his sentence he spoke really to
+himself. But an expression in his hearer's face brought him to sudden
+consciousness. Quite unexpectedly he had surprised fear in the classic
+marble of the goddess face. The woman, who had not hesitated to commit
+crime, feared the contact of the world for her child. It was a curious
+revelation. All that was best, most generous and kindly in his nature
+rose to the surface, and his smile was the rare one that endeared him to
+his friends. "Let her have every pleasure that comes her way," he added.
+"By the way, I'm sending you our box for Monday night. I hope you will
+avail yourself of it. My sister will join you, and perhaps you will all
+give me the pleasure of your company at Delmonico's afterward."
+
+She hesitated for a moment, her eyes turning involuntarily toward the
+girl. Then the human dimple enriched her cheeks, and it was with real
+_camaraderie_ that she nodded an acceptance.
+
+His attitude was humbly grateful. "I'll ask the Dennings, too," he
+continued. "They're due elsewhere, I know, but they could join us."
+
+The curtain was already rising and Gard, excusing himself, found his way
+to the masculine sanctuary, the directors' box, of which he rarely
+availed himself, and from a shadowy corner observed his debutante and
+her beautiful mother through his powerful opera glasses. He found
+himself taking a throbbing interest in the visitors at the loge
+opposite. He was as interested in Dorothy Marteen's admirers as any fond
+father could be; and yet his eyes turned with strange, fascinated
+jealousy to the older woman's loveliness. Suddenly he drew in the focus
+of his glasses. A face had come within the rim of his observation--the
+face of a man sitting in the row in front of him. That man, too, had his
+glasses turned toward the group on the other side of the diamond
+horseshoe, and the look on his face was not pleasant to see. A lean,
+triumphant smile curled his heavy purple lips, the radiating wrinkles at
+the corner of his eyes were drawn upward in a Mephistophelian hardness.
+
+It was Victor Mahr. His expression suddenly changed to one of intense
+disgust, as a tall young man entered the Denning box and bent in evident
+admiration over Dorothy's smiling face. Victor Mahr rose from his seat,
+and with a curt nod to Gard, who feigned interest elsewhere, disappeared
+into the corridor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Mrs. Marteen stood at her desk, a mammoth affair of Jacobean type,
+holding in her hand a sheet of crested paper, scrawled over in a large,
+tempestuous hand.
+
+
+     MY DEAR MRS. MARTEEN:
+
+     If you will be so good as to drop in at the library at
+     five, it will give me great pleasure to go over with you
+     the details of my stewardship. The commission with
+     which you honored me has, I think, been well directed
+     to an excellent result. Moreover, a little chat with you
+     will be, as always, a real pleasure to--
+
+      Yours in all admiration,
+
+      J. MARCUS GARD.
+
+     P.S.--I suggest your coming here, as the details of
+     business are best transacted in the quiet of a business
+     office,
+     and I therefore crave your presence and indulgence.--
+
+     J.M.G.
+
+
+Mrs. Marteen was dressing for the street; her hands were gloved, her
+sable muff swung from a gem-studded chain, her veil was nicely adjusted;
+yet she hesitated, her eyes upon a busy silver clock that already marked
+the appointed hour. The room was large, wainscoted in dark paneling; a
+capacious fireplace jutted far out, and was made further conspicuous by
+two settees of worm-eaten oak. The chairs that backed along the walls
+were of stalwart pattern. A collection of English silver tankards was
+the chief decoration, save straight hangings of Cordova leather at the
+windows, and a Spanish embroidery, tarnished with age, that swung beside
+the door. Hardly a woman's room, and yet feminine in its minor touches;
+the gallooned red velvet cushions of the Venetian armchair; the violets
+that from every available place shed their fresh perfume on the quiet
+air, a summer window box crowded with hyacinths, the wicker basket, home
+of a languishing Pekinese spaniel, tucked under one corner of the table.
+Mrs. Marteen continued to hesitate, and the hands of the clock to travel
+relentlessly.
+
+Suddenly drawing herself erect, she walked with no uncertain tread to
+the right-hand wall of the mantel and pushed back a double panel of the
+wainscoting, revealing the muzzle of a steel safe let into the masonry
+of the wall. A few deft twirls opened the combination, and the metal
+door swung outward. Within the recess the pigeonholes were crammed with
+papers and morocco jewel cases. Pressing a secret spring, a second door
+jarred open in the left inner wall. From this receptacle she withdrew
+several packets of letters and a set of plates with their accompanying
+prints. Over them all she slipped a heavy rubber band, laid them aside
+and closed the hiding place with methodical care. The compromising
+documents disappeared within the warm hollow of her muff, and with a
+last glance around, Mrs. Marteen unlocked the door and descended to the
+street, where her walnut-brown limousine awaited her. Her face, which
+had been vivid with emotion, took on its accustomed mask of cold
+perfection, and when she was ushered into the anxiously awaiting
+presence of Marcus Gard, she was the same perfectly poised machine,
+wound up to execute a certain series of acts, that she had been on the
+occasion of her former visit. Of their friendly acquaintance of the last
+ten days there was no trace. They were two men of business met to
+consult upon a matter of money. The host was thoroughly disappointed.
+For ten days he had lost no opportunity of following up both Dorothy and
+her mother. Dorothy had responded with frank-hearted liking; Mrs.
+Marteen had suffered herself to be interested.
+
+"How's my debutante?" he asked cordially, as Mrs. Marteen entered.
+
+"She's very well, thank you," the marble personage replied. "I came in
+answer to your note."
+
+"Rather late," he complained. "I've been waiting for you anxiously, most
+anxiously--but now you're here, I'm ready to forgive. Do you know, this
+is the first opportunity I have had, since you honored me before, of
+having one word in private with you?"
+
+She ignored his remark. "I have brought the correspondence of which I
+spoke."
+
+"I never doubted it, my dear lady. But before we proceed to conclude
+this little deal I want to ask you a question or two. Surely you will
+not let me languish of curiosity. I want to know--tell me--how did you
+ever hit upon this plan of yours?"
+
+She unbent from her rigid attitude and answered, almost as if the words
+were drawn from her against her will: "After Martin, my husband
+died--I--I found myself poor, quite to my astonishment, and with Dorothy
+to support. Among his effects--" She paused and turned scarlet; she was
+angry at herself for answering, angry at him for daring to question her
+thus intimately.
+
+"You found--" prompted Gard.
+
+"Well--" she hesitated, and then continued boldly--"some letters
+from--never mind whom. They showed me that my husband had been most
+cruelly robbed and mistreated; men had traded upon his honor, and had
+ruined him. Then and there I saw my way. This man--these men--had
+political aspirations. Their plans were maturing. I waited. Then I
+'wondered if they would care to have the matter in their opponents'
+hands.' The swindle would be good newspaper matter. They replied that
+they would 'mind very much.' I succeeded in getting back something of
+what Martin had been cheated out of--"
+
+He beamed approval. "And mighty clever and plucky of you. And then?"
+
+This time the delayed explosion of her anger came. "How dare you
+question me? How dare you pry into my life?"
+
+"You dared to pry into mine, remember," he snapped.
+
+"For a definite and established purpose," she retorted; "and let us
+proceed, if you will."
+
+Gard shifted his bulk and grasped the arms of his chair.
+
+"As you please. You deposited with me the sum of twenty-five thousand
+dollars. I personally took charge of that account, and invested it for
+you. The steps of these transactions I will ask you to follow."
+
+"Is it necessary?"
+
+"It is. Also that now you set before me the--autographs, together with
+their reproductions of every kind, on this table, and permit me to
+verify the collection by the list supplied by my lawyers."
+
+She frowned, and taking the packet from its resting place, unslipped the
+band and spread out its contents.
+
+"They are all there," she said slowly, and there was hurt pride in her
+voice.
+
+Without stopping to consult either the memoranda or the letters, he
+swept the whole together, and, striding to the fireplace, consigned them
+to the flames.
+
+"The plates!" she gasped, rising and following him. "They must be
+destroyed completely."
+
+He smiled at her grimly. "I'll take care of that. And now, if you will
+come to the table, I will explain your account with my firm. I bought
+L.U. & Y. for you at the opening, the day following our compact, feeling
+sure we would get at least a five-point rise, and that would be earning
+a bit of interest until I could put you in on a good move. I had private
+information the following day in Forward Express stock. I sold for you,
+and bought F.E. If you have followed that market you will see what
+happened--a thirty-point rise. Then I drew out, cashed up and clapped
+the whole thing into Union Short. I had to wait three days for that, but
+when it came--there, look at the figures for yourself. Your account with
+Morley & Gard stands you in one hundred thousand dollars, and it will be
+more if you don't disturb the present investment for a few days."
+
+Mrs. Marteen's eyes were wide.
+
+"What are you doing this for?" she said calmly. "That wasn't the
+bargain. I'll not touch a penny more."
+
+"Why did I do it? Because I won't have any question of blackmail between
+us. Like the good friend that you are, you gave me something which might
+otherwise have been to my hurt. On the other hand, I invested your money
+for you wisely, honestly, sanely and with all the best of my experience
+and knowledge. It's clean money there, Mrs. Marteen, and I'm ready to do
+as much again whenever you need it. You say you won't take it--why, it's
+yours. You must. I want to be friends. I don't want this thing lying
+between us, crossing our thoughts. If I ask you impertinent questions,
+which I undoubtedly shall, I want them to have the sanction of good
+will. I want you to know that I feel nothing but kindness for
+you--nothing but pleasure in your company."
+
+He paused, confounded by the blank wall of her apparent indifference.
+Marcus Gard was accustomed to having his friendly offices solicited.
+That his overtures should be rebuffed was incredible. Moreover, he had
+looked for feminine softening, had expected the moist eye and quivering
+lip as a matter of course; it seemed the inevitable answer to that cue.
+It was not forthcoming. Again the conviction of some great psychic loss
+disturbed him.
+
+"My dear Mr. Gard," the level, colorless voice was saying, "I fear we
+are quite beside the subject, are we not? I am not requesting anything.
+I am not putting myself under obligations to you; I trust you
+understand."
+
+Had an explosion wrecked the building, without a doubt Marcus Gard, the
+resourceful and energetic leader of men, would, without an instant's
+hesitation, have headed the fire brigade. Before this moral bomb he
+remained silent, paralyzed, uncertain of himself and of all the world.
+He could not adjust himself to that angle of the situation. Mrs. Marteen
+somehow conveyed to his distracted senses that blackmail was a mere
+detail of business, and "being under obligations" a heinous crime. At
+that rate the number of criminals on his list was legion, and certainly
+appeared unconscious of the enormity of their offense. It dawned upon
+him that he, the Great Man, was being "put in his place"; that his
+highly laudable desire for righteousness was being treated as forward
+and rather ridiculous posing. The buccaneer had outpointed him and taken
+the wind out of his sails, which now flapped ignominiously. The pause
+due to his mental rudderlessness continued till Mrs. Marteen herself
+broke the silence.
+
+"You appear to consider my attitude an inexplicable one. It is merely
+unexpected. I feel sure that when you have considered the matter you
+will see, as I do, that business affairs must be free from any
+hint--of--shall we say, favoritisms?"
+
+Gard found his voice, his temper and his curiosity at the same instant.
+
+"No, hang it, I _don't_ see!"
+
+She looked at him with tolerance, as a mother upon an excited child.
+
+"I have specified a certain sum as the price of certain articles. You
+accepted my terms. I do not ask you for a bonus. I do not ask you to
+take it upon yourself to rehabilitate me in your own estimation. I
+cannot accept this cheque, Mr. Gard, however I may appreciate your
+generosity." She pushed the yellow paper toward him.
+
+The action angered him. "If," he roared, "you had obtained these by any
+mere chance, I might see your position. But according to your own
+account you obtained them by elaborate fraud, feeling sure of their
+eventual value; and yet you sit up and say you don't care to be
+reinstated in my regard--just as if money could do that--you--"
+
+She interrupted him. "Then why this?" and she held out the statement. He
+was silent. "I repeat," she said, "I will not be under obligations to
+you or to anyone." She rose with finality, picked up the statement and
+cheque, crossed to the fire and dropped both the papers on the blazing
+logs. "If you will have the kindness to send me the purchase money, plus
+the sum I consigned to your keeping--as a blind to others, not to
+ourselves--I shall be very much indebted to you."
+
+Gard watched her with varying emotions. "Well," he said slowly, "that
+money belongs to you. I made it for you and you're going to have it. In
+the meantime, as you may require the 'purchase money,' as you call it,
+to settle bills for soda water and gardenias, I'll make you out another
+cheque; the remainder will stay with the firm on deposit for
+you--whether you wish it or not. This is one time when I'm not to be
+dictated to--no, nor blackmailed." He spoke roughly and glanced at her
+quickly. Not an eyelash quivered. His voice changed. "I wish I
+understood you," he grumbled. "I wish I did. But perhaps that would,
+after all, be a great pity. You're an extraordinary woman, Mrs. Marteen.
+You've 'got me going,' as the college boys say--but I like you, hanged
+if I don't. And I repeat, at the risk of having you sneer at me again, I
+meant every word I said, and I still mean it; and I'm sorry you don't
+see it that way."
+
+Her smile glorified her face.
+
+"Please don't think I reject your proffered friendship," she said,
+extending her hand.
+
+He would have taken it in both of his, but something in her manner
+warned him to meet it with the straight, firm grasp of manly assurance.
+
+"_Au revoir, mon ami_." She nodded and was gone.
+
+For several moments he stood by the door that had closed after her. Then
+he chuckled, frowned, chuckled again and sat down once more before his
+work table.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The _salons_ of Mrs. Marteen's elaborate apartment were gay with flowers
+and palms, sweet with perfumes and throbbing with music. Dorothy, an
+airy, dazzling figure in white, her face radiant with innocent
+excitement, stood by her mother, whose marble beauty had warmed with
+happiness as Galatea may have thrilled to life. Everyone who was anybody
+crowded the rooms, laughing, gossiping, congratulating, nibbling at
+dainties and sipping beverages. The throng ebbed, renewed, passed from
+room to room, to return again for a final look at the lovely debutante
+and a final word with her no less attractive mother. A dozen
+distinguished men, both young and old, sought to ingratiate themselves,
+but Dorothy's joyous heart beat only for the day itself--her coming out,
+the launching of her little ship upon the bright waters frequented by
+Sirens, Argonauts and other delightful and adventurous people hitherto
+but shadow fictions. It was as exciting and wonderful as Christmas. She
+had been showered with presents, buried in roses. Everyone was filled
+with friendly thoughts of which she was the center. There was no envy,
+hatred or malice in all the world.
+
+Marcus Gard advanced into the drawing room, the sound of his name,
+announced at the door, causing sudden and free passage to the center of
+attraction. He beamed upon Mrs. Marteen with real pleasure in her
+stately loveliness, and turned to Dorothy, who, her face alight with
+greeting, came frankly toward him. From the moment of their first
+meeting there had been instant understanding and liking. Gard took her
+outstretched hands with an almost fatherly thrill.
+
+"You are undoubtedly a pleasing sight, Miss Marteen," he smiled; "and a
+long life and a merry one to you. Your daughter does you credit, dear
+lady," he added, turning to his hostess.
+
+Dorothy, bubbling over with enthusiasm, claimed his hand again. "It was
+so sweet of you to send me that necklace in those wonderful flowers.
+See--I'm wearing it." She fondled a slender seed pearl rope at her
+throat. "Mother told me it was far too beautiful and I must send it
+back. But I was most undutiful. I said I wouldn't--just wouldn't. I know
+you picked it out for me yourself--now, didn't you?" He nodded somewhat
+whimsically. "There! I told mother so; and it would be rude, most rude,
+not to accept it--wouldn't it?"
+
+He laughed gruffly. "It certainly would--and, really, you know your
+mother has a mania for refusing things. Why, I owe her--never mind, I
+won't tell you now--but I would have felt very much hurt, Miss
+Debutante, if you'd thrown back my little present. I'm sure I selected
+something quite modest and inconspicuous.... Dear me, I'm blocking the
+whole doorway. Pardon me."
+
+He stepped back, nodding here and there to an acquaintance. Finally
+catching sight of his sister in the dining room, he joined her, and
+stood for a moment gazing at the commonplace comedy of presentations.
+
+Miss Gard yawned. "My dear Marcus, who ever heard of you attending a
+tea? Really, I didn't know you knew these people so well."
+
+Gard was glad of this opportunity. His sister had a praiseworthy manner
+of distributing his slightest word--of which he not infrequently took
+advantage.
+
+"Well, you see, I was indebted to Marteen for a number of kindnesses in
+the early days, though we'd rather drifted apart before he died--had
+some slight business differences, in fact. But I'd like to do all I can
+for his widow and that really sweet child of theirs. I have a small nest
+egg in trust for her--some investments I advised Mrs. Marteen to make.
+Who is that chap who's so devoted?" he asked suddenly, switching the
+subject, as his quick eye noted the change of Dorothy's expression under
+the admiring glances of a tall young man of athletic proportions, whose
+face seemed strangely familiar.
+
+Miss Gard lorgnetted. "That? Oh, that's only Teddy Mahr, Victor Mahr's
+son. He was a famous 'whaleback'--I think that's what they call it--on
+the Yale football team. They say that he's the one thing, besides
+himself, that the old cormorant really cares about."
+
+Marcus Gard stiffened, and his jaw protruded with a peculiar bunching of
+the cheek muscles, characteristic of him in his moments of irritation.
+He looked again at Dorothy, absorbed in the conversation of the
+"whaleback" from Yale, recognized the visitor at the Denning box, and,
+with an untranslatable grunt, abruptly took his departure, leaving his
+sister to wonder over the strangeness of his actions.
+
+Once out of the house, his anger blazed freely, and his chauffeur
+received a lecture on the driving and care of machines that was as
+undeserved as it was vigorous and emphatic.
+
+Moved by a strange mingling of anger, curiosity and jealousy, Gard's
+first act on entering his library was to telephone to a well known
+detective agency--no surprising thing on his part, for not infrequently
+he made use of their services to obtain sundry details as to the
+movements of his opponents, and when, as often happened, cranks
+threatened the thorny path of wealth and prominence, he had found
+protection with the plain clothes men.
+
+"Jordan," he growled over the wire, "I want Brencherly up here right
+away. Is he there?....All right. I want some information he may be able
+to give me offhand. If not--well, send him now."
+
+He hung up the receiver and paced the room, his eyes on the rug, his
+hands behind his back, disgusted and angry with his own anger and
+disgust.
+
+Half an hour had passed, when a young man of dapper appearance was
+ushered in. Gard looked up, frowning, into the mild blue eyes of the
+detective.
+
+"Hello, Brencherly. Know Victor Mahr?"
+
+"Yes," said the youth.
+
+"Tell me about him," snapped Gard. "Sit down."
+
+Brencherly sat. "Well, he's the head of the lumber people. Rated at six
+millions. Got one son, named Theodore; went to Yale. Wife was Mary
+Theobald, of Cincinnati--"
+
+Gard interrupted. "I don't want the 'who's who,' Brencherly, or I
+wouldn't have sent for you. I want to know the worst about him. Cut
+loose."
+
+"Well, his deals haven't been square, you know. He's had two or three
+nasty suits against him; he's got more enemies than you can shake a
+stick at. His confidential lawyer is Twickenbaur, the biggest scoundrel
+unhung. Of course nobody knows that; Twickenbaur's reputation is too
+bad--Mahr goes to _your_ lawyers, apparently."
+
+"There isn't any blackmail in any of _that_," the older man snarled.
+
+"Oh!" cried the youth, his blue eyes lighting. "Oh, it's blackmail you
+want! Well, the only thing that looks that way is a story that nobody
+has been able to substantiate. We heard it as we hear lots of things
+that don't get out; but there was a yarn that Mahr was a bigamist; that
+his first wife was living when he married Miss Theobald. She died when
+the boy was born, and in that case she was never his legal wife, and of
+course now never can be. The other woman's dead, too, they say; but
+who's to prove it? That would be a fine tale for the coin, if anyone had
+the goods to show."
+
+"I suppose the office looked that up when they got it, didn't they? Good
+for the coin, eh? What did you find?"
+
+The informant actually blushed. "You aren't accusing us, Mr. Gard!"
+
+"Accusing nothing. I know a few things, Brencherly, remember. Baker
+Allen told me your office held him up good and plenty to turn in a
+different report when his wife employed you, and you 'got the goods on
+him.' Now, don't give me any bluff. I want facts, and I pay you for
+them, don't I? Well, when you got that story, you looked it up hard,
+didn't you?"
+
+Brencherly, thoroughly cowed, nodded assent. "But we couldn't get a line
+on it anywhere. If there were any proofs, somebody else had them--that's
+all."
+
+"U'm!" said Marcus, and sat a moment silent. When he spoke again it was
+with an apparent frankness that would have deceived the devil himself.
+"See here, I'll tell you my reason for all this, so perhaps you can
+answer more intelligently. Martin Marteen was a friend of mine, and I'm
+interested in his little daughter, who has just come out. Theodore Mahr
+is attentive to her, and I'm not keen about it, and what you tell me
+about his father doesn't make me any happier. What sort of a woman is
+Mrs. Marteen--from your point of view? Of course I know her well
+socially, but what's her rating with you?"
+
+"Ai, sir," Brencherly answered promptly. "Exceptionally fine woman--very
+intelligent. I should say that, with a word from you, she ought to be
+able to handle the situation, and any girl living. But the boy's all
+right, Mr. Gard, even if Mahr isn't. And after all, there may not be a
+word of truth in that romance I spun to you. We couldn't land a thing.
+What made us think there might be something in it was that we got it
+second hand from an old servant of Mahr's. _He_ told the man that told
+us; but the old boy's gone, too."
+
+Gard rose from his chair and resumed his pacing. Brencherly remained
+seated, patiently waiting. Presently Gard turned on him.
+
+"That'll do, Brencherly. You may go; and don't let me catch you tipping
+Mahr off that I've been having you rate him, do you understand?"
+
+The detective sprang to his feet with alacrity. "Oh, no, Mr. Gard--never
+a word. You know, sir, you're one of our very best clients."
+
+Left alone, Gard sat down wearily, ran his hands through his hair, then
+held his throbbing temples between his clenched fists. Somehow, on his
+slender evidence, that was no evidence in fact, he was convinced of the
+truth of Mahr's perfidy; convinced that the lady rated A1 by the keenest
+detective bureau in the country had obtained the proofs of guilt and
+used them with the same perfect business sagacity she had used in his
+own case. It sickened him. Somehow he could forgive her handling such a
+case as his. It was purely commercial; but this other was uglier stuff.
+His soul rebelled. He would not have it so; he would not believe--and
+yet he was convinced against his own logic. He had tried to cheat the
+arithmetic when he had tried to make her extortion money an honestly
+made acquisition. And she had refused to be a party to the flimsy
+self-deception.
+
+Mrs. Marteen was a blackmailer, an extortioner--that was the truth, the
+truth that he would not let himself recognize. Her depredations probably
+had much wider scope than he guessed. He must save her from herself; he
+must somehow reach the submerged personality and awaken it to the
+hideousness of that other, the soulless, heartless automaton that
+schemed and executed crimes with mechanical exactitude. He took a long
+breath of determination, and again grinned at the farce he was playing
+for his own benefit. Through repetition he was beginning to believe in
+the fiction of his former intimacy with Marteen. True, he had known him
+slightly, had once or twice snatched a hasty luncheon in his company at
+one of his clubs; but far from liking each other, the two men had been
+fundamentally antagonistic. Neither was Dorothy an excuse for his
+peculiar state of mind. He was drawn to her with strong protective
+yearning. Her childlike beauty pleased him. He wished she were his
+daughter, or a little sister to pet and spoil. But it was not for her
+sake that he savagely longed to make the mother into something
+different, "remolded nearer to his heart's desire." Was it the woman
+herself, or her enigmatic dual personality that held him? He wished he
+knew. He found his mind divided, his emotions many and at cross
+purposes. His keen, almost clairvoyant intuition was at fault for once.
+It sent no sure signal through the fog of his troubled heart.
+
+How would it all end? Ah, how would it end? He sensed the situation as
+one of climax. It could not quietly dissolve itself and be absorbed in
+the sea of time and forgotten commonplace.
+
+As an outlet for his mental discomfort, his restless spirit busied
+itself in hating Victor Mahr. He had always disliked the man; now he
+malignantly resented his very existence; Mahr became the personification
+of the thing he most wished to forget--the victimizing power of the
+woman who had enthralled him. Gard had met the one element he could not
+control or change--the past; and his conquering soul raged at its own
+impotence.
+
+"There shall be no more of this!" he said aloud. "She sha'n't again.
+I'll--"
+
+"I'll what?" the demon in his brain jeered at him. "What will you do?
+She will not 'be under obligations.' Perhaps, even, she likes her
+strange profession; perhaps she finds the delight of battle, that you
+know so well, in pitting her wits against the brains of the mighty;
+perhaps she has a cynic soul that finds a savage joy in running down the
+faults of the seemingly faultless--running them to earth and taking her
+profit therefrom. Who are you, Marcus Gard, to cavil at the lust of
+conquest--to sneer at the controlling of destinies?"
+
+"I won't be beaten," declared his ego, "even if I have no weapon. I'll
+search till I find the way to the citadel, and if there is none open,
+I'll smash one through!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+"Mrs. Martin Marteen requests the pleasure of Mr. Marcus Gard's company
+at dinner"--the usual engraved invitation, with below a girlish scrawl:
+"You'll come, won't you? It's my very last dinner before we go
+South.--D."
+
+He took a stubby quill, which, for some occult reason, he preferred for
+his intimate correspondence, and scribbled: "Of course, little friend.
+The crowned heads can wait." He tossed the envelope on the pile for
+special delivery, and speared the invitation on a letter file.
+
+Two months had passed, and he was no nearer the solution of the problem
+he had set himself. His affection for the girl had deepened--become
+ratified by his experience of her sweetness and intelligence. They were
+"pally," as she put it, happily contented in each other's society. On
+the other hand, the fascination that Mrs. Marteen exercised over him was
+far from being placid enjoyment. She continued to vex his heart and
+irritate his imagination. Her tolerance of young Mahr's attentions to
+Dorothy drove him distracted, his only relief being that Miss Gard, his
+sister, swayed, as always, by his slightest wish, had developed a most
+maternal delight in Dorothy's presence, and was doing all in her power
+to make the girl's season a most successful one; also, in accord with
+his obvious desire--her influence was antagonistic to Mahr, his son and
+his motor car, his house and his flowers, everything that was his; in
+spite of which, Dorothy's manner toward Teddy Mahr was undoubtedly one
+of encouragement. Honesty compelled Gard to own that he could not find
+in the boy the echo of the objectionable sire. Perhaps the long dead
+mother, who was never a lawful wife, had, by some retributive turn of
+justice, endowed him wholly with her own qualities. Gard could almost
+find it in his breast to like the big, large-hearted, gentle boy, but
+for a final irony of fate--the son's blind adoration of his father, and
+that father's obvious but helpless dislike of the impending romance.
+Every element of contradiction seemed to be present in the tangle and to
+bind the older watchers to silence. What could anyone do or say? And
+meanwhile, in the pause before the storm, Dorothy's violet eyes smiled
+into her Teddy's brown devoted ones with tender approval.
+
+One move only had Gard made with success, and the doing thereof had
+given him supreme satisfaction. The account opened in his office in Mrs.
+Marteen's name had been transferred to Dorothy, and with such publicity
+that Mrs. Marteen was unable to raise objections. Right and left he told
+the tale of his having desired to advise the widow of his old friend, of
+his successful operations, of Mrs. Marteen's refusal to accept her just
+gains as "too great," and his determination that the account,
+transferred to the daughter, should reach its proper destination. The
+first result of his outwitting of the beneficiary was a doubling of the
+usual letters inclosing a cheque and requesting advice. The secretary
+was plainly disgusted, but Gard grimly paid the price of his checkmate,
+and by his generosity certainly precluded any accusation of favoritism.
+As he read Dorothy's note on the invitation, he chuckled at the thought
+of his own cleverness, and rejoiced in the knowledge that his debutante
+had become somewhat his ward and protegee.
+
+The bell of his private telephone rang--only his intimates had the
+number of that wire--and he raised the receiver with sudden conviction
+that the voice he would hear was Dorothy's. "Well, my dear?" he said.
+There was a little gurgle, and an obviously disguised voice replied:
+
+"And who do you think this is?"
+
+"Why, the queen of the debutantes, of course. I felt it in my bones; it
+was a pleasurable sensation."
+
+"Wrong," the voice came back, "quite wrong. This is the superintendent
+of the Old Ladies' Home, and we want autographed photographs of you for
+all the old ladies' dressers--to cheer them up, you know."
+
+"Certainly, my dear madam; they shall be sent at once. To your
+apartment, I suppose. Is there anything else?"
+
+"Yes; you might bring them yourself. Did you know that mother has been
+ordered off to Bermuda at once? The doctor says she's dreadfully run
+down. She won't let me go with her. She wants me to do a lot of things;
+and then in three weeks we all go South. Mother's doctor says she
+mustn't wait. Isn't it a bore? And Tante Lydia is coming to-day to
+chaperon me. Did you get my invitation?"
+
+Gard's heart sank. "Dear me! That's bad news. How long will your mother
+be gone?"
+
+"Oh, just the voyage and straight home again. But do come in this
+afternoon and have tea; perhaps you could persuade her to stay a week
+there--she won't obey me."
+
+"They are very insubordinate in the Old Ladies' Home. I'll drop in this
+afternoon. Good-by, my dear."
+
+He hung up the receiver and glowered. "Not well! Mrs. Marteen in the
+doctor's care!" He could not associate her perfection with illness of
+any kind. It gave him a distinct pang, and for the first time a feeling
+of protective tenderness. This instantly translated itself into a lavish
+order of violets, and a mental note to see that, her stateroom was made
+beautiful for her voyage.
+
+Adding his signature to the pile of letters that Saunders handed him
+served to pass the moments till he could officially declare himself free
+for the day and be driven to the abode of the two beings who had so
+absorbed his interest.
+
+He found Mrs. Marteen reclining on a _chaise-longue_ in her
+library-sitting room, the Pekinese spaniel in her lap and Dorothy by her
+side. She looked weary, but not ill, and Gard felt a glow of comfort.
+
+"Dear lady, I came at once. Dorothy advised me of your impending
+journey, and led me to believe you were not well. But I am
+reassured--you do not seem a drooping flower."
+
+Mrs. Marteen laughed. "How 1830! Couldn't you put it into a madrigal? It
+really is absurd, though, sending me off like this. But they threatened
+me with nerves--fancy that--nerves! And never having had an attack of
+that sort, of course I'm terrified. I shall leave my butterfly in good
+hands, however. My sister is to take my place; and I sha'n't be gone
+long, you know."
+
+"We hope not, don't we, Dorothy? What boat do you honor, and what date?"
+
+Mrs. Marteen hesitated. "I'm not sure. The _Bermudian_ sails this week.
+If I cannot go then, and that is possible, I may take the _Cecelia_, and
+make the Caribbean trip. It's a little longer, but on my return I would
+join Dorothy and Mrs. Trevor, crossing directly from Bermuda to Florida.
+It's absurd, isn't it, to play the invalid! But insomnia is really
+getting its hold on me. A good sleep would be a novelty just now, and
+bromides depress me, so--there you are! I suppose I must take the
+doctor's advice and my maid, and fly for my health's sake."
+
+In spite of the natural tone and her apparent frankness, Gard remained
+unconvinced. He could not have explained why. All his life he had found
+his intuitions superior to his logical deductions. They had led him to
+his present exalted position and had kept him there. No sooner had this
+inner self refused to accept Mrs. Marteen's story than his mind began
+supplying reasons for her departure--and the very first held him
+spellbound. Was it another move in her perpetual game? Was she on the
+track of someone's secret? Was her scheming mind now following some new
+clew that must lead to the discovery of a hidden or forgotten crime--the
+burial place of some well entombed family skeleton? He shivered.
+
+Mrs. Marteen observed him narrowly.
+
+"Mr. Gard is cold, Dorothy. Send for the tea, dear--or will you have
+something else? Really, _you_ look like the patient who should seek
+climate and rest."
+
+"Perhaps you're right," he said slowly. "Perhaps I _will_ go--perhaps
+with you. It would be pleasant to have your society for so many weeks,
+uninterrupted and almost alone. I'll think of it--if I can arrange my
+affairs."
+
+He had been watching her closely, and seemed to surprise in the depths
+of her eyes and the slow assuming of her impenetrable manner, that his
+suggestion was far from receiving approval.
+
+"But, my dear sir," she answered, "much as that would be my pleasure,
+would it be wise for you? Everyone tells me the next few weeks will be
+crucial. Your presence may be needed in Washington."
+
+"Well, I suppose it will," he retorted almost angrily. "But I've a
+pretty good idea what the result will be, and my sails are trimmed."
+
+"Then do come," she invited cordially; "it will be delightful!" She had
+read the meaning of his tone; knew quite as well as he that her words
+had brought home to him the impossibility of his leaving. She could
+afford to be pressing.
+
+More and more convinced of some ulterior motive in Mrs. Marteen's
+departure, his irritation made him gruff. Even Dorothy, seeing his
+ill-temper, retired to the far corner of the room, and eyed him with
+surprise above her embroidery. Feeling the discord of his present mood,
+he rose to take his leave.
+
+"Do arrange to come," smiled Mrs. Marteen, with just a touch of irony in
+her clear voice.
+
+"You are very kind," he answered; "but, somehow, I'm not so sure you
+want me."
+
+He bowed himself out and, sore-hearted, sought the crowded solitude of
+the Metropolitan Club. His next move was characteristic. Having got
+Gordon on the wire, he requested as complete a list as possible of the
+passengers to sail by the _Bermudian_ and the _Cecelia_. A new
+possibility had presented itself. If the psychological moment in
+someone's affairs was eventuating, something for which she had long
+planned the denouement. That person might be sailing. If only he could
+accompany her, perhaps in the isolated world of a steamer's life, he
+might bring his will to bear--force from her a promise to cease from her
+pernicious activities, and an acceptance of his future aid in all
+financial matters--two things he had found it impossible to accomplish,
+or even propose, heretofore. But she was right; the moment was critical,
+and his presence might be necessary in Washington at any moment.
+
+When, later that night, the lists were delivered at his home, he spent a
+throbbing half-hour. There were several possibilities. Mrs. Allison was
+Bermuda bound; so was Morgan Beresford. Both had fortunes, a whispered
+past and ambitions. The Honorable Fortescue, the wealthy and impeccable
+Senator, the shining light of "practical politics," was Havana bound on
+the _Cecelia_, so was Max Brutgal, the many-millioned copper baron. Mrs.
+Allison he discarded as a possibility. He was sure that Mme. Robin Hood
+would disdain such an easy victim and refuse to hound one of her own
+sex. Looking over the list, he singled out Brutgal, if it were the
+_Cecelia_, and Beresford, if it were the _Bermudian_. Beresford was
+devoted to the lovely and somewhat severe Mrs. Claigh. He might be more
+than willing to suppress some event in his patchwork past.
+
+Gard threw the lists from him angrily. After all, what right had he to
+interfere? What business of his was it which fly was elected to feed the
+spider? He went to bed, and passed a sleepless night trying to
+determine, nevertheless, which was the doomed insect. He would have
+liked to prevent the ships from leaving the harbor, or invent a
+situation that would make it as impossible for Mrs. Marteen to leave as
+it was for him to accompany her.
+
+A few days later, when Mrs. Marteen finally announced her intention of
+departing on the longer cruise, Gard seriously contemplated a copper
+raid that would keep Brutgal at the ticker. Then he as furiously
+abandoned the idea, washed his hands of the whole affair and did not go
+near Mrs. Marteen for three days. At the end of that time, having
+thoroughly punished himself, he relented, and continued to shower the
+lady with attentions until the very moment of her final leave taking. He
+accompanied her to the steamer, saw her gasp of pleasure at the bower of
+violets prepared for her and formally accepted the post of sub-guardian
+to Dorothy.
+
+As the tugs dragged out the unwilling vessel from her berth, he caught a
+glimpse of Brutgal, his coarse, heavy face set off by an enormous
+sealskin collar, join Mrs. Marteen at the rail and bid blatantly for her
+attention. Gard turned his back, took Dorothy by the arm, and, in spite
+of her protestations, left the wharf. His motor took Tante Lydia and
+Dorothy to their apartment, where he left them with many assurances of
+his desire to be of service.
+
+He sent a wireless message and was comforted. He wondered how, in the
+old days that were only yesterdays, people could have endured separation
+without any means of communication, and he blessed the name of Marconi
+as cordially as he cursed the name of Brutgal. To exasperate him
+further, the rest of the day seemed obsessed by Victor Mahr. He was in
+the elevator that took him up to his office; he was at the club in the
+afternoon; he was a guest at the Chamber of Commerce banquet in the
+evening, and was placed opposite Marcus Gard. Despite his desire to let
+the man alone, he could not resist the temptation to talk with him.
+
+Mahr, whatever else he might be, was no fool, and even as Gard seemed a
+prey to nervous irritation, so Mahr appeared to experience a bitter
+pleasure in parrying his adversary's vicious thrusts and lunging at
+every opening in the other's arguments. Both men appeared to ease some
+inner turbulence, for they calmed down as the dinner progressed, and
+ended the evening in abstraction and silence, broken as they parted by
+Gard's sudden question:
+
+"And how's that good-looking son of yours, Mahr?"
+
+Mahr shot an underbrow glance at Gard, and took his time to answer.
+
+"If he does what I want him to," he said at last, "he'll take a year or
+two out West and learn the lumber business--and I think he will."
+
+"Good idea," said Gard curtly. "Good-night."
+
+One day of restlessness succeeded another. Ill at ease, Gard felt
+himself waiting--for what? It was the strain of anxiety, such as a miner
+feels deep in the heart of the earth, knowing that far down the black
+corridor the dynamite has been placed and the fuse laid. Why was the
+expected explosion delayed? One must not go forward to learn. One must
+sit still and wait. A thousand times he asked himself the meaning of
+this latent dread. He set it down to his suspicions of Mrs. Marteen's
+departure. Then why this fibril anxiety never to be long beyond call?
+Surely, and the demon in his brain laughed with amusement, he did not
+expect her to send him a cryptic wireless--"Everything arranged;
+operation a success; appendix removed without opposition," or "Patient
+unmanageable; must use anesthetic."
+
+Four days had passed, four miserable days, relieved only by a few
+pleasant hours with Dorothy and the enjoyment he always found in
+watching her keen delight in every entertainment. He went everywhere,
+where he felt sure of seeing her, and could he have removed Teddy Mahr
+from the obviously reserved place at Dorothy's side, he could have
+enjoyed those moments without the undercurrent of his troubled fears.
+That Mahr was rebelliously angry at the situation was evident. Gard had
+seen the look in his eyes on more than one occasion, and it boded evil
+to someone. What had he meant when he spoke of his son's probable
+absence of a year or more "to study the lumber business"? Gard
+approached the young man and found him quite innocent of any such plan.
+
+"Oh, yes," he had answered, "father's keen on my being what he calls
+practical, but," and he had smiled frankly at his questioner, "I
+wouldn't leave now--not for the proud possession of every tree, flat or
+standing, this side of the Pacific."
+
+Dorothy, when questioned, blushed and smiled and evaded, assuring Gard
+that of all the men she had met that season he alone came up to her
+ideal, and employed every artifice a woman uses between the ages of nine
+and ninety, when she does not want to give an answer that answers. The
+very character of her replies, however, convinced Gard that there was
+more than a passing interest in her preference. There was something
+sweetly ingenuous in her evasions, a softness in her violet eyes at the
+mention of Teddy's prosaic name that was not to be misunderstood. Gard
+sighed. Still the sense of impending danger oppressed him. He found
+himself neglectful of his many and vital interests. He took himself
+severely in hand, and set himself to unrelenting work, fixing his
+attention on the matters in hand as if he would drive a nail through
+them. Heavy circles appeared under his eyes, and the lines from nose to
+chin sharpened perceptibly. More than ever he looked the eagle, stern
+and remote, capable of daring the very sun in high ambitious flight, or
+of sudden and death-dealing descent; but deep in his heart fear had
+entered.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+"Hello! Oh, good morning. Is that you, Teddy? Yes, you did wake me
+up--but I'm very glad. Half past ten?--good gracious!--you never
+telephone me before that?--Oh, what a whopper! You called me at half
+past eight--day before yesterday--Why, of course--I know that--but you
+did just the same. Why, yes, I'd love to. What time to-morrow? That will
+be jolly; but do have the wind-shield--I hate to be blown out of the
+car--no, it _isn't_ becoming--You're a goose!--besides, my hair tickles
+my nose. No, I haven't had a word from mother, and I don't understand it
+at all. She might have sent me a wireless. Yes, I'm awfully lonely--who
+wouldn't miss her?--Well, now, you don't have a chance to miss me
+much--Oh, really!--I'm dreadfully sorry for you!--poor old dear! Well, I
+can't, positively, to-day--to-morrow, at three; and I'll be ready--yes,
+_really_ ready. Good-by."
+
+Dorothy hung up the receiver, yawned as daintily as a Persian kitten,
+rubbed her eyes and rang the maid's bell. She smiled happily at the
+golden sunlight that crept through the slit of the drawn pink curtains.
+Another beautiful brand new day to play with, a day full of delightful,
+adventurous surprises--a debutante's luncheon, a matinee, a the dansant,
+a dinner, too. Dorothy swung her little white feet from under the covers
+and crinkled her toes delightedly ere she thrust them in the cozy satin
+slippers that awaited them; a negligee to match, with little dangling
+bunches of blue flower buds, she threw over her shoulders with a
+delicate shiver, as the maid closed the window and admitted the full
+light of day. Hopping on one foot by way of waking up exercises, she
+crossed to the dressing-table, dabbed a brush at her touseled hair, then
+concealed it under a fluffy boudoir cap. She paused to innocently admire
+her reflection in the silver rimmed mirror, turning her head from side
+to side, the better to observe the lace frills and twisted ribbons of
+her coiffe. Breakfast arrived, steaming on its little white and chintz
+tray, and Dorothy smacked hungry lips.
+
+"Oo--oo--how perfectly lovely--crumpets! and scrambled eggs! I'm
+starved!" She settled herself, eagerly cooing over the fragrant coffee.
+"Now, if only Mother were here," she exclaimed. "It's so lonely
+breakfasting without her!"
+
+But her loneliness was not for long. An avalanche of Aunt Lydia entered
+the room, quite filling it with her fluttering presence. Tante Lydia's
+morning cap was quite as youthful as that of her niece, her flowered
+wrapper as belaced and befurbelowed as the lingiere could make it, and
+her high heeled mules were at least two sizes too small, and slapped as
+she walked.
+
+"My dear," she bubbled girlishly, thrusting a stray lock of questionable
+gold beneath her cap, "I thought I'd just run in and sit with you. I've
+had my breakfast ages ago--indeed, yes--and seen the housekeeper, and
+ordered everything. It was shockingly late when we got in last night, my
+dear. I really hadn't a notion it was after three, till you came after
+me into the conservatory. That _was_ a delightful affair last night, I
+must say, even if Mrs. May _is_ so loud. She isn't stingy in the way she
+entertains, like Mrs. Best's, where we were Wednesday. That was
+positively a shabby business. Now, dear, what do we do to-day? I've just
+looked over my calendar, and I want to see yours. Really, we are so
+crowded that we've got to cut something out--we really have." As she
+spoke she crossed to Dorothy's slim-legged, satin wood writing desk, and
+picked up an engagement book. "You lunch with the Wootherspoons--that's
+good. Then I can go to the Caldens for bridge in the afternoon at four.
+You won't be back from the matinee and tea at the Van Vaughns' until
+after six, and we dine at the Belmans' at eight. That'll do very nicely.
+And then, dear, about my dress at Bendel's; I do wish you could find a
+minute to see my fitting. I can't tell whether I ought to have that
+mauve so near my face, or whether it ought to be pink; and you know that
+fitter doesn't care _how_ I look, just so she gets that gown _of_ her
+hands, and I _can't_ make up my mind--when I can't see myself at a
+distance _from_ myself, and those fitting rooms are _so_ small!"
+
+Dorothy paused in the midst of a bite. "Tante Lydia, you _know_ if she
+said 'mauve' you'd want 'pink' and 'mauve' if she said 'pink,' and all
+you really need is somebody to argue with; and, besides, they both look
+the same at night."
+
+Mrs. Mellows pouted fat pink lips, and looked more than ever an elderly
+infant about to burst into tears.
+
+"Dorothy," she sniffed, "I do think you are the most trying child! I
+only wish to look well for _your_ sake. I have no vanity--why should I
+have? It's only my desire to be presentable on your account." Her blue
+orbs suffused with tears.
+
+Dorothy leaped from the divan, to the imminent danger of the breakfast
+tray. "Now, Aunt Lydia, don't be foolish. I didn't mean to hurt your
+feelings, and, besides, you know you are the really, truly belle of the
+ball. Why, you bad thing! Where were you all last evening? Didn't I have
+to go after you--and into the conservatory, at that! And what did I
+find, pray--you and a beautiful white-haired beau, with a goatee! And
+now you say you are _only_ dressing for _me_--Oh, fie!--oh, fie!--oh,
+fie!" She kissed her aunt on a moist blue eye, and bounced back to her
+seat.
+
+The chaperon was mollified and flattered. "But, my dear," she returned
+to the charge, "you know mauve is so unbecoming; if one should become a
+trifle pale--"
+
+Dorothy snipped a bit of toast in her aunt's direction. "But, why, my
+dear Lydia," she teased, "should one ever be pale? There are first aids
+to beauty, you know--and a very _nice_ rouge can be had--"
+
+"Dorothy, how can you!" exclaimed the lady, overcome with horror.
+"Rouge! What _are_ you saying, and what _are_ young girls coming to! At
+your age, I'd never heard the word, no, indeed. And, besides, my love,
+it is indecorous of you to address me as 'Lydia.' I am your mother's
+sister, remember."
+
+Her charge giggled joyously. "Nobody would believe it, never in the
+world! You aren't one day older than I am, not a day. If you were, you
+wouldn't care whether it was mauve or pink--nor flirt in the
+conservatories."
+
+"You're teasing me!" was Mrs. Mellows' belated exclamation. "And, my
+dear, I don't think it _quite_ nice, really."
+
+The insistent call of the telephone arrested the conversation. Dorothy
+took up the receiver, and Aunt Lydia became all attention.
+
+"Hello!--Oh, it's you again--I thought I rang off--Oh, really--no, I'm
+not!"
+
+"Who is it?" questioned Aunt Lydia in a sibilant whisper.
+
+Dorothy went on talking, carefully refraining from any mention of names.
+"Yes--did you?--that's awfully kind--yes, I love violets; no, they
+haven't come, by messenger--how extravagant! No, I'm not going out
+_just_ yet--not in this get up. What color? Pink--_and_ a lace cap--a
+duck of a lace cap. Send the photographs around--Oh, _that's_ all right;
+Aunt Lydia is here--aren't you, Aunt Lydia?--Oh, oh--what a horrid
+word!--unsay it at once! All right, you're forgiven. I'm busy _all_
+day--_all, all_ day--yes, and this evening. No, orchids won't go with my
+gown to-night--don't be silly--of course, gardenias go with everything,
+but--now, what nonsense!--I'm going to hang up--Indeed, I _will_.
+Good-b--what? Now, listen to me--"
+
+A tap at the door, and Aunt Lydia, hypnotized as she was by the
+telephone conversation, had presence of mind enough to open the door and
+receive a square box tied with purple ribbon. She dexterously untied the
+loose bow knot, and withdrew from its tissue wrappings, a fragrant
+bouquet of violets. An envelope enclosing a card fell to the floor. With
+suppleness hardly to be expected from one of her years, she stooped to
+pick it up, and in a twinkling had the donor's name before her.
+
+Dorothy hung up the receiver and turned. "So you know who sent the
+flowers, and who was on the 'phone," she laughed. "Tante, you should
+have been a detective--you really should."
+
+"How can you!" almost wept Mrs. Mellows. "I only opened it to save you
+the trouble. Of course, I knew all along that it was Teddy Mahr--I
+guessed--why not? Really, Dorothy, you misinterpret my interest in you,
+really, you do."
+
+Dorothy laughed. "Now, now," she scolded, "don't say that. Here, I'll
+divide with you." She separated the fragrant bunch into its components
+of smaller bunches, snipped the purple ribbon in two, and neatly devised
+two corsage adornments. "Here," she bubbled, "one for you and one for
+me--and don't say such mean things about me any more. If you do, I'll
+tell Mother about all your flirtations the minute she gets back--I will,
+too!"
+
+"That reminds me, my dear," said Mrs. Mellows, her apple-pink face
+becoming suddenly serious, "I don't understand why we haven't had any
+news from your mother, really, I don't. She might have sent us just a
+wireless or something."
+
+"It _is_ odd." Dorothy's laugh broke off midway in a silvery chuckle.
+"But something may have gone wrong with the telegraphic apparatus, you
+know. We might get the company, and find out if any other messages have
+been received from her."
+
+"I never thought of that," exclaimed Mrs. Mellows. "You are quick
+witted, Dorothy, I will say that for you. Suppose you do find out."
+
+Dorothy turned to the telephone and made her inquiry. "There," she said
+at length, "I guessed it--no messages at all; they are sure it's out of
+order. Well, that does relieve one's mind. It isn't because she's ill,
+or anything like that. Now, Aunt Lydia, that's _my_ mail."
+
+"Why, child!" the mature Cupid protested, "_I_ wasn't going to open your
+letters. Indeed, I think you are positively insulting to me! Here,
+that's from your cousin Euphemia, I know her hand; and that's just a
+circular, I'm sure--and Tappe's bill. My dear, you've been perfectly
+foolish about hats this winter. This is a handwriting I don't know, but
+it's smart stationery--and, dear me, look at all these little cards. I
+really don't see how the postman bothers to see that they're all
+delivered; they're such little slippery things--more teas--and bridge."
+
+"And how about yours?" questioned Dorothy, amused. "What did you get?"
+
+Aunt Lydia bridled. "Oh, nothing much. Some cards, a bill or two--"
+
+"Bill or coo, you mean," said her niece with a playful clutch at her
+chaperon's lap-full of missives. "If that isn't a man's letter, I'll eat
+my cap, ribbons and all--and that one, and that one."
+
+Mrs. Mellows rose hastily, gathered her flowing negligee about her and
+beat a retreat.
+
+She turned at the door, "You're a rude little girl, and I shan't count
+on you to go to Bendel's. If you want me, I'll be here from half past
+two to four, when I go for bridge." With the air of a Christian martyr
+she betook herself to the seclusion of her own rooms.
+
+Dorothy suffered herself to be dressed as she opened her mail. Aunt
+Lydia had diagnosed it with almost psychic exactness, and its mystery
+had ceased to be interesting. Last of all she opened a plain envelope
+with typewritten directions. The enclosure, also typewritten, gave a
+first impression of an announcement of a special sale, or request for
+assistance from some charitable organization. Idly she glanced at it,
+flipped it over, and found it to be unsigned. A word or two caught her
+attention. She turned back, and read:
+
+
+
+     Miss DOROTHY MARTEEN:
+
+     "That the sins of the parents should be visited upon
+     the children is, perhaps, hard. But we feel it time for
+     you to understand thoroughly your situation, in order
+     that you may determine what your future is to be. You
+     have been reared all your life on stolen, or what is worse,
+     extorted money. We hope you have not inherited the
+     callous nature of your mother, and that this information
+     will not leave you unashamed. Not a gown you have
+     worn, nor a possession you have enjoyed, but has been
+     yours through theft. That you may verify this statement,
+     open the steel safe, back of the second panel of the
+     library wall to the left of the fireplace. The combination
+     is, 2.2.9.6.0. A button on the inner edge on the
+     right releases a spring, opening a second compartment,
+     where the material of your future luxuries is stored. A
+     look will be sufficient. I hardly think you will then
+     care to occupy the position in the lime light to which
+     you have been brought by such means. Obscurity is
+     better--perhaps,
+     even exile. Talk it over with your
+     mother. We think she will agree with us.
+
+
+The words danced before Dorothy's eyes, a sudden stopping of the heart,
+a hot flush, a painful dizziness that was at once physical and mental,
+made her clutch at the table for support. She dropped the letter, and
+stood staring at it, fascinated, as in a nightmare.
+
+An anonymous letter, a cruel, hateful, wicked atrocity! Why should she
+receive such a thing? she, who never in her whole life, had wished
+anyone ill. It couldn't be so. She had misread, misunderstood. She
+picked up the message and looked at it again. It was surely intended for
+her, there could be no mistake. Then fear came upon her. The abrupt
+entrance of the maid, carrying her hat and veil, gave her a spasm of
+panic. No one must see, no one must know. The wretched sender of this
+hideous libel must believe it ignored--never received. She thrust the
+paper hastily into the bosom of her dress. Its very contact seemed to
+burn.
+
+"That will do," she said. "I'm not going out just yet. I--I have some
+notes to write; don't bother me now."
+
+Her voice sounded strange. She glanced quickly at the maid, fearing to
+surprise a look of suspicion. It seemed impossible that that cracked
+voice of hers would pass unnoticed. But the maid bowed, carefully placed
+a pair of white gloves by the hat and jacket, and went out as if nothing
+had happened.
+
+Dorothy, left alone, stood still for a moment as if robbed of all
+volition. Then, with a suppressed cry, she dragged out the accusing
+document and carried it to the light. Who could do such a thing! Who
+would be such a lying coward! Her helplessness made her rage. Oh, to be
+able to confront this traducer, this libeler. To see him punished, to
+tell him to his face what she thought of him I Somewhere he was in the
+world, laughing to himself in the safety of his namelessness--knowing
+her futile anger and indignation--satisfied to have shamed and insulted
+her--and her mother--her great, resourceful, splendid mother, away and
+ill when this dastardly attack was made. Impulsively she turned to run
+to her aunt, and lay the matter before her, but paused and sat down on
+the little chair before her writing desk. Covering her eyes with her
+clenched hands she tried to think. Tante Lydia was worse than useless,
+scatterbrained, self-centered, incapable. What would she do? Lament and
+call all her friends in conclave; send in the police; acknowledge her
+fright, and give this nameless writer the satisfaction of knowing that
+his shaft had found its mark?
+
+Teddy! Teddy would come to her at once. But what could he do? Sympathy
+was not what she wanted; it was support and guidance. With a trembling
+hand she smoothed the paper before her and, controlling herself, reread
+every word with minutest care. But this third perusal left her more at
+sea than before. What did this enmity mean? What could have incited it?
+Why did this wretch give her such minute instructions? She knew of no
+safe in the library--could it be just possible that such a thing _did_
+exist? Could it be possible that this liar had obtained knowledge of her
+mother's private affairs to such an extent that he knew of facts that
+had remained unknown even to her?--the daughter! A new cause for fear
+loomed before her. Had this venomous enemy access to the house? Was he
+able to come and go at will, ferreting out its secrets?
+
+Dorothy turned about quickly, almost expecting to see some sinister
+shadow leering at her from the doorway, or disappearing into the
+wardrobe. Her terror had something in it of childish nightmare. Acting
+as if under a spell of compulsion, she rose and tiptoed to the door. She
+looked down the hall, and found it empty. The querulous voice of Mrs.
+Mellows came to her, raised in complaint against hooked-behind dresses.
+Like a lovely little ghost she flitted down the corridor to the library,
+paused for an instant with a beating heart, and, entering, closed the
+door with infinite precautions and shot the bolt.
+
+She was panting as if from some painful exertion. Her hands were damp
+and chill, her temples throbbed. The room seemed strange, close
+shuttered and silent, as if it sheltered the silent, unresponsive dead.
+The air was oppressive, and the light that filtered through the dim
+blinds was vague and uncanny.
+
+It was some moments before she felt herself under sufficient control to
+cross by the big Jacobean table, and face the hooded fireplace--"to the
+left, the second panel." She stared at it. To all appearances it was
+reassuringly the same as all the others. Gently she pushed it right and
+left, then up and down, but her pressure was so slight and nervous that
+it did not stir the heavy wood. She breathed a great sigh of relief, and
+beginning now to believe herself the victim of some cruel hoax, she
+dared a firmer pressure. The panel responded--moved--slid slowly behind
+its fellow--revealing the steel muzzle of a safe let into the solid
+masonry. It seemed the result of some evil witchcraft; her blood
+chilled. Yet, with renewed eagerness, she turned the combination. She
+did not need to refer to the letter, she knew it by heart--the numbers
+were seared there. The heavy door swung outward. Within she saw
+well-remembered cases of velvet and morocco. This contained her mother's
+diamond collar; that her lavalliere; the emerald pendant was in the box
+of ivory velvet; the earrings and the antique diamond rings in the
+little round-topped casket, embossed and inlaid. Sliding her finger
+along the inner frame of the safe, she felt a knob, and pressed it. One
+side of the receptacle clicked open, revealing an inner compartment.
+
+Then panic seized her. She could never recall shutting the safe door and
+replacing the panel, the movements were automatic. She was out of the
+library and running down the corridor before she realized it. Once more
+in the sanctuary of her own room, she threw herself upon the bed, buried
+her face in the tumbled pillow and gasped for breath.
+
+"What shall I do!--what shall I do!" she moaned aloud. "I'm afraid--Oh,
+I'm afraid!" like a little child crying in the night in the awful
+isolation of an empty house. Suddenly she sat up. The tears dried upon
+her curved lashes. Of course, of course--Mr. Gard, her friend, her
+mother's friend. The very thought of him steadied her. The terrified
+child of her untried self, vanished before the coming of a new and
+active womanhood. She thought quickly and clearly. "He would be at his
+office," she reasoned. "He had mentioned an important meeting. She would
+go there at once--cancelling her luncheon engagement on the ground of
+some simple ailment. Tante Lydia must not know. Once let Gard, with his
+master grip, control the situation, and she would feel safe as in a
+walled castle strongly defended. A tower of strength--a tower of
+strength." She repeated the words to herself as if they were a talisman.
+She felt as if, from afar, her mother had counseled her. She would go to
+him. It was the right thing, the only thing to do.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+The morning of the fifth day since Mrs. Marteen's departure found Gard
+in early consultation in the directors' room of his Wall Street office,
+facing a board of directors with but one opinion--he must go at once to
+Washington. Strangely enough, the plan met with stubborn resistance from
+his inner self. There was every reason for his going, but he did not
+want to go. His advisers and fellow directors looked in amazement as
+they saw him hesitate, and for once the Great Man was at a loss to
+explain. He knew, and they knew, that there was nothing that should
+detain him, nothing that could by any twist be construed into a valid
+excuse for refusal. He amazed himself and them by abruptly rising from
+his seat, bunching the muscles of his jaw in evident antagonism and
+hurling at them his ultimatum in a voice of defiance.
+
+"Of course, gentlemen, it is evident that I must go, and I will. The
+situation requires it. But I ask you to name someone else--the
+vice-president, and you, Corrighan--in case something arises to prevent
+my leaving the city."
+
+Langley, the lawyer, rose protesting.
+
+"But, Mr. Gard, no one _can_ take your place. It's the penalty, perhaps,
+of being what and who you are, but the honor of your responsibilities
+demands it. There is more at stake than your own interests, or the
+interest of your friends. There's the public, your stockholders. You owe
+it to them and to yourself to shoulder this responsibility without any
+'ifs,' 'ands' or 'buts.'"
+
+Gard turned as if to rend him. "I have told you I'll go, haven't I?
+But--and there _is_ a but--gentlemen, you must select another delegate,
+or delegation, in case circumstances arise--"
+
+Denning's voice interrupted from the end of the table. "Gard, what
+excuse is the only excuse for not returning one's partner's lead? Sudden
+death."
+
+"Or when you _must_ have the lead yourself," snapped Gard. "I cannot go
+into this matter with you, gentlemen. The contingency I speak of is very
+remote--if it is a contingency at all. But I must be frank. I cannot
+have you take my enforced absence, if such should be necessary, as
+defalcation or a shirking of my duty--so I warn you."
+
+"The chance is remote," Denning replied in quiet tones that palliated.
+"Let us decide, then, who, in case this vague possibility should shape
+itself, will act as delegates. I do not think we can improve on the
+president's suggestion, but," and he turned to Gard sternly, "I trust
+the contingency is _so_ remote that we may consider it an impossibility
+for all our sakes, and your own."
+
+Gard did not answer. In silence he heard the motion carried, and
+silently and without his usual affability he turned and left the room.
+The others eyed each other with open discomfiture.
+
+"Well, gentlemen, the meeting is over," said Denning gloomily. "We may
+as well adjourn."
+
+A very puzzled and uneasy group dispersed before the tall marble office
+building, while in his own private office Gard paced the floor, from
+time to time punching the open palm of his left hand with the clenched
+fist of his right, in fury at himself.
+
+"Am I mad--am I mad?" he repeated mechanically. "Has the devil gotten
+into me?" His confidential clerk knocked, and seeing the Great Man's
+face, paused in trepidation. "What is it? What is it?" snapped Gard.
+
+"There's Brenchcrly, sir, in the outer office. He wouldn't give his
+message--said you'd want to see him in private; so I ventured--"
+
+"Brencherly!" Gard's heart missed a beat. He stopped short. He felt the
+mysterious dread from which he had suffered to be shaping itself from
+the darkness of uncertainty. "Show him in," he ordered, and, turning to
+the window, gazed blindly out, centering his self-control. "Well?" he
+said without turning, as he heard the door open and close again.
+
+"Mr. Gard," came the quiet voice of the detective, "I've a piece of
+information, that, from what you told me the other day, I thought might
+interest you. I have found out that Mr. Mahr is making every effort to
+find out the combination of Mrs. Marteen's private safe."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Yes. I learned it from one of the men in the Cole agency. Mr. Mahr
+didn't come to us. I'm not betraying any trust, you see. It was Balling,
+one of the cleverest men they've got, but he drinks. I was out with him
+last night, and he let it out; he said it was the rummiest job they'd
+had in a long day, and that his chief wouldn't have taken it, but he had
+a lot of commissions from Mahr, and I guess, besides, he gave some
+reason for wanting it that sort of squared him. Anyhow, that's how it
+stands."
+
+"Have they got it?" Gard demanded.
+
+"No, they hadn't, but he said they expected to land it O.K. They know
+the make, and they've got access to the company's books, and the
+company's people, and if she hasn't changed the combination lately,
+they'll land that all right. I tried to find out if they'd put anyone
+into the apartment, but Balling sobered up a bit by that time and shut
+down on the talk. But it's dollars to doughnuts he's after something,
+and they've put a flattie around somewhere. Of course I don't know how
+this frames up with what you told me about young Mahr, but I thought you
+might dope it out, perhaps."
+
+Gard sat down before his writing table, and wrote out a substantial
+cheque.
+
+"There, Brencherly, that's for you. Thank you. Now I put you on this
+officially. Find out for me, if you can, if they have put anyone in the
+house. Find out what they're after. Anything at all that concerns this
+matter is of interest to me. Put a man to shadow Balling; have a watch
+put on anyone you think is acting for Mahr. I will take it upon myself
+to have the combination changed. I'll send a message to Mrs. Marteen."
+
+Brencherly shook his head. "If you do that they'll tumble to you, Mr.
+Gard. It's an even chance Mr. Mahr would have any messages reported. He
+could, you know; he's a pretty important stockholder in the transmission
+companies. You'd better have a watchman or an alarm attachment on the
+safe, if you can."
+
+Gard sat silent. He was reasoning out the motive of Mahr's move. Did
+Mrs. Marteen still retain evidence against him which he was anxious to
+obtain during her absence? It seemed the obvious conclusion, and yet
+there was the possibility that Mahr contemplated vengeance, that in the
+safe he hoped to obtain evidence against Mrs. Marteen herself that would
+put her into his hands. On the whole, that seemed the most likely
+explanation, and one that offered such possibilities that he ground his
+teeth. He was roused from his reverie by Brencherly's hesitating voice.
+
+"I think, Mr. Gard, I'd better go at once. I want to get a trailer after
+Balling, and if I'm a good guesser, we haven't any time to lose."
+
+"You're right; go on. I was thinking what precautions had best be taken
+at Mrs. Marteen's home. I'll plan that--you do the rest. Good-by."
+
+Brencherly sidled to the door, bowed and disappeared.
+
+The telephone bell on the table rang sharply. Gard took down the
+receiver absently, but the voice that trembled over the wire startled
+him like an electric shock. It was Dorothy's, but changed almost beyond
+recognition, a frightened, uncertain little treble.
+
+"Is this Mr. Gard?" A sigh of relief greeted his affirmative. "Please,
+please, Mr. Gard, can I see you right away?"
+
+"Where are you, Dorothy? Of course; I'm at your service always. What is
+it?" he asked, conscious that his own voice betrayed his agitation.
+
+"I'm downstairs, in the building. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"Mind! Come up at once--or I'll send down for you."
+
+"No--I'm coming now; thank you so much."
+
+The receiver clicked, and Gard, anxious and puzzled, pressed the desk
+button for his man.
+
+"Miss Marteen is coming. Show her in here."
+
+A moment later Dorothy entered. Her face was pale and her eyes seemed
+doubled in size. She sat down in the chair he advanced for her, as if no
+longer able to stand erect, gave a little gasp and burst into tears.
+
+"Dorothy, Dorothy!" begged Gard, distressed beyond measure. "Come, come,
+little girl, what is the matter? Tell me!"
+
+She continued to sob, but reaching blindly for his hand, seemed to find
+encouragement and assurance in his firm clasp. At last she steadied
+herself, wiped her eyes and faced him.
+
+"This morning," she began faintly, "a messenger brought this." From an
+inner pocket she took out a crumpled letter, and laid it on the table.
+"I didn't know what to do. Read it--read it!" she blazed. "It's too
+horrid--too cowardly--too wicked!"
+
+He picked up the envelope. It was directed to Dorothy in typewritten
+characters. The paper was of the cheapest. He withdrew the enclosure,
+closely covered with typewriting, glanced over the four pages and turned
+to the end. Then he read through.
+
+Gard crushed the letter in his hand in a frenzy of fury. So this--this
+was Mahr's objective, this the cowardly vengeance his despicable mind
+had evolved! He would strike his enemy through the heart of a child--he
+would humiliate the girl so that, with shame and horror, she would turn
+away from all that life held for her! He knew that if the bolt found
+lodgment in her heart she would consider herself a thing too low, too
+smirched, to face her world. The marriage, that Mahr feared and hated,
+would never take place. Doubtless that evidence which Mrs. Marteen had
+once wielded was now in his possession and with all precautions taken he
+was fearless of any retaliation. The obscurity and exile he suggested
+would be sought as the only issue from intolerable conditions. No, no, a
+thousand times no! Mahr had leveled his stroke at a defenseless girl,
+but the weapon that should parry it would be wielded by a man's strong
+arm, backed by all the resources of brain and wealth.
+
+As these thoughts raced through his mind, he had been standing erect and
+silent, his eyes staring at the paper that crackled in his clenched
+fist. Dorothy's voice sounded far away repeating something. It was not
+till a strange hysterical note crept into her voice that he realized
+what she was saying.
+
+"Speak to me, please! What shall I do? What ought I to do? Tell me, tell
+me!"
+
+"Do?" he exclaimed. "Do? Why, nothing, my dear. It's a damnable,
+treacherous snake-in-the-grass lie! Shake it out of your pretty head,
+and leave me to trace this thing and deal with the scoundrel who wrote
+it; and I'll promise you, my dear, that it will be such punishment as
+will satisfy _me_--and I am not easily satisfied."
+
+Dorothy rose from the table. "Mr. Gard," she whispered, "you won't think
+badly of me, will you, if I tell you something? And you will believe it
+wasn't because I believed one word of that detestable thing that I did
+what I did--you promise me that?"
+
+He could feel his face grow ashen, but his voice was very gentle. "What
+was it, my dear? Of course I know you couldn't have noticed such a vile
+slander. What do you want to tell me?"
+
+"I was frightened." Dorothy raised brimming eyes to his, pleading excuse
+for what she felt must seem lack of faith. "I felt as if the house were
+filled with dangerous people. I wanted to see how much they really knew.
+I never heard mother speak of the safe in the library. I didn't want to
+speak to Tante Lydia. I--"
+
+Gard's heart stood still. "You went to the library and located the
+safe--and then?"
+
+"The combination they give is the right one--I opened it with that. Then
+I was so terrified that anyone--a wicked person like that--could know so
+much about things in our house--I slammed it shut and ran away. I could
+not stay in the house another minute. I felt as if I were suffocating."
+
+The sigh that he drew was one of immeasurable relief. "Well, you are
+awake now, my dear, and the goblin sha'n't chase you any more. But I'm
+greatly troubled about what you tell me, about your having opened the
+safe. I want you to come with me now. Is your aunt home? Yes? Well, I'll
+telephone my sister to call for her and take her out somewhere. Then
+we'll return, and I will take all the responsibility of what I think
+it's best to do. One thing is quite evident: your mother's valuables are
+not safe, if they haven't already been tampered with and stolen. You
+see--well, I'll explain as we go. I'll get rid of Mrs. Mellows first."
+
+A few telephone calls arranged matters, and a message brought his motor
+from its neighboring waiting place. "You see," he continued, as the
+machine throbbed its way northward, "there are several possibilities.
+One is, that this anonymous person is mad. In that case, we can't take
+too many precautions. The ingenuity of the insane is proverbial. Then,
+this may be a vicious vengeance; someone who hates your splendid mother,
+and would hurt her through you. You can see that if you had believed
+this detestable story it would have broken her heart. Now such a person,
+hoping that you would investigate, would have been quite capable of
+stocking your mother's secret compartment with stuff that at the first
+glance would have seemed to substantiate the story. You see, they knew
+all about the combination and the inner compartment, and they must have
+had access to your home. They probably took you for a silly little fool,
+full of curiosity, and counted on the shock of falling into their trap
+being so great that you would be in no condition to reason matters out;
+that you and your mother would be hopelessly estranged, or at least that
+you would so hurt and distress her that they could gloat over her
+unhappiness. You know you are the one thing she loves in all the world,
+Dorothy."
+
+He had talked looking straight ahead of him, striving to give his words
+judicial weight. Now he glanced down at Dorothy's face. It was calm, and
+a little color was returning to her cheeks. She pressed his hand
+fervently.
+
+"But it's so wicked!" she repeated. "It frightens me to think of such
+viciousness so near to us, and we don't know and can't guess who it is."
+
+"We'll find a clew. I'll have detectives to watch the house, and to
+trace the messenger who brought that letter, if possible. Say nothing to
+anyone, not even to Tante Lydia. Perhaps it would be best not to worry
+your mother at all about it. She's not well, you see. In the meantime,
+I'm going to take everything out of the safe, and transfer it to my own.
+I'll make a list. Then we'll change the combination."
+
+"Oh, I wish I'd come to you the very first minute," sighed Dorothy.
+"You're such a tower of strength, and you make everything so easy and
+simple. I'm ashamed of my fright, and my crying like a baby. You are so
+good to me--I--I just love you."
+
+For a second she rested her head on his shoulder with an abandon of
+childlike confidence, and his heart thrilled. His inner consciousness,
+however, warned him that a deeper motive than his desire to save Dorothy
+actuated him--he must shield the mother from the danger that had
+threatened the one vulnerable point in her armor of indifference, the
+love and respect of her child.
+
+At the apartment, inquiry for Aunt Lydia elicited the information that
+the lady had that moment left in company with Miss Gard, and the two
+conspirators proceeded alone to the library.
+
+Gard closed the door, drew the heavy leather curtain, and turned
+questioningly to Dorothy. With slow, reluctant movements she approached
+the wall, released the panel and exposed the front of the safe. With
+inexpert fingers, she set the combination and pulled back the door.
+
+"Where is the spring?" demanded Gard. He could not bear to have her
+touch what might lie behind the second partition. "Here, dear, take out
+these jewel cases and see if they are all right." He swept the velvet
+and morocco boxes into her hands, and felt better as he heard their
+clattering fall upon the table. He paused, listening for an instant to
+the beating of his own heart. He pressed the spring, and with swimming
+eyes looked at what the shelves revealed. "Dorothy," he called, and his
+voice was brittle as thin glass, "take a pencil and make a list as I
+dictate: One package of government bonds; a sheaf of bills, marked
+$2,000; two small boxes, wrapped and sealed; three large envelopes,
+sealed; two vouchers pinned together. Have you got that? I'll take
+possession for the present. Make a copy of that list for me." He snapped
+fast the inner door, and turned as he thrust the last of the packets
+into an inner pocket. "Now, thank you, my dear; and how about the
+valuables?"
+
+"There's nothing missing," said Dorothy, handing him a written slip,
+"except things I know mother took with her. So robbery wasn't the
+motive. I think you must be right. It's some crank. But, oh, if you only
+knew how afraid I am to stay here! I'm afraid of my own shadow; I'm
+afraid of the clock chimes; when the telephone rings I'm in a panic.
+Don't you think I could go away somewhere, with Tante Lydia--just go
+away?"
+
+Gard grasped at the suggestion. He could be sure that she would be
+beyond the reach of Mahr and his poisonous vengeance until he had time
+to crush him once and for all.
+
+"Yes," he nodded, "you should go away. This crank may be dangerous. We
+know he is cunning. You should go with your chaperon--say nothing about
+where to anyone, not to a soul, mind; not to the servants here, not even
+to Teddy Mahr. Just run down incognito to Atlantic City or Lakewood, or
+better still, to some little place where you are not known. Write your
+polite little notes, and say your first season has been too strenuous,
+and run away. When can you go? To-night? To-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes, I could be ready to-night; but what shall we say to Tante Lydia?"
+
+"Half the truth," he answered. "I'll take the responsibility. I'll tell
+her I've been informed by my private people that an anonymous person has
+been threatening you; that they are trying to locate him; and that as he
+is known to be dangerous, I've advised your leaving at once and quietly.
+I'll tell her a few of my experiences in that line, that will make her
+believe that 'discretion is the better part of valor.'" He laughed
+bitterly. "The kind attentions I've had in the way of infernal machines
+and threats by telephone and letter. And I see only a few, you know.
+What my secretaries stop and the police get on to besides would exhaust
+one. It's the penalty of the limelight, my dear. But don't take this too
+seriously. I'll have everything in hand in a day or two. Now I'm off to
+put your mother's valuables in a place of safety. Let's stow those jewel
+cases in a handbag. Can you lend me one?" She left the room and returned
+presently with a traveling case, into which Gard tossed the elaborate
+boxes without ceremony. "I've been thinking," he said presently, "that
+my sister's place in Westchester is open. She goes down often for week
+ends. There's a train at eight that will get you in by nine-thirty, and
+I can telephone instructions to meet you and have everything ready. If
+you motored down, you see, the chauffeur would know and you must be
+quite incognito. It'll be dead quiet, my dear, but you need a rest, and
+we can keep in touch with one another so easily."
+
+Dorothy leaned forward and gazed at him with burning eyes. "You are so
+good," she murmured. "Of course I'll go. I know mother would want me
+to--don't you think so?"
+
+He smiled grimly. "I'm certain she would. Now here are your directions;
+I'll attend to all the rest. All you have to do is pack. I'll send for
+you." He wrote for a moment, handed Dorothy the slip and began a note of
+explanation for Mrs. Mellows. "There," he said, as he handed over the
+missive for Dorothy's approval, "that covers the case. And now, my dear,
+the rest is my affair, and whoever he is--may God have mercy on his
+soul!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+Early on the morning following Dorothy's hurried departure, Marcus Gard,
+having dismissed his valet, was finishing his dressing in the presence
+of Brencherly.
+
+"I tried to get you last night," he rasped; "anyhow, you're here. What
+have you to report to me?"
+
+Brencherly shook his head. "As far as I can learn, sir, there's nobody
+slipped in the Marteen place, sir. All the information about the safe
+they have they got from the manufacturers and the people who installed
+it--only a short time ago."
+
+Gard frowned. "Well, I happen to know they got what they were after in
+the way of information. But I took the liberty of being custodian of the
+contents of that strong box--with Miss Marteen's permission, of
+course--so there is nothing more to be done in that direction. Now, have
+you had a man trailing Mahr? What I want is an interview with him in
+informal and quiet surroundings, with a view to clearing the matter up,
+you understand. But I'd rather not ask him for a meeting. All I know
+about his mode of life is: Metropolitan Club after five, usually; the
+Opera Monday nights. Neither of these habits will assist me in the
+least. I want by to-morrow a pretty good list of his engagements and a
+general map of his day--or perhaps you know enough now to oblige me with
+that information."
+
+Brencherly cast an inquisitive look at Gard. He had never accepted
+Gard's explanation of his interest in Mahr's affairs.
+
+"Well," he began slowly, "I put our men on the other end of the
+case--Balling, the Essex Safe Company and all that, and I went after
+Mahr myself. I think I can give you a fair idea of his daily life. He's
+at the office early--before nine, usually--and by twelve he's off,
+unless something unusual happens. He lunches with a club of men, as I
+guess you know. He goes for an hour to Tim McCurdy's, the ex-pugilist,
+for training. Then he's home for an hour with his secretary, going over
+private business and correspondence. Then he goes to the club for
+bridge, and in the evening he's usually out somewhere--any place that's
+A1 with the crowd. His son he has tied as tight to the office as any
+tenpenny clerk; doesn't get off till after five, and then he makes a
+beeline for the Marteens' or goes wherever he'll find the girl. I
+think--but, perhaps you know best." He paused, with one of his
+characteristic shuffles.
+
+Gard noted the sign and interpreted it correctly.
+
+"If you've got a good idea, it's worth your while," he said shortly.
+
+Brencherly blushed as guilelessly as a girl. "Oh, it's nothing, only I
+think--perhaps if you want to see him alone, you might pretend some
+business and go to his house about the time he's there every afternoon."
+
+"And discuss our affairs before a secretary?" sneered Gard. "You can bet
+Mahr'd have him in the office--I know his way."
+
+"Well, his den is pretty near sound-proof, like yours, sir. And besides,
+I could arrange with Mr. Long, the secretary, to have a headache, or a
+bad fall, or any little thing, the day you might mention--he's a
+personal friend of mine."
+
+"Well, just now I don't much care how you manage it. What I want is that
+interview. Is your friend, Mr. Long, a confidential secretary?"
+
+"I don't think," said Brencherly demurely, "that Mr. Mahr is very
+confidential even to himself."
+
+"Could you reach him--Mr. Long, I mean--at any time?" asked Gard--he was
+planning rapidly.
+
+The detective nodded toward the telephone.
+
+"Well," growled his employer, "could your man suggest to Mahr that he
+had had wind of something in Cosmopolitan Telephone? I'll see that
+there's a move to corroborate it by noon to-day, if Long gets in his tip
+early. And suggest, too, that I'm sore because he bought the Heim
+Vandyke; but that if he asked me to come and see it, I'd go, and he
+might have a chance to pump me. I happen to know that Mahr is in the
+telephone pool up to his eyes, and he'd do anything to get into quick
+communication with me. He is probably going to the club to-day, and I'll
+not be there--see?"
+
+Brencherly shrugged his shoulders. "Of course, if things turn
+out--um--fishy, Long loses his job. But he's a good man to have well
+placed. I guess we could land him a berth."
+
+Gard sickened. He could read the detective's secret satisfaction in the
+association of that "we" in a shady transaction. Naturally, to have a
+man on whom they "had something" in a place of trust might be a great
+asset.
+
+"Long will be taken care of," he snapped, replacing his scarf pin for
+the twentieth time, and making an unspoken promise to himself to send
+the secretary so far away from the scene of Brencherly's activities that
+he would at least have a chance to begin life anew without fear of the
+past.
+
+"May I?" queried Brencherly, with a jerk of his head toward the
+telephone.
+
+"Rather you didn't--from here. Go out, get your man and tell me when he
+will tip Mahr. That means my orders in the Street. Tell him there is
+news of federal action. I drop out enough stock to sink the quotations a
+few points--it's the truth, too, hang it! But it won't get very far."
+
+A crafty smile curled the detective's lips as he rose to go. "Very good,
+sir. We'll pull it off all right. I suppose the office will find you?"
+
+"Yes," said Gard. "And I see you intend to take a flier on your inside
+information. Well, all I say is, don't hang on too long. Get busy now;
+there's no time to waste."
+
+He rang for his valet to show the man out, descended to the dining room,
+dispatched his simple breakfast and turned his face and thoughts
+officeward. With that move came the thought of Washington. He cast it
+from him angrily, yet when the swirl of business affairs closed around
+him he experienced a certain pleasure and relief in stemming its tides
+and battling with its current. True, the current was swift and boded the
+whirlpool, but the rage that was in him seemed to give him added
+strength, added foresight. At least in this struggle he was gaining,
+mastering the flood and directing it to his will. Would his mastery be
+proven in this other and more personal affair? He set his teeth and
+redoubled his efforts, intent on proving his own power to himself. Even
+as Napoleon believed in his star, Gard trusted in his luck, and it was
+with a smothered laugh of sardonic satisfaction that news of the first
+move in his campaign came over the wire.
+
+"My man has tipped his hand," came Brencherly's voice. "The other one is
+more than interested--excited. Make your cast and you get a bite on your
+picture bait."
+
+Gard telephoned his orders to several brokers to sell and sell quickly
+and make no secret of it, then returned to work with a laugh upon his
+lips.
+
+Contrary to his habit he remained in his office during the luncheon
+hour, having a tray sent in. He was to remain invisible. Mahr would
+doubtless make every effort to find him by what might appear accident.
+Later a message, asking him to join a bridge game at the Metropolitan
+Club, caused him to chuckle. His would-be host was a friend of Mahr's.
+He answered curtly that he was sick of wasting his time at cards, and
+had decided to drop it for a while, hanging up the receiver so abruptly
+that the conversation ceased in the midst of a word. An hour later Mahr
+addressed him over the wire.
+
+"Ah, Gard, is that you? I called you up to tell you the Heim Vandyke has
+just been sent up to me. I hear you were interested in it yourself,
+though you saw only the photograph. Don't you want to stop in on your
+way uptown and see it? It's a gem. You'll be sorry you didn't bid on it.
+But, joking aside, you're the connoisseur whose opinion I want. I don't
+give a continental about the dealers; they'll fill you up with
+anything." Gard growled a brief acceptance. "I'll be glad to see you.
+Good-by."
+
+Abruptly he terminated his interviews and conferences, adjourning all
+business till the following day. Mentioning an hour when, if necessary,
+he might be found in his home, he dismissed his officials, slipped into
+his overcoat, secured his hat, turned at the door of his private office,
+muttering something about his stick, and, quickly crossing the room,
+opened a drawer of his writing table and drew forth a small, snub-nosed
+revolver. He hesitated a moment, tossed it back, and squaring his
+shoulders strode from the room.
+
+Half an hour later he entered the spacious lobby of Victor Mahr's
+ostentatious dwelling.
+
+"Mr. Mahr is expecting you, sir," said the solemn servant, who conducted
+him to a vast anteroom, hung with trophies of armor, and bowed him into
+a second room, book-lined and businesslike, evidently the secretary's
+private office, deserted now and in some confusion, as if the occupant
+had left in haste. The servant crossed to a door opposite, and having
+discreetly knocked and announced the distinguished visitor, bowed and
+retired. The lackey would have taken Gard's overcoat and hat, but he
+retained his hold upon them, as if determined that his stay should be
+short.
+
+Mahr rose to greet him, his hand extended. Gard's impedimenta seemed to
+preclude the handshake, and the host hastened to insist upon his guest
+being relieved.
+
+Gard shook his head. "I have only a moment to inspect your picture,
+Mahr," he said coldly.
+
+"Oh, no, don't say that. Have a highball; you will find everything on
+the table. What can I give you? This Scotch is excellent."
+
+"No," said Gard sternly. "Excuse me; I am here for one purpose."
+
+Mahr was chagrined, but switched on the electric lights above the canvas
+occupying the place of honor on the crowded wall. The portrait stood
+revealed, a jewel of color, rich as a ruby, mysterious as an autumn
+night, vivid in its humanity, divine in its art, palpitating with life,
+yet remote as death itself. The marvelous canvas glowed before them--a
+thing to quell anger, to stifle love, to still hate itself in an impulse
+of admiration.
+
+Suddenly Marcus Gard began to laugh, as he had laughed that day long
+ago, at his own discomfiture.
+
+"What is it?" stuttered Mahr, amazed. "Don't you think it genuine?"
+There was panic in his tone.
+
+Gard laughed again, then broke off as suddenly as he had begun; and
+passion thrilled in his voice as he turned fierce eyes upon his enemy.
+
+"I am laughing at the singular role this painting has played in my life.
+We have met before--the Heim Vandyke and I. If Fate chooses to turn
+painter, we must grind his colors, I suppose. But what I intend to grind
+first, is you, Victor Mahr! You--you cowardly hound! No--stand where you
+are; don't go near that bell. It's hard enough for me to keep my hands
+off you as it is!"
+
+The attack had been so unexpected that Mahr was honestly at a loss to
+account for it. He looked anxiously toward the door, remembered the
+absence of his secretary and gasped in fear. He was at the mercy of the
+madman. With an effort he mastered his terror.
+
+"Don't be angry," he stammered. "Don't be annoyed with me; it's all a
+mistake, you know. Are you--are you feeling quite well? Do let me give
+you something--a--a glass of champagne, perhaps. I'll call a servant."
+
+Gard's smile was so cruel that Mahr's worst fears were confirmed. But
+the torrent of accusation that burst from Gard's lips bore him down with
+the consciousness of the other's knowledge.
+
+"You scoundrel!" roared the enraged man. "You squirming, poisonous
+snake! You would strike at a woman through her daughter, would you! You
+would send anonymous letters to a child about her mother! You would hire
+sneaks for your sneaking vileness!--coward, brute that you are! Well, I
+know it all--_all_, I say. And as true as I live, if ever you make one
+move in that direction again, I shall find it out, and I will kill you!
+But first I'll go to your boy, Victor Mahr, and I shall tell him: 'Your
+father is a criminal--a bigamist. Your mother never was his wife. Sneak
+and beast from first to last, he found it easier to desert and deceive.
+You are the nameless child of an outcast father, the whelp of a cur.'
+I'll say in your own words, Victor Mahr: 'Obscurity is best, perhaps,
+even exile.' Do you remember those words? Well, never forget them again
+as long as you live, or, by God, you'll have no time on earth to make
+your peace!"
+
+Mahr's face was gray; his hands trembled. He looked at that moment as if
+the death the other threatened was already come upon him. There was a
+moment of silence, intense, charged with the electricity of emotions--a
+silence more sinister than the noise of battles. Twice Mahr attempted to
+speak, but no sound came from his contracted throat. Slowly he pulled
+himself together. A look awful, inhuman, flashed over his convulsed
+features. Words came at last, high, cackling and cracked, like the voice
+of senility.
+
+"It's you--it's _you_!" he quavered. "So she told you everything, did
+she? So you and she--"
+
+The sentence ended in a hoarse gasp, as Mahr launched himself at Gard
+with the spring of an animal goaded beyond endurance.
+
+Gard was the larger man, and his wrath had been long demanding
+expression. They closed with a jar that rocked the electric lamp on the
+desk. There was a second of straining and uncertainty. Then with a jerk
+Gard lifted his adversary clear off his feet, and shook him, shook him
+with the fury of a bulldog, and as relentlessly. Then, as if the
+temptation to murder was more than he could longer resist, he flung him
+from him.
+
+Mahr fell full length upon the heavy rug, limp and inert, yet conscious.
+
+Gard stooped, picked up his hat and gloves from where they had fallen
+and turned upon his heel.
+
+At that moment the outside door of the secretary's office opened and
+closed, and footsteps sounded in the room beyond.
+
+"Get up," said Gard quietly, "unless you care to have them see you
+there."
+
+The sound had acted like magic upon the prostrate man. He did not need
+the admonition. He had already dragged his shaking body to an upright
+position, ere he slowly sank down into the embrace of one of the huge
+armchairs.
+
+A quick knock was followed by the appearance of Teddy Mahr. The room was
+in darkness save for the light on the table and the clustered radiance
+concentrated upon the glowing portrait, that had smiled down remote and
+serene upon the scene just enacted, as it had doubtless gazed upon many
+another as strange.
+
+"Father!" exclaimed the boy, and as he came within the ring of light,
+his face showed pale and anxious.
+
+Gard did not give him time for a reply. "Good evening," he said. "I have
+been admiring the Vandyke. A wonderful canvas, and one thing that your
+father may well be proud of."
+
+At the sound of the voice the young man turned and advanced with an
+exclamation of welcome. "Mr. Gard, the very one I most wanted to see.
+Tell me--what is the matter? Where has Dorothy gone? I've been to the
+house, and either they don't know or they won't tell me. She didn't let
+me know. I can't understand it. For heaven's sake, tell me! Nothing is
+wrong, is there?"
+
+"Why, of course, you should know, Teddy." For the first time he used the
+familiar term. "I quite forgot about you young people. You see, Dorothy
+received threatening letters from some crank, and as we weren't sure
+what might occur I sent her off. _Mahr, shall I tell your son?_"
+
+He turned to where the limp figure showed huddled in the depths of red
+upholstery. There was a question and a threat in the measured words.
+
+"Of course, tell him Miss Marteen's address," and in that answer there
+was a prayer.
+
+"Then here." Gard wrote a few words on his card and gave it into the
+boy's eager hand. "Run up and see her. She's with her aunt. I can bring
+her home any time now, however. We've located the trouble and got the
+man under restraint. Good-night."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Though the heat in the Pullman was intense the tall woman in the first
+seat was heavily veiled. She had come out from the drawing room to allow
+more freedom to her maid, who was packing a dressing-case and rolling up
+steamer rugs. Her fellow travelers eyed her with curiosity. She was
+doubtless some great and exclusive personage, for she had not appeared
+in public, not even in the diner. She sank into the vacant seat with an
+air of hopeless weariness, yet her restless hands never ceased their
+groping, her slim fingers slipped in and out, in and out of the loop of
+her long neck chain, or nervously twined one with another in endless
+intertouch.
+
+The long journey north was over at last. The weary days and nights of
+hurried travel. Only a moment more and the familiar sights and sounds of
+the great city would greet her once again. She was going home--to what?
+Mrs. Marteen did not dare to picture the future. Pursued, as if by the
+Furies themselves, she had been driven, madly, blind with suffering,
+back to the scene of disaster--to know--to know--the worst, perhaps--but
+to know!
+
+Day and night, night and day, her iron will had fought the fever that
+burned in her veins. Silent, self-controlled, she had given no sign of
+her suffering and her terror, though her eyes were ringed with
+sleeplessness and her mouth had grown stiff with its effort to command.
+The tension was torture. Her heart strings were drawn to the snapping
+point; her mind was a bowstring never relaxed, till every fiber of her
+resistant body ached for relief.
+
+At last they had arrived. At last the hollow rumble of the train in the
+vast echoing station warned her of her journey's end. Instinctively she
+gave her orders, thrusting her baggage checks into the hands of her
+maid.
+
+"I'm going on at once," she said. "Attend to everything. Give me my
+little necessaire. I don't feel quite well, and I want to get home as
+quickly as possible."
+
+She hurried away before the servant could ask a question, and was
+directed to the open cab stand. As she stepped in, she reeled.
+Trepidation took hold upon her, but with enforced calm, she seated
+herself, and gave the address to the starter. As the motor drew away
+from the great buildings, she threw back her veil for the first time,
+and opened a window. The rush of cool air revived her somewhat, but her
+heart beat spasmodically, her blood seemed a thin, unliving stream.
+Street after street slipped by like a panorama on a screen, familiar,
+yet unreal. The world, her world, had changed in its essence, in its
+every manifestation.
+
+At last the taxi drew up before the door of her home--was it home still?
+she wondered. Her hand trembled so she could not unfasten the latch, and
+the chauffeur, descending from his seat, came to her assistance.
+
+"Wait," she said in a strangled voice. "Wait; I may want you."
+
+At the door of her apartment she had to pause, before she rang, to
+gather courage, to obtain control of her whirling brain. At last the
+ornate door swung inward and her butler faced her with welcoming eye.
+
+"Mrs. Marteen! Pray pardon the undress livery! No word had been
+received."
+
+She took note of the darkened rooms. Only one switch, whose glow she had
+seen turned on as the servant came to the door, gave light. The place
+was hollow and unlived in as an outworn shell.
+
+"Miss Dorothy?" she said, striving to give her voice a natural tone.
+
+The butler h'mmed. "Miss Dorothy has gone, Madam, with Madam's
+sister--since yesterday. They left no address, and said nothing about
+when they might be expected. Mr. Gard had been with Miss Dorothy in the
+afternoon."
+
+Mrs. Marteen caught hold of the broad and solid back of a carved hall
+chair and stood motionless, leaning her full weight on its ancient oak
+for support.
+
+"That's all right, Stevens," she said at length. "You needn't notify the
+other servants that I have returned--for the present. I'm going right
+out again. I just stopped in for some important papers I may have need
+of. Just light the hall and the library, will you?"
+
+With the falling of the sword that severed her last hope a new
+self-possession came to her--the quiet of despair. Her brain cleared,
+her fevered pulse became normal, the weariness that had racked her frame
+passed from her. She only asked to be alone for a little--alone with her
+love and her memories. She quarreled no more with Fate.
+
+The butler preceded her, lighting the way. At the door of the library,
+she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Calmly she entered and softly
+closed the door behind her. In the blaze of the electrics she saw every
+nook and corner of the room--photographically--every tone and color,
+every glint and gleam, but her mind fastened itself with remorseless
+logic to one thing only--the sliding panel. In her distracted vision it
+seemed to move, to slip back even as she gazed. The grain of the wood
+appeared to writhe, to creep up and down and ripple as if with the evil
+life of what lay behind. She forced herself to walk across the room to
+lay her weakened fingers, from which all sense of touch seemed to have
+withdrawn, upon that vibrating panel. The face of the safe stood
+revealed. Slowly with growing fear she turned the numbers of the
+combination and paused--she could not face the ordeal, but with the
+releasing of the clutch, the weight of the door caused it to open
+slowly, as if an invisible force drew it outward and Mrs. Marteen saw
+before her the empty shelves within. As if in a dream she pressed the
+spring, and realized that the carefully planned hiding place, was hiding
+place no more. She stood still with outstretched arms, as if crucified.
+The mute evidence of that opened door was not to be refuted. Her enemy
+had triumphed; her own sin had found her out. No self-pity eased the
+awful moments. Hot pity poured in upon her heart, but not for herself in
+this hour of misery--but for her daughter, for the innocent sweet soul
+of truth, whose faith had been shattered, whose deepest love had been
+betrayed, whose belief in honor had been destroyed. Where had she fled?
+Into whose heart had she poured the torrent of her grief and shame?
+Could there be one thought of love, of forgiveness? Ah, she was a mother
+no longer. She had sold her sacred trust. She had no rights, no
+privileges. She must go--go quickly, efface herself forever. That was
+her duty, that was the only way. Like a mortally wounded creature, she
+thought only of some small, cramped, sheltered corner, some lair wherein
+to die.
+
+With an effort she turned from the room, closed the door, and stood
+uncertain where to turn. Down the corridor, at its far end, was
+Dorothy's room. The thought drew her. She turned the knob, found the
+switch, and hesitated on the thresh-hold. Should she go in? Should she,
+the sin-stained soul, dare profane the sanctuary, the virginal altar of
+the pure in heart! Yes--ah, yes!--for this last time! She was a mother
+still.
+
+She entered, and cast herself on her knees by the little pink and white
+bed. She had no tears--the springs of relief were dried in the flame of
+her heart's hell. She found Dorothy's pillow, a mass of dainty
+embroidery and foolish frills. She laid her hot cheek on its cool linen
+surface. In a passion of loss she kissed each leaf and rose of its
+needlework garland.
+
+Then she rose to her feet. She must go, she must disappear--now, and
+forever from the world that had known her. She would send one message
+when the time came--one message--to the one man she trusted, to the one
+man who would fulfill her wish--that in the years to come, his watchful
+care should guard her child from further harm. But that, too, must wait.
+She rose to her feet, and crossed to the dressing-table. There was
+Dorothy's picture--her little girl's picture, the one she preferred to
+all the others. She slipped it from its silver frame, and clasped it to
+her breast. She could not bear to look upon the room as she left it. She
+turned off the light, and crept away like a thief. She was trembling
+now. The calmness that had been hers as she heard her death sentence,
+was gone. Her overtaxed body and mind rebelled. It was with difficulty
+that she made her way through the deserted rooms and stumbled to the
+street and the waiting cab.
+
+"Where to?" the chauffeur asked.
+
+She gave the name of one of the large hotels. Yes, once in some such
+caravanserai, she might elude all pursuit. In one door and out of
+another--and who was to find her trace in the seething mass of the
+city's life? The simple transaction of paying her fare, and entering the
+hotel became strangely difficult. Words eluded her, she was conscious
+that the chauffeur eyed her oddly as he handed her her bag.
+
+Then came a blank. She found herself once more out-of-doors, in an
+unfamiliar cross street. She saw a number on a lamppost, and realized
+that she had walked many blocks. She imagined that she was
+pursued--someone was lurking behind her in the shadow of an
+area--someone had peeped at her from behind drawn blinds. She started to
+run, but her bursting heart restrained her. She tried to still its
+beating; it seemed loud, clamorous as a drum; everyone must hear it and
+wonder what consciousness of guilt could make a heart beat so loudly in
+one's breast. She began walking again as rapidly as she dared. She must
+not attract attention. She must not let the shadows that followed her
+know that she feared them. If they guessed her panic they would lurk no
+longer; they would crowd close, rush upon her in vaporous throngs,
+stifling her like hot smoke.
+
+She paused for breath in her painful flight. The glare from the entrance
+of a moving picture show fell upon her. Somehow, in that light she felt
+safe. The shadows could not cross its yellow glare. She breathed more
+easily for a moment, then became tense. A man was coming out of the
+white and gold ginger-bread entrance, like a maggot from some huge cake.
+The man was small, middle-aged, dark, with unwieldy movements and evil,
+predatory eyes--"Like Victor Mahr!" she said aloud; "like Victor Mahr!"
+The man passed before her and was gone from the circle of light into the
+darkness of the outer street. She gave a gasp, and her mad eyes dilated.
+The suggestion had gripped her. Sudden furious hate entered her soul.
+Victor Mahr--her enemy! The cause of all her heart break. She had
+forgotten how or why this was the case; but she knew herself the
+victim--he, the torturer. She wanted vengeance, she wanted relief from
+her own torment. It was he who held the key to the whole trouble. She
+must find him out. She must tear it from him. She strove to think
+clearly, to remember where she might find him. She started walking
+again; standing still would not find him, that was certain.
+Unconsciously she followed the directions her subconscious mind offered.
+As she walked, there came a sense of approval. She was on the right
+track now. Her footfalls became less dragging and aimless. She was going
+somewhere--to a definite place, where she would find something vastly
+necessary, imperative to her very life.
+
+She neared a church; passed it. Yes, that was right. It was a landmark
+on her road. A white archway loomed before her in the gloom. Her
+journey's end--her journey's end! With that realization fatigue mastered
+her. She must rest before making any further effort, or she could not
+accomplish anything. Her limbs refused to do her bidding. The weight of
+her traveling case had become a crushing burden. But before she rested
+she must find something important that she had come so far to see--a
+house, a large house--what house?
+
+She looked about her at the stately mansions fronting the square. Then
+recognition leaped into her eyes, and she sank upon a bench facing the
+familiar entrance. Now she could afford to wait. Her enemy could not
+escape while she sat watching. He--could--not--escape--
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+As Marcus Gard stood upon the steps of Mahr's residence, and heard the
+soft closing of its door behind him, he shut his eyes, drew himself
+erect and breathed deep of the keen, cold air. A rush of youth expanded
+every vein and artery. He experienced the physical and mental exultation
+of the strong man who has met and conquered his enemy. The mere personal
+expression of his anger had relieved him. He felt strong, alert, almost
+happy. He descended to the street and turned his steps homeward. At last
+something was accomplished. The serpent's fangs were drawn. He
+experienced a cynical amusement in the thought that the path of true
+love had been smoothed by such equivocal means. Neither of the children
+would ever know of the shadows that had gathered so closely around them.
+
+But, Mrs. Marteen--what of her? Again the longing came upon him--to know
+her awake to herself and to her own soul; to know the predatory instinct
+forever quieted, that upsurging of some remote inconscience of the
+race's history of rapine in the open, and acquisition by stealth,
+forever conquered; to know her spirit triumphant. The momentary joy of
+successful battle passed, leaving him deeply troubled. All his fears
+returned. The sense of impending disaster, that had withdrawn for the
+moment, overwhelmed him once more.
+
+He entered his own home absently, listened, abstracted, to the various
+items Saunders thought important enough to mention, dismissed him, and
+turned wearily to a pile of personal mail. His eye caught a familiar
+handwriting on a thick envelope.
+
+From Mrs. Marteen evidently--postmarked St. Augustine. He broke the
+seal, wondering how her letter came to bear that mark. What change had
+been made in her plans? He hesitated, panic-stricken, like a woman
+before an unexpected telegram. He withdrew the enclosure, noting at a
+glance a variety of papers--the appearance of a diary.
+
+"Dear, dear friend," it began, "I must write--I must, and to you,
+because you know--you know, and yet you have made me your friend--to
+you, because you love my little girl. They are killing me, killing me
+through her. I'm coming home, as fast as I can; I don't yet know how,
+for I'm heading the other way, and I can't stop the steamer, but I'm
+coming. I received a message, the second day out. It had been given to
+the purser for delivery and marked with the date--that's nothing
+unusual; I've had steamer letters delivered, one each day, during a
+whole crossing. I never gave it a thought when he handed it to me, I
+never divined. It seems to me now that I should have sensed it. I read
+it, and--but how to tell you? I have it here; I'll send it to you."
+
+A sheet of notepaper was pinned to the letter. Sick at heart, Gard
+unfastened it. Mahr's name appeared at the bottom. Gard read: "Dear
+lady, you forgot to give your daughter the combination of the jewel safe
+and its inner compartment before you sailed. I am attending to that for
+you, and have no doubt that she will at once inventory the contents. We
+are always glad to return favors conferred upon us."
+
+Gard's heart stood still. A sweeping regret invaded him that he had not
+slain the man when his hands were upon him. He threw the note aside and
+turned again to Mrs. Marteen's letter.
+
+"You see," he read, "there is nothing for me to do. A wireless to
+Dorothy? She has doubtless had the information since the hour of my
+departure. What can I do? I have thought of you; but how make you, who
+know nothing of Victor Mahr, understand anything in a message that would
+not reveal all to everyone who must aid in its transmission? That at
+least mustn't happen. I am praying every minute that she will go to
+you--you, who know and have tolerated me. I can't bear for her to
+know--I can't--it's killing me! My heart contracts and stops when I
+think of it."
+
+Further down the page, in another ink, evidently written later, was a
+single note:
+
+"I've left a message with the wireless operator, a sort of desperate
+hope that it may be of some use--to Dorothy, telling her to consult you
+on all matters of importance. I've written one to you, telling you to
+find her. The man says he'll send them out as soon as he gets into touch
+with anyone."
+
+A still later entry:
+
+"Two P.M.--I'm in my cabin all the time. I think that I shall go mad.
+That sounds conventional, doesn't it--reminiscent of melodrama! I assure
+you it's worse than real. I feel as if for years and years I've been
+asleep, and now've wakened up into a nightmare. I _can_ write to you;
+that's the one thing that gives me relief. Your kindness seems a shield
+behind which I can crawl. I can't sleep; I can only--not think--no, it
+isn't thinking I do--it's realizing--and everything is terrible. The
+sunlight makes ripples on my cabin ceiling; they weave and part and
+wrinkle. I try to fix my attention on them, and hypnotize myself into
+lethargy. Sometimes I almost succeed, and then I begin realizing again.
+And in the night I stare at the electric light till my eyes ache, and
+try to numb my thoughts. Must my little girl know what I am? Can't that
+be averted? I know it can't--I know, and yet I pray and
+pray--I--_pray!"_
+
+Another sheet, evidently torn from a pad: "The wireless is out of order;
+they couldn't send my messages. You don't know the despair that has
+taken hold of me. My mind feels white--that's the only way I can
+describe it--cold and white--frozen, a blank. My body is that way, too.
+I hold my hands to the light, and it doesn't seem as if there was even
+the faintest red. They are the hands of a dead person--I wish they were!
+But I must know--must know. We are due in Havana to-morrow. I shall take
+the first boat out--to anywhere, where I can get a train, that's the
+quickest. Oh, you, who have so often told me I must stop and think and
+realize things! Did you know what it _was_ you wanted me to do? Have you
+any idea what torture _is?_ You couldn't! I don't believe even Mahr
+would have done this to me--if he had known; nobody could--nobody could.
+Now, all sorts of things are assailing me; not only the horror that
+Dorothy should _know_, but the horror of having _done_ such things. I
+can't feel that it was I; it must have been somebody else. Why, I
+couldn't have; it's impossible; and yet I did, I did, I did! Sometimes I
+laugh, and then I am frightened at myself--I did it just then; it was at
+the thought that here am I, _writing letters_--I, who have always
+thought letters that incriminate were the weakness of fools, the blind
+spot of intelligence--I, who have profited by letters--written in anger,
+in love, in the passion of money-getting--everything--I'm
+writing--writing from my bursting heart. Ah, you wanted me to realize;
+I'm fulfilling your wish. Oh, good, kind soul that you are, forgive me!
+I'm clinging to the thought of you to save me; I'm trusting in you
+blindly. It's five days since I left."
+
+The sheet that followed was on beflagged yachting paper:
+
+"What luck! I happened on the Detmores the moment I landed. They were
+just sailing. I transferred to them. I'm on board and homeward bound. We
+reach St. Augustine to-morrow night; then I'm coming through as fast as
+I can. I've thought it all over now. Since the wireless messages weren't
+sent, I shall send no cable or telegram. I shall find out what the
+situation is, and perhaps it will be better for me just to disappear. It
+may be best that Dorothy shall never see me again. I shall go straight
+home. I'm posting this in St. Augustine; it will probably go on the same
+train with me. When you receive this and have read it, come to me. I
+shall need you, I know--but perhaps you won't care to; perhaps you won't
+want to be mixed up in an affair that may already be the talk of the
+town. It's one thing to know a criminal who goes unquestioned and
+another to befriend one revealed and convicted. Don't come, then. I am
+at the very end of my endurance now. What sort of a wreck will walk into
+that disgraced home of mine? And still I pray and pray--"
+
+Gard stood up. A sudden dizziness seized him. Go to her! Of course he
+must, at once, at once; there was not a moment to be lost. He calculated
+the length of time the letter had taken to reach him since its delivery
+in the city--hours at least. And she had returned home to find--what? He
+almost cried out in his anguish--to find Dorothy gone, no one at the
+house knew where. What must she think?
+
+He snatched up the telephone and called her number, his voice shaking in
+spite of his effort to control it.
+
+The butler answered. Yes; madam had returned suddenly; had gone to the
+library for something; had asked for Miss Dorothy, and when she heard
+she was away, had made no comment, and left shortly afterwards. Yes, she
+appeared ill, very ill.
+
+"I'm coming over," Gard cut in. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
+
+He rang, ordered the servant to stop the first taxi, seized his coat and
+hat, left a peremptory order to his physician not to be beyond call,
+tumbled into his outer garments and made for the street. The taxi
+sputtered at the curb, but just as he dashed down the steps a limousine
+drew up, and Denning sprang from its opened door. His hand fell heavily
+upon Gard's shoulder as he stooped to enter the cab. Gard turned, his
+overwrought nerves stinging with the shock of the other's restraining
+touch.
+
+Denning's hand fell, for the face of his friend was distorted beyond
+recognition. The words his lips had framed to speak died upon his
+tongue, as with a furious heave Gard shook him off, entered the cab and
+slammed the door. Denning stood for a moment surprised into inaction,
+then, with an order to follow, he leaped into his own car and started in
+pursuit.
+
+When Gard reached the familiar entrance, his anxiety had grown, like
+physical pain, almost to the point where human endurance ceases and
+becomes brute suffering. He felt cornered and helpless. At the door of
+Mrs. Marteen's apartment a sort of unreasoning rage filled him. To ring;
+the bell seemed a futility; he wanted to break in the painted glass and
+batter down the door. The calm expression of the butler who answered his
+summons was like a personal insult. Were they all mad that they did not
+realize?
+
+"Where is Mrs. Marteen?" he demanded hoarsely.
+
+The servant shook his head. "She left two hours ago, at least," he
+answered, with a glance toward the hall clock.
+
+"What did she say--what message did she leave?" Gard pushed by him
+impatiently, making for the stairs leading to the upper floor and the
+library.
+
+The butler stared. "Why, nothing, sir. She asked for Miss Dorothy, and
+when none of us could tell her where she went, or why--which we all
+thought queer enough, sir--she didn't seem surprised; so I suppose she
+knows, sir. Madam just went upstairs to the library first, and then to
+Miss Dorothy's room--the maid saw her, sir--and then she came down and
+went out. She had on a heavy veil, but she looked scarce fit to stand
+for all that, and she went--never said a word about her baggage or
+anything--just went out to the cab that was waiting. Then about a half
+hour later, Mary, her maid, came in with the boxes. I hope there's
+nothing wrong, sir?"
+
+Gard listened, his heart tightening with apprehension. "Call White
+Plains, 56," he ordered sharply. "Tell Miss Dorothy to come at once and
+then send for me, quick, now!" he commanded; and as the wondering flunky
+turned toward the telephone, he sprang up the stairs, threw open the
+library door and entered. The electric lights were blazing in the heat
+and silence of the closed room. The odor of violets hung reminiscent in
+the stale air. The panel by the mantelpiece was thrust back, and the
+door of the safe, so uselessly concealed, hung open, revealing the empty
+shelves within and the deep shadow of the inner compartment. He saw it
+all in a flash of understanding; the frantic woman's rush to the place
+of concealment,--the ravaged hiding place. What could she argue, but
+that all that her enemy had planned had befallen? Her child knew all,
+and had gone--fled from her and the horror of her life, leaving no sign
+of forgiveness or pity.
+
+Sick, and faint, Gard turned away. One door in the corridor stood open,
+left so, he divined, by the hurried passing of the mother from the empty
+nest, Dorothy's room, all pink and white and girlish in its simplicity.
+One fragrant pillow, with its dainty embroidered cover, was dented, as
+if still warm from the burning cheek that had pressed it in an agony of
+loss. Nothing about the chamber was displaced; only an empty photograph
+frame lying upon the dressing table told of the trembling, pale hands
+that had bereft it of its jewel. She had taken her little girl's picture
+with the heartbroken conviction that never again would she see its
+original, or that those girlish eyes would look upon her again save in
+fear and loathing. The empty case dropped from his hands to the
+silver-crowded, lace-covered table; he was startled to see in the
+mirror, hung with its frivolous load of cotillion favors and dance
+cards, his own face convulsed with grief, and turned, appalled, from his
+own image. His resourceful brain refused its functions. He could not
+guess her movements after that silent, definitive leave taking. He could
+but picture her tall, erect figure, outwardly composed and nonchalant,
+as she must have stood, facing the outer world, looking out to what--to
+what? A mad hope rose in his breast. Would she turn to him? Would her
+instinctive steps lead her to seek his protection.
+
+Yes. He must be where she could find him; he must be within reach. It
+could not be that she would pass thus silently into some unknown
+life--or-- He would not concede the other possibility.
+
+Turning blindly from the room, he descended to the lower floor, where
+the butler, with difficulty suppressing his curiosity, informed him that
+Miss Dorothy had answered that she would return to town at once.
+
+Gard hesitated, then turned sharply upon the servant. "Your mistress has
+been ill, as you know. We have reason to believe that she is not quite
+herself. If you learn anything of her, notify me at once. No matter what
+orders she may give, you understand, or no matter how slight the
+clew--send for me."
+
+Once again in the street, he paused, uncertain. His eye fell upon
+Denning's limousine drawn up behind his waiting cab. Fury at this
+espionage sent him toward it. Thrusting his face In at the open window,
+he glared at his pursuer.
+
+"What are you here for?" he snarled.
+
+Denning looked at him coldly. "To see that you keep faith, that's all.
+Your personal concerns must wait. Have you forgotten that you are to
+take the midnight train to Washington? I'm here to see that you do it."
+
+Gard wrenched open the door of the car. "You are, are you? Let the whole
+damned thing go!" he cried. "Send your proxies. This is a matter of life
+and death!"
+
+"I know it," said Denning; "it is--to a lot of people who trust you; and
+you are going to do your duty if I have to kidnap you to do it. You have
+two hours before your train leaves. My private car is waiting for you.
+Make what plans you like till then; but I'll not leave you; neither will
+Langley--he's following you, too. Come, buck up. Are you mad that you
+desert in the face of shipwreck?"
+
+Gard turned suddenly, ordered his taxi to follow and got in beside
+Denning. His mood and voice were changed. "I've got to think. Don't
+speak to me. Get me home as soon as you can."
+
+He leaned back, closed his eyes and concentrated all his energies. In
+the first place, Denning was right--he must not desert, even with his
+own disaster close upon him. He owed his public his life, if necessary.
+As a king must go to the defense of his people in spite of every private
+grief or necessity, so he must go now. The very form of his decision
+surprised him. He realized that his yearning for another soul's
+awakening had awakened his own soul. He had willed her a conscience and
+developed one himself. But, his decision reached with that sudden
+precision characteristic of him, his anxious fears demanded that every
+possible precaution be taken, every effort made that could tend to save
+or relieve the desperate situation he must leave behind him. First of
+all his physician--to him he must speak the truth, and to him alone.
+Brencherly should be his active tool. Mahr must be impressed.
+
+Springing from the motor at his own door, he snapped an order to his
+butler, and sent him with the cab to bring the doctor instantly. Once in
+the library, he telephoned for the detective. He then called up Victor
+Mahr, requested that however late he might call, a visitor be admitted
+at once, on a matter of the first importance and received the assurance
+that his wishes would be complied with; he asked Denning, who had
+followed him, to wait in another room, thrust back the papers on his
+table and settled himself to write.
+
+"No one knows anything," he scrawled, "neither Dorothy nor anyone else."
+With succinct directness he covered the whole story--explained,
+elucidated. Through every word the golden thread of his deep devotion
+glowed steadily. Would the letter ever reach her? Would her eyes ever
+see the reassuring lines? He refused to believe his efforts useless. She
+must come. He sealed and directed the letter, as Brencherly was
+admitted. Gard turned and eyed the young man sharply, wondering how
+much, how little he dared tell him.
+
+"Brencherly," he said slowly, "I'm giving you the biggest commission of
+your life. You've got to take my place here, for I'm going to the front.
+I've got to rely on you, and if you fail me, well, you know me--that's
+enough. Now, I want discretion first, last and all the time. Then I want
+foresight, tact, genius--everything in you that can think and plan. Here
+are the facts: Mrs. Marteen has come back--suddenly. She's been ill. Her
+mind, from all I can learn, is affected. She has delusions; she may have
+suicidal mania. She has disappeared, and she must be found--as secretly
+as possible. Her delusions and illness must not become a newspaper
+headline. I needn't tell you it would make 'a story.' There's one chance
+in fifty that she may come here, or telephone for me. You are not to
+leave this room. Answer that telephone--you know her voice, don't you?
+You are to tell her that I have her letter and she has nothing to worry
+about; that I have had charge of all her affairs in her absence; that
+her daughter knows of her return and wants her at once. Tell her that I
+have left a letter for her--this one. When Miss Marteen calls up, tell
+her to go to her home; that her mother has come back, but has left
+again, and is ill; that I'm doing all in my power to find her. Tell her
+to call me at once on the long distance telephone to Washington, at the
+New Willard. Wherever I have to be I'll arrange that I can be called at
+once. Do you understand?
+
+"Dr. Balys will be here in a few moments. He will have the hospitals
+canvassed. If you locate her, Brencherly, send my doctor to her at once.
+Get her to her own apartment, and don't let her talk. I want you to pick
+a man to watch the morgue; to look up every case of reported suicide
+that by any chance might be Mrs. Marteen--here or in other cities." Gard
+felt the blood leave his heart as he said the words, though there was no
+quaver in his voice. "If they should find her, don't let her identity be
+known if there is any chance of concealing it, not until you reach me.
+Don't let Miss Marteen know. Put another man on the hotel arrivals. She
+left St. Augustine--Here--" He--jotted down times and dates on a slip.
+"Work on that. Keep the police off. I'll have Balys stay here, unless he
+locates her in any of the hospitals. My secretary is yours; and there
+are half a dozen telephones in the house; you can keep 'em all going.
+But, mind, there must be no leak. Watch her apartment, too. Question her
+maid up there. Of course that letter on the table there might interest
+you, but I think I had better trust you, since I make you my deputy.
+This is no small matter, Brencherly. Honesty is the best policy--and
+there _are_ rewards and punishments."
+
+The strain of grief and anxiety had set its mark on Gard's face. His
+deadly earnestness and evident effort at self-control sent a thrill of
+pitying admiration through the detective's hardened indifference. A rush
+of loyalty filled his heart; he wanted to help, without thought of
+reward or punishment. He felt hot shame that his calling had deserved
+the suspicion his employer cast upon it.
+
+"I'll do my honest best," he said with such dear-eyed sincerity that
+Gard smiled wanly and held out his hand.
+
+"Thank you," he said simply.
+
+The interview with the doctor lasted another half-hour. Time seemed to
+fly. Another hour and he must leave to others the quest that his soul
+demanded. Unquestioning and determined, Denning took him once more in
+the limousine. They were silent during the drive to Victor Mahr's
+address. Gard descended before the house, leaving Denning in the car.
+
+"Don't worry," he said as he closed the door of the automobile. "I'll
+not be long; I give you my word."
+
+Denning smiled. "That's all that's wanted in Washington, old man. You've
+got a quarter of an hour to spare."
+
+Denning switched on the electric light and, taking a bundle of papers
+from his inside pocket, began to pencil swift annotation.
+
+Gard ran lightly up the steps. It was quite on the cards that Mrs.
+Marteen in her anguish and despair might make an effort to see and
+upbraid the man whose hatred and vengeance had wrecked her life. Mahr
+must be warned of all that had taken place, and schooled to meet the
+situation--to confess at once that his plans had been thwarted, that his
+tongue was forever bound to silence and that his intended victim was
+free. He, Marcus Gard, must dictate every word that might be said,
+foresee every possible form in which a meeting might come, and dictate
+the terms of Mahr's surrender. Words and sentences formed and shifted in
+his mind as he waited impatiently for his summons to be answered. The
+butler bowed, murmuring that Mr. Mahr was expecting Mr. Gard, and
+preceded him across the anteroom to the well-remembered door of the
+inner sanctum, which he threw open before the guest, and retired
+silently.
+
+Closing the door securely behind him, Gard turned toward the sole
+occupant of the room. Mahr did not heed his coming nor rise to greet
+him. The ticking of the carved Louis XV clock on the mantel seemed
+preternaturally loud in the oppressive silence.
+
+Suddenly and unreasonably Gard choked with fear. In one bound he crossed
+the room and stood staring down at the face of his host. For an instant
+he stood paralyzed with amazement and horror. Then, as always, when in
+the heart of the tempest, he became calm, and his mind, as if acting
+under some heroic stimulant, became intensely clarified. Mahr was dead.
+He leaned forward and lifted the head; the body was still warm, and it
+fell forward, limp and heavy. On the left temple was a large contusion
+and a slight cut. The cause was not far to seek. On the table lay an
+ancient flintlock pistol, somewhat apart from a heap of small arms
+belonging to an eighteenth century trophy.
+
+Murder! Murder--and Mrs. Marteen! His imagination pictured her beautiful
+still face suddenly becoming maniacal with fury and pain. Gard
+suppressed an exclamation. Well, he would swear Mahr was alive at half
+after eleven, when he had seen him. If anyone knew of her coming before
+that, she would be cleared. No one knew of his own feud with Mahr; no
+one suspected it. His word would be accepted.
+
+Mahr's face, repulsive in life, was hideous in death--a mask of
+selfishness, duplicity and venomous cunning from which departing life
+had taken its one charm of intelligence. He looked at the wound again.
+The blow must have been sudden and of great force. Acting on an impulse,
+he tiptoed to one of the curtained windows, unlocked the fastening and
+raised it slightly. A robbery--why not? Silently moving back into the
+room, he approached the corpse and with nervous rapidity looted the dead
+man of everything of value, leaving the torn wallet, a wornout crumpled
+affair, lying on the floor. He opened and emptied the table drawers, as
+if a hurried search had been made. Slipping the compromising jewels into
+his overcoat pocket, he turned about and faced the room like a stage
+manager judging of a play's setting. The luxurious furnishings, the long
+mahogany table warmly reflecting the lights of the heavily shaded lamp;
+the wide, gaping fireplace; the lurking shadows of the corners; the
+curtain by the opened window bellying slightly in the draught; above, in
+the soft radiance of the hooded electrics, the glowing, living, radiant
+personality of the Vandyke; below, the stark, evil face of the dead,
+with its blue bruised temple and blood-clotted hair.
+
+Gard strove to reconstruct the crime as the next entrant would judge
+it--the thief gliding in by the window; the collector busy over the
+examination of his curios; the blow, probably only intended to stun; the
+hasty theft and stealthy exit.
+
+His heart pounded in his breast, but it was with outward calm that he
+crossed the threshold, calling back a "Good-night," whose grim irony was
+not lost upon him. In the hall, as he put on his hat, he addressed the
+servant casually:
+
+"Mr. Mahr says you may lock up and go. He does not want to be disturbed,
+as he has some papers that will keep him late. Remind Mr. Mahr to call
+me at the New Willard in the morning; I may have some news."
+
+As he left the house he staggered; he felt his knees shaking. With a
+superhuman effort he steadied himself--Denning must not suspect anything
+unusual. He descended the steps with a firm tread, and pausing at the
+last step, twisted as if to reach an uncomfortably settled coat
+collar--his quick glance taking in the contour of the house and the
+probability of access by the window. The glimpse was reassuring. By
+means of the iron railing a man might readily gain the ledge below the
+first floor windows. He entered the limousine and nodded to Denning.
+
+"All right," he said. "On to Washington."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Through the long, hours of the night Gard lay awake, living over the
+gruesome moments spent in the ill-omened house on Washington Square. The
+ghastly face of the dead man seemed to stare at him from every corner of
+the luxurious room.
+
+Had he done wisely, Gard wondered, in setting the scene of robbery? Had
+he done it convincingly? That he could become involved in the case in
+another character than that of witness, occurred to him, but he
+dismissed it with a shrug. He was able, he felt, to cope with any
+situation. Nevertheless, the valuables he had taken from the corpse
+seemed to take on bulk. He thanked his stars that his valet was not with
+him--at least he would not have to consider the ever present danger of
+discovery. He had hoped to dispose of the compromising articles while
+crossing the ferry, but when, on his suggestion of the benefits of cool
+night air, he had descended from the motor and advanced to the rail,
+Denning had accompanied him and remained at his elbow, discussing future
+moves in their giant financial game. Once on board the private car, he
+had considered disposing of the jewels from the car window or the
+observation platform, but abandoned that scheme as worse than useless.
+The track walkers' inevitable discovery would only bring suspicion upon
+someone traveling along the line--and who but himself must eventually he
+suspected?
+
+There was nothing for it but to break up the horde piece by piece and
+lose the compromising gems in unrecognizable fragments. The impulse was
+upon him to switch on the electrics and begin the work of destruction
+here in his stateroom at once. But he feared Denning; he feared Langley.
+Then his thoughts reverted to Mrs. Marteen. Where was she? Where was she
+hiding? Had she made away with herself after her desperate deed? His
+heart ached and yearned toward her while his senses revolted in horror
+of the crime. His world was torn asunder. The awful discovery he had
+made had once and for all precluded a change of plans. Sudden resistance
+on his part would have been enigmatical to Denning--or he must confess
+the state of affairs in the silent house he had just left. At least by
+his ruse he had gained time for her, perhaps even protection.
+
+Her letter, her frantic record of pain and misery, was in his pocket. He
+found it, and feeling that even if he were observed to be absorbed in
+reading, it could only appear natural in view of his mission, he propped
+himself with pillows and reread the tear-blistered pages. His spirit
+rebelled. No, no; the woman who had written those searing, bitter lines
+of awakening could not be guilty of monstrous murder. He hated himself
+that his mind had accused her. He cursed himself that by his
+intervention he had perhaps thrown investigation upon the wrong scent,
+while the truth, he assured himself, must exonerate her and bring the
+real criminal to justice. What could have made him be such a fool? The
+next instant he thanked his stars that he had been cool enough to plan
+the scene. As he read the throbbing pages, tears rose to his eyes again
+and again; he had to lay the letter down and compose himself. Ah, he was
+wrong, always at fault. By his well-intended interference, he had
+arranged Dorothy's flight, with results he trembled to foresee. And
+Dorothy! What was he to tell the child? How was he to prepare her to
+bear the present strain and the knowledge of what might come?
+
+The fevered hours passed slowly. It was with a wrenching effort that he
+forced his mind to concentrate on the business in hand for the coming
+day. Yet, for his own honor and the sake of his people, it must be done,
+and well done. Moreover, there must be no wavering on his part, nothing
+to let anyone infer an unusual disturbance of mind. He must be prepared
+to play shocked surprise when the tragic news reached him.
+
+Utter exhaustion finally overpowered his fevered brain and he fell into
+a troubled sleep, from which he was aroused by Denning's voice. The car
+was not in motion, and he divined that it had been shunted to await
+their pleasure. He dressed hastily, his heart still aching with dread
+and uncertainty.
+
+As he faced himself in the mirror he noted his sunken eyes and ghastly
+color, and Denning, entering behind him, noted it, too, with a quick
+thrill of sympathy. He had come to accept as fact his fear, expressed in
+the directors' room. Gard must be suffering from some deadly disease.
+
+"You look all in, Gard," he said regretfully. "I'm sorry I had to drive
+you so." He hesitated. "Has--have the doctors been giving you a scare
+about yourself?"
+
+Gard divined the other's version of his strange actions, and jumped at
+an excuse that explained and covered much.
+
+"Don't talk about it," he said gruffly. "You know it won't do to have
+rumors about my health going round."
+
+Denning took the remark as a tacit acquiescence. His face expressed
+genuine sympathy and compassion.
+
+"I'm sorry," he said slowly.
+
+Gard looked up and frowned, yet the kindliness extended, though it was
+for an imaginary reason, was grateful to him.
+
+"Well, I can take all the extra sympathy anyone has just now," he
+answered in a tone that carried conviction. "I've had a good deal to
+struggle against recently--but I'm not whipped yet."
+
+"Oh, you'll be all right," Denning encouraged. "You're a young man
+still, and you've got the energy of ten young bucks. I'll back you to
+win. Cheer up; you've got a hard day ahead." Gard nodded. How hard a day
+his friend little guessed. "We'll go on to the hotel when you are ready.
+Your first appointment is at nine thirty. Jim is making breakfast for us
+here."
+
+"All right," said Gard; "I'll join you in a minute. Go ahead and get
+your coffee." Left alone, he hurriedly pocketed Mahr's jewelry, paused a
+moment to grind the stone of the scarf pin from its setting--among the
+cinders of the terminus the gem and its mangled mounting could both be
+easily lost. His one desire now was to put himself in telephonic
+communication with New York, but he did not dare to be too pressing.
+However, once at the hotel, he made all arrangements to have a call
+transferred, and opened connection with Brencherly. He was shaking with
+nervousness. "Any news?" he asked.
+
+"None, Mr. Gard, I'm sorry," the detective's voice sounded over the
+wire, "except that I've followed your instructions with regard to the
+young lady. I've not left the 'phone, sir; slept right here in your
+armchair. The hospitals have been questioned, and there is nothing
+reported at police headquarters that could possibly interest you. I've
+looked over the morning papers carefully to see if there was anything
+the reporters had that might be a clew. There's nothing. I took the
+liberty of sending Dr. Balys over to the young lady this morning--she
+seemed in such a state; he'll be back any minute, though. I've got every
+line pulling on the quiet. I've done my best, sir."
+
+Brencherly's voice ceased, and Gard drew a sigh of relief. At least
+there was no bad news, and as yet nothing in public print concerning the
+tragedy. The discovery had probably been made early that morning by the
+servant, whose duty it was to care for the master's private apartments.
+The first afternoon papers would contain all the details, and perhaps
+the ticker would have the news before. He realized that all the haggard
+night he had been fearing that the morning would bring him knowledge of
+Mrs. Marteen's death--drowned, asphyxiated, poisoned--the many shapes of
+the one terrible deed had presented themselves to his subconscious mind,
+to be thrust away by his stubborn will. Dorothy, summoned to the
+telephone, had nothing to add to Brencherly's information, but seemed to
+derive comfort and consolation from Gard's assurances that all would be
+well. She would call him again at noon, she said.
+
+He came from the booth almost glad. His step was light, his troubled
+eyes clear once more. He was ready to play his part in every sense,
+grateful for the respite from his pain. His confidence in himself
+returned, and he went to the trying and momentous meetings of the
+morning with his gigantic mental grasp and convincing methods at their
+best.
+
+Dorothy's message did not reach him till after midday had come and gone.
+Once Larkin had left the conclave and returned with his face big with
+consternation and surprise. Gard divined that the news of the murder was
+out, but nothing was brought up except the business of the corporation.
+
+When at last he left the meeting he motored back to the hotel, refusing
+the hospitality cordially extended to him, his one desire to be again in
+touch with events transpiring in New York. He had hardly shown himself
+in the lobby when a page summoned him to the telephone.
+
+It was Dorothy, her voice faint with fright.
+
+"It's you," she cried--"it's you! Have you learned anything about
+mother? We haven't any news--nothing at all. Mr. Brencherly and the
+doctor tell me that everything's being done. But I'm almost wild--and
+listen; something awful has happened. It's your friend, Mr. Mahr,
+Teddy's father--he's been murdered!"
+
+"What!" exclaimed Gard, thankful that she could not see his face.
+
+"Yes, yes," she continued, "murdered in his own room--they found him
+this morning--they say you were the last person to see him before it was
+done. Oh, Mr. Gard, aren't you coming home soon? It seems as if terrible
+things happen all the time--and I'm frightened. Please, come back!"
+
+The voice choked in a sob, and her hearer longed to take her in his arms
+and comfort her, shield her from the terrible possibilities that loomed
+big on their horizon.
+
+"My darling little girl, I'm coming, just as fast as I can. I wouldn't
+be here, leaving you to face this anxiety alone, if I could possibly
+help it--you know that, dear," he pleaded. "I've one more important,
+unavoidable interview; then my car couples on to the first express. Give
+Teddy all my sympathy. I can hardly realize what you say. Why, I saw him
+only last night just before I took the train. Keep up your courage, and
+don't be frightened."
+
+"I'll try," came the pathetic voice; "I will--but, oh, come soon!"
+
+Gard excused himself to everyone, pleading the necessity of rest, and
+once alone in his room, set about ripping and smashing the incriminating
+evidence, until nothing but a few loose stones and crumpled bits of gold
+remained. He broke the monogrammed case of the watch from its fastening
+and crushed its face. Now to contrive to scatter the fragments would be
+a simple matter. He secreted them in an inner pocket, and his pressing
+desire of their destruction satisfied, he telephoned to Langley to join
+him in his private room at a hurried luncheon. Next he sent for the
+afternoon papers. Not a line as yet, however; and Langley and Denning
+having evidently decided it to be unwise to deflect his thoughts from
+matters in hand, did not mention Mahr. Even when he brought up the name
+himself with a casual mention of the possibility of acquiring the Heim
+Vandyke, there was nothing said to give him an opportunity to speak and
+he was breathless for details, to learn if his ruse had succeeded. At
+last he called Brencherly, both Denning and Langley endeavoring to
+divert him from his intention.
+
+"Yes, yes," snapped Gard; "what's the news?"
+
+His companions exchanged dubious glances.
+
+"Nothing learned yet about the matter, sir, on which you engaged me,
+nothing at all. But--there's something else--I think you ought to
+know--Victor Mahr is dead!"
+
+"Dead! How? When?" Gard feigned surprise.
+
+"Murdered last night," came the reply. "Found this morning. Our man
+watching the house learned it as soon as anyone did. A case of robbery,
+they say--but the coroner's verdict hasn't been given yet. He was hit in
+the head with a pistol--but--I think, sir, they'll want you; you saw him
+last night, they say--after you left me. Have you any instructions to
+give me, sir?"
+
+Gard reflected. "I don't know," he wavered. "Hold all the good men in
+your service you can for me--and remember what I told you." He turned to
+the two men. "Mahr's dead--murdered!" he blurted out, as if startled by
+the news.
+
+They nodded. "Yes, we knew. But," Denning added, "we didn't want to
+upset you any further. It came out on the ticker at eleven. How are you
+feeling?" he asked with friendly solicitude. "I wish you'd eat
+something--you've not touched anything but coffee for nearly twenty-four
+hours."
+
+"I can't," said Gard grimly. "Let's go to the Capitol and get it over
+with. Have you 'phoned Senator Ryan? I'm all right," he assured them, as
+he caught sight of Langley's dubious expression. "I want to get through
+here as quickly as possible and get back. I suppose you realize that
+I'll be wanted in the city in more ways than one. I was the last person,
+except the murderer, to see Mahr. Come on."
+
+As they came from the Capitol at the close of their conference, Langley
+and Denning fell behind for a moment.
+
+"What a wonder the man is!" exclaimed Denning with enthusiasm. "Sick as
+he is, and with all these other troubles on him, he's bucked up and
+buffaloed this whole thing into shape. He forgets nothing!"
+
+Gard entered the motor first, and, as he leaned forward, dropped from
+the opposite window a fragment of twisted gold. An hour later, in the
+waiting room they had traversed, a woman picked up a pigeon blood ruby,
+but the grinding wheels of trains and engines had left no trace of the
+trifles they had destroyed. In the yard near the private siding, a
+coupling hand came upon a twisted gold watch case, so crushed that the
+diamond monogram it once had boasted was unrecognizable.
+
+"At every stop, Jim," said Gard, as he threw himself wearily into a
+lounging chair in the saloon end of the car, "I want you to go out and
+get me all the latest editions of the New York papers."
+
+The negro bowed, disappeared into the cook's galley and returned with
+glasses and a bottle of champagne. He poured a glass, which Gard drank
+gratefully.
+
+Gard heard Langley and Denning moving about their stateroom. The noise
+of the terminal rang an iron chorus, accompanied by whistles and the
+hiss of escaping steam. The private car was attached to the express, and
+the return journey began. His irritated nerves would have set him
+tramping pantherwise, but sheer weariness kept him in his chair.
+Presently his fellow travelers joined him, but he took little or no heed
+of their conversation. Once he drank again, a toast to the successful
+issue of their combined efforts. He lay back, striving to control his
+rising anxiety. What would the story be that would greet him from the
+heavy leads of the newspapers?
+
+"Baltimore--Baltimore--Baltimore"--the wheels seemed to pound the name
+from the steel rails; the car rocked to it. By the time they reached
+that city the New York afternoon editions would have been distributed.
+At last they glided up to the station and the porter swung off into the
+waiting room. Gard rose and stood waiting, chewing savagely on his
+unlighted cigar.
+
+"It's Mahr," he apologized to Denning. "I want to learn the facts." His
+hand shook as he snatched the smudgy sheets from the negro.
+
+In big letters across the front page he caught the headline:
+
+
+    MURDER OF VICTOR MAHR
+
+    FAMOUS CLUBMAN AND FINANCIER
+    STABBED TO DEATH IN HIS OWN LIBRARY
+
+    EVIDENCE OF ROBBERY
+
+    WOMAN SUSPECTED OF THE CRIME
+
+"Stabbed to death ... Woman suspected." His brain reeled. How "stabbed
+to death"? He himself had seen--"Woman suspected." Then all his
+despairing efforts to save her had been in vain! The train, starting
+suddenly, gave him ample excuse to clutch the back of the chair for
+support, and to fall heavily upon its cushions. He could not have held
+himself upright another moment. An absurd scheme flashed through his
+brain. He would, if necessary, take the blame upon himself--anything to
+shield her. He would say they had quarreled over the Vandyke.
+
+He became aware that Denning was asking for one of the three papers he
+was clutching. He gave it to him, suddenly realizing that he was not
+alone. He knew his face was deathly, and he could feel his heart's slow
+pound against his ribs. If they did not believe him a sick man, they
+must believe him a guilty one. To control his agitation seemed
+impossible. The page swam before his eyes, and it was some moments
+before he could focus upon the finer print of the sensational article.
+
+The gruesome discovery was made by a servant, entering the library at
+eight that morning. She found her master lying in the chair and thought
+him asleep. She knew that the night before he had dismissed the butler,
+declaring his intention to sit up late over some important business. He
+might have been overcome by weariness. She tiptoed out and went in
+search of the valet. His orders had been to call his master at nine and
+he hesitated about waking him earlier, but at last decided to do so, as
+it was nearing the hour. On entering the apartment he had noticed the
+disorder of the room. He put out the electric light from the switch by
+the door, drew the curtains and raised the blind. At once he realized
+that death confronted him. Terrified, he had rushed to the hall calling
+for the servants. Theodore Mahr, Victor Mahr's only son, who was on his
+way to breakfast, rushed at once upon the scene.
+
+There was a cut and contusion on the temple of the victim, evidently
+inflicted by a weapon lying upon the table, which was believed to be the
+cause of death, until the arrival of the coroner and Mr. Mahr's own
+physician, when it was discovered that the victim's heart had been
+pierced by a very slender blade or stiletto. The wound was so small and
+the aperture closed by the head of the weapon in such a manner that no
+blood had issued.
+
+An enterprising reporter had gained access to the chamber of death, and
+described in detail the rifling of the drawers, the partially open
+window; he had picked up a small gold link, evidently torn from the
+sleeve buttons of the deceased. Mr. Mahr was last seen alive by his
+friend, Marcus Gard, who called to see him on important business before
+taking his departure to Washington. Just prior to this, however, a
+strange woman, heavily veiled, had sent in a note and been admitted to
+Mr. Mahr. This woman was not seen to leave the house; in fact, the
+servant had supposed her present when Mr. Gard called, and a party to
+the business under discussion; it was now believed that she might have
+remained concealed in the outer room until after the great financier had
+taken his departure. Of this, however, there was no present evidence.
+Mahr had dismissed the butler and told him to lock up--yet the woman had
+not been seen to leave. Of course she could have let herself out, or Mr.
+Mahr could have opened the door for her--no one seemed to recall whether
+the chain was on in the morning or not.
+
+Was the crime one of anger or revenge? Why, then, the robbery? The
+appearance of the table drawers would seem to indicate someone in search
+of papers, yet the dead man's valuables appeared to have been removed by
+force--the cuff link had been broken, the watch snatched from its pocket
+with such violence that the cloth had been torn. At present the mystery
+that surrounded the crime was impenetrable. The dead man's son was
+prostrated with grief.
+
+Gard finished reading and rose, crushing the paper in his hand. "It's a
+horrible thing--horrible! I hope you gentlemen will excuse me. I am not
+well, and this--has affected me--unaccountably." He turned to his
+stateroom. "I'm going to rest, if I can."
+
+The two men looked at each other in deep concern.
+
+"I hope we don't lose him," muttered Denning.
+
+Alone in the silence of his swaying room, Gard threw himself face down
+upon the bed. He could not reason any longer. His whole being gave way
+to a voiceless cry. He shook as if with cold, and beat his hands
+rhythmically on the pillows. He rolled over at last, and lay staring at
+the curved ceiling of the car. One thought obsessed him. She had been
+there, in that room, hidden--watching him, doubtless, as he committed
+the ghastly theft. Even in the awful situation in which she found
+herself, what must she think of _him_? Criminal, blackmailer, murderess,
+perhaps--but what could she think of him? The blood tingled through his
+veins and his waxen face flushed scarlet with vivid shame. In his
+weakened, overwrought condition, this aspect of the case outranked all
+others. He forgot the horrible publicity that threatened not only
+Dorothy and her mother but Victor Mahr's son--when the motive of the
+crime was learned. He forgot the yearning of his soul for the saving of
+its sister spirit. He forgot the dread vision of the chair of death in
+the keen personal shame of the creature she must believe him to be.
+
+Suddenly a new angle of the case presented itself--Brencherly! He sat up
+gasping. Brencherly must have guessed--the inevitable logic of the
+situation led straight to the solution of the enigma. The detective knew
+of Mahr's efforts to obtain the combination of Mrs. Marteen's safe; he,
+himself, had told him that those efforts had been successful. Brencherly
+knew of Mrs. Marteen's sudden return, her visit to her home and her
+mysterious disappearance. The motive of the murder was supplied, the
+disappearance accounted for. Already the detective's trained mind had
+doubtless pieced together the fragments of these broken lives. It was
+Brencherly who had told him of Mahr's former marriage. Everything,
+everything was in his hands. Would the man remain true to him? What
+wouldn't one of the great newspapers pay for the inside story! Could
+Brencherly be trusted? His well seasoned dislike of the whole detective
+and police service made him sure of treachery. But before him rose the
+vision of the boyish, candid face, as the detective had taken the Great
+Man's proffered hand, the honesty in his voice as he had given his
+word--"I'll do my best, sir," and into Gard's black despair crept a pale
+ray of hope.
+
+Gard had not been mistaken when he surmised that Brencherly must
+inevitably connect the murder with the sequence of events. But the
+conclusion reached with relentless finality by that astute young man was
+far from being what Gard had feared. To the detective's mind the answer
+was plain--his employer was guilty.
+
+The motive obviously concerned Mrs. Marteen. It was evident, from Mahr's
+efforts to gain access to that lady's safe, that she possessed something
+of which Mahr stood in fear or desired to possess. It was possible that
+she had obtained proof against Mahr. Perhaps she opposed young Teddy's
+attentions to her daughter. Perhaps Mahr was responsible for the
+disappearance. At any rate, Gard had been the last person to see Mahr as
+far as anyone knew; and a bitter feud existed, which no one guessed.
+Brencherly did not place great reliance in the woman theory. Doubtless
+one had called, but she had probably left. That she had gone out unseen
+was no astonishing matter. A servant delinquent in his hall duty was by
+no means a novelty even in the best regulated mansions. The robbery in
+that case could have been only a blind for an act of anger or revenge.
+The search for papers might have a deeper significance.
+
+He intended to "stand by the boss," Brencherly told himself. Gard was a
+great man and a decent sort; Mahr was an unworthy specimen. Brencherly
+decided that at all Costs Marcus Gard must be protected. He cursed the
+promise that kept him at his post. He longed to get into personal touch
+with every tangible piece of evidence, every clew, noted and unnoted.
+His men were on the spot and reporting to him; but that could not make
+up for personal investigation. In view of these new developments, what
+would be Mrs. Marteen's next move? Some secret bond connected the
+three--Mahr, Gard and Mrs. Marteen.
+
+Brencherly, alone in Gard's library, rose and paced the room, glancing
+at the desk clock every time his line of march took him past the table.
+His employer was coming home fast as steam could bring him. He longed
+for his arrival and the council of war that must ensue; longed to be
+relieved of the tedium of room-tied waiting. He no longer looked for any
+communication from Mrs. Marteen. She had her reasons for concealment, no
+doubt, and he felt assured that neither hospital nor morgue would yield
+her up. It was with genuine delight that he at last heard the familiar
+voice on the telephone, though it was but a hurried inquiry for news.
+
+Half an hour later, haggard and worn beyond belief, Gard hurried into
+the library and held out his hand.
+
+The young man looked at his face in astonishment as Gard threw himself
+into the chair and turned toward him.
+
+"You'll pardon me," he faltered. "There's nothing that can't wait, and
+you need rest, sir."
+
+"Not till I can get it without nightmares," he snapped. "Now give me
+this Mahr affair--all of it. I've seen the papers, of course, but I
+imagine you have the inside; then I want to hear what you think."
+
+The detective gave a start and colored to the roots of his hair. No
+doubt about it, Gard was a great man, if he could meet such a situation
+in such a manner and get away with it.
+
+"Well, sir, the papers have it straight enough this time, as it happens.
+There's nothing different."
+
+"What was the weapon?"
+
+"A stiletto paper cutter, that he always had on his table. It had a top
+like a fencing foil; in fact, that's what it was in miniature, except
+that it was edged. It was that top, flattened close down, that stopped
+any flow of blood, so that everyone thought at first it was the blow on
+the temple that killed him. There's this about it, though: I'm told they
+say he was stunned first and stabbed afterward. That doesn't look like
+the work of a common thief, does it?"
+
+His hearer could not control a shudder. "Why not?" he parried. "He may
+have known the knockout was only temporary, and he was afraid he'd come
+to; or the man might have been known to Mahr, and he'd recognized him."
+
+Brencherly shook his head incredulously.
+
+"And the woman? What description did the servants give?" There was a
+perceptible pause before he asked the question.
+
+"The woman? The description is pretty vague--dressed in black, a heavy
+veil, black gloves; nothing extraordinary. The servant did say he
+thought her hair was gray, or it might have been light. He caught a
+glimpse of the back of her head when he showed her into the room. She
+sent in a note first; just a plain envelope; it wasn't directed."
+
+"Did they find any letter or enclosure that might explain why she was
+admitted?"
+
+"No, sir, nothing."
+
+The two men eyed each other in silence. Each felt the other's reticence.
+
+"And what do you advise now?" Gard inquired.
+
+Brencherly's gaze shifted to the bronze inkwells.
+
+"If I knew just how this event affected you, sir, I might be able to
+advise."
+
+It was his employer's turn to look away.
+
+"I know absolutely nothing about the cause of Mahr's death. I do know
+that there was no love lost between us; also that I was the last person
+known to have been with him. Isn't that enough to show you how I am
+affected?"
+
+"And the motive of your quarrel?" The detective felt his heart thump and
+wondered at his own daring.
+
+"We were rival competitors for the Heim Vandyke--he got it away from
+me."
+
+"Does that answer my question, sir?" Again Brencherly gasped at his own
+temerity.
+
+"Young man," bellowed Gard, half rising from his chair, "what are you
+trying to infer?"
+
+Brencherly stood up. "Please, Mr. Gard, be frank with me. I want to help
+you; I want to see you through. It can be done--I'm sure of it. No one
+knows about your trouble with Mahr. What he wanted with the combination
+of that safe I can't guess, but it was for no good; and you told me
+yourself that he had secured it. But everything may work out all right
+if you let me help you. I'm used to this cross-examination business, and
+I can coach you so they won't get a thing. I don't pretend to be in a
+class with you, sir; don't think I'm so conceited. I'm just specialized,
+that's all. I want to help, and I can if you'll let me."
+
+Gard's face underwent a kaleidoscopic series of changes; then
+astonishment and relief finally triumphed, and were followed by
+hysterical laughter. Brencherly was disconcerted.
+
+"Oh, so you think _I_ did it!" he said at last. "I wish I had!" he
+added. "That wouldn't worry me in the least."
+
+"Mrs. Marteen!" Brencherly exclaimed, and stood aghast and silent.
+
+"No!" thundered Gard, and then leaned forward brokenly with his head in
+his hand.
+
+Slowly the detective's mind readjusted itself, and the look in his eyes
+fixed upon Gard's bowed figure was all pitying understanding. Then he
+shook his head.
+
+"No, she didn't do it," he said--"never! I don't believe it!"
+
+The stricken man looked up gratefully, but his head sank forward again.
+"He had done a horrible thing to her," he said. "You're right; you must
+have my confidence if you are to help--us. He had tried to estrange
+Dorothy from her mother. I--happened to be able to stop that. I used
+what you told me to quiet him. I threatened to tell his son the whole
+story. It was bluffing, for we knew nothing positive. But the story is
+all true. He was putty in my hand when I held that threat over
+him--putty. I went to him that night to dictate what he was to do in
+case he obtained any clew of Mrs. Marteen. I thought she might try to
+see him--to--reproach him. We knew she was very ill, had been when she
+went away, and then--nerve shock. I went to him--and found him already
+dead. You understand--Mrs. Marteen--I couldn't but believe--so I set the
+stage for robbery. I bluffed it off with everyone. I gave the message to
+lock up and leave Mahr undisturbed. I wanted an alibi for her--or at
+least to gain time."
+
+Brencherly remained silent. A man's devotion to another commands awed
+respect, however it may manifest itself. But he was thinking rapidly.
+
+"You know District Attorney Field, don't you?" he asked at length.
+
+Gard nodded. "An old personal friend; but I can't go to him with that
+story. I'd rather a thousand times he suspected me than give one clew
+that would lead to her. I'll stick to my story. Field wouldn't cover up
+a thing like that--he couldn't."
+
+"I know," returned Brencherly; "there's got to be a victim for justice
+first, or else prove that nothing, not even the ends of justice, can be
+gained before you can get the wires pulled. But that's what I'm setting
+out to do. I don't believe, Mr. Gard, that Mrs. Marteen committed that
+murder--not that there may not have been plenty of reason for it, but
+the way of it--no! I've got an idea. I don't want to say too much or
+raise any hopes that I can't make good; but there's just this: when I
+leave the house it will be to start on another trail. In the meantime,
+everything is being done that is humanly possible to find Mrs. Marteen.
+There's only one other way, and that, for the present, won't do--it's
+newspaper publicity, photographic reproductions and a reward. I think
+she is somewhere under an assumed name. But there are two lodestones
+that will draw her if she is able to move. One is the house of Victor
+Mahr, and the other her own home. There is love and hate to count on,
+and sooner or later one will draw her within reach. I'll have the
+closest watch put about that I can devise. There's nothing you can do,
+sir--now. If you'll rest to-night, you'll be better able to stand
+to-morrow, and if I can verify my idea in the least I'll tell you. Let
+your secretary watch here; and good night, Mr. Gard."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+The woman in the narrow bed tossed in a heavy, unnatural sleep. Her lips
+were swollen and cracked with fever, her cheeks scarlet and dry. She was
+alone in a narrow, plain room, sparsely but newly furnished. On a
+dressing table an expensive gold-fitted traveling bag stood open. Over a
+bent-wood chair hung a costly dark blue traveling suit, and the garments
+scattered about the room were of the finest make and material. On the
+floor lay a diamond-encrusted watch, ticking faintly, and a gold mesh
+bag, evidently flung from under the pillow by the movements of the
+sleeper. This much the landlady noticed as she softly opened the
+unlocked door and stood upon the threshold.
+
+"Dear, dear!" she murmured, and, habit strong upon her, she gathered up
+the scattered garments, folded them neatly, and hung up the gown in the
+scanty closet, having first examined the tailor's mark on the collar.
+"Dear, dear!" she said again. "It's noon; now whatever can be the
+matter? Is she sick? Looks like fever." Again she hesitated and paused
+to pick up a sheer handkerchief-linen blouse, upon the Irish lace collar
+of which a circle of pinhead diamonds held a monogram of the same
+material. "H'm," ruminated the landlady. "Martin! Yes, there's an 'M,'
+and a 'Y' and a 'J'--h'm! She said she's a friend of Mrs. Bell's, but
+Mrs. Bell has been in Europe six months. Wonder who her friends are, if
+she's going to be sick?"
+
+She moved toward the bed to examine her guest more closely, but her
+attention was distracted by the luxuriousness of the objects in the
+dressing case. She fingered them with awe and observed the marking. She
+stooped for the purse and watch, which she examined with equal
+attention. Once more her eyes turned to the flushed face on the tumbled
+pillow. The sleeper had not awakened. The woman leaned over and took one
+of the restless hands in hers. "It's fever, sure," she said. At the
+touch and sound of her voice the other opened her eyes, wide with sudden
+astonishment. "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Martin," said the visitor, "but
+it's after twelve o'clock, and I began to get anxious--you a stranger
+and all. I think, ma'am, you've a fever. Better let me call the doctor;
+there's one on the block."
+
+The woman sat up in bed. "Mrs. Martin?" she said faintly. "Yes--I've--My
+head hurts--and my eyes--" She stared about her with a puzzled
+expression that convinced her observer that delirium had set in. "A
+doctor? Do I need a doctor? Why? What was it the doctor said? That my
+nerves were in--in--what was it? And I must travel and rest--yes, that
+was it; I remember now."
+
+"Well," the other woman commented, "he doesn't seem to have done you a
+world of good, and you better try another."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Marteen with decision, "no, I don't want one--not now,
+anyway. It's a headache. May I have some tea? Then I'll lie quiet, if
+you'll lower that blind, please."
+
+"I'm sorry Mrs. Bell's away, or I'd send for her," ventured the
+landlady.
+
+"Mrs. Bell?" the sick woman echoed with the same tone of puzzled
+surprise. "Why, she's away--yes--she's away." She sank back among the
+pillows and waved a dismissing hand.
+
+Still the landlady waited. She deemed it most unwise not to call a
+doctor, but feared to make herself responsible for the bill if her guest
+refused. But she had seen enough to convince her that the lady's visible
+possessions were ample to cover any bill she might run up through
+illness, provided, of course, it were not contagious. She turned
+reluctantly and descended to the kitchen to brew the desired tea.
+
+Left alone, the patient sat up and looked about her with strained and
+frightened eyes. Then she began to wring her hands, slowly, as if such a
+gesture of torment was foreign to her habit. Her wide, clear brow
+knitted with puzzled fear. Her lips were distorted as one who would cry
+out and was held dumb. Presently she spoke.
+
+"Where am I?" There was a long pause of nerve-racking effort as she
+strove to remember. "_Who_ am I?" she cried hysterically. She sprang out
+of bed and ran to the mirror over the dressing table. The face that
+looked back at her was familiar, but she could not give it its name. A
+muffled scream escaped her lips, and she held her clenched fists to her
+temples as if she feared her brain would burst. "Martin!" she said at
+last. "Martin--she called me Mrs. Martin. Who is she? When did I come
+here?"
+
+She seized her dressing case and went through its contents. Each article
+was familiar; they were hers; she knew their faults and advantages. The
+letter case had a spot on the back; she turned it over and found it
+there. Letter case--the thought was an aspiration. With trembling
+eagerness she clutched at the papers in the side pocket. Yes, there were
+letters. She read the address, "Mrs. Martin Marteen"--yes, that was
+herself. How strange! She had forgotten. The address was a steamer--that
+seemed possible. There was a journey, a long journey--she vaguely
+recalled that. But why? Where? She read the notes eagerly; casual _bon
+voyage_ and good wishes; letters referring to books, flowers or bonbons.
+The signatures were all familiar, but no corresponding image rose in her
+brain. The last she read gave her a distinct feeling of affection, of
+admiration, though the signature "M.G." meant nothing. She reread the
+few scrawled sentences with a longing that frightened her. Who was
+M.G.--that her bound and gagged mentality cried out for? She felt if she
+could only reach that mysterious identity all would be well. M.G. would
+bring everything right.
+
+Suddenly the idea of insanity crossed her mind. She sat down abruptly.
+The room began to sway; her head ached as if the blows of a hammer were
+descending on her brow. She clutched the iron foottrail to keep from
+being tossed from the heaving, rocking bed. The ceiling seemed to lower
+and crush her. Then an enormous hand and arm entered at the window and
+turned off the sun which was burning at the end of a gas jet in the
+room. All was dark.
+
+She recovered consciousness slowly, aware of immeasurable weakness. She
+lay very still, lying, as it were, within her body. She felt that should
+she require that weary body to do anything it must refuse. Through her
+half-closed lids she saw the woman who had first aroused her enter the
+room with a tray.
+
+"Dear, dear!" she heard her say. "You must cover up. Don't lie on the
+outside of the bed; get under the covers."
+
+To Mrs. Marteen's intense inner surprise, the weary body obeyed,
+crawling feebly beneath the sheets. She had not realized that she had
+lain where she had fainted, at the foot of the bed.
+
+"Now take some tea," the controlling will ordered; "you'll feel better;
+and a bit of dry toast. Sick headaches are awful, I know, and tea's the
+best thing."
+
+Once more the body obeyed, and sat up and drank the steaming cup to the
+great comfort of the inner being. So reviving was its influence that
+Mrs. Marteen decided to try her own will and speak.
+
+"Thank you--" her lips spoke, and she felt elated. She made another
+effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No--no toast
+now--but is there some more tea?"
+
+She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images
+were forming; memories were coming back now--scraps of things. There was
+a young girl whom she loved dearly. She had brown hair, very blue eyes
+and a delicious profile. She was tall and slender. She wore a blue serge
+suit. Her name--was--was Dorothy. She spread her palms upon the sheet
+and felt it cool and refreshing.
+
+"I'm afraid I've had a fever," she said slowly. "I think I have it
+still. I--I have such nightmares when I sleep--such nightmares." She
+shuddered.
+
+"Well," said the landlady cheerfully, "you'll feel better now. Take it
+from me, tea's the thing." She gathered up the napkin, cup and saucer
+and placed them on the tray. "Well, I'll let you be quiet, and I'll drop
+in again about five."
+
+Now another memory came, a conscious thought connection. She remembered
+that Mrs. Bell had told her of her faithful landlady, Mrs. Mellen, with
+whom she always stopped when she came North; she remembered calling
+there many times for Mary, her smart motor waking the quiet,
+unpretentious street. Now she remembered recalling the boarding house
+and seeking shelter there in her fear and pain. Fear and pain--why, what
+was it? There was something cataclysmic, overpowering, that had
+happened. What could it be? Something was hanging over her head, some
+dreadful punishment. Her struggle to clear the mists from her brain
+rendered her more wildly feverish, then stupefied her to heavy sleep.
+
+When she awoke again it was to see the kindly fat face of Mrs. Mellen
+beaming at her from the foot of the bed.
+
+"That's it," she nodded approvingly; "you've had a nice nap. Head's
+better, I'm sure. Here's another cup of tea, and I brought you up the
+evening paper; thought you might want to look it over. And if you'll
+give me your trunk checks, I'll send the expressman after your baggage."
+
+"My trunk checks--what did I do with them? Why, of course, I gave them
+to my maid."
+
+A sudden instinct that she did not wish to see her maid, or be followed
+by her baggage, made her stop short in her speech.
+
+"Oh, your maid!" said Mrs. Mellen. "I'm glad you told me--I'll have to
+hold a room. You didn't say anything about her last night, so I hadn't
+made any provision. Dear, dear! And when do you calculate she's liable
+to get here?"
+
+Mrs. Marteen took refuge in her headache. "I don't know," she said
+wearily; "perhaps not to-day."
+
+"Oh, well, never mind. I dare say I can manage," Mrs. Mellen assured
+her. "If you've got everything you want, I'll have to go. Do you think
+you'll be able to get down to dinner--seven, you know; or would you
+rather have a plate of nice hot soup up here? Here, I guess. Well, it's
+no trouble at all, and you're right to starve your head; it's what I
+always do."
+
+She backed smiling out of the door, which she closed gently.
+
+Mrs. Marteen lay back with closed eyes for a moment, then restlessness
+seizing her, she sat bolt upright and firmly held her own pulse. "I'm
+certainly ill," she said aloud. "I wonder where Marie is? Of course I
+left her at the station, and told her to bring the baggage on. But that
+was long ago; what has kept her? But this isn't my home," she argued to
+herself. She was too weak to trouble with further questioning.
+Instinctively she put out her hand and drew the newspaper toward her.
+She raised it idly.
+
+"Murder of Victor Mahr"--the big headlines met her eyes.
+
+She felt a shock as if a blinding flash of lightning had enveloped her;
+she remembered.
+
+She sat as if turned to stone, staring at the ominous words. Her nerves
+tingled from head to foot; her very life seemed a strained and vibrating
+string that might snap with any breath. Slowly, as if the Fates had
+decided not as yet to break that attenuated thread, the tingling,
+stinging shock passed. She found strength to read the whole article,
+almost intelligently, though at times her mind would wander to
+inconsequent things, and the beat of her own heart seemed to deaden her
+understanding. She remembered now everything, nearly everything, till
+she turned from her own door, a desperate, homeless outcast. She
+recalled a cab going somewhere, and then after what appeared to be an
+interval of unconsciousness, she was walking, walking, instinctively
+seeking the darkened streets, a satchel in her hand. Somewhere, footsore
+and exhausted, she had sat upon a bench. Then came the inspiration to go
+to the quiet house where her friend had stayed. The friend was far away;
+she could remain there and not be found--stay until she had courage to
+do the thing that had suggested itself as the only issue--to end it all.
+
+But who had killed Victor Mahr? She gave a gasp of horror and held up
+her hands--was there blood upon them? But how--how? Try as she would, no
+answering picture of horror rose from her darkened mind. There was a
+long, long period she could not account for--not yet; perhaps it would
+come back, as these other terrible memories had returned to assail her.
+She rolled over, hiding her face in the pillow, and groaned. The
+twilight deepened; the shadows thickened in the room.
+
+Suddenly she rose and began dressing in frenzied haste, overcoming her
+bodily weakness with set purpose. Habit came to her rescue, for she was
+hardly conscious of her movements. Her toilet completed, she began
+hastily packing her traveling case, the impulse of flight urging her to
+trembling speed. But when she lifted the bag its weight discouraged her.
+Setting it down again upon the dressing table, she lowered her veil and
+staggered into the dark hallway. Economy dictated delayed illumination
+in the Mellen household. All was quiet. Somewhat reassured, she
+descended the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail. The fever which had
+relaxed for a brief interval renewed its grip, and filled with vague,
+indescribable fears, she fled blindly. Something in her subconscious
+brain suggested Victor Mahr, and it was toward Washington Square that
+she bent her hurried steps.
+
+She entered the park, forcing her failing strength to one supreme
+effort, and sank, gasping, upon a bench. It faced toward the darkened
+residence of the murdered man. A few stragglers stood grouped on the
+pavement before the house, of asked questions of the policeman stationed
+near by. The electric lights threw lace patterns that wavered over the
+unfrequented paths. She leaned back, staring at the dark bulk of the
+mansion with the darker streak at the doorway, which one divined to be
+the sinister mark of death. Suddenly she sat erect, her aching weariness
+forgotten. She knew, past peradventure, that _she had sat there upon
+that very seat the night before_. The memory was but a flash. Already
+delirium was returning. She was powerless to move. Hours passed, and
+still she sat staring, unseeing, straight before her. Once a policeman
+passed and turned to look at her, but her evident refinement quieted his
+suspicions, and he moved on.
+
+She was roused at last by a movement of the bench as someone took a
+place beside her. She looked up and vaguely realized that it was a
+woman, darkly dressed and heavily veiled like herself. She, too, leaned
+back and seemed lost in contemplation of the house opposite. Presently
+she raised the veil, as if it obstructed her vision too greatly,
+revealing a withered face, narrow and long, with a singularly white
+skin. She had the look of a respectable working woman, and her
+black-gloved hands were folded over a neat paper package. Her curious
+glance turned toward the lady beside her, and seemed to find
+satisfaction in the elegance that even the darkness could not quite
+conceal. She moved nearer, and with a birdlike twist of the head, leaned
+forward and frankly gazed in her companion's face. The other did not
+resent the action.
+
+The woman slowly nodded her head. "Don't know what she's doin', not she.
+She's one of the silly kind." She put out a hand like a claw, and
+touched Mrs. Marteen's shoulder. Mrs. Marteen turned her flushed and
+troubled face toward the woman with something akin to intelligence in
+her eyes. "What are you settin' here fur, lady?" asked the woman
+harshly. "Watchin' his house? Well, it's no use; he won't come out again
+for you or your likes--never again, never again," and she chuckled.
+
+"I was here last night. I sat here last night," said Mrs. Marteen, her
+mind reverting to its last conscious moment.
+
+The woman peered at her closely, striving to see through the meshes of
+the veil where the electric light touched her cheek.
+
+"You did? What fur? Was he comin' out to ye, or did ye want to be let
+inside?"
+
+The insult was lost on the sufferer.
+
+The woman shifted her position, and changed her tone to one of cunning
+ingratiation.
+
+"Goin' to the funeral?" she inquired, and without waiting for an answer,
+continued to talk. "I am. I won't be asked, of course--they don't know
+I'm here; but I'm goin'. I wouldn't miss it--no, not for--nothing. I
+ought to have some crape, I know, but I don't see's I can. It would be
+the right thing, though. I'll ride in a carriage," she boasted. "I
+suppose they'll have black horses. I haven't seen anything back where I
+come from, so's I'd know just what _is_ the fashionable thing. It'll be
+a fashionable funeral, won't it? He's a great big man, he is. Everybody
+knows him--and everybody _don't_ know him; but I do--he's a devil I And
+women love him, always did love him, the fools! Why, _I_ used to love
+him. You wouldn't think that now, would you? Well, I did." She laughed a
+broken cackle, and seemed surprised that her listener remained mute.
+"Did you love him?" demanded the crone sneeringly.
+
+"Love him--love him?" exclaimed Mrs. Marteen, her emotions responding
+where her mind was unreceptive. "I hated him--I hated him!"
+
+"Of course you hated him. How could a lady help hating him?" murmured
+the questioner. "But would _you_ have the courage to kill him--that's
+what I want to know!"
+
+Under the inquisition Mrs. Marteen half roused to consciousness. She was
+in the semi-lucid state of a sleepwalker.
+
+"Kill him!" She held up her hands and looked at them as she had done
+after reading the account of the murder. "I'm not sure I didn't kill
+him; perhaps I did--I can't remember--I can't remember," she moaned more
+and more faintly.
+
+"Don't you take the credit of _that_!" shouted the woman, so loudly that
+a young man who had been aimlessly walking up and down as if intent upon
+some rendezvous, stopped short to gaze at them keenly.
+
+The older woman, with a movement so rapid that it seemed almost
+prestidigitation, lifted and threw back her companion's veil. The young
+man gave a start and approached hastily, amazement in every feature. But
+the two women were unaware of his presence, and what he next heard made
+him pause, turn, and by a slight detour come up close behind the bench.
+
+"Keep your hands off. Don't you say you killed him. What right have
+_you_ to take his life, I'd like to know! Don't let me hear you say that
+again--don't you dare! Just remember that killing him is _my_ business.
+You sha'n't try to rob me--it's my right!" She leaned forward
+threateningly.
+
+A hand closed over her wrist. The woman screamed.
+
+"Hold on, Mother, none of that." The young man, still retaining his
+hold, came from behind the seat and stood over her.
+
+She began to whimper and tremble. "Don't hit me," she begged pitifully.
+"Don't hit me, and I'll be good, indeed, I will."
+
+Mrs. Marteen had taken no notice of her providential protector. Her head
+was sunk upon her breast and her hands hung limp in her lap.
+
+The young man whistled twice, never relaxing his hold. A moment later a
+form detached itself from the group before the door of the house
+opposite, crossed the street and joined them quickly, yet with no
+impression of hurry.
+
+"What's up?" the newcomer asked quietly.
+
+"Here, take hold. Don't let her get away from you." With a glance round,
+he took a hypodermic needle from hi" pocket, and a quick prick in the
+wrist instantly quieted the struggling, captive. "Get a cab," he
+ordered, "and bring her over to my rooms. The utmost importance--not a
+sound to anybody. I've got my job cut out for me--no police in this,
+mind."
+
+He turned, his manner all gentleness. "Mrs. Marteen--Mrs. Marteen," he
+repeated. She raised her head slightly. "Will you come with me? My name
+is Brencherly, and Mr. Gard sent me for you. Come."
+
+She rose obediently. The name he had spoken seemed to inspire
+confidence, trust and peace, like a word of power; but her limbs refused
+to move, and she sank back again. Brencherly took her unresisting hand
+in his, felt her pulse and shook his head.
+
+"Long!" he called. "Get a cab. I'll take Mrs. Marteen; stop somewhere
+and send a taxi back for you; it might look queer to see two of us with
+unconscious patients."
+
+When his subordinate turned to go, Brencherly leaned toward the drugged
+woman, took the bundle from her listless hands and rapidly examined its
+contents. A coarse nightdress, a black waist and a worn and ragged empty
+wallet rewarded his search. He tied them up again, put the package in
+its place and turned once more to Mrs. Marteen. "She's a mighty sick
+woman," he murmured. "Well, it's home for hers, and then me for the old
+man."
+
+A taxi drove up, and his assistant descended. With his help Brencherly
+half supported, half carried his charge to the curb.
+
+Directing the chauffeur to stop at a nearby hotel before proceeding to
+Mrs. Marteen's apartment, he climbed in beside the patient, and as the
+machine gathered headway, murmured a fervent "Thank God!"
+
+Mrs. Marteen lay back upon the cushioned seat inert and passive. In the
+flash of each passing street-light her face showed waxen pale, a cameo
+against the dark background; so drawn and pinched were her features,
+that Brencherly, in panic, seized her pulse, in order to assure himself
+that life had not already fled. Obedient to his orders the cab ran up to
+an hotel entrance, and Brencherly, leaning out, called the starter.
+
+"Here!" he snapped, "send a taxi over to the park--the bench opposite
+No. --, and pick up a man with an old lady. She's unconscious."
+
+For an instant the light glinted on his metal badge as he threw back his
+coat. The starter nodded. Brencherly settled back again in his place
+with a sigh of relief. It was only a matter of moments now, and he would
+have brought to an unexpectedly successful close the task he had set
+himself. He began to build air castles; to construct for himself a
+little niche in his own selected temple of Fame. He was aroused from his
+revery by a voice at his side. Mrs. Marteen was speaking, at first
+indistinctly, then with insistent repetition.
+
+"I can't remember--I can't remember."
+
+He turned to her with gentle questioning, but she did not heed him.
+Slowly, with infinite effort, as if her slender hands were weighted
+down, she lifted them before her face. She stared at them with growing
+horror depicted on her face. He was suddenly reminded of an electrifying
+performance of Macbeth he had once witnessed. A red glare from a ruby
+lamp at a fire-street corner splashed her frail fingers with vivid color
+as they passed it by. She gave a scream that ended in a moan, and
+mechanically wiped her hands back and forth, back and forth, upon her
+coat. Brencherly's heart ached for her. Over and over he repeated
+reassuring words in her deafened ears, striving to lay the awful ghost
+that had fastened like a vampire on her heart. But to no avail. She was
+as beyond his reach as if she were a creature of another planet. Never
+in his active, efficient life had he felt so helpless. It was with
+thanksgiving that at last he saw the ornate entrance of Mrs. Marteen's
+home.
+
+"Watch her!" he ordered the chauffeur, as he leaped up the steps and
+into the vestibule to prepare for her reception.
+
+A message to her apartment brought the maid and butler in haste. With
+many exclamations of alarm and sympathy they bore her to her own room
+once more, and laid her upon the bed. She lay limp and still, while they
+hurried about her with restoratives.
+
+Brencherly was at the telephone. Almost at once, in answer to his ring,
+Doctor Balys' voice sounded over the wire in hasty congratulations and
+promises of immediate assistance. Hanging up the receiver, he turned
+again to his patient.
+
+Through the silent apartment the sound of the doorbell buzzed with
+sudden shock. The butler stood as if transfixed.
+
+"It's Miss Dorothy!" he exclaimed in consternation. "She went out to
+walk a little, with young Mr. Mahr. She was nervous and couldn't rest,
+and telephoned for him to come--in spite of--in spite of--" He
+hesitated. "Anyway, Mr. Mahr--young Mr. Mahr--came for her, sir.
+Mr.--Mr.--I think you'd better break it to her, sir. She mustn't see her
+mother like this--without warning!"
+
+Brencherly ran down the hall, the servant preceding him. As the door
+swung wide, Dorothy, followed by Teddy Mahr, entered the hallway. She
+stopped suddenly, face to face with a stranger.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked, sudden fear and suspicion in
+her eyes.
+
+Brencherly explained quickly.
+
+"Mr. Gard employed me, Miss Marteen, to find your mother, if
+possible--and--she is here. Don't be alarmed."
+
+Dorothy sank into a chair, weak with relief. Teddy put forth his hand to
+help her. Instinctively she remained clasping his arm as if his presence
+gave her strength.
+
+"And she's all right--she isn't hurt--or--or anything?" she implored
+breathlessly.
+
+"She's very ill, I'm afraid," said Brencherly. "I think you--had better
+not go to her till the doctor comes. I've sent for him."
+
+"Oh! but I must--I must!" she cried, tears in her voice.
+
+In the rush of happenings no one had thought of Mrs. Mellows. Hers was
+not a personality to commend itself in moments of stress. Now she
+suddenly appeared, her eyes swollen with sleep, her ample form swathed
+in a dressing gown.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?" she complained. "I told you, Dorothy, that I
+thought it very bad form, indeed, for you and Mr. Mahr to go out. In
+bereavements, such as yours, sir, it's not the proper thing for you to
+be making exhibitions of yourself. Like as not the reporters have been
+taking pictures. And at any time they may find out that my poor dear
+sister is ill and wandering. I don't know _what_ to say! The papers will
+be full of it. And you!" she exclaimed, having for the first time become
+aware of the detective's presence. "Who are you. How did you get in? I
+hope and pray you're not a reporter!--Dorothy, don't tell me you've
+brought a reporter in here--or I shall leave this house at once!"
+
+"No, Aunt, no!" cried Dorothy. "This--this gentleman, has brought my
+mother home. She's in her room now--she's--"
+
+Mrs. Mellows turned and made a rush down the corridor. Four pairs of
+hands stayed her in her flight.
+
+"No--no!" begged Dorothy. "This gentleman says she is very ill. We
+mustn't disturb her--Aunt--please--the doctor is coming."
+
+As if the name had conjured him, a ring announced Doctor Balys' arrival.
+He entered hastily, his emergency bag in his hand.
+
+"Mr. Brencherly, come with me, please," he ordered. "You can tell me the
+details as I work. Miss Marteen and Mrs. Mellows, wait for me, and I'll
+come and tell you the facts just as soon as I know them myself." He
+nodded unceremoniously and followed Brencherly.
+
+As they neared Mrs. Marteen's room the silence was suddenly broken by a
+cry. Balys strode past his guide and threw open the door.
+
+Mrs. Marteen, sitting erect in the bed, held out rigid arms as if in
+desperate appeal. The terrified maid stood by, wringing her hands.
+
+"Gard!" she called. "Marcus Gard! help me! Tell me--I'll believe
+you--I'll believe you--will you tell me the truth!" Her strength left
+her suddenly, and as the physician placed a supporting arm about her,
+she sank back, her eyes closed wearily. As he laid her gently back upon
+the pillows, she sighed softly, her heavy lids unclosed a moment. "I
+knew you'd come," she murmured. "You'll take care of--of Dorothy--you
+will--" Her voice trailed off into nothingness; then "Marcus"--she
+whispered.
+
+The two men turned away. Brencherly coughed. "Is there any hope?" he
+asked, breaking the tense silence that seemed suddenly to have entered
+the room like an actual presence.
+
+The doctor nodded without speaking. "Yes--hope," he said at length, as
+he opened his leather satchel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+It was well into the small hours of the morning when Brencherly sought
+his own rooms in an inconspicuous apartment hotel, where he, his
+activities and, at times, strange companions, were not only tolerated,
+but welcomed. He was weary, but too excited and elated to desire sleep.
+He nodded to the friendly night clerk, and received a favorable response
+to his request, even at that unwholesome hour, for coffee and scrambled
+eggs to be served in his rooms.
+
+He found Long, his assistant, slumbering sonorously in an armchair in
+the living-room of his modest suite. The open door to the chamber
+beyond, sufficiently indicated where his charge had been placed.
+
+Long awoke, and stretched himself with a yawn.
+
+"Three o'clock," he observed, with a glance at the mantel clock. "Made a
+good haul, hey? Well, your kidnapped beauty is in there, dead to the
+world. I tied her feet together before I went to sleep. You can't tell
+when they're going to come to, you know, and I thought it would be
+safer. Now, tell a feller, what's the dope?"
+
+Brencherly entered the adjoining apartment without deigning an answer,
+switched on the lights and approached the bed. The wizen little woman,
+with her disheveled white hair and tumbled garments looked pitifully
+weak and helpless; her thin, claw-like hands clutching at the pillow in
+a childish pose. Her captor stared at her intently, his brain crowded
+with strange thoughts. Who was she? What was her history? He had his
+suspicions, but they all remained to be verified.
+
+He took one of the emaciated wrists in his hand. How frail and small it
+was, and yet, perhaps, an instrument in the hands of Fate. She moved
+uneasily, and, glancing down, he noticed how securely she was bound.
+Leaning over, he loosened the curtain cord with which she had been
+secured. She sighed as if relieved, and, turning, he left her, as a
+discreet tapping at his door announced the coming of the meal he had
+ordered.
+
+A night watchman in shirt sleeves brought in the tray softly and set it
+upon the table, with a glance of curiosity at the adjoining room. There
+was usually an interesting story to be gleaned from the guests that the
+detective brought.
+
+"Come on," said the host eagerly, "fall on it, I'm starved."
+
+"Anything I can do?" inquired the night watchman hopefully.
+
+But Brencherly was still uncommunicative. "Nope, thanks."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Yes. Good-night--or good-morning. Tell 'em down stairs I'm much
+obliged, as usual."
+
+The two men ate heartily and in silence. It was not till the plates were
+scraped that either spoke. With the last sip of the soothing beverage
+Brencherly closed his eyes peacefully.
+
+"Old man," he said, "this night's work is the best luck I've ever had.
+Now, tell me, did the lady say anything at any time? or did she remain
+as she is?"
+
+"She didn't say much. Grumbled a little at being moved around; in fact,
+I thought she was coming out of it for a minute when we first got her in
+here. Then she straightened out for another lap of sleep. Here's her
+kit."
+
+He rose as he spoke, and took from the mantel the package she had clung
+to during all her enforced journey. He untied the parcel, and both men
+bent over its meager contents. Though Brencherly had seen them under the
+wavering arc lights of Washington Square, he now gave each article the
+closest scrutiny. Nothing offered any clew, except the wallet. That,
+worn as it was, showed its costly texture, and the marks of careful
+mountings. It was unmistakably a man's wallet, and its flexibility
+denoted constant use. Brencherly set it on one side.
+
+"Anything else?" he asked.
+
+The other nodded. He had the most important find in reserve.
+
+"These," he said, and drew from his pocket a bunch of newspaper
+clippings. He laid each one on the table. "Now, _what_ do you think of
+_that_?" His lean, cadaverous face took on a look of satisfied cunning.
+If his colleague had not chosen to take him into his confidence, he
+could show him that he was quite capable of drawing his own inferences
+and making his own conclusions. He sat back and nonchalantly lit a
+cigarette.
+
+There were at least twenty cuttings, of all sizes, from a half page from
+a Sunday supplement to a couple of lines from a financial column. But
+all bore the name of Victor Mahr more or less conspicuously displayed.
+Two scraps showed conclusively that they had been cherished and handled
+more than all the others. One was a sketch of the millionaire's country
+estate; the other, a reproduction from a photograph of his old-fashioned
+and imposing city residence.
+
+"H'm!" said Brencherly. "It's pretty clear that she had a reason for
+occupying that park bench, hey? And she certainly has patronized the
+news bureau, or been a patient collector herself. See that?" He pushed
+forward the largest of the clippings. "That's three years old. I
+remember when that came out. It was after Teddy's sensational playing at
+the Yale-Harvard game. They had the limelight well turned on then, you
+remember. And that"--he smoothed another slip--"that announcement of his
+purchase of 'Allanbrae' is at least five years old. She's been
+treasuring all this for a long time. Where did you find them?"
+
+"When I put her on the bed," Long replied, "her collar seemed to be
+choking her, so I loosened it, and a button or two. There was a pink
+string around her throat and a little old chamois bag--like you might
+put a turnip-watch in. I took it in here and found--that stuff--what do
+you think?"
+
+"I think that we're getting near the answer to something we all want to
+know," said Brencherly. "But it means a lot to a lot of people to keep
+the police off--for the present. I want to be sure."
+
+"How do you suppose she got in?" said Long, insinuatingly.
+
+"Don't know yet--but we'll find that out. Meantime, don't use the
+telephone for anything you have to say to anybody. And the other woman,
+let me tell you, has nothing to do with this case. I'll tell you now,
+before your curiosity makes you make a fool of yourself--she's been
+hunted for high and low, because she's had aphasia--forgets who she is,
+and all that, every once in a while, and her people have been offering a
+reward. Just happened to make a double haul, that's all. But you don't
+get in on the first one. Now are you satisfied?" Brencherly looked at
+his companion quizzically.
+
+Long grunted. He was rather annoyed at having the occurrence so simply
+explained.
+
+"Oh, well," he yawned, "you're on this case, and I'm only your lobbygow;
+so I suppose I've got to let it go at that. But, say, I'm tired. Let's
+turn in, or, if you don't want me in your joint, I'll go down stairs and
+get them to bunk me somewhere in the dump." He rose. "I suppose they'll
+fix me up?"
+
+Brencherly went to the telephone and spoke for a moment. "All right," he
+said; "they'll give you number seventy-three on this floor. I want you
+to do something for me to-morrow, so set the bellboy for eight o'clock,
+will you?" A moment later he turned his assistant over to the hotel
+roundsman, and turned to his own well earned rest. Making a neat packet
+of the clippings, he stowed them away once more in their worn
+receptacle--he hesitated, then nodded to himself, having decided to
+replace them. He must gain this woman's confidence. She must not be made
+suspicious. Above all, her anger must not be roused. She might become
+stubborn and uncommunicative. He stepped into the adjoining room and
+turned on the electrics. The quick flash of the light made him shut his
+eyes. When he opened them he gave a cry of dismay. The tumbled bed was
+empty--the window stood wide open. It flashed into his mind, that as he
+had talked with Long over the incriminating bits of paper, he had felt a
+draft of air; but his knowledge that his captive was securely tied had
+eliminated from his mind any idea of the possibility of an attempt at
+escape. Then, cursing himself, he recalled how he had loosened the cords
+about her ankles. With a bound he was at the window, looking down at the
+spidery threads of fire escape ladders, leading down to the utter dark
+of the service alley.
+
+"My God!" he exclaimed aloud. "My God!" He feared to find a crushed and
+broken little body at the foot of those steep iron ladders. It seemed
+impossible for such a frail and aged woman to have, unaided, made her
+way down the sides of that inky precipice. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed
+again, "if only she isn't killed!" He stood looking out, leaning as far
+over the iron railing as he dared, waiting till his eyes should become
+accustomed to the darkness. Gradually the details of the structure
+became clear to his vision. No ominous dark mass took shape on the
+pavement, far beneath. He could vaguely make out the contours of an ash
+can or two and an abandoned wheelbarrow. But the alley from end to end
+held no human form. She had succeeded in making her escape! Then at all
+costs he must find her; and the police must not get hold of her. The
+evidence of the clippings, her angry words as she prepared to attack
+Mrs. Marteen--all outlined a possible solution to the tragedy in
+Washington Square.
+
+He hesitated a moment. His first impulse was to descend the fire escapes
+in turn and look below for further trace of her going. But he realized
+that he could reach the alley quicker by going through the house. He
+cursed himself for a careless fool. How could he have allowed this to
+happen!
+
+He turned quickly, intent on losing no further moments, when he was
+frozen into immobility by a sound, the most curiously unexpected of all
+sounds--a laugh, a faint treble chuckle! It seemed to come from the
+outer air, from nowhere, to hang suspended in the damp air of the shaft.
+It was eerie, ghostly. Was the spirit of the dead man laughing at his
+folly? The detective stepped back on the grating, flattening himself
+against the outer sill of his window. Again the chuckler--now an
+unmistakable laugh floated to his ears. With a smothered exclamation he
+stepped forward again, and looked upward. There, against the violet-gray
+of the star-sprinkled sky, bulked a crouching shape, cuddled on the
+landing above.
+
+Brencherly held his breath. It seemed that the woman must fall from her
+perch, so insecure it seemed. He controlled himself, thinking rapidly.
+Then he laughed in return.
+
+"That _was_ a good joke you played on me," he said. "How did you ever
+think of it?"
+
+"Oh," came the answer, punctuated by smothered peals of laughter.
+"That's the way I got away from the Sanatorium. I just went up instead
+of down, and stayed there, till they'd hunted all the place over. Then
+when I saw where they weren't, I just went down and walked out."
+
+"That was clever," he exclaimed. "But you can't be comfortable up there.
+Won't you come down, and I'll get something for you to eat. You must be
+hungry, and cold, too."
+
+"No," came the response. "I sort of like it here. It reminds me of the
+way I fooled them all back there; and they thinking themselves that
+sharp, too. It's sort of nice, too, looking at the stars--sort of feels
+like a bird in a nest, don't it?"
+
+"I hope to goodness, she don't take it into her head she can fly,"
+thought Brencherly. Aloud he said: "Say, do you mind if I come up there
+and sit with you a while? I'm sort of lonesome here myself." He had
+already moved silently forward, and was slowly mounting the iron
+ladder--very slowly, a rung at a time, talking all the while in a
+cordial, friendly voice. He feared she might take fright and precipitate
+herself to the stones below. But her mood was otherwise.
+
+"I don't mind," she said. "I don't seem to know just how I got here, and
+perhaps you can tell me. I just woke up and found myself sleepin' on
+somebody's bed. I thought at first that I was back in the ward, when I
+found my feet was tied up. Then when I got loose and had time to feel
+around, I saw 'twas some strange place. Then the fire escapes sort of
+looked nice and cool, so I came out."
+
+By this time her visitor had climbed beside her and had seated himself
+on the landing in such fashion that no move of hers could dislodge
+either of the strange couple. He noted with relief that they were
+outside of a door instead of a window, as was the case on all the floors
+below. The drying roof of the hotel only was above them. He did not wish
+this extraordinary interview to be interrupted. His airy nest-mate
+seemed amenable to conversation.
+
+"Well, well!" he resumed, "so _that_ was the way you worked it. Wouldn't
+that make the doctor mad, though--what was the old duffer's name,
+anyway? You did tell me, but I've got such a poor memory--now, yours is
+good, I'll bet a hat."
+
+"Well," she said, "'tain't what it used to be, but I'll never forget old
+Malbey's name as long as I live, nor what he looks like, either. He
+looks like a potato with sprouts for eyes."
+
+Brencherly laughed. He had a very clear, if unflattering, picture of the
+learned physician.
+
+"But, say," she cried suddenly, "you're not trying to get me, are you?"
+
+"Oh, _I'm_ no friend of the doctor's," he said easily. "Why, I brought
+you up here to hide you away safely. That was one of my rooms you woke
+up in. You see, I found you on a bench in the park out there, and you
+went to sleep so suddenly right while I was talking to you, that I
+thought you must be tired out."
+
+She leaned forward, peering at him through the dusk. Her white pinched
+face looked skull-like in the faint light.
+
+"Yes," she said slowly, "seems to me that I remember some woman saying
+she killed Victor Mahr, and me getting angry about it--and then I don't
+seem to know just _what_ happened. Well, young man, I'm much obliged to
+you, I'm sure. 'Tain't often an old woman like me gets so well taken
+care of."
+
+"But why," he questioned softly, "were you so annoyed with the other
+lady? She had just as much right as you had, I suppose, to kill the
+gentleman?"
+
+"She had not!" she shrilled. "She had not!" Then lowering her voice to a
+whisper, she murmured confidentially: "_My_ name ain't Welles!"
+
+"Why, Mrs. Welles," he exclaimed, "how can you say so? If you aren't
+Mrs. Welles, who are you?"
+
+"Just as if you didn't know!" she retorted scornfully.
+
+"Well, perhaps," he admitted. "But never mind that now. Do you know that
+you lost your bag of clippings?"
+
+Her hand flew to her breast. "Now, gracious me! How could I?"
+
+"Oh, don't worry about them," he soothed. "I've got them all in my room.
+You shall have them again. Don't you want to come down and get them?" He
+was cramped and chilled to the bone; moreover, the stars had paled, and
+a misty fog of floating, impalpable crystal was slowly crossing the
+oblong of sky left visible by the edifices on both sides of the alley.
+He waited anxiously for her to reply, but she seemed lost in thought. He
+looked at her closely. She was asleep, her head resting against the
+blistered paneling of the door. He shifted his position slightly, and
+gazed at the coming of the dawn. Gradually the crystal white gave place
+to faintest violet, then flushed to rose color. The details of the
+coping above them became sharply distinct. Below them the canyon was
+full of blue shadow, but already the depths were becoming translucent.
+He looked at his strange companion. Should he wake her, he wondered.
+Softly he tried the door. It was locked from within. If he allowed her
+to slumber in peace, she might, on awakening, be terrified at the
+visible depths below. Now, all was vague in the blue canyon.
+
+Very gently he pressed her hand and called her. "Mrs. Welles."
+
+She awoke with such a violent start that for an agonized instant he felt
+his hold slipping. He held her firmly, however, and steadied her with
+voice and hand.
+
+"Let's go indoors," he said quite casually. "You see if we sit here much
+longer, it's growing light, and people will see us. Then it won't be
+easy for me to keep you hidden. Now, if you'll just turn about and let
+me go first, I'll get you down quite easily and nobody the wiser for our
+outing."
+
+She looked at him for a moment as if puzzled, then her brow cleared.
+"Very well, young man," she said. "I must have had a nap. Now, how do
+you want me to turn?"
+
+He showed her, and with his arms on the outside of the ladder, her body
+next the rungs--as he had often seen the firemen make their rescues, he
+slowly steadied her to the landing below and assisted her in at the
+window.
+
+With a sigh of relief he closed the window behind them and drew down the
+blinds.
+
+"Now! that's all right, Mrs. Mahr. You're quite safe."
+
+She turned on him her beady eyes and laughed her shrill chuckle. "There,
+didn't I tell you, you knew all the time? I guess you'll own up that
+it's the wife who's got the right to kill a husband, won't you?"
+
+"Sure," he said. "I'll see that nobody else gets the credit, believe
+me!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+With Dorothy clinging to his hand, Marcus Gard watched the door of Mrs.
+Marteen's library with an ever-growing anxiety. Only the presence of the
+child, who clasped his hand in such fear and grief, kept him from giving
+way. The long reign of terror that had dragged his heart and mind to the
+very edge of martyrdom had worn thin his already exhausted nerves, and
+now--now that the lost was found again, it was to learn by what a
+slender thread of life they held her with them.
+
+Every moment he could spare from the demands of his responsibilities was
+spent in close companionship with Dorothy in the house where only the
+sound of soft-footed nurses, the clink of a spoon in a medicine glass or
+the tread of the doctor mounting the stairs broke the waiting silence.
+For many days she had not known them. Now came intervals of
+consciousness and coherence, but weakness so great that the two anxious
+watchers, unused to illness, were appalled by the change it wrought. Now
+for the twentieth time they sat longing for and yet fearing the moment
+when Dr. Balys, with his friendly eyes and grim mouth, would enter to
+them with the tale of his last visit and his hopes or fears for the
+next.
+
+The lamps were lighted, the shades drawn; the fire crackled quietly on
+the hearth. The room was filled with the familiar perfume of violets,
+for Dorothy, true to her mother's custom, kept every vase filled with
+them.
+
+Silently Gard patted the little cold hand in his, as the sound of
+approaching footsteps warned them of the doctor's coming. In silence
+they saw the door open, and welcomed with a throb of relief the smile on
+the physician's face.
+
+"A great, a very great improvement," he said quickly, in answer to
+Dorothy's supplicating eyes. "Quite wonderful. She is a woman of such
+extraordinary character that, once conscious, we can count on her own
+great will to save the day for us--and to-morrow you shall both see her.
+To-night, little girl, you may go in and kiss her, very quietly--not a
+word, you know. Just a kiss and go."
+
+"Now?" whispered Dorothy, as if she were already in the sick room. "May
+I go now?"
+
+"Yes. No tears, you know, and no huggings--just one little kiss--and
+then come back here."
+
+Dorothy flew from the room, light and soundless as blown thistledown.
+The doctor turned to his friend.
+
+"There is something troubling her," he said gravely, "something that is
+eating at her heart. Ordinarily I wouldn't consent to anyone seeing her
+so soon; but she called for you in her delirium; and now that she is
+conscious, she whispers that she must consult you. Perhaps you can
+relieve her trouble, whatever it is. I'm going to chance it; after
+Dorothy has seen her, you may. I don't know exactly what to say,
+but--well, answer the question in her eyes, if you can--but only a
+moment--only give her relief. She must have no excitement."
+
+Gard nodded.
+
+"I think I know," he said slowly.
+
+The doctor nodded in understanding, as the girl appeared, her face drawn
+by emotion.
+
+"Oh, poor mother!" she gasped. "She seemed--so--I don't know
+why--grateful--to me--thanked me for coming to her--_thanked_ me, Dr.
+Balys, as if I wasn't longing every minute to be with her! She is not
+quite over her delirium yet, do you think?"
+
+Balys smiled. "Of course she is grateful to see you. Your mother has
+been very close to the Great Divide, and she, more than any of us,
+realizes it. Now," he said, turning to Gard, "go in and make your little
+speech; and, mind you, say your word and go. No conversation with my
+patient."
+
+Gard stood up, excitement gripping him. He was to see her eyes again,
+open and understanding. He was to hear her voice in coherent tones once
+more! The realization of this wonder thrilled him. He went to her
+presence as some saint of old went to the altar, where, in a dream, the
+vision of miracle had been promised him. All the pain and torture of the
+past seemed nothing in the light of this one thing--that she was herself
+again, to meet him hand to hand and eye to eye. He entered the quiet
+room and crossed its dimly lighted spaciousness to the bed. The nurse
+rose tactfully and busied herself among the bottles on the distant
+dresser.
+
+At last, after the ordeal that they had gone through, in the lonely,
+hollow torture chamber of the heart, they met, and knew. With a sigh of
+understanding, she moved her waxen fingers, and, comprehending her
+gesture, he took her hand and held it, striving to impart to her
+weakness something of his own vigor. For a moment they remained thus.
+Then into her eyes, where at first great repose had shone, there came a
+gleam of questioning. He leaned close above her to catch her whispered
+words.
+
+"She doesn't know?"
+
+"No," he answered. "Dorothy came to me with his letter. I got everything
+from the safe, and I sent her away so no further messages might reach
+her. Now do you see?"
+
+She looked up at him.
+
+Again he took her hand in his and strove to give it life, as a
+transfusion of blood is given through the veins.
+
+There was silence for a moment. Then her white lips framed a request.
+
+"Bring them--all the things from the inner safe--bring them to-morrow to
+me." Her eyes turned toward the fire that glowed on the hearth.
+
+He comprehended her intention.
+
+"To-morrow," he murmured, and, turning, softly left the room. With a few
+words to Dorothy he hurried from the house.
+
+Instinctively he turned to seek the sanctuary of his library, but paused
+ere he gave the order to his chauffeur. No, before he could call the day
+complete, there was something else to do. He gave the address of the
+house on Washington Square. The mansion, as the limousine drew up before
+it, looked dark, almost deserted. He mounted the steps slowly, his mind
+crowded with memories--with what burning hatred in his heart he had come
+to face the owner of that house, to disarm Victor Mahr of his revengeful
+power. With what primeval elation he had stood upon that topmost step
+and drawn long breaths of satisfaction at the thought of the encounter
+in which, with his own hands he had laid his enemy low! Its thrill came
+to him anew. Again he recalled the hurried purposeful visit that had
+ended with his finding the enemy passed forever beyond his reach.
+Vividly he saw before him the silent room--soft lighted, remotely quiet;
+the waxen hand of a man contrasting with the scarlet damask of a huge
+winged chair, that hid the face of its owner. And more distinct than all
+else, staring from the surrounding darkness of the walls, the glorious,
+palpitating semblance of a warrior of long ago. The strangely living
+lips, the dusky hollows where thoughtful eyes gleamed darkling. The
+glint of armor half covered by velvet and fur. A gloved hand that seemed
+to caress a sword hilt, that caught one crashing ruby light upon its
+pommel--the matchless Heim Vandyke--the silent, attentive watcher who
+had seen his sacking of the dead; who seemed, with those deep eyes of
+understanding, to realize and know it all--the futile clash of human
+wills, the little day of love and hate, the infinite mercy, and the
+inexorable law.
+
+Gard paused, his hand upon the bell. Now at last he could enter this
+house, and wish it peace. His errand, even the all-comprehending eyes of
+the dead and gone warrior could look upon without their half-cynic
+sadness.
+
+As he entered the great silent hall, where the footfalls of the servant
+were hushed, as if overawed by tragedy, he seemed to leave behind him,
+as distinctly as he discarded the garment he gave into the lackey's
+hands, the bitterness of the past. He was ushered into a small and
+elaborate waiting room to the right. And a moment later Teddy Mahr
+entered to him, with extended hands.
+
+The boy had aged. His face was white and drawn, but the eyes that looked
+into Gard's face were courageous and clear.
+
+"Thank you for coming," he said frankly. "Shall we sit here, or--in
+Father's room?" His mouth twitched slightly. "It really must be part of
+the house, you know. It was his workshop--and I want it to be mine in
+the future. I haven't been in there since, and, somehow, if you don't
+mind, sir, I'd like you to come with me--to be with me, when I first go
+back."
+
+Gard nodded and smiled rather grimly. "Yes, boy--I'd like to myself. I
+would have asked it of you, but I feared to awaken memories that were
+too painful for you. Let us go in. What I have to talk over with you
+concerns him, too."
+
+They crossed the hall, and Teddy unlocked the heavy door and paused to
+find the switch. The anteroom sprung into light. In silence they crossed
+the intervening space to the inner door, which was in turn unlocked.
+
+As the soft lights were once more renewed, Gard started, so vividly had
+he reconstructed the scene as he had last looked upon it, with that
+hasty yet detailed scrutiny of the stage manager. He was almost
+surprised to find the great damask-covered easy chair untenanted, and
+order restored to the length and breadth of the library table.
+Involuntarily his eyes sought the wall behind the desk, where the
+panoply of ancient arms glinted somberly, then scanned the polished
+surface of the wood in search of what?--of the stiletto that was a foil
+in miniature. Somehow, though he knew that it, along with other relics
+of that dreadful passing, were in charge of the officials of the law, he
+had expected to see it there. Something of the impermanence of life and
+the indifferent, soulless permanence of things, flashed through his
+mind. "Art and art alone, enduring, stays to us," he quoted the words
+aloud unconsciously. "The bust outlasts the throne, the coin--Tiberius."
+His eyes were fixed upon the picture, which, though thrown in no relief
+by the unlighted globes above it, yet in its very obscurity, dominated
+the room with its all but unseen presence.
+
+"Oh, no, not that alone," Teddy Mahr objected. "Don't you think we live
+on, in what we have done, in what we have been, in what we desire to
+do?"
+
+Gard was silent. The words seemed irony. "I believe," he said slowly,
+"that the end is not yet. I believe that we are each accountable for our
+individual being. I believe that every one of us is his brother's
+keeper." He was silent. His own short, newly evolved credo, surprised
+him.
+
+Teddy crossed to the great armchair, and laid his hand on it reverently.
+
+"It was here his Fate found him," he said with quiet self-control.
+"Where will Fate find me--or you--I wonder?"
+
+"Fate _has_ found me," said Gard. "Death isn't the only thing that Fate
+means, but Life also; and it's of Life I came to speak to you--as well
+as the Past, that we must realize _is_--the Past. Of course, you know
+what has been learned--something about what happened here. Now, I want
+to tell you of my plans. I want, if possible, to keep things quiet--Oh,
+it's only comparatively speaking--but we can avoid a great deal of
+publicity, if you will let me handle the matter. It's for your sake, and
+I'm sure your father would desire it--and--pardon me, if I presume on
+grounds I'm not supposed to know anything of--but for Dorothy's, too.
+Dorothy may have to face bereavement too. Publicity, details, the nine
+days' wonder--it's all unpleasant, distressing. I have arranged to see
+the District Attorney to-morrow night. He can, if he will, materially
+aid us. This poor insane woman has delusions that it would be painful
+for you to even know. It would certainly be most unfortunate if she were
+tried or examined in public. I'd rather you didn't come--did not even
+see her at any time. Will you trust me? You have a perfect right to do
+otherwise, I know--but--will you believe me when I say I've given this
+my best thought, and I believe I am giving you the best advice?"
+
+He stood very erect, speaking with formality, with a certainly stilted,
+"learned by rote" manner, very different from his usual fiery
+utterances.
+
+Teddy respected his mood and bowed with courtly deference. "You were my
+father's friend," he said. "You were the last to be with him. I know you
+are giving me the wisest advice a wise man can give, and I accept it
+gratefully, Mr. Gard--for myself, and father and for Dorothy, too."
+
+The older man held out his hand. Their clasp was strong and responsive.
+There were tears in Teddy's eyes, and he turned his head away quickly.
+
+"Then," said Gard briskly, "it is understood. You also know and realize
+why I have kept the whole matter under seal. Why I have secreted this
+poor demented creature, have kept even you in ignorance of her
+whereabouts. Oh, I know I have had your consent all along; I know you
+have given me your complete trust long before this; but to-night I
+wanted your final cooperation in the hardest task of all--to acquiesce,
+while in ignorance, to permit matters that concern you, and you alone
+most truly and deeply, to be placed in the hands of others. I thank you
+for your faith, boy. God bless you."
+
+Teddy saw his guest to the door, stood in the entry watching him descend
+to the street and his car, and turned away with a sigh. He reentered the
+room they had left, and stood for a moment in grave thought. He sighed
+again as he plunged the apartment in darkness and, leaving, locked the
+doors one after the other. Something, some very vital part of his
+existence was shut behind him forever. There were questions that he
+might not ask himself--there were veils he must not lift--there was a
+door in his heart, the door to the shrine of a dead man--it must be
+locked forever, if he would keep it a sanctuary.
+
+In the hall once more, he turned toward the entrance; his thoughts again
+with the strong, kindly presence of the man who had just left him. He
+wondered why he had never realized the vast, unselfish human force in
+Gard. "What an indomitable soul," he said softly. "I must have been very
+blind."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+The following day found Marcus Gard at the usual morning hour in
+conference with Dorothy. The girl was radiant. The nurses had reported a
+splendid sleep and a calm awakening. She had been allowed a moment with
+her mother, whose voice was no longer faint, but was regaining its old
+vibrant quality.
+
+The doctor entered smiling and grasped Gard's extended hand.
+
+"You said it," he laughed. "Whatever it was, you said it, all right.
+Mrs. Marteen slept like a child, and there's color in her face to-day.
+See if you can do as well again. I'll give you five minutes--no, ten."
+
+Preceded by the doctor, he once more found his way through the
+velvet-hushed corridors to the softly lighted bedroom, where lay the
+woman who had absorbed his every thought. Her eyes, as they met his,
+were bright with anxiety, and her glance at the doctor was almost
+resentful. But it was not part of the physician's plan to interfere with
+any confidence that might relieve the patient's mind. With a casual nod
+to Mrs. Marteen, he called to the nurse and led her from the room, his
+finger rapidly tapping the sick-room chart, as if medical directions
+were first in his mind.
+
+Left alone, Gard approached the bed, and in answer to the unspoken
+question in her eyes, fumbled in his pocket and brought forth the thin
+packets of letters and the folded yellow cheques. One by one he laid
+them where her hands could touch them. He dared not look at her. He felt
+that her newly awakened soul was staring from her eyes at the mute
+evidence of a degrading past.
+
+A moment passed in silence that seemed a year of pain; then, without a
+sob, without a sigh, she slowly handed him a bundle of papers,
+withholding them only a moment as she verified the count; then, with a
+slight movement she indicated the fireplace. He crossed to it and placed
+the papers on the coals, where they flared a moment, casting wavering
+shadows about the silent room, and died to black wisps. Again and again
+he made the short journey from the bed to the grate; each time she
+verified the contents of the envelopes before delivering them to his
+hand.
+
+Last of all the two yellow cheques crisped to ashes. He stood looking
+down upon them as they dropped and collapsed into cinders, and from
+their ashes rose the phoenix of happiness. A glow of joyful relief
+lighted his spirit. There, in those dead ashes, lay a dead past--a past
+that might have been the black future, but was now relinquished forever,
+voluntarily--gone--gone! He realized a supreme moment, a turning point.
+Fate looked him in the eyes.
+
+He turned, and saw a face transfigured. There was a light in Mrs.
+Marteen's eyes that matched the glow in his own heart. Very reverently
+he raised her hand and kissed it; two sudden tears fell hot upon her
+cheeks and her lips quivered.
+
+He had never seen her show emotion, and it went to his heart. He saw her
+gaze at her hands with dilating eyes, and divined before she spoke the
+question she whispered:
+
+"Who killed Victor Mahr?"
+
+He bent above her gravely. "His wife. The wife he had cruelly
+wronged--his wife, who escaped at last from an asylum. She is quite
+mad--now. She is in our hands, and to-night, at eleven o'clock, the
+district attorney will be at my house to see her and have the evidence
+laid before him--to save Teddy," he added quickly.
+
+She looked at him wildly. "His wife--the wife that I--"
+
+He took her hand quickly. He feared to hear the words that he knew she
+was about to say.
+
+"Yes," he nodded. "Yes--she killed him."
+
+Mrs. Marteen sank slowly back upon her pillows and lay with closed eyes.
+A heavy pulse beat in the arteries at her throat, and a scarlet spot
+burned on either cheek.
+
+"Nemesis," she murmured. "Nemesis." She lay still for a moment. "Thank
+God!" she said at length, and let her hands fall relaxed upon the
+counterpane. She seemed as if asleep but for the quick intake of her
+breath.
+
+Gard gazed upon her with infinite tenderness, yet with sudden bitter
+consciousness of the isolation of each individual soul. She was remote,
+withdrawn. Even his eager sympathy could not reach the depths of her
+self-tortured heart. But now at last he knew her, a completed being. The
+soul was there, palpitant, awake. The something he had so sorely missed
+was the living and real presence of spirit. It came over him in a wave
+of realization that he, too, had been unconscious of his own higher self
+until his love had made him feel the need of it in her. They two, from
+the depths of self-satisfied power, had gone blindly in their paths of
+self-seeking--till each had awakened the other. A strange, retarded
+spiritual birth.
+
+He looked back over his long career of remorseless success with
+something of the self-horror he had read in her eyes as he had placed
+the incriminating papers in her frail hands. And as she had cast
+contamination from her, so he promised himself he would thrust predatory
+greed from his own life. They were both born anew. They would both be
+true to their own souls.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+The softened electric light suffused a glamour of glowing color over the
+rich brocade of the walls of Marcus Gard's library, catching a glint
+here and there on iridescent plaques, or a mellow high light on the
+luscious patine of an antique bronze. The stillness, so characteristic
+of the place, seemed to isolate it from the whole world, save when a
+distant bell musically announced the hour.
+
+Brencherly sat facing his employer, respecting his anxious silence,
+while they waited the coming of the district attorney, to whose clemency
+they must appeal--surely common humanity would counsel protective
+measures, secrecy, in the proceeding of the law. The links in the chain
+of evidence were now complete, but more than diplomacy would be required
+in order to bring about the legal closing of the affair without
+precipitating a scandal. Gard's own hasty actions led back to his fear
+for Mrs. Marteen, that in turn involved the cause of that suspicion. To
+convince the newsmongers that the crime was one of an almost accidental
+nature, he felt would be easy. An escaped lunatic had committed the
+murder. That revenge lay behind the insane act would be hidden. If
+necessary, the authorities of the asylum could be silenced with a golden
+gag--but the law?
+
+Neither of the two men, waiting in the silent house, underestimated the
+importance of the coming interview.
+
+The night was already far spent, and the expected visitor still delayed.
+At length the pale secretary appeared at the door to announce his
+coming.
+
+Gard rose from his seat, and extended a welcoming hand to gray-haired,
+sharp-featured District Attorney Field.
+
+Brencherly bowed with awkward diffidence.
+
+Gard's manner was ease and cordiality itself, but his heart misgave him.
+So much depended upon the outcome of this meeting. He would not let
+himself dwell upon its possibilities, but faced the situation with grim
+determination.
+
+"Well, Field," he said genially, "let me thank you for coming. You are
+tired, I know. I'm greatly indebted to you, but I'm coming straight to
+the point. The fact is, we," and he swept an including gesture toward
+his companion, "have the whole story of Victor Mahr's death. Brencherly
+is a detective in my personal employ." Field bowed and turned again to
+his host. "The person of the murderer is in our care," Gard continued.
+"But before we make this public--before we draw in the authorities,
+there are things to be considered."
+
+He paused a moment. The district attorney's eyes had snapped with
+surprise.
+
+"You don't mean to tell me," he said slowly, "that you have the key to
+that mystery! Have you turned detective, Mr. Gard? Well, nothing
+surprises me any more. What was the motive? You've learned that, too, I
+suppose?"
+
+"Insanity," said Gard shortly.
+
+"Revenge," said the detective.
+
+"Suppose," said Gard, "a crime were committed by a totally irresponsible
+person, would it be possible, once that fact was thoroughly established,
+to keep investigation from that person; to conduct the matter so quietly
+that publicity, which would crush the happiness of innocent persons,
+might be avoided?"
+
+"It might," said the lawyer, "but there would have to be very good and
+sufficient reasons. Let's have the facts, Mr. Gard. An insane person, I
+take it, killed Mahr. Who?"
+
+"His wife." Gard had risen and stood towering above the others, his face
+set and hard as if carved in flint.
+
+Field instinctively recoiled. "His wife!" he exclaimed. "Why, man alive,
+_you_ are the madman. His wife died years ago."
+
+"No," said Gard. "Teddy Mahr's mother died. His wife is living, and is
+in that next room."
+
+"What's the meaning of this?" Field demanded.
+
+"A pretty plain meaning," Gard rejoined. "The woman escaped from the
+asylum where she was confined. According to her own story, she had kept
+track of her husband from the newspapers. Mahr couldn't divorce her, but
+he married again, secure in his belief that his first marriage would
+never be discovered. Mad as she was, she knew the situation, and she
+planned revenge. Dr. Malky, of the Ottawa Asylum, is here. We sent for
+him. The woman has been recognized by Mahr's butler as the one he
+admitted. There is no possible doubt. And her own confession, while it
+is incomplete in some respects, is nevertheless undoubtedly true.
+
+"But, Field, this woman is hopelessly demented. There is nothing that
+can be done for her. She must be returned to the institution. I want to
+keep the knowledge of her identity from Mahr's son. Why poison the whole
+of his young life; why wreck his trust in his father? Convince yourself
+in every way, Mr. Field, but the part of mercy is a conspiracy of
+silence. Let it be known that an escaped lunatic did the killing--a
+certain unknown Mrs. Welles--and let Brencherly give the reporters all
+they want. For them it's a good story, anyway--such facts as these, for
+instance: he happened by in time to see an attack upon another woman on
+a bench opposite Mahr's house, and to hear her boast of her acts. But I
+ask as a personal favor that the scandal be avoided. Brencherly, tell
+what happened."
+
+The detective looked up. "There was an old story--our office had had
+it--that Mahr was a bigamist. In searching for a motive for the crime, I
+hit on that. I had all our data on the subject sent up to me. I found
+that our informant stated that Mahr had a wife in an asylum somewhere.
+That gave me a suspicion. I found from headquarters that there were two
+escapes reported, and one was a woman. She had broken out of a private
+institution in Ottawa. I got word from there that her bills had been
+paid by a lawyer here--Twickenbaur. I already knew that he was Mr.
+Mahr's confidential lawyer. But all this I looked up later, after I'd
+found the woman. You see, Mr. Gard is employing me on another matter,
+and after he returned from Washington, I gave my report to him here.
+
+"Then I went over to Mahr's house. I had a curiosity to go over the
+ground. It was quite late at night, and I was standing in the dark,
+looking over the location of the windows, when I saw a woman acting
+strangely. She was threatening and talking loudly, crying out that she
+had a right to kill him. I sneaked up behind just in time to stop her
+attack on another woman who was seated on the same bench, and who seemed
+too ill to defend herself. Well, sir, I had to give her three hypos
+before I could take her along. Then I got her to my rooms, and when she
+came around, she told me the story. Of course, sir, you mustn't expect
+any coherent narrative, though she is circumstantial enough. Then I
+brought over the butler, and he identified her at once. Mr. Gard advised
+me not to notify the police until he had seen you. We got the doctor
+from the asylum here as quickly as possible. He's with her in there
+now."
+
+The attorney sat silent a moment, nodding his head slowly. "I'll see
+her, Gard," he said at length. "This is a strange story," he added, as
+Brencherly disappeared into the anteroom.
+
+Field's eyes rested on Gard's face with keen questioning, but he said
+nothing, for the door opened, admitting the black-clad figure of a
+middle-aged woman, escorted by a trained nurse and a heavily built man
+of professional aspect.
+
+"This is--" Field asked, as his glance took in every detail of the
+woman's appearance.
+
+"Mrs. Welles, as she is known to us," the doctor answered; "but she used
+to tell us that that was her maiden name, and she married a man named
+Mahr. We didn't pay much attention to what she said, of course, but she
+was forever begging old newspapers and pointing out any paragraphs about
+Mr. Victor Mahr, saying she was his wife."
+
+Field gazed at the ghastly pallor of the woman's face, the maze of
+wrinkles and the twinkling brightness of her shifting eyes, as she stood
+staring about her unconcernedly. Her glance happened upon Brencherly.
+Her lips began to twitch and her hands to make signals, as if anxious to
+attract his attention. She writhed toward him.
+
+"Young man," she whispered audibly, "they've got me--I knew they would.
+Even you could not keep me so hidden they couldn't find me." She jerked
+an accusing thumb over her shoulder at the corpulent bulk of her
+erstwhile jailer. "They've been trying to make me tell how I got out;
+but I won't tell. I may want to do it again, you see, and you won't
+tell."
+
+"But," said Brencherly soothingly, "you don't want to get out now, you
+know. You've no reason to want to get out."
+
+She nodded, as if considering his statement seriously.
+
+"Of course, since I've got Victor out of the way, I don't much care. And
+I had awful trouble to steal enough money to get about with. Why, I had
+to pick ever so many pockets, and I do hate touching people; you never
+can tell what germs they may have." She shook out her rusty black skirt
+as if to detach any possible contagion.
+
+"But, why," the incisive voice of the attorney inquired, "did you want
+to kill Victor Mahr?"
+
+"Why?" she screamed, her body suddenly stiffening. "Suppose you were his
+wife, and he locked you up in places, and made people call you Mrs.
+Welles, while he went swelling around everywhere, and making millions!
+What'd you do? And besides, it wasn't only _that_, you see. _I_ knew,
+being his wife, that he was a devil--oh, yes, he was; you needn't look
+as if you didn't believe it. But I soon learned that when I said I was
+'Mrs. Victor Mahr' in the places he put me into, they laughed at me, the
+way they do at my roommate, who says she's a sideboard and wants to hold
+a tea-set."
+
+"Tell these gentlemen how cleverly you traced him," suggested
+Brencherly.
+
+"Oh, I knew where he lived and what he was doing well enough." She
+bridled with conscious conceit; "I read the papers and I had it all
+written down. So when I got out and stole the money, I knew just where
+to go. But he's foxy, too. I knew I'd have to _make_ him see me. So I
+stole some of the doctor's letterhead paper, and I wrote on it,
+'Important news from the Institution'--that's what he likes to call his
+boarding house--an institution." She laughed. "It worked!" she went on
+as she regained her breath. "I just sent that message, and they let me
+go right in. 'Well, what is it--what is it?' Victor said, just like
+that." Her tones of mimicry were ghastly. She paused a moment, then
+broke out:
+
+"Now you won't believe it, but I hadn't the slightest idea what I was
+going to kill him with when I went in there--I really didn't. The doctor
+will tell you himself that I'm awfully forgetful. But there, spread out
+before him, he had a whole collection of weapons, just as if he should
+say, 'Mamie, which'll you have?' I couldn't believe my eyes; so I said
+first thing, 'Why, you were expecting me!' He heard my voice, and his
+eyes opened wide; and I thought: 'If I don't do it now, he'll raise the
+house.' So I grabbed the big pistol and hit him! I'm telling you
+gentlemen all this, because I don't want anyone else to get the credit.
+There was a woman I met on a bench, and I just was sure she was going to
+take all the credit, but I told her that was _my_ business. I hate
+people who think they can do everything. There's a woman across my hall
+who says she can make stars--" She broke off abruptly as for the first
+time she became aware of Gard's presence in the room. "Why, there you
+are!" she exclaimed delightedly. "Now, that's good! You can tell these
+people what _you_ found."
+
+"But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you
+struck him with a pistol."
+
+"Oh, I did _that_ afterward." She took up the thread of her narrative.
+"I selected the place very carefully, and pushed the knife way in tight.
+I hate the sight of blood, and I sort of thought that'd stop it, and it
+did. Then, dear me, I had a scare. There's a picture in that room as
+live as life, and I looked up, and saw it looking at me. So I started to
+run out, but somebody was coming, so in the little room off the big one
+I got behind a curtain. Then this gentleman went through the room where
+I was, and into the room where _he_ was. But he shut the door, and I
+couldn't see what he thought of it. After a while he came out and said
+'good-night' to me, though how he knew I was there I can't guess. So I
+waited a very long time, till everything was quiet, and then I went back
+and sat with him. It did me good just to sit and look at him; and every
+little while I'd lift his coat to see if the little sword was still
+there. The room was awful messy, and I tidied it up a bit. Then when
+dawn about came, I got up and walked out. I had a sort of idea of
+getting back to the institution without saying anything, because I was
+afraid they'd punish me."
+
+"Why did you rob Mr. Mahr?" asked Mr. Field.
+
+"Rob nothing!" she retorted.
+
+"But his jewels, his watch," the attorney continued, his eyes riveted on
+her face with compelling earnestness. The woman gave an inarticulate
+growl. "But," interposed Brencherly, "I found his wallet in your
+package." He took from his pocket a worn and battered leather pocketbook
+and held it toward her.
+
+"Oh," she answered indifferently, "I just took it for a souvenir. In
+fact, I came back for it--last thing."
+
+Brencherly shrugged his shoulders expressively. Gard sat far back in his
+chair, his face in shadow.
+
+"How long has it been, Mrs. Welles, since you--accomplished your
+purpose?" he asked slowly.
+
+"You know as well as I do," she cried angrily.
+
+"You were there. It was yesterday--no, the day before."
+
+"It was just a week ago we found her," Brencherly said in a low voice.
+"I had to look up everything and verify everything."
+
+"You don't think I did it?" she burst out angrily. "Well, I'll prove it.
+I tell you I did, and I thought it all out carefully, although the
+doctor says I can't think connectedly. I'll show him." She fumbled in
+the breast of her dress for a moment, and brought out her cherished
+handful of newspaper clippings, which she cast triumphantly upon the
+table. "There's all about him from the papers, and a picture of the
+house. Why, I'd 'a' been a fool not to find him, and I had to. Oh, yes,
+I suppose, as the doctor says, I'm queer; but I wasn't when he first
+began sending me away--no, indeed. I wasn't good enough for him, that
+was all; and I was far from home, and hadn't a friend, and he had money.
+Oh, he was clever--but he's the devil. He used to file his horns off so
+people wouldn't see, but I know. So, I'll tell you everything, except
+how I got away. There's somebody else I may want to find." She glanced
+with infinite cunning at Brencherly, and began her finger signals as if
+practicing a dumb alphabet of which he alone knew the key.
+
+"Where did you receive her from, Doctor?" Field asked.
+
+"From Ogdensburg, sir. Before that they told me she was found wandering,
+and put under observation in Troy. All I knew was that somebody wanted
+her kept in a private institution. She'd always been in one, I fancy."
+
+There was a pause as Field seemed lost in thought. Then he turned to
+Gard.
+
+"May I ask you to clear one point?" he asked "You gave evidence that he
+was alive when you entered the room. According to her story--"
+
+"I lied," said Gard, his pale face suffused with color. "I had to--I was
+most urgently needed in Washington. I would have been detained, perhaps
+prevented altogether from leaving. Who knows--I might even have been
+accused. I plead guilty of suppressing the facts."
+
+There was silence in the room. The attorney's eyes were turned upon the
+self-confessed perjurer. In them was a question. Gard met their gaze
+gravely, without flinching. Field nodded slowly.
+
+"You're right; publicity can only harm," he said at last. "We will see
+what can be done. I'll take the proper steps. It can be done legally and
+verified by the other witnesses. The butler identifies her, you say.
+It's a curious case of retribution. I can't help imagining Mahr's
+feelings when he recognized her voice. Is your patient at all dangerous
+otherwise?" He addressed himself to the nurse.
+
+"No," she answered. "We've never seen it. Irritable, of course, but not
+vicious. I can't imagine her doing such a thing. But you never can tell,
+sir--not with this sort."
+
+Field again addressed Gard, whose admission seemed to have exhausted
+him. "And the son--knows nothing?"
+
+"Nothing," answered Gard. "He worships his father's memory. He is
+engaged, also, to--a very dear little friend of mine--the child of an
+old colleague. I want to shield them--both."
+
+"I understand." He nodded his head slowly, lost in thought.
+
+The woman, childishly interested in the grotesque inkwells on the table,
+stepped forward and raised one curiously. Her bony hands, of almost
+transparent thinness, seemed hardly able to sustain the weight of the
+cast bronze. It was hard to believe such a birdlike claw capable of
+delivering a stunning blow, or forcibly wielding the deadly knife. She
+babbled for a moment in a gentle, not unpleasant voice, while they
+watched her, fascinated.
+
+"She's that way most of the time," said the nurse softly. "Just like a
+ten-year-old girl--plays with dolls, sir, all day long."
+
+Suddenly her expression changed. Over her smiling wrinkles crept the
+whiteness of death. Her eyes seemed to start from her head, her lips
+drew back, while her fingers tightened convulsively on the metal
+inkstand. The nurse, with an exclamation, stepped forward and caught
+her.
+
+There was a gleam of such maniacal fury in the woman's face that Mr.
+Field shuddered. "Hardly a safe child to trust even with a doll," he
+said. "I fancy the recital has excited her. Hadn't you better take her
+away and keep her quiet? And don't let anyone unauthorized by Mr. Gard
+or myself have access to her. It will not be wise to allow her delusion
+that she was the wife of Victor Mahr to become known--you understand?"
+
+Mr. Gard rose stiffly. "I will assume the expense of her care in future.
+Let her have every comfort your institution affords, Dr. Malky. I will
+see you to-morrow."
+
+"Thank you, sir." The physician bowed. "Good night. Come, Mrs. Welles."
+
+Obediently the withered little woman turned and suffered herself to be
+led away.
+
+As the door closed, Field came forward and grasped Gard's hand warmly.
+"It is necessary for the general good," he said, his kindly face grown
+grave, "that this matter be kept as quiet as possible. Believe me, I
+understand, old friend; and, as always, I admire you."
+
+Gard's weary face relaxed its strain. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. "We
+can safely trust the press to Brencherly. He," and he smiled wanly,
+"deserves great credit for his work. I'm thinking, Field, I need that
+young man in my business."
+
+Field nodded. "I was thinking I needed him in mine; but yours is the
+prior claim. And now I'm off. Mr. Brencherly, can I set you down
+anywhere?"
+
+Confusedly the young man accepted the offer, hesitated and blushed as he
+held out his hand. "May I?"
+
+Gard read the good-will in his face, the congratulation in the tone, and
+grasped the extended hand with a warm feeling of friendly regard.
+
+"Good-night--and, thank you both," he said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+Spring had come. The silvery air was soft with promises of leaf and bud.
+Invitation to Festival and Adventure was in the gold-flecked sunlight.
+Nature stood on tiptoe, ready for carnival, waiting for the opening
+measures of the ecstatic music of life's renewal.
+
+The remote stillness of the great library had given place to the faint
+sounds of the vernal world. A robin preened himself at an open casement,
+cast a calculating eye at the priceless art treasures of the place,
+scorned them as useless for his needs, and fluttered away to an antique
+marble bench in the walled garden, wherefrom he might watch for worms,
+or hop to the Greek sarcophagus and take a bath in accumulated
+rainwater.
+
+Marcus Gard, outwardly his determined, unbending self again, sat before
+his laden table, slave as ever to his tasks. Nine strokes chimed from
+the Gothic clock in the hall; already his busy day had begun.
+
+Denning entered unannounced, as was his special privilege, and stood for
+a moment in silence, looking at his friend. Gard acknowledged his
+presence with a cordial nod, and continued to glance over and sign the
+typewritten notes before him. At last he put down his pen and settled
+back in his chair.
+
+"Well, old friend, how goes it?" he inquired, smiling.
+
+Denning nodded. "Fine, thank you. I thought I'd find you here. I was in
+consultation with Langley last night, and we have decided we are in a
+position now to go ahead as we first planned over a year ago. The
+opposition in Washington has been deflected. Besides, Langley dug up a
+point of law."
+
+Gard rose and crossed to Denning. His manner was quietly conversational,
+and he twirled his _pince-nez_ absently.
+
+"My dear man," he said slowly, "you will have to adjust yourself to a
+shock. We will stick to the understanding as expressed in our interviews
+of last February, whether Mr. Langley has dug up a point of law or not.
+In short, Denning, we are not in future doing business in the old way."
+
+"But you don't understand," gasped the other. "Langley says that it lets
+us completely out. They can't attack us under that ruling--can't you
+see?"
+
+"Quite so--yes. I can imagine the situation perfectly. But we entered
+into certain obligations--understandings, if you will--and we are going
+to live up to them, whether we could climb out of them or not."
+
+Denning sat down heavily.
+
+"Well, I'll be--Why, it's no different from our position in the river
+franchise matter, not in the least--and we did pretty well with that, as
+you know."
+
+Gard nodded. "Yes, we are practically in the same position, as you say.
+The position is the same--but _we_ are different. I suppose you've heard
+a number of adages concerning the irresponsibility of corporations?
+Well, we are going to change all that. I fancy you have already noticed
+a different method in our mercantile madness, and you will notice it
+still more in the future."
+
+Denning pulled his mustache violently, a token with him of complete
+bewilderment.
+
+"H'm--er--exactly," he murmured. "Of course, if that's the way you feel
+now--and you have your reasons, I suppose--I'll call Langley up. He'll
+be horribly disappointed, though. He's pluming himself on landing this
+quick getaway for you. He's been staking out the whole plan."
+
+Gard chuckled. "Do you remember, Denning, how hard you worked to make me
+go to Washington--and how my 'duty to our stockholders' was your
+favorite weapon? Where has all that noble enthusiasm gone--eh?"
+
+Denning blushed. "But we were in a very dangerous hole. Things are
+different now."
+
+"Yes," said Gard with finality, "they are--don't forget it."
+
+"Well," and Denning rose, discomfited, "I'm going. Three o'clock, Gard,
+the directors' meeting. I'll see you then."
+
+He shook hands and turned to the door, paused, turned again as if to
+reopen the subject, checked himself and went out.
+
+As the door closed Gard chuckled. "I bet he's cracking his skull to find
+out my game," he thought with amusement. "By the time he reaches the
+office, he'll have worked it out that I'm more far-sighted than the rest
+of them, and am making character; that I'm trying to do business by the
+Ten Commandments will never occur to him." He returned to the table and
+resumed his task, paused and sat gazing absently at the contorted
+inkwells.
+
+His secretary entered quietly, a sheaf of letters in his hand.
+
+"Saunders," said Marcus Gard, not raising his eyes from their absorbed
+contemplation, "did you ever let yourself imagine how hard it is to do
+business in a strictly honest manner, when the whole world seems to have
+lost the habit--if it ever _had_ the habit?"
+
+Saunders looked puzzled. "I don't know, sir. Mr. Mahr is in the hall and
+wants to see you," he added, glad to change the subject.
+
+"Is he? Good. Tell him to come in." Gard rose with cordial welcome as
+Teddy entered.
+
+There was an air of responsibility about the younger man, calmness,
+observation and concentration, very different from his former
+light-hearted, easy-mannered boyishness. Gard's greeting was
+affectionate. "Well, boy, what brings you out so early? Taking your
+responsibilities seriously? And in what can I help you?"
+
+Teddy blushed. "Mr. Gard," he said, hurrying his words with
+embarrassment, "I wish you'd let me _give_ you the Vandyke--please do. I
+don't want to _sell_ it to you. Duveen's men are bringing it over to you
+this morning; they are on their way now. I want you to have it. I--I--"
+He looked up and gazed frankly in the older man's face, unashamed of the
+mist of tears that blinded him. "I know father would want you to have
+it. And I know, Mr. Gard, what you did to shield his memory. If you
+hadn't gone to Field--if you hadn't taken the matter in charge--" He
+choked and broke off. "I don't _know_ anything--but you handled the
+situation as I could not. Please--won't you take the Vandyke?"
+
+Gard's hand fell on the boy's shoulder with impressive kindliness. "No,"
+he said quietly, "I can't do that, much as I appreciate your wanting to
+give it to me. I have a sentiment, a feeling about that picture. It
+isn't the collector's passion--I want it to remind me daily of certain
+things, things that you'd think I'd want to forget--but not I. I want
+that picture 'In Memoriam'--that's why I asked you to let me have it;
+and I want it by purchase. Don't question my decision any more, Teddy.
+You'll find a cheque at your office, that's all." He turned and
+indicated a space on the velvet-hung wall, where a reflector and
+electric lights had been installed. "It's to hang there, Teddy, where I
+can see it as I sit. It is to dominate my life--how much you can never
+guess. Will you stay with me now, and help me to receive it?"
+
+Teddy was obviously disappointed. "I can't--I'm sorry. I ought to be at
+the office now; but I did so want to make one last appeal to you.
+Anyway, Mr. Gard, your cheque will go to enrich the Metropolitan
+purchase fund."
+
+"That's no concern of mine," Gard laughed. "You can't make me the donor,
+you know. How is Dorothy--to change the subject!"
+
+"What she always is," the boy beamed, "the best and sweetest. My, but
+I'm glad she is back! And Mrs. Marteen, she's herself again. You've seen
+them, of course?"
+
+Gard nodded. "I met them at the train last night. Yes--she is--herself."
+
+"She had an awful close call!" Teddy exclaimed, his face grown grave.
+
+There was reminiscent silence for a moment. With an active swing of his
+athletic body, Dorothy's adorer collected his hat, gloves and cane in
+one sweep, spun on his heel with gleeful ease, smiled his sudden sunny
+smile, and waved a quick good-by.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Teddy Mahr paused for a moment before descending to the street. He was
+honestly disappointed. He had hoped with all his heart to overcome
+Gard's opposition. Not that he was over anxious to pay, in some degree,
+the debt of gratitude that he owed--he had come to regard his benefactor
+as a being so near and dear to him that there was no question of the
+ethics of giving and taking, but he had longed to give himself the keen
+pleasure of bestowing something that his friend really wanted. There was
+just one more chance of achieving his purpose--the intervention of
+Dorothy; her caprices Gard never denied. If he could only induce
+Dorothy--Early as it was he determined to intreat her intercession.
+
+Walking briskly for a few blocks, he entered an hotel and sought the
+telephone booth. The wide awake voice that answered him was very unlike
+the sweet and sleepy drawls of protest his matutinal ringings were wont
+to call forth when Dorothy had been a gay and frivolous debutante. The
+enforced quiet of her mother's prolonged illness, and the sojourn in the
+retirement of a hill sanitarium, had made of her a very different
+creature from the gaudy little night-bird of yore. The experiences
+through which she had passed, their anxiety and pain, had left her
+nature sweetened and deepened; had given her new sympathies and
+understandings. Now her laugh was just as clear--but its ring of light
+coquetry was gone.
+
+"Of course, I'll take a walk with you," came her answer,--"if you'll
+stop for me. I'm quite a pedestrian, you know. I _had_ to take some sort
+of a cure in sheer self-defense, up there in the wilds, so I decided on
+fresh air--and now it's a habit. I'll be ready."
+
+Teddy walked rapidly, his heart singing. He had quite forgotten his
+errand in the anticipated joy of seeing her. If he thought at all of the
+painting, it was an unformulated regret that no living artist could do
+Dorothy justice, or ever hope to transfer to canvas any true semblance
+of her many perfections.
+
+She joined him in the hallway of her home, called back a last happy
+good-by to her mother, and passed with him into the silver and crystal
+morning light. She was simply dressed in a dark tailor suit, with a
+little hat and sensible shoes--a very different silhouette from that of
+the girl who left her room only in time to keep her luncheon
+appointments. He looked at her with approval and laughed happily.
+
+"Hello, Country!--how are the cows to-day?"
+
+"Fine," she answered. "All boiled and sterilized, milked by electricity,
+manicured by steam and dehorned by absent treatment, sir, she said--sir,
+she said."
+
+"May I go with you into your highly sanitary barnyard, my pretty maid?"
+he asked seriously.
+
+"Not unless you take a bath in carbolic solution, are vaccinated twice,
+and wear a surgeon's uniform, sir, she said."
+
+"But, I'm going to marry you, my pretty maid." The words were out before
+he could check them. He blushed furiously. To propose in a nursery rhyme
+was something that shocked his sense of fitness. He was amazed to find
+that he meant what he said in just the very way he had said it.
+
+But Dorothy took his answer as part of their early morning springtime
+madness.
+
+"Nobody asked you to be farm inspector, sir, she said," she replied
+promptly.
+
+But he was silent. His own words had choked him completely. She looked
+at him quickly, but his head was turned away. Her own heart began to
+beat nervously. She felt the magnetic current of his emotion vibrating
+through her being. Her eyes opened wide in wonder. She had for so long
+accustomed herself to the idea that Teddy was her own peculiar property,
+and that, of course, she intended to marry him, that but for his
+half-distressed perturbation, she would have thought no more of the
+momentous "Yes" than of voicing some long-formed opinion. Now his
+throbbing excitement had become contagious. She found herself fluttering
+and tongue-tied. Though she realized suddenly that their ridiculous
+child's-play had turned to earnest, she could not find word or look to
+ease the strain. They walked on in silence, step for step, in a sort of
+mechanical rhythmic physical understanding. Suddenly he spoke.
+
+"Dolly, I wish you'd punch old Marcus!"
+
+The remark was so unexpected that Dorothy slipped a beat in her step and
+shuffled quickly to fall in tune.
+
+"Good Gracious!--what for?" Her surprise was unfeigned.
+
+"Because he won't let me give him the Heim Vandyke--wants to buy it,
+insists on buying it. Asked me to let him have it--and then won't accept
+it. Now, do me a favor, will you? You _make_ him take it. You're the
+only person who can boss him--and he likes to have you do it. Will you
+see him to-day, and fix it?"
+
+"Well of all!--Why, _I_ can't make him do anything he doesn't want to
+do. Of course, he ought to take it, if you want to give it to him; but I
+really don't see--I wonder--" She meditated for a full block in silence.
+"I'm going to lunch with him and Miss Gard and Mother. If I can,
+I'll--no, I _can't_. It's none of my business. It's up to you. How can I
+say--'You ought to do what Teddy says'? He'd tell me I was an
+impertinent little girl, and that he knew how he wanted to deal with
+little boys without being told by their desk-mates."
+
+Teddy scowled. He wanted to get back to the barnyard he had left so
+abruptly, impelled by his new and unaccountable fright. But having
+hitched himself to his new subject of conversation, he felt somehow
+compelled to drag at it. It was up-hill work. To be sure, he had come to
+Dorothy for the purpose of soliciting her help, but Gard and Vandyke had
+both lost interest. Against his will he kept on talking.
+
+"Well, I've done everything I can to make him see my point of view. I've
+told him I owe it to him; that Father would want him to have it; that
+I'll give his money away if he sends it; that I've already shipped the
+thing to him; that I don't want it; that it's unbecoming to my house--he
+won't listen. Just says he's sent his cheque and we'll please change the
+subject."
+
+"Well, you don't have to _cash_ his cheque, do you?" she inquired
+gravely.
+
+"I know that," Teddy scoffed. "But if I don't, he'll send it in my name,
+in cash, to some charity, and that'll be all the same in the final
+addition. He's so confoundedly resourceful, you can't think around him."
+
+"No, you can't," she agreed. "That's one of the wonderful things about
+him. He thinks in his own terms, in terms of you or me, or the janitor,
+or the President. He isn't just himself, he's everybody."
+
+"He isn't thinking in terms of _me_," Teddy complained.
+
+She shook her head. "No," she smiled wisely, "he's thinking in terms of
+himself, this time, and we aren't big enough to see that, too, and
+understand."
+
+They had reached the entrance to the Park and crossed the already
+crowded Plaza to its quieter walks. The tender greens of new grass
+greeted them, and drifts of pink and yellow vaporous color that seemed
+to overhang and envelop every branch of tree and shrub, like faint
+spirits of flower and leaf, clustering about and striving to enter the
+clefts of gray bark, that they might become embodied in tangible and
+fragile beauty. Sweet pungent smells of damp earth rose to their
+nostrils,--fragrance of reviving things, of stirring sap, of diligent
+seeds moling their way to light and air. Mists shifted by softly, now
+gray, now rainbow-hued, now trailing on the grass, now sifting slowly
+through reluctant branches that strove to retain them.
+
+Dorothy sighed happily. The restraint that had troubled them both slowly
+metamorphosed itself into a tender, dreamy content. Why ask anything of
+fate? Why crystallize with a word the cloudland perfection of the mirage
+in which they walked? They were content, happy with the vernal joy of
+young things in harmony with all the world of spring. They were silent
+now--unconscious, and one with the heart of life, as were Adam and Eve
+in the great garden of Eternal Spring--isolated, alone, all in all to
+each other, and kin with all the vibrant life about them, sentient and
+inanimate. For them the rainbow glowed in every drop the trailing mists
+scattered in their wake; for them the pale light of the sun was pure
+gold of dreams; every frail, courageous flower a delicate censor of
+fragrance. There was crooning in the tree-tops and laughter in the
+confidential whisper of the fountains--as if Pan's pipes had enchanted
+all this ruled-and-lined, sophisticated, urban _pleasaunce_ into a dell
+in Arcady.
+
+Teddy looked down at his companion, trudging sturdily by his side. How
+sweet and dear were her eyes of violet, how tender and gentle the slim
+curves of her mouth, how wholly lovely the contour of cheek and chin,
+and the curled tendrils of her moist, dark hair!
+
+She was conscious of his gaze. She felt an impulse to take his arm--that
+strong, strong arm; to walk with him like that--like the old, long
+married couples, who come to sun themselves in the warm light of the
+young day, and the sight of passing lovers. A Judas tree in full blossom
+arrested her attention, and they came to a halt before its lavish
+display.
+
+"There's nothing in the world so beautiful as natural things," she said
+slowly, breaking the enchanted silence.
+
+Teddy was master of himself again. "I know," he said, "and I want to get
+back again to the barnyard we left so suddenly. I said something then--I
+want to say it over again."
+
+It was Dorothy's turn to become frightened and confused.
+
+"Oh," she said with an indifference she was far from feeling. "Barnyard!
+It's such a commonplace spot after all. Don't you like the garden
+better?"
+
+But Teddy was determined. "My pretty maid," he began in a tender voice.
+
+But she moved away suddenly down a tempting path, and, perforce, he
+followed her.
+
+"I've been thinking," she said hurriedly, "about Mr. Gard. I'm sure, if
+he felt he was hurting your feelings, he wouldn't think _all_ his own
+way. Now, if you want me to, I'll try and make him understand it. I'll
+tell him that you came to me in an awful huff--all cut up. I'm sure I
+can put it strongly enough."
+
+"And I shall go to him, and complain that when I want to talk with you,
+you put me off--won't listen to me. I'll ask him to make you listen to
+reason. I'll tell him to put it to you. I'll show him that I _am_ cut
+up, all around the heart. Perhaps he can put it to you strongly
+enough--"
+
+Dorothy stopped short and wheeled around to face him.
+
+"Oh, very well, then," she smiled, "if you are going to get someone else
+to do your love making for you, _I_ apply for the position. Teddy Mahr,
+will you marry the milkmaid?--Honest and true, black and blue?"
+
+"I will!" he cried ecstatically, and caught her in his arms.
+
+Two wrens upon a neighboring branch, tilted forward to watch them, the
+business of nest building for the moment forgotten. A gray squirrel,
+with jerking tail and mincing gate, approached along the path. A florid
+policeman, wandering aimlessly in this remote arbor, stopped short,
+grinned, stuck his thumbs in his belt, and contemplated the picture,
+then wheeled about and stole out of sight in fashion most unmilitary.
+Across the lake the white swans glided, and two little "mandarin" ducks
+sidled up close to shore, regarding the moveless group of humans with
+bright and beady eyes.
+
+Dorothy disengaged herself from his arms with a happy little gurgle, set
+her hat straight upon her tumbled hair, and glanced at the ducks.
+
+"There," she said softly, "that's a lucky sign. In China they always
+send the newlyweds a pair. They are love birds; they die when
+separated--which means, I'm a duck."
+
+"You are," he agreed, and kissed her again.
+
+"Now," she said seriously, "I've found a way to clear all difficulties."
+
+He looked at her, troubled. "I didn't know there were any," he said
+anxiously. "I think your mother likes me, and I don't see--I can keep
+you in hats and candy; and Miss Gard is the only person who has seemed
+to disapprove of me."
+
+"All wrong," she said. "I don't mean that at all. I mean about the
+picture. I have thought it all out while you were kissing me."
+
+He grinned. "Did you, indeed? I'm vastly flattered, I'm sure. In that
+case I shall go to kissing school no later than to-morrow. However,
+since you work out problems in that way, I'll give you another to Q.E.D.
+When will the wedding be?" He folded his arms about her rapturously.
+
+The ducks waddled up the bank; the squirrel climbed to the back of the
+bench; one wren captured a damaged feather from Dorothy's hat that had
+fallen to earth, and made off with his nest contribution.
+
+"Now," Teddy demanded as he released her. "Did you work _that_ out?"
+
+She gasped. "If you act like that, I'll not tell you anything. I'll
+leave you guessing all the rest of your life."
+
+"I expect that," he laughed. "Who am I to escape the common lot?"
+
+She frowned. "As I was saying before you interrupted me so rudely, I
+have found a way to overcome the arguments and refusals of 'Old
+Marcus'--by the way, if he heard you call him that, he'd beat you up,
+and perfectly right. He isn't old, and I wish you had half his sense."
+
+"Dolly, we are _not_ married yet, and I object to unfavorable
+comparisons. Kindly get down to business."
+
+"Well," she said, "I was thinking just this. We can give it to him as a
+wedding present--we've got him there, don't you see?"
+
+"No, I _don't_ see," he replied. "Will you kindly show me how you work
+that out. He'll probably want to give you a Murillo and a town house and
+a Cellini service, and a motor car upholstered in cloth of gold, a
+Florentine bust and an order on Raphael to paint your portrait. If you
+ask me if I see him accepting the Vandyke as a wedding present from
+us--I don't."
+
+"Goose!" she said with withering scorn.
+
+He laughed. "Oh, very well, I'm back in the barnyard, so I don't mind.
+Just a minute ago and you had me a duck. I've lost caste--I was a
+mandarin then."
+
+"I didn't say a wedding present for _our_ wedding, did I?" she inquired
+loftily. "Why don't you stop and think a minute. They don't teach
+observation in college, evidently."
+
+Teddy was nonplussed. "You've got me," he said, his brows drawn together
+in a puzzled frown.
+
+She tapped her foot impatiently. "Well, how else could we be giving him
+a wedding present?" she inquired.
+
+"That's just what I don't see," he replied emphatically.
+
+"When _he_ gets married, of course--heavens! you are dense!"
+
+Teddy was stunned. "When he--why--what nonsense!--he's a confirmed old
+bachelor. There! I knew you couldn't think out problems when I was
+kissing you. I'm glad you didn't answer my second question, if that's
+the way you work things out. Who in the world would he marry!"
+
+"How would you like him for a step-father-in-law?" She looked at him
+with an amused smile.
+
+"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "Why, I never thought of that! Your
+mother!--Oh, by golly! that's great, that's great! Of course, of course.
+Here, I'll kiss you again--you can answer my second question." He
+embraced her with hysterical enthusiasm. "Oh, when did it happen?" he
+begged. "How did you know? Since when have they been engaged? My! I have
+been a bat! Where were my eyes? Of all the jolly luck!" he leaped from
+the bench and executed a triumphal war dance.
+
+"You act just like the kids--I mean, the baby goats, up in the Bronx,"
+she laughed. "Teddy, stop, somebody might see you, and they'd send us
+both to an asylum. Stop it! And besides, my step-father hasn't proposed
+yet."
+
+Teddy ceased his gambols abruptly. "What in the world have you been
+telling me, then?" he demanded, crestfallen. "Here I've been celebrating
+an event that hasn't happened."
+
+"Well, it's going to," she affirmed with an impressive nod of her head.
+"_I_ know. Why, even Mother hasn't the slightest idea of it yet. Poor,
+dear Mother, she's so really humble minded, she wouldn't let herself
+realize how he loves her. But she leans on him, on the very thought of
+him. When we were away recuperating, she used to watch for his
+letters--like--like--I watched for yours, Teddy; and when I'd hand her
+one, she had such a look of calm, of rest. I've found her asleep with
+one crushed up in her hand. I'm sure she used to put them under her
+pillow at night, just as--well--just as I used to put yours, Teddy,
+under mine. Don't you know, that when two women are in love, they know
+it one from another, without a word. Of course, Mother knew all about
+how _I_ felt, I used to catch her looking at me, oh, so wistfully--but
+she never dreamed that wise little daughter had guessed her secret--oh,
+no--mothers never realize that their little chick-children have grown to
+be big geese. But, _I_ know, and, well, Teddy, as you know, if he
+doesn't ask her pretty soon, I'll go and ask him myself--and he never
+refuses me anything. I shall say, 'Dear old Marcus, Teddy and I wish
+you'd hurry up and ask Mother to marry you. We have set our hearts on
+picking out our own "steps." We think of being married in June, and we
+want it all settled.' There," she said with a radiant blush, "I've
+answered all your questions--have you another problem?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Left alone before the empty space reserved for the masterpiece the
+expression on Gard's face changed. Grave and purposeful, he continued to
+regard the blank wall, then, turning, he caught up the desk telephone,
+gave Mrs. Marteen's private number and waited.
+
+A moment later the sweet familiar voice thrilled him.
+
+"It's I--Marcus," he said. "I am coming for you this morning. Yes, I'm
+taking a holiday, and I'm going to bring you back to the library to see
+a new acquisition of mine--that will interest you. Then you and Dorothy
+will lunch with Polly. Dorothy can join us at one o'clock. This is a
+private view--for you alone.... You will? That's good! Good-by."
+
+Noises in the resonant hall and the opening of the great doors announced
+the arrival of the moving van and its precious contents, before
+Saunders, his eyes bulging with excitement, rushed in with the tidings
+of the coming of the world famous Heim Vandyke. With respectful care the
+great canvas was brought in, unwrapped and lifted to its chosen hanging
+place.
+
+Seated in his armchair, Gard with mixed emotions watched it elevated and
+straightened. The pictured face smiled down at him--impersonal yet
+human, glowing, vivid with color, alive with that suggestion of eternal
+life that art alone in its highest expression can give. Card's smile was
+enigmatical; his eyes were sad. His imagination pictured to him Mrs.
+Marteen as she had sat before him in her self-contained stateliness and
+announced with indifferent calm that the Vandyke had been but a ruse to
+gain his private ear.
+
+Gard rose, approached the picture, and for an instant laid his fingers
+upon its darkened frame. The movement was that of a worshiper who makes
+his vow at the touch of some relic infinitely holy.
+
+Then he returned to his seat and for some time remained wrapped in
+thought. These moments of introspection, of deep self-questioning, had
+become more and more frequent. He had made in the past few months a new
+and most interesting acquaintance--himself. All the years of his
+over-hurried, over-cultivated, ambitious life he had delved into the
+psychology of others. It had been his pride to divine motives, to
+dissect personalities, to classify and sort the brains and natures of
+men. Now for the first time he had turned the scalpel upon himself. He
+was amazed, he was shocked, almost frightened. He could not hide from
+himself, he was no longer blind, the searchlight of his own analysis was
+inexorably focused on his own sins and shortcomings--his powers misused,
+his strength misdirected, his weaknesses indulged, because his strength
+protected them. In these hours of what he had grown to grimly call his
+"stock taking," he had become aware of a new and all-important group of
+men. Where before he had reckoned values solely by capacities of brain
+and hand, he found now a new factor--the capacity of heart. Ideals that
+heretofore had borne to his mind the stamp of weakness, now showed
+themselves as real bulwarks of character. The men who had fallen by the
+wayside in the advance of his pitiless march to power, were no longer,
+to his eyes, types of the unfit, to be thrust aside. Some were men,
+indeed, who knew their own souls, and would not barter them.
+
+In his mind a vast readjustment had taken place. Words had become
+bodied, the unseen was becoming the visible--Responsibility, Honesty,
+Fairness, Truth! they had all been words to conjure with--for use in
+political speeches, in interviews--because they seemed to exercise an
+occult influence upon the gullible public. "Law," "Peace," "Order," "The
+Greatest Good to the Greatest Number," he had used them all as an Indian
+medicine-man shakes bone rattles, and waves a cow's tail before the
+tribe, laughing behind his gaping mask at the servile acceptance of his
+prophecies. One and all these Cunjar Gods he had believed to be only
+bits of shell and plaited rope, had come to life--they _were_ gods, real
+presences, real powers. He had invoked them only to deceive others--and,
+behold! he it was who knew not the truth.
+
+The high tower of his heaven-grasping ambitions seemed suddenly insecure
+and founded upon shifting sands. The incense the sycophant world burned
+before him became a stench in his nostrils. The fetishes he had tossed
+to the crowd now faced him as real gods; and they were not to be blinded
+with dust, nor bought with gold. The specious and tortured verbiage of
+twisted law never for one moment deceived the open ears of Justice, even
+though it tied her hands, and her voice was the voice of condemnation.
+Honor--he had sold it. Faith--he had not kept it. Truth--he had
+distorted to fit whatever garb he had chosen for her to wear. And,
+withal, he had hailed himself conqueror; had placed his laurels himself
+upon his head, ranking all others beneath him. The clamor of the mob he
+had interpreted as acclaim. Now he heard above the applause the hoarse
+chorus of disdain and fear. It had been his pride to see men fall back
+and make way at the very mention of his name. Now he felt that they
+shrank from him--not before his greatness, but from his very contact. He
+had driven his fellow creatures from him, and in return, they withdrew
+themselves.
+
+If they came to him fawning, they but showed their lower natures. He had
+not called forth the power for good, from these the necromancy of his
+personality had touched. He had conjured evil, he had pandered to base
+forces.
+
+The realization had not come easily. His habits of thought would return
+and blind him as of old. He had laughed at himself; he had derided the
+new gods, he had disobeyed them and their strange commands--only to
+return crestfallen, contrite, feeling himself unworthy. He became aware
+that he had run a long and victorious race for a prize he had
+craved--only to find that the goal to which it brought him was not that
+of his old desires. That was but withered leaves, spattered with the
+blood of those who lost. He had turned from it, and now his steps sought
+another conquest and another reward. He must strive for a goal unseen,
+but more real and more worthy than the little crowns of little
+victories.
+
+His somber thoughts left him refreshed, as if from a bath of deep, clear
+waters. His spirit felt clean and elated as it rose from the depths. It
+was with a smile that he pushed back his chair and rose from the table
+where, for a full hour, he had sat in silent self-communing. He still
+smiled as he entered the motor and was driven to Mrs. Marteen's.
+
+He found her awaiting him, with outstretched hands, and the look in her
+eyes that he always longed for--the look he had divined rather than seen
+on that day of days, when the Past had been renounced and consumed.
+There was no embarrassment in their meeting. True, there had been daily
+exchange of letters during the months of her enforced exile; but they
+had been only friendly, surface tokens, giving no real hint of the
+realities beneath. But they had grown toward one another, not apart. It
+was as if they had never been sundered; as if all the experiences of all
+the intervening days had been experiences in common.
+
+He gazed at her happily now, rejoicing in the firmness of her step, the
+brightness of her eyes, the healthy color of her skin. She came with him
+gladly at his suggestion and they drove in silence through the crowded
+streets and the silence was in truth, golden. At the door of the great
+house he descended, gave her his hand and conducted her quickly through
+the vast, soft-lighted hall to his own sanctum. He closed the door
+quietly and pressed the electric switch. Instantly the mellow lights
+glowed above the portrait, which throbbed in response, a glittering gem
+of warmth and beauty.
+
+Mrs. Marteen's body stiffened; the color receded from her face, leaving
+it ashen. Her great eyes dilated.
+
+"Do you know why it is there?" he asked at length in a whisper.
+
+"Yes," she murmured. "We have traveled the same road--you and I. I
+understand."
+
+He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "You don't know all that
+this picture recalls to me--and I hope you will never know; but you and
+I," he said slowly, weighing his words, "are not of the breed of those
+who cry out with remorse. We are of those who live differently. That is
+the constant reminder of what _was_. I do not want to forget. I want to
+remember. Every time the iron enters my soul I shall know the more
+keenly that I have at last a soul."
+
+Again they fell silent.
+
+"According to the accepted code I suppose I should make a clean breast
+of it, even to Dorothy, and go into retirement," she said at length. "I
+have thought of that, too; but I cannot _feel_ it. I want to be active;
+to be able to use myself for betterment; make of myself an example of
+good and not of evil. What I did was because of what I was. I am that no
+longer, and my expression must be of the new thing that has become me--a
+soul!" she said reverently.
+
+"A soul," he repeated. "It has come to me, too. And what is left to me
+of life has no place for regrets. I have that which I must live up to--I
+_shall_ live up to it."
+
+"We have, indeed, traveled the same road; but you--have led me." She
+looked at him with complete comprehension.
+
+"We will travel the new road together," he said finally, "hand in hand."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Out of the Ashes, by Ethel Watts Mumford
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