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diff --git a/old/13273-h/13273-h.htm b/old/13273-h/13273-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c4532c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13273-h/13273-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6608 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + <title>Out of the Ashes</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p + {text-align: justify;} + + blockquote + {text-align: justify;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 + {text-align: center;} + + hr + {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + + html>body hr + {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + + hr.full + {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full + {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + pre + {font-size: 0.7em; color: #000; background-color: #FFF;} + + .poetry + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 0%; + text-align: left;} + + .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} + + .index + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: center;} + + .figure + {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; + text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + + .date + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: right;} + + span.rightnote + {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 1%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.leftnote + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 92%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.linenum + {float:right; + text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +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 + + + + + +</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 début, 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 débutante?" 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 débutante," 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. & W. or +the rate war on the S. & 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 débutante 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 +Bohème' 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 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!"</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 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 <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 +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.</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 débutante?" 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. +& 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."</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 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. <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 débutante had +become somewhat his ward and protégée.</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 débutantes, 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 +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.</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 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.</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 +lingière 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 +matinée 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 +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.</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 nécessaire. 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 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.</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 débutante. 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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OUT OF THE ASHES *** + +***** This file should be named 13273-h.htm or 13273-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/2/7/13273/ + +Produced by Kevin Handy, John Hagerson, and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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