CHAPTER II.
The night of the Harris reception at "Rosemont," in honor of LordBeauchamp, was beautiful. Dark, yet serene and tranquil as theillimitable void through which the myriad of glittering stars sweptalong on their steady course.
The long, gentle, sloping, velvety lawn, stretching away from thebroad steps of the great columned piazza, down to the placid waters ofthe Willamette, was artistically beautified by clusters of magnoliasand chestnut trees and native oaks and firs, while the soft sway ofadvanced Autumn was disclosed in the mellow, gorgeous tints of the oakand maple leaf projected against the dark evergreen of the statelyfir; and afar off, to the north, through vistas in the foliage,gleamed the steady electric arc lights of the city.
Marble statuary glistened in white repose, and groups of majesticpalms and ferns and holly stood illumined in the soft light of frostedelectric globes and quaint Oriental lanterns.
Out from the deep shadow of a wide-spreading oak, and remote from therange of illumination, an old, decrepit and poorly clad man emerged,peering cautiously about, as if afraid of discovery. As he approachednear the house and came under the gleams of light, it could be seenthat he was gray-haired and a cripple, for he hobbled slowly with theaid of a stout stick. He proceeded to a clump of ferns and close to ahigh-back, rustic seat, behind which he stood partially concealed.
Feeling satisfied that he had not been seen, and that he was alone,that part of the grounds being temporarily deserted, he mutteredimpatiently: "Where the devil does Rutley keep himself? I've beendodging about these grounds for an hour trying to locate him, and toget posted."
The words had scarcely escaped his lips when down behind the seat heducked.
Simultaneously, Virginia Thorpe and William Harris appeared,descending the piazza steps.
"Congratulations, Mr. Harris, on your reception. It is a brilliantaffair, and the grounds are simply beautiful."
"I am delighted at receiving congratulations from a lady whose tasteis acknowledged without a peer."
"Now, Mr. Harris, you know I object to flattery," responded Virginia,in a deprecating tone of voice. "Why, I have lost my fan. Howunfortunate! I fear I have dropped it in the ball-room."
"I shall try to find it immediately. No, no; no trouble whatever."
"Thanks, Mr. Harris. I shall await your return here."
As Mr. Harris hastened up the steps, Virginia leisurely moved a fewyards, and then sat down on a seat, quite unconscious of the figurecrouched in hiding behind it.
The proximity of Virginia did not suit the fellow, and he forthwithendeavored to sneak away unseen, but the noise, faint as he made,attracted her attention.
She sprang to her feet with a slight, terrified shriek, but quicklyrecovering her self-possession, as she noted his aged and bentcondition, gently said: "Poor old man, your intrusion on thesepremises may be unwelcome." After a pause, evidently for an answer,she went on kindly: "Do you seek alms?"
Leaning on his stick he humbly removed his hat, and said in abjecttones: "Pitty da sorrar dees old-a da gray hairs. Eesa mak-a da boldato come a da here, so much-a da rich-a kind-a people to da poor old-amen lik-a da me. Ten-a years eesa black-a da boot; saw da-ood, sellada ba-nan, turnoppsis, carrotsis, ca-babbages; do any-ting formak-a-da mon, go back-a da sunny Italy. Look-a da lame! Canna dawork--mussa da beg, sweet-a da lady--kind-a charity."
"Dear me!" replied Virginia, regretfully. "I haven't a coin with me,but let me advise you to begone, for you must know that if you arediscovered here your age will not protect you."
The old man bowed low. "Essa many tanks, kind-a lady. Essa da go."
"And mark me, sir," added Mr. Harris, who had quickly returned withthe fan. "Should I find you loitering around these grounds againtonight, officers will take care of you."
"Oh, Signor! Dona tell a da po-lis. Da poor a da old a man essa muchda hunger. Begga do mon to buy a da bread. Eesa da all-a Signor. Eesada all."
"Oh, Mr. Harris, please lend me a coin for him. I fear he really is inneed," broke in Virginia.
"There!" responded Mr. Harris, throwing him a coin. "You can thankthis benevolent lady, whose presence affords you liberty. Not a word.Off with you from these grounds. Begone."
The old fellow picked up the half-dollar piece, and hobbling away,soon disappeared into the shadow.
"It is a pleasure to return your fan. I found it in the vestibuleuninjured."
"Thanks, Mr. Harris," said Virginia, receiving the fan. "I shall bemore careful of it hereafter."
"Ea-ah, I guess so, eh, Uncle!" broke in Sam, striding toward them.
"Oh, oh, Sam! Really!" laughed Mr. Harris, as he looked meaningly athim. "Ah! You seem delighted."
"I think so, eh, Uncle," accompanied by the habitual side movement ofhis head. "Congratulate me on having found Miss Thorpe after a longsearch," and turning to Virginia, he added, with a smile broadeninghis face--"you have promised to dance with me. May I indulge in thepleasure now?"
"Yes, Sam," she replied, with an air of fatigue, "but I would ratheryou defer the pleasure."
"Miss Thorpe is fatigued and Sam is too much of a gallant to deny hera little rest," appealed Mr. Harris.
"Cert!" answered Sam, as a shade of disappointment flitted across hisface. "Anything I can do to serve Miss Thorpe shall be done."
"Thank you, Sam," replied Virginia, relieved.
"I will call upon Miss Thorpe to favor me with her company later, eh,Uncle?" and Sam bowed and quickly disappeared.
"Sam is a noble-hearted fellow! Ranged the Texas plains a few years,didn't he?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Harris. "When a lad he was threatened withconsumption, and physicians recommended a few years of out-door lifein Texas. It cured him, but he became a little fixed in the customs.Sterling fellow, though--great heart--all heart. Be seated," pointing tothe seat which she had previously occupied.
At that moment there appeared descending the piazza steps Mr. Corway,with Hazel and Constance on either side of him.
"Your reason, Corway, for doubting his title of lord?" interrogatedConstance.
"I possess no proofs," replied Corway. "I but express an opinion," andhe discreetly refrained from further utterance on the subject, thoughhis thoughts were insistent on his identity of Lord Beauchamp asPhilip Rutley.
"But you must have some grounds even for an opinion," persistedConstance.
"Well, if he is not a lord," hazarded Hazel, who, purposely orotherwise, by her joining the discussion, released Mr. Corway from anembarrassing reply, which at that time he was loath to make, "hecertainly should be one, for he is such a dear, sweet man, soeminently exact and proper."
"And so distinguished, don't-che-know," finished Mr. Corway, with suchpeculiarly keen mimicry and smiling abandon as to draw from Hazel aflash of admiration, and from Mrs. Thorpe a ripple of laughter withthe remark, "Satire unmasked by Cupid."
Further conversation was interrupted by Beauchamp himself, whoappeared alone, descending the broad piazza steps. "It's so warm inthere I decided to refresh a little in the cool air."
He halted a moment on one of the steps, fixed the monocle to his lefteye, and lordly surveyed the two groups.
After evidently satisfying himself as to their personnel, hedeliberately removed the monocle from his eye and resumed his passagedown the steps. "Miss Thorpe here, and Mr. Harris, and Mrs. Thorpe,and the fair Hazel"--and ignoring Corway, he went on--"then I shall haveno need to commune alone with my thoughts."
"I am sure my Lord Beauchamp is too much of a devotee to the 'trippingmuse' to absent himself very long from the ball-room?" volunteeredConstance.
"Indeed it would be difficult for me to enjoy myself for any length oftime away from the place where, as Byron puts it, 'Youth and Beautymeet, to chase the glowing hours with flying feet.'" And moving overto Hazel, he said: "By the way, you have promised me the pleasure ofdancing with you the next waltz."
"Indeed!" replied the maid, eyeing him archly, "the honor of a waltzwith my lord is too rare a favor to be n
eglected."
The gracious and suave smile with which Rutley answered her was not atall appreciated by Mr. Corway.
And as Rutley glanced his way, their eyes met. Virginia saw it. Sheinstantly grasped the full meaning of that glance--the deadly hatred ofrivals.
Rutley, with familiarity begotten of mutual esteem, as he fondlyhoped, linked Hazel's yielding arm in his and led her toward thepiazza. "By the way," and he spoke very confidently, "Mr. Corway seemsto have a warm attachment for Mrs. Thorpe"--
The girl halted and looked questioningly at him.
"I mean," continued Rutley, in a sort of apologetic tone, "he isapparently quite the lion with her."
Passing a few feet near them were John Thorpe and Mrs. Harris, who hadappeared unnoticed from another part of the grounds.
John Thorpe plainly heard Rutley's allusion to Corway and his wife,and became profoundly sensible of that same strange feeling infoldinghim, as he experienced when Virginia first intimated Corway'squestionable character. "Is it possible that, after all, Constance,and not Hazel, is the real object of his attention?"
He was conscious of a sense of jealousy arising within him, and sostrong and virulent as to be beyond control, and compelled him to turnaside, to conceal the anger that must be depicted on his face. Hehalted while Mrs. Harris joined Virginia and Mr. Harris.
"Mrs. Thorpe is most attractive," Hazel at length replied.
"I have heard that not long ago he was attached to Miss Thorpe, butlately has transferred his affection to another," continued Rutley.
"Virginia was fond of his society, yet 'tis not always, you mayremember, that those who have won our love return it."
The strains of dreamy music drifted out upon the air.
"Well, at present, Corway seems persistent in his attentions to Mrs.Thorpe."
Again John Thorpe winced at the connection of his wife's name withCorway.
And then Rutley felt himself pushed aside, while Corway offered hisarm to Hazel.
"Will you accompany me to the ball-room?"
Hazel drew a step aside and exclaimed, half angrily, yet seeminglyrather pleased at Corway's audacity.
"Joe!"
"Hazel!" he responded with just the faintest suggestion of command inhis voice.
It was his first assumption of authority over his affianced, and hewon--for unlike the "feminine forwards" of the new school, sheappreciated his strong character and showed it by clinging to his arm.
Neither of these two men could be considered handsome, though Corwayhad the advantage of being more youthful and taller of stature, withlarge, bright eyes and dark curly hair, which with clear-cut, manlyfeatures, seemed to charm the fancy and captivate the maiden's eye.
While Rutley's graceful and pliant frame carried more elegance, anassumed superb superiority, a cold, ironical disdain and lofty ease,bespoke an imperious nature, indifferent to that soft, beguilement socharming to women.
Corway turned to Rutley, and, bowing low, exclaimed, with studiedpoliteness: "I beg my lord's pardon," and so saying, he passed up thepiazza steps with Hazel and disappeared within.
They were closely followed by Mr. Harris and Mrs. Thorpe.
Rutley fixed the monocle to his eye and stared at the retreatingCorway in blank amazement.
Meanwhile, John Thorpe was absorbed in profound thought, and obliviousof his surroundings, said to himself: "What can his lordship mean?Corway's persistent attention to my wife! Was that mere accidentalgossip? He shall explain!" And he looked fixedly at Rutley.
It was at that moment that Mrs. Harris, having reached his side, said:"Your arm, Thorpe. Dear me!" And she started back at seeing his gloomyface. "Why, I declare, the frowning 'Ajax' could not look moreunsociable."
For a moment Thorpe displayed confusion, but by a strong effortsubdued his agitation and offered his arm. "Of late," he explained,"my nervous system has been subject to momentary shocks." Leading hertoward the piazza, "I beg your pardon."
"I am afraid that unless you provide yourself with a mask for suchoccasions the shock is likely to become contagious," she remarked, asthey passed up the steps.
Meanwhile Rutley, having removed the monocle from his eye, allowed hisfrigidity to dissolve, and, slowly stepping a few paces toward theeast end of the house, paused under the shadow of a magnolia, and atonce seemed to plunge in deep reflection, to be startled a few momentslater by hearing Virginia close to him, in a low tone, saying: "Howdoes my lord propose to resent that insult?"
Seeing him alone, she had noiselessly and unperceived, stolen to hisside, convinced by what she had just discovered, that he wasmeditating some sort of revenge on Corway, and she determined toascertain its nature.
Her fertile brain had already conceived Rutley her ally, and it waswith no uncertain or wavering purpose that she approached him with aquestion pregnant with sinister import.
Rutley looked at her steadily, as though trying to penetrate hermotive, then, without moving his eyes from hers, said deliberately:"Well, if he doesn't apologize, my friend will call on him."
"You mean a shooting affair?"
"I do not say, but I understand that is a popular way in this countryto avenge an outrage."
"Yes, that is true," she said, "particularly in our West, but it isfast going out of fashion. In fact, on the Coast, it is seldompracticed now. Besides, my lord, I advise you not to try it. I'veheard he's a dead shot," and she abruptly stopped and looked furtivelyabout, and then, in a more discreet tone of voice, said: "Will youwalk?"
He instantly comprehended her desire to confide something of interestto him, and as they slowly proceeded over the soft, velvety grass, andwithout betraying haste to know what she was evidently anxious todisclose, he replied, sneeringly:
"Ah, he is! Well, these affairs are settled in an honorable way in agentleman's country."
"I again warn you not to try it," she said. "If you do, you willlikely find yourself a subject for some hospital surgeon."
"Indeed!" laughed Rutley, with a sarcastic ring in his voice.
She halted, turned to him, and continued in a low tone. "Yes, there isa better plan--that insult can be wiped out in a more effectualmanner."
"How?"
For one moment Virginia looked far off across the placid waters of theWillamette, over and beyond the rugged hills shrouded in gloomyrepose. Was it the "still small voice within her crying in anguish'beware, beware'," if so, it was unheeded, drowned in the impetuousdesire for revenge.
Shocked and enraged by the discovery of what she considered Corway'sperfidy, a strain of virulent passion possessed her, and subdued hersofter and otherwise most charming personality.
"Corway has done me a wrong I never will forget, and I shall not pauseat any opportunity to avenge it. My cousin, Hazel, is betrothed tohim. My brother has a rash, impetuous temper, and is exceedinglyjealous of our family honor. By insinuating Corway's insincereattachment to Hazel, his money-mad impecuniosity, and so forth, youwill produce a coolness between John and Corway that may end in theircomplete estrangement. We are watched," she whispered. "Let us moveon." Her alert eyes had discovered Sam standing alone on the piazzasteps, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked at them.
She guessed his purpose, but was too far away to hear him say angrily:"If that lord attempts any fooling with that fair party, I'll give himsome eye-shutters, I guess so!"
Without heeding the episode, Rutley replied: "But you must know thatyour brother has not insulted me, and you must also be aware that theattempt to influence him may fail."
"If you will follow my directions John will consider you his friend.If properly managed you need have no fear of its ultimate success. Forseveral months last year John was in China. During that time Corwaypaid frequent visits to his home."
"But"--interposed Rutley, quickly.
"Do not misunderstand my meaning," responded Virginia, with aninvoluntary flash of indignation. "Corway is a man of great moralprobity. But John may be brought to think him something the reverse.Do yo
u understand?"
"I will have satisfaction!" exclaimed Rutley.
"Somebody is following us," whispered Virginia.
"Where?" queried Rutley. "I fail to see anyone."
"It may have been the shadow of the swinging light," at length sheremarked, reassured, and, dismissing the thought from her mind,continued: "I have already warned you of a duel. To prove howinsincere Corway's affection is for Hazel, you may call my brother'sattention to a ring that he wears on the little finger of his lefthand. I let Hazel have it for a short time because she admired it, andbegged it from me, and Corway took it from her."
"Has the ring any peculiar feature by which it may be distinguishedfrom others?"
"Yes, a single diamond set in a double heart of pearls."
"Is it yours?" he asked, softly.
"No," Virginia promptly answered, but she added in a hesitatingmanner, as though weighing the propriety of further explanation--"thatis--well--it is mine for the purpose. I let Hazel have it unknown toConstance."
And so it happened, a slip of the tongue, one inadvertent, indiscreetadmission, gave him his cue. A vision opened to his mind and heimmediately speculated on its possibilities.
"Then the ring belongs to Mrs. Thorpe?" he questioned, insidiously.
"Yes," Virginia affirmed, in a halting way. "John gave it to Constancebefore they were married."
"Oh, indeed!" Rutley exclaimed, and he muttered low and meaningly,while the whites of his eyes gleamed with sinister import. "Corwaywears a ring given by John Thorpe to his wife."
Soon as he had spoken Virginia heard and instinctively felt that shehad been indiscreet in admitting the ring belonged to Constance, andsaid by way of caution: "Of course, I trust in the honor of yourlordship to refrain from connecting Mrs. Thorpe's name with the ring,or to, in any manner, let it be known that you know it is not mine."
Evidently Rutley did not hear her, for he was absorbed inthought--thought that produced an evil gleam in his eyes.
A slight pause followed, and taking it for granted my lord would notbetray the trust she reposed in him, she said, as looking in his eyeswith significant daring: "Draw John's notice to it as confirmingCorway's bold and deceitful attention to Hazel."
Virginia was aware that John would recognize the ring as his wife's,but she under-rated the violence of the storm it would precipitate,and she trusted too much in her own ability to control it in thedirection she desired. She likewise rated Beauchamp as a weak,egotistical, effeminate sort of man. She was now to experience hergreat mistake.
Rutley in his turn fixed his gaze steadfastly upon her, and whichbecame so intense, so mysteriously searching, as to cause her,strong-minded woman as she was, to feel she was but a weak thingbeside him.
He spoke quietly and without the faintest tremor in his voice. "Do youknow to whom you suggested this?"
"Lord Beauchamp," she timidly responded. And then there suddenlysprang into her eyes a new light, accompanied by a slight start.
"Why do you start?" asked Rutley, not for a moment removing his eyesfrom hers.
"No, 'tis impossible. You cannot be Philip Rutley?" she gasped, as shedrew back amazed. "For you have already denied him once to me."
"Yes, I am he!" he exclaimed.
There followed a moment of profound silence. Rutley watching theeffect of his disclosure upon her.
And she, at first astounded by his audacious nerve, at length graspedhis position, and finally smiled, as though in admiration of his archachievement. "You are a master imposter," she broke in. "Be as cleverwith the material I have given you, and Corway will not long stand inyour way."
"Did Hazel tell you of my proposal to her three years ago?"
"Yes," she answered promptly.
"I believe she rejected me at that time because of Corway," hemusingly added.
"Your opportunity is at hand," she affirmed.
"I accept it;" and then he cautioned in a low tone: "Be careful neverto breathe my real name."
"And you--you will continue to be?"--and she smiled quizically as sheput the question.
"My Lord Beauchamp."
"A most consummate scoundrel!" she added pleasantly.
"The scoundrel begs to share the compliment with his colleague, MissVirginia Thorpe," he ironically replied, again bowing low.
That accentuated remark by Rutley revealed to her with suddenvividness the detestable character she was developing.
Acutely sensitive, the stigma smote her with a repugnance that stungand smarted as quivering flesh under the sharp cut of a lash; andbeing naturally of a fiery temper, she passionately retorted, "It'sfalse!"
The words had scarcely escaped her lips when she realized herindiscretion, and faltered, "I--I--mean--" and then unable to recoverfrom her sudden flight of passion, or to completely subdue heragitation, she burst out aloud, in utter disregard of hersurroundings, "Oh! It is awful, awful!"
Rutley was alarmed, and hastily gripped her wrist, and in low tonescautioned, "For God's sake, hush! Don't shout it to the winds!Remember, you urged this damnable business upon me. Do you want me togive it to the world?"
His artifice succeeded, and under his influence she became quieter."No! No! No!" she whispered. "Don't, please!" Then again she stared atthe ground as though dazed with some vague terror. Suddenly shecovered her face with her hands and moaned, "What have I done?"
Then, arising from a place of concealment close by, the old ItalianCripple previously mentioned doffed his hat and said, "Eesa da bet,much-a keep-a do mon! Do poor old-a man, Eesa beg-a da mon, a dacharity Signora, Signor."
Tossing him a coin, Rutley said, "This is an unseasonable place foryour calling, old man." Then, turning to Virginia--"Permit me to escortyou to the house."
"I don't like that old man," she replied. "He is prying abouteverywhere. Do you think he heard me?"
"I have no fear of that," replied Rutley, as they moved on toward thehouse. "He appears quite old and no doubt is partially deaf."
"Very well," responded Virginia, "and now that we understand eachother, I think it time for me to mingle with the guests."
As they disappeared in the distance, the old cripple followed them,flitting from shadow to shadow, with catlike agility, astonishing insuch an apparently old man.
Having arrived at the piazza steps, Rutley and Virginia parted.
Returning some distance into the shadow, he softly laughed. "A littlestartled, eh? Didn't think I could impersonate a peer of England'srealm. Well, she knows the secret now and I can safely rely on herassistance because Corway has cast her aside for Hazel. She has givenme material with which to strike at him and I will strike home--but notas she suggests. Oh, no!" and again a sinister smile crept over hisface. "Dangerous, but Hazel's wealth is worth the risk.
"Meanwhile, I am getting short of funds, and cannot keep up the pacemuch longer, unless my other plan succeeds. But should I failaltogether----" and he became absorbed in deep study, silent andmotionless as the statue of Lincoln by which he stood, but only for amoment. "Everybody here lionizes me, believing I am a genuinenobleman." And then he looked up with a far-off, triumphant expressionin his eyes and a cunning smile on his lips, "My lord will borrow afew thousand on his--name--just for a temporary accommodation, and thenhe will vanish."
A slight noise behind startled him and caused him to look about; but,discovering no one, he regained his composure. To make sure, however,he called in a low voice, "Jack! Jack!"
Whereupon the old cripple again stood forth from his concealment, thistime from behind the trunk of the wide spreading oak and, leaning onhis stick, obsequiously doffed his hat. "I uncover to a prince ofvillainy."
"Ha, ha, to my arms, you rascally imposter!" joyfully exclaimedRutley, as he embraced him.
Halting and drawing away in pretended surprise, Jack exclaimed withdreamy reflection, "Naw, Eesa, not-a bees-a da imposeator. Eesa beItal-e-own!"
"Splendid, Jack!" exclaimed Rutley with admiration. "Your disguise isperfect, but"--and Rutley lau
ghed--"a little pale about the gills, eh?"
"Eesa look-a like-a ma fadder," and Jack proudly expanded himself."Make-a da great-a soldier. Note-a da pale here--Naw," touching hisears. "Garibaldi geev-a ma fadder dees-s da Palestrino," and Jackthrew open his coat and proudly displayed a medal.
"Palestrino!" exclaimed Rutley gleefully. "Jack, things are coming ourway with a rush. Did you hear her--the maiden fair, with the blue blackhair, how she plays into our hands?"
Jack grinned and chuckled, "Ah, ah--a Portland rose, Phil!"
"Incomparably beautiful, Jack! But, oh, such devilish thorns!"
"Good for twenty thousand simoleons at any rate? Eh, Phil?"
"Twenty thousand or bust, Jack," grinned Rutley. "You watch me do thetrick. I'll make Thorpe wish he were dead. I shall connect his wife'sname instead of Hazel's with Corway."
"What!" gasped Jack, dismayed by Rutley's daring.
"By a little juggling of facts, as it were, I'll make Thorpe believeCorway wears the ring given him as a love token by Constance. It wasThorpe's gift to his wife. Do you comprehend? Now, do you understandhow simple a thing it will be to make Thorpe wish he were dead?Remember how he and old Harris broke up our investment company?
"Maybe I don't," replied Jack dolefully, rubbing his stomach in asignificant manner.
"And, Jack!" and Rutley glinted at him meaningly and said veryseriously, "That fellow Corway suspects me."
"The devil he does! We must get him out of our way."
"Tomorrow!"--and for the space of perhaps five seconds they lookedmeaningly at each other. Then Rutley broke the silence.
"The child is in the house," continued Rutley seriously and in a lowvoice.
"Good!" responded Jack. "I was afraid your tableau scheme had failedand Dorothy remained at home."
"Not at all. They jumped at the idea," laughed Rutley, "and on mysuggestion Mrs. Harris begged for Dorothy's presence at the 'Fete'."
"Fate!" corrected Jack.
"Too pointed," calmly remarked Rutley.
"Well, the tableau was a great success, 'Hebe' attended by 'Circe' and'Cupid'."
"Dorothy as 'Circe' posed splendidly; she is the pet of theguests"--and, lowering his voice, Rutley continued gravely:
"I have persuaded her indulgent mother to let the child remain up andenjoy her honors a little longer; she may be out and around now at anymoment."
"She wears a white dress and with a light brown sash about her waist.Long golden hair--oh, you know her."
"I shall keep a sharp lookout and take her the first opportunity."
"Skip!" suddenly cautioned Rutley. "Somebody's coming. Keep in thedeep shadow."
"Trust me." And as Jack turned to move away he said to himself,"Tonight there'll be things doing, for the devil is at work and hell'sa-brewing."
Rutley watched Jack vanish in the gloom, then muttered to himself,"Why this fear? Out with it and to my purpose."
Some readers would call it fate, others would probably have construedit as accidental, while yet again others of a more scientific turn ofmind would have reasoned it a result of that strange magneticattraction whereby two minds, simultaneously engaged in deep absorbingthought on the same subject, are mysteriously drawn toward each other.
That John Thorpe was alone at that moment descending the steps of thepiazza, was proof of the phenomenon, there could be no question, andthat he was deeply thinking of a subject very near and dear to him wasalso evident, for he paused on one of the steps and clapped his handto his forehead as though to draw out some evil thing that lay leadenwithin.
Once he shivered as if shaken with a cold of the shadow of someindefinable disaster about to overwhelm him, and then he passed ondown the steps muttering to himself in an abstracted manner, "Doubt;terrible, torturing doubt; I cannot endure it!"
"Welcome, Mr. Thorpe," came from Rutley in the mild regularlymoderated voice of a man content with his surroundings. "It only needsthe quiet tones of a gifted conversationalist to make this beautifulspot supremely pleasant. All honor to Mrs. Harris and her companion."
Mrs. Harris, accompanied by Virginia, had just then appeared fromaround the east side of the house--"Ah, my lord, your absence from theballroom occasions much inquiry," said Mrs. Harris.
"Mrs. Harris will confer a favor by satisfying the inquirers with theexcuse that his lordship is enjoying a smoke with a friend. Does mylord approve the answer?" replied John Thorpe, eyeing Rutleyfurtively.
"Most decidedly!" he affirmed.
"Then Virginia and myself will be spectators of the next waltz. Yourlordship will favor us with your company soon? Mr. Thorpe, you willnot forget your promise to Constance for the Newport?"
"Just in time, eh, auntie, I guess so!" cut in the cheerful voice ofstrenuous Sam, who had bounded down the steps and stood in front ofthem before they could turn around.
"Oh, horrors!" gasped Virginia under her breath.
"Why, Sam!" laughed Mrs. Harris, "you want me to dance with you againand Virginia here?"
"Oh, no, not you! I mean her, auntie. If you please," and he bowed toVirginia as he offered her his arm.
Without an instant's hesitation she accepted his arm and at the sametime so artfully masked her real feelings that the hot blood racedwith joyous glee to the very roots of his hair and caused him to sayproudly, "Ha, ha! at last, eh, auntie!"
"I shall be a witness, Sam," replied his aunt in a tone which conveyeda warning.
On ascending the steps Virginia paused to gather up her skirt, turnedhalf around and looked very significantly at Rutley.
He met her glance and bowed. The action brought Mrs. Harris also to astop.
Observing the halt, Mr. Thorpe exclaimed, "His Grace and myself willbe along presently. Au revoir."
And as the party moved on, Sam rejoined under his breath, "I guess so,but not with his fair party, not if Sam knows it."
In the silence that followed for both men, now being alone, werealert, instinctively apprehending danger, John Thorpe drew from theinside pocket of his coat a small cigar case and tendered it toRutley.
Silently and with studied poise, Rutley took therefrom a cigar andreturned the case.
Thorpe then took from the case a match, lighted and offered it toRutley, who, having meanwhile clipped the end of the cigar with apenknife, accepted the light and then broke the silence with, "Are younot going to smoke, Thorpe?"
"Not at present. A stroll through the grounds is more to my fancy."
"Agreed!" promptly responded Rutley, who added, "and may the exerciselighten your spirits, which appear heavy tonight."
"Yes, unfortunately I have never been able to conceal my emotions,hence the correctness of your conjecture. My spirits are heavytonight," replied Thorpe in a low voice and with a deep, long drawnsigh.
It was plain to Rutley that Thorpe was evading an abrupt approach tosome potent question in his mind, feverishly eager, yet dreading thekind of information it might elicit.
"Bad digestion, Thorpe. Headaches, troubled dreams and the likefellow," suggested Rutley in his jerky manner.
"Deeper!" added Thorpe in a low voice.
"Ha!" exclaimed Rutley significantly, as he eyed his companionaskance. "Family!"
"Oh, God! what shall I do?" suddenly broke from Thorpe in a stifledcry of anguish. "I cannot carry the load!" And then he did that whichsome readers might term a cowardly thing. No doubt he was actuated bymotives irresistibly impelling in a man of his peculiarly sensitivenature.
With head bent low, much as a culprit condoning his infamy, humbled aswas his pride, to thus confide his misgivings to a stranger, he beganin a low voice:
"My Lord, a few moments since I casually heard you drop a remarksuggesting a knowledge of my domestic affairs. I speak to you inconfidence, and I am sure Your Grace will spare me the humiliation offeeling that confidence is misplaced. Your position gives you at timesthe advantage of hearing--a--things said of others that is of no momentor concern to you."
Rutley's first thought was, "My o
pportunity to strike at Corway hascome," and if Thorpe at that moment could have seen the cunning leerplay about the corners of Rutley's mouth and the flash of exultationthat sprang into his eyes, he might have hesitated, nay, ceased tohave conversed with him further on such a grave subject.
But the fleeting smile went unseen, the exultant flash as quicklydisappeared, and in its place a very serious look came over Rutley'sface, as in a low voice he replied, slowly but very distinctly."Really, Thorpe, I am at a loss to understand your motives inquestioning me on matters relative to your domestic affairs, andthough I may possess information in which I am not particularlyinterested, still to asperse the character of any person on mere rumoris not compatible with the dignity or honor of my house; however, ifyou will be explicit on the subject of your singular request, I shall,through sympathy, communicate all I have heard to relieve or confirmyour mind of a--I fancy--a terrible suspicion."
For a few moments Thorpe could not control his agitation. Overpoweredby a sense of shame, his imagination at once conjured up dreadfulthoughts.
"Sympathy! a--a--to relieve or confirm a terrible suspicion! My God!what does he mean?" And he placed his left hand tightly over hisbreast as if something hurt him there, while a cold sweat stood out onhis brow. Then with a forced calmness, said:
"A--a--have you heard any disparaging remarks about--a--Mr. Corway?"
"Well, Thorpe, you know 'tis not honorable to repeat the 'chic'scandals one hears, though to satisfy you I will say that if you willlook at the little finger of Corway's left hand, you will see a goldring with a single diamond set in a double heart, which he attimes--a--carelessly displays."
"A ring with a single diamond! What of it?" impatiently questionedThorpe.
"Oh!" replied Rutley, with an imperturbable stare, "it was a lovetoken from Mrs. John Thorpe."
"You lie!" exclaimed Thorpe, the nails of his fingers imprintingdeeply in the flesh of his tightly clenched fists, with the fiercenessof the passion that had flamed within him.
"I do not lie!" Rutley calmly and slowly replied, as he lookedsteadily into Thorpe's eyes.
"You confound my wife with Hazel," hoarsely accused Thorpe.
"I reiterate," responded Rutley, in the same even tone of voice, "theparticular ring in question was a gift from Constance, John Thorpe'swife, and not from Hazel."
Gasping for breath, Thorpe turned his head aside and groaned as heremembered it was his gift to Constance before they were married.
Suddenly he gripped Rutley by the sleeve. They halted and confrontedeach other. And the dark formless shadow that had followed them alsohalted.
"From whom have you your information?" queried Thorpe, looking intoRutley's eyes.
"I do not feel at liberty to mention, but it can be substantiated."
"By whom?" demanded Thorpe.
"Well, I don't know of any person more capable than a--a--Mr. Thorpe'swife!" replied Rutley in a most nonchalant and matter-of-fact manner.
And even through the depth of the gloom that surrounded them he sawthe scarlet flush of rage and shame flame across Thorpe's white browas he bowed his head, humbled to the dust.
For a moment not a word was spoken by either of the men. SuddenlyThorpe looked up and hoarsely said:
"My wife! Give me two or three, one which she can substantiate."
"My dear Thorpe," deprecatingly pleaded Rutley. "You have called uponme to undertake a very unpleasant task."
"Your Lordship has gone too far to recede. I must know all"--and therewas imminent danger in Thorpe's quivering voice, which Rutley felt wasnot to be trifled with.
"Well--one thing--Corway's close and steady attention to her during yourabsence in China."
"You mean to Hazel?" said Thorpe, with a look so deeply concentratedthat the movement of a single hair of Rutley's eyelash would havemeant an instant blow on the mouth.
"No, I mean--to your wife," accentuated Rutley. "Their secret andprotracted wanderings offended your sister. Reproofs, reproaches andwarnings were unavailing and ended in Corway being refused admittanceto your house, which resulted in frequent quarrels between your wifeand your sister."
Thorpe here recalled Virginia's warning, "Corway will bear watching,"and he moaned, "Oh, God!"
"He tried many pretenses to regain communication with your wife,"resumed Rutley, "one being to visit Hazel Brooke, for whom, except forher money, he has no regard whatever. At length on the discovery ofsecret correspondence, Virginia became aghast at his boldness andcontemplated seeking legal aid when you returned. Of course, sheretired and left the matter in your hands and she was unwilling atthat time to shock your home-coming with a knowledge of the truth."
"Enough! Enough! Oh, God, what a vile thing has nestled here!" AndJohn Thorpe pressed both hands tightly over his heart in a vainendeavor to suppress the emotion that filled his throat and choked hisutterances, and tears of shame gathered in his eyes as he continuedslowly:
"When--I--wedded Constance--I took to myself the purest angel out ofheaven. But now--! Farewell happiness--farewell peace--forever! Oh,Corway, I want to clutch you by the throat!"
Turning to Rutley, he added tensely, "Follow me."
"Now for satisfaction," muttered Rutley exultantly, and with asinister smile on his lips he followed John Thorpe up the broad stepsand into the blaze of the brilliantly lighted ballroom.
A shadow straightened itself up behind a bed of massed asters,deepened, grew thicker and resolved itself into the solid form of aman. It was Jack Shore. He had dodged them unseen and overheard theirconversation.
Perhaps it was through hearing the conspiracy and its masterlyexecution that shocked him into moralizing on man's inhumanity to man.
At any rate, he exclaimed half aloud, "As cold-blooded a bit ofvillainy as possible to conceive. I didn't think Phil had it in him."Suddenly he shrugged his shoulders.
"I say, old man," cut in Sam, appearing from the east side of thepiazza, "you want to look alive there. You are getting too near thefront. First thing you know uncle will have you sent up as a vag."
Though taken by surprise, Jack, having just turned to move off intothe deeper shadow, halted and, removing his hat, faced Sam in anassumed most humble and abject terror, "Signor, I don-a mean to come-ada close. Jess-a tried to get-a da peep ov-a da grand-a fete of-amuch-a da rich people. Eesa da all, Signor."
"It's all right, old man, but take my advice and keep off the grounds.'Twill be better for your health."
In the meantime Dorothy had fluttered down the great steps and rantoward Sam.
"Hello, little one! Having lots of fun, eh!"
And with the same, he caught Dorothy's hands and he commenced to danceher about as he sang the words, "Little Bo-peep had lost her sheep andcouldn't tell where to find them."
"Oh, don't Sam; I want to find papa!" replied the child, impatiently.
"You do, eh? Now, don't you want me to be your escort?"
"Come, I'll tell you how to find him. You shall sit on my shoulder andbe the tallest queen of the party, while I be the horse to 'lope aboutin search of your papa."
"Thank you, Sam, but I can't stay for a ride now. I'm in such a hurry;some other time," and the child turned from him and ran toward theslowly retreating form of Jack.
"You are, eh? All right, and while you are looking for papa, I'm goingto look for the fair party you call auntie. I guess so!" Whereupon Samquickly sprang up the steps. Arriving on the piazza he halted, turnedaround and looked toward the child as though the premonition ofsomething wrong--something associated with the child's insecurity,being alone--had suddenly darted into his brain; but seeing others ofthe guests at that moment emerging from the east front of the house onthe well lighted grounds, he dismissed the "still small voice" ofwarning from his mind and passed in among the dancers.
"Papa, papa! Where is my papa?" called Dorothy.
Jack, while pretending to leave the grounds, had kept a sly eye onSam, and upon that individual's disappearance, at once turned andanswered the child i
n a voice soft and gentle, and soothing as that ofdreamy Italy.
"Yous-a tink-a your-a papa was-a da here-a. What eesa da name?"
"Thorpe!" replied Dorothy, without the faintest fear or hesitation."That is my name, too. I want to find him right away. Can you tell mewhere he is? Mama sent me to ask him to come and dance."
"Yes-a da child-a. Eesa da know where eesa papa be. Eef-a youse-a benote-a fraid and will-a come wid-a me, Eesa take-a youse-a da papa,"and the sly old man looked into her eyes with such beaming kindnessthat at once won her confidence.
"I'm not afraid of you. I like old men. Mama says we should respectold men. But I'm in such a hurry, you know. Mama is waiting for me."
"Well, geeve-a me youse-a da hand and Eesa take-a you straight-a daheem."
Without the least suspicion or timidity, she instantly placed herlittle hand in his and the two proceeded toward the river, much fasterthan his supposed crippled condition would lead an older person toexpect.
"Youse-a love-a da papa and da mama much-a, donn-a youse?" hecontinued.
"Oh, yes! Ever so much."
"Eesa good-a girl. We'll soon-a da fine eem," and he added to himself,"when the horn of plenty pours its golden stream into Jack's pocket."
While they were crossing a depression, or rather a long hollowformation in the contour of the grassy slope, and close to some locusttrees, the thick foliage of which threw a deep shadow on the spot,Jack thrust his free hand into his pocket and removed the stopper froma bottle of chloroform which he had provided for this occasion, andsaturated a colored handkerchief with it. Some of it passed throughthe lining of his pocket and immediately impregnated the air with itsodor.
Dorothy got a whiff of it and drew away with the remark, "Dear me,what a funny smell!"
"Naw, eesa--nicey da smell, jes like-a da poppy, so beautiful-a daflower," replied Jack, reassuringly.
"Well, I don't like it, anyway," she said.
At that moment she was standing a couple of yards from him, they hadcome to a halt, and it was necessary for him to act adroitly and withpromptness, to reassure her and avoid arousing her suspicion, so hepretended to stumble and then fell to the ground.
Arising to his knees, he groaned as though in seeming pain, andgripped his right wrist with his left hand.
"Oh, oh! Eesa da hurt-a bad. Break-a da arm; oh, oh!" And in order toget her close to him, he said, "Get-a da bot' in-a da pock'."
The cunning fellow knew well how to touch the chord of sympathy thatis ever present in the guileless heart of innocent childhood.
The response came in a wondering look of infinite tenderness andcompassion, for the child did not clearly comprehend Jack's requestand she asked:
"Did you break your arm?"
"Eesa da hurt-a bad. Oh, oh!" he groaned, "get-a da bot', da bot'-a,child; get-a da bot'."
"Poor man! Shall I run for the doctor?"
"No, no, no, note-a da dock! Help-a me get-a da bot' in-a da pock!Quick-a, deeze-a side. Put in-a da hand. Take eem out--oh, oh!"
Perceiving that he meant her to take something out of his pocket, onthe right side of his coat, and not understanding the significance ofthe word "bot," she drew near to thrust in her hand.
That instant Jack's left arm encircled her form and his right handclapped the saturated handkerchief over her mouth and nostrils andheld her to him.
She struggled in his arms to free herself, but without avail.
As a feeling of stupor stole over her senses, Jack, still on hisknees, watched her with the keenest of eyes, and muttered soothingly,"Eesa nice-a da girl. Nice-a da smell lak-a da dreamy Italy."
Some rascals would have made short work of the matter, but Jack was bynature very tender and considerate of children, which accounted forhis slow application of the powerful drug. It soon had her under itsinfluence, and when she became limp and nerveless he laid her on thegrass. Again he saturated the handkerchief and held it to hernostrils, and with distended, tragic eyes watched her doze intounconsciousness.
Feeling satisfied that she would not speedily recover, he let thehandkerchief lie loose on her nostrils and mouth, then he arose to hisfeet and with the stealthy, catlike tread of an Indian, skulked fromshadow to shadow until he had made a complete circuit of the spot.
Having assured himself that no one was in the vicinity, he swiftlyturned and again fell on his knees beside the child.
He looked intently in her face and noted the sweet expression ofchildish innocence and trust in the repose. "She sleeps, beautifulchild! As sweetly innocent and confiding as God ever inspired with thebreath of life."
Then from under his coat, where a hump appeared in the back, he drewout a grey woolen cloth about four feet square and folded it about thechild, gathered her in his arms and arose to his feet.
"Mine, mine, though no harm shall come to you, pretty one! Twentythousand dollars shall be the price of your liberty."
And, keeping in the shadows and away from the lights as much aspossible, he wended his way toward the river and soon became obscuredin the distant gloom.