CHAPTER V.
THE PROFESSOR ACTS.
The medical student looks at her eagerly.
"When--where?" he asks, huskily.
Any one who has met the woman about whom cluster all the tenderassociations and thoughts of his lonely years of childhood, must assumenew importance in his eyes.
"It was a year or so ago. At the time I was in Paris with my uncle, SirHugh, then alive."
"Yes, yes, she was there about that time, as I have since learned."
"I was out driving alone; it was just at dusk when we were returningfrom the boulevards, and a wheel came off the vehicle.
"Though a little alarmed, I kept my senses, and bade the driver tie hishorse and then seek another vehicle for me.
"The neighborhood chanced to be a rather unsavory one. I could hearboisterous men singing, and on finding myself alone I grew alarmed. Fromwindows frowzy heads were thrust out and rude women mocked at me. Ifeared insult, injury. I was ready to fly for my life when a handtouched my arm, and a gentle voice said:
"'Come with me, miss, I will protect you.'"
John trembles with emotion.
"Then you have heard her speak! Oh, what bliss that would be for me--mymother, my poor mother who has suffered so long."
"When I looked in her face I knew I could trust her. Besides, her garbreassured me."
"Her garb?" wonderingly.
"Yes. She was dressed as a Sister of Charity or some other order inParis. Willingly I followed her to an adjoining house. She begged me tosit down and await the vehicle. I was grateful and asked her questionsabout the great work being done by such organizations in the gay city ofParis.
"I was interested in her and asked her name. She told me she was knownas Sister Magdalen. Then the carriage came and I left her."
"One question, Lady Ruth--how did she impress you?"
"Frankly, as one who had passed through the furnace of affliction; herface was sad, yet oh, so inexpressibly sweet. It haunted me. I havelooked at every sister I met wherever I traveled, in the hope of meetingher, but it has been useless."
It can be readily believed that this arouses the deepest interest in theyoung student of medicine. The desire to find his mother has been theone aim of his life; it has carried him over many a dark crisis, and hasbecome stronger with the passage of years.
Now he is getting daily, hourly, nearer the object of his solicitude,and his anticipation so long and fondly cherished, bids fair to be arealization.
"How I envy you, Lady Ruth. You have seen her, pressed her hand. It makesyou seem less a stranger to me to think that my mother was able to do youa service."
"I am positive it was she. Wait--perhaps I can prove it. I noticed shehad a medallion secured around her neck with a guard, and once I wasenabled to see the face upon it. It was that of a man."
"Oh! describe it if you can."
"The gentleman, I should judge, was about twenty-three. He wore amustache and small side whiskers. I judged he was English. His hair waslight and inclined to be curly."
John Craig smiles.
"Ah! the last doubt has been swept away."
"You recognize this picture, then?"
"Yes; your description answers for my father when he was a young man. Ihave not the slightest doubt that it was the one I seek who rendered youthis service. And she a Sister of Charity! I don't understand."
"Your story has interested me deeply, doctor. You have my most sincerewishes for success; and if I can in any way assist you, don't hesitateto call upon me."
"I believe you mean every word of it, and from my heart I thank you. Imust leave you now, to seek the house in the Strada Mezzodi--the housethat may reveal much or little."
At this moment the others enter; fortune has been kind to allow theconversation to reach its legitimate end, and John, with a pleasant wordfor Aunt Gwen and her husband, and only a peculiar look for the Briton,hurries out.
In five minutes more he comes down stairs, ready for the street. To hissurprise he is stopped near the door by some one he knows--PhilanderSharpe, wearing a ridiculous helmet hat, as becomes a traveler.
"Pardon me, but I'm in a hurry," he says, as the other plucks hissleeve.
"Oh! yes; but I'm going with you, Chicago," pipes the little professor,shutting one eye and nodding in a very knowing manner.
"But I'm not off to paint the town red," says John, believing the otherthinks it is his intention to see the sights of Malta's capital bynight--"I have an engagement."
"In the Strada Mezzodi; eh?"
"Thunder; how did you guess it?" ejaculates the man of medicine,astonished beyond measure.
"I am not a guesser. I know what I know, and a dused sight more thansome people think, especially my beloved wife, Gwendolin."
"What do you know--come to the point?"
"First, all about your past, and the trouble in the Craig family."
"Confusion! and you never told me you had ever heard of me before? Thisexplains the manner in which you seemed to study me at times on thesteamer," reproachfully.
"Just so. I had reasons for my silence; _she_ was one of them," jerkinghis thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the parlor above, whencethe voice of the amiable Gwendolin Makepeace floats to their ears.
"In haste, then, let me tell you a secret, John. I was not always whatyou see me, a docile, hen-pecked man. Twenty-five years ago PhilanderSharpe, young, good-looking, conceited, and rich, had the world beforehim."
"Cut it short, I beg, professor," groans John, impatient to be off.
"I fell in love; my affection was returned; we were engaged; a friend inwhose honor I fully believed stole her heart away from me, but all theseyears I have never forgotten--never. John Craig, the girl I loved andwho was to have been my wife was--your mother."
The little man folds his arms and throws his head back in a peculiar wayhe has. How strangely full of dignity these undersized people can be attimes.
"Is it possible, and you never breathed a word of all this to me before?"
"Ah! my dear boy, the time was not ripe. I said nothing but sawed wood."
"Why do you speak now?"
"I have an idea that you are about to make a step in the dark, and afterduly considering the matter, came to the conclusion that it was time tospeak--time to let you know my sympathies were with you, time to take ahand in this game myself."
John hardly knows what to do or say, he is so amazed at such a strangehappening.
"But, professor, I am only going now to see if I can learn anythingabout my mother at the house where she staid six weeks ago, when a linewas sent to me."
The little man wags his head wisely.
"That information was given to you by one whom you believed to be SignorStucco, otherwise Luther Keene, the person having charge of the policeof Valetta?"
"Yes," replies John, wonderingly.
"At that hour the signer was in his own room, engaged in other business,and oblivious of the fact whether one John Alexander Craig, M.D., was inthe land of the living or not."
All of which excites the curiosity of the young man not a little.
"Since you know so much, professor, perhaps you can tell me who it isplays with me, the object he has, and whether my mother was ever inthat house on the Strada Mezzodi."
"I can answer in part. I believe she was there. These enemies of yours,dear boy, have baited a trap. You are about to walk into it."
"A trap, professor! why should they seek to harm me?"
"They have reasons. I can't mention them all, but perhaps some event inyour past may give you a clew. Have you ever heard of a person, by namePauline Potter?"
The young man starts.
"Ah! I see you have," pursues Philander, dryly.
"I confess it; she was a pretty actress, but my boyish passion for herdied out when I discovered her perfidy."
"Very true; but she has never forgiven you. What harm did you do her,boy?"
"The harm was on her side. When I found what
deception she had put uponme I simply denounced her in the presence of several who were at supperwith her, a new admirer among them. Perhaps she hates me for that, butit seems queer that Pauline Potter, whom I knew in Chicago, should bobup in Malta. Almost like a modern play."
"Well, she's here. I've seen her."
"Professor, pardon me for saying it, but you've allowed yourself to bemaligned. I believed you were a nonentity, but I find you possessed ofa remarkable mind. You are a second Richelieu."
"You flatter me. John, grant my favor; allow me to accompany you on thiserrand. I will then have a chance to explain how I managed to learn allthese things."
"I see no reason to refuse."
"Good! Come, let's move off," with a quick glance over his shoulder.
"Oh," laughs the student, "_she's_ up stairs yet," and his words arecorroborated, for a burst of almost masculine laughter comes floatingdown from the next floor, causing Philander to shrug his shoulders.
"She'll imagine I'm off seeing the sights. I went to see the modernMabille in Paris and have never heard the last of it. Stand by me incase of war, my boy."
"That I will, professor."
They have left the hotel, and John's face tells of the puzzle which heis trying to solve--the strange connection between Pauline Potter, theactress who won his boyish admiration only to deceive him, and she whomhe seeks with reverent love in his heart, his mother, the SisterMagdalen of Lady Ruth's Paris adventure.
And the professor guesses the truth.
"I may be able to assist you, John, though you shall be the judge. Willyou listen to my yarn?"
"With pleasure."
They walk on, arm in arm; the doctor has lighted a cigar, and seems totake much comfort in the mechanical puffs of smoke which he sends outinto the darkness--not that there is anything of the inky pall aboutthis, throwing a silvery path way along the mysterious waters of theromantic sea, and besides, the lanterns that flash on trees and fromhouse fronts serve to render the scene far from gloomy, though a moderncity dweller, used to electric lights, might notice the change.
"Before we enter into a discussion, my dear boy, let me explain how Icame to know these facts connected with the presence of Pauline Potterin Valetta, and the duplicity of the man representing the head of thepolice, Signor Stucco.
"After returning from our eventful walk to the hill-top back of thetown, I had business in another section, business connected with my tripalong the Mediterranean, and which has been kept a secret from my spouse.
"When on my way back to the hotel, just at dusk, I crossed and passeddown a street, thinking to shorten my route, but in a way becameconfused, and made up my mind I would inquire of the first personI came to.
"That, my boy, was the hand of fate leading me on, as you will speedilylearn.
"In all these years that have flown I have at times heard of you. I knewthe skeleton that lay hidden in your family closet, and believing yourmother innocent, made no sign, for she was supposed to be dead.
"Let me go back a step, and begging your pardon for the fact, confessthat I heard your interesting interview with Lady Ruth."
"Professor!" in reproach.
"My dear boy, it was all an accident. I had thrown myself upon thelounge in the corner of the little parlor, for an after-dinner nap, whenyou came in and failed to notice me, owing to the arm-chair I had drawnin front of me to shut out the light.
"At first I thought you would simply look at the picture and then goaway, but when I heard you telling her your sad story and the new hopesyou entertained, I felt that I had a right to listen then. Thus youunderstand how I know these facts.
"This takes me back to where I was lost in the streets of Valetta andforced to inquire my way. As luck would have it I saw a man before me,but ere I reached him he was joined by a woman.
"I stood still; in the dusk I heard him say something that gave me athrill, and as near as I can remember those words were:
"'For love of you, Pauline Potter, I have assumed this disguise andbecome for the present Signor Stucco, the master of Valetta's police.Now give me orders; tell me how I am to win your favor; how bring to theStrada Mezzodi--' I heard no more, as his voice fell, but presently myears, sharpened to an intensity, caught a name--it was--'DoctorChicago.'"
"You interest me, professor; please proceed."
"Ah! that is all. I lost track of them and managed to work my way to thehotel in time for dinner. When that man called you out, I recognized thedim figure I had seen talking with the soft-voiced woman at dusk. Ittakes time for me to figure things out, and I must be beyond the rangeof her voice. That was one reason I lay down in the little parlor. WhenI heard you announce your intention of visiting the Strada Mezzodi Imade up my mind to act quickly. That is why I tapped you on the arm, whyI am now tramping at your side. Now let us probe deeper.
"Mark the first point; this Pauline is a shrewd creature, and doubtlesspossessed of more than an ordinary Corsican nature to hate so bitterly."
"Ah! you know her mother was a Corsican?"
"I believe I have heard it told in New York, and it is easy to realizethe fact now. Pauline is a good hater--her father was Scotch I presume.
"What I want to point out is this--she has been investigating yourrecord--the skeleton in your closet, or rather your family, is no secretwith her."
"I understand that, sir. It is no accident, her presence in the samehouse my mother occupied."
"Well, as to that, you're not sure. That fellow who brought the news waspaid to represent the head of the Valetta police, for they knew you hadinvoked official aid, and just as like as not he gave you an addressthat your mother never heard of."
"Well, here we are!" suddenly.
"Eh? This is the Strada Mezzodi?"
"Any objections to it?" laughing.
"Oh, no! one place is as good as another to me, in this Maltese city,where you seem to be climbing to paradise or descending into hades allthe time. Only I'm glad I came."
"Why, professor?"
"Well," with a look down the street, "I'm afraid you'll need theservices of a friend before long--that you are about to experience asensation you won't soon forget," replies Philander, coolly.