CHAPTER XXXVIII.
"THE COUNTERFEITER'S DAUGHTER."
I am somewhat anxious about this coming bit of work, and a littlereluctant as well, but it must be done, and that promptly.
Just outside of the avenue gate I encounter a servant from the HillHouse, and accost him.
"Is Miss Manvers at home, and awake?"
"Yes, she is at home; she has been disturbed by the bells," and has senthim to inquire into the cause of the commotion.
She does not know, then! I heave a sigh of relief and hurry on.
I cross the avenue, and follow the winding foot-path leading up to thefront entrance. I make no effort to see Jim or Gerry, at the barn; Ifeel sure that they are equal to any emergency that may arise.
Miss Manvers is standing at an open drawing-room window; she sees myapproach and comes herself to admit me.
Then we look at each other.
She, I note, seems anxious and somewhat uneasy, and she sees at aglance that I am not the jaunty, faultlessly-dressed young idler of pastdays, but a dusty, dishevelled, travel-stained individual, wearing,instead of the usual society smile, a serious and preoccupied look uponmy face.
"Miss Manvers," I say, at once, "you will pardon my abruptness, I trust;I must talk with you alone for a few moments."
She favors me with a glance of keen inquiry, and a look of apprehensioncrosses her face.
Then she turns with a gesture of careless indifference, and leads theway to the drawing-room, where she again turns her face toward me.
"I have before me an unpleasant duty," I begin again; "I have to informyou that Arch Brookhouse has been arrested."
A fierce light leaps to her eyes.
"_Is that all?_" she questions.
"The charge against him is a grave one," I say, letting her questionpass unanswered. "He is accused of attempted abduction."
"Abduction!" she exclaims.
"And attempted assassination."
"Assassination! ah, _who_?"
"Attempt first, upon myself, in June last. Second attempt, upon Dr. CarlBethel."
A wrathful look crosses her face.
"I wish they could hang him for it!" she says, vindictively. Then shelooks me straight in the eyes. "Did you come to tell me this because youfancy that I care for Arch Brookhouse?" she questions.
"No."
"Why, then?"
"Because I am a detective, and it was my duty to come. There is more totell you. 'Squire Brookhouse and his gang were arrested last night inthe act of removing stolen horses from your barn."
Her face pales and she draws a long sighing breath, but she does notfalter nor evince any other sign of fear.
"So it has come," she says. "And now you are here to arrest me. I don'tthink I shall mind it much."
"I have come to make terms with you, Miss Lowenstein, and it will beyour fault if they are hard terms. I know your past history, or, atleast--"
"At _least_, that I am a counterfeiter's daughter, and that I haveserved a term as a convict," she finishes, sarcastically.
"I know that you are the daughter of Jake Lowenstein, forger andcounterfeiter. I know that you were arrested with him, as an accomplice;that immunity was offered you if you would testify against your father,the lawyers being sure that your evidence alone would easily convicthim. I know that you refused to turn State's evidence; that you scoffedat the lawyers, and rather than raise your voice against your father,let them send you to prison for two years."
"You know all this?" wonderingly. "How did you find me out here?"
"Before you were taken to prison, they took your picture for--"
I hesitate, but she does not.
"For the rogue's gallery," she says, impatiently. "Well! go on."
"You were fiercely angry, and the scorn on your face was transferred tothe picture."
"Quite likely."
"I had heard of your case, and your father's, of course. But I was notpersonally concerned in it, and I never saw him. I had never seen you,until I came to Trafton."
"I have changed since then," she breaks in, quickly.
"True; you were a slender, pretty young girl then. You are a handsomewoman, now. Your features, however, are not much changed; yet probably,if I had never seen you save when your face wore its usual serene smile,I should never have found you out. But my comrade, who came to Traftonwith me--"
"As your servant," she interposes.
"As my servant; yes. He had your picture in his collection. On the dayof your lawn party, I chanced to see you behind a certain rose thicket,in conversation with Arch Brookhouse. He was insolent; you, angry anddefiant. I caught the look on your face, and knew that I had seen itbefore, somewhere. I went home puzzled, to find Carnes, better known toyou as Cooley, looking at a picture in his rogue's gallery. I took thebook and began turning its leaves, and there under my eye was yourpicture. Then I knew that Miss Manvers, the heiress, was really MissAdele Lowenstein."
"You say that it will be my fault if you make hard terms with me. Myfather is dead. I suppose you understand that?"
"Yes; I know that he is dead, but I do not know why you are here, givingshelter to stolen property and abbetting horse-thieves. Frankly, MissLowenstein, so far as your past is concerned, I consider you sinnedagainst as much as sinning. Your sacrifice in behalf of your father was,in my eyes, a brave act, rather than a criminal one. I am disposed to beever your friend rather than your enemy. Will you tell me how you becameconnected with this gang, and all the truth concerning your relationswith them, and trust me to aid you to the limit of my power?"
"You do not promise me my freedom if I give you this information," shesays, more in surprise than in anxiety.
"It is not in my power to do that and still do my duty as an officer;but I promise you, upon my honor, that you shall have your freedom if itcan be brought about."
"I like the sound of that," says this odd, self-reliant young woman,turning composedly, and seating herself near the open window. "If youhad vowed to give me my liberty at any cost I should not have believedyou. Sit down; I shall tell you a longer story than you will care tolisten to standing."
I seat myself in obedience to her word and gesture, and she beginsstraightway:
"I was seventeen years old when my father was arrested forcounterfeiting, and I looked even younger.
"He had a number of confederates, but the assistant he most valued wasthe man whom people call 'Squire Brookhouse. He was called simply Brookseight years ago.
"When my father was arrested, 'Squire Brookhouse, who was equallyguilty, contrived to escape. He was a prudent sharper, and both he andfather had accumulated considerable money.
"If you know that my father and myself were sentenced to prison, he fortwenty years, and I for two, you know, I suppose, how he escaped."
"I know that he did escape; just how we need not discuss at present."
"Yes; he escaped. Brookhouse used his money to bribe bolder men to dothe necessary dangerous work, for he, Brookhouse, needed my father'sassistance, and he escaped. I had yet six months to serve.
"Well, Brookhouse had recently been down into this country on aplundering expedition. He was an avaricious man, always devising somenew scheme. He knew that without my father's assistance, he could hardlyrun a long career at counterfeiting, and he knew that counterfeitingwould be dangerous business for my father to follow, in or near thecity, after his escape.
"They talked and schemed and prospected; and the result was that theyboth came to Trafton, and invested a portion of their gains, the largestportion of course, in two pieces of real estate; this and the Brookhouseplace.
"Before we had been here a year, my father grew venturesome. He went tothe city, and was recognized by an old policeman, who had known him toowell. They attempted to arrest him, but only captured his dead body. Thepapers chronicled the fact that Jake Lowenstein, the counterfeiter, wasdead. And we, at Trafton, announced to the world that Captain Manvers,late of the navy, had been drowned while making his
farewell voyage.
"After that, I became Miss Manvers, the heiress, and the goodTraftonites were regaled with marvelous stories concerning atreasure-ship dug out from the deep by my father, 'the sea captain.'
"Their main object in settling in Trafton, was to provide for themselveshomes that might afford them a haven should stormy times come. And,also, to furnish them with a place where their coining and engravingcould be safely carried on.
"Then the 'Squire grew more enterprising. He wanted more schemes tomanage. And so he began to lay his plans for systematic horse-stealing.
"Little by little he matured his scheme, and one by one he introducedinto Trafton such men as would serve his purpose, for, if you inquireinto the matter, you will find that every one of his confederates hascome to this place since the first advent of 'Squire Brookhouse.
"The hidden place in our barn was prepared before my father was killed,and after that--well, 'Squire Brookhouse knew that I could be a greathelp to him, socially.
"I did not know what to do. This home was mine, I felt safe here; I hadgrown up among counterfeiters and law-breakers, and I did not see how Iwas to shake myself free from them--besides--"
Here a look of scornful self-contempt crosses her face.
"Besides, I was young, and up to that time had seen nothing of societyof my own age. Arch Brookhouse had lately come home from the South, andI had fallen in love with his handsome face."
She lifts her eyes to mine, as if expecting to see her own self-scornreflected back in my face, but I continue to look gravely attentive, andshe goes on:
"So I stayed on, and let them use my property as a hiding-place fortheir stolen horses. I kept servants of their selection, and never knewaught of their plans. When I heard that a horse had been stolen, I feltvery certain that it was concealed on my premises, but I neverinvestigated.
"After a time I became as weary of Arch Brookhouse as he, probably, wasof me. Finally indifference became detestation. He only came to my houseon matters of business, and to keep up the appearance of friendlinessbetween the two families. Mrs. Brookhouse is a long-suffering,broken-down woman, who never sees society.
"I do not intend to plead for mercy, and I do not want pity. I dare saythat nine-tenths of the other women in the world would have done as Idid, under the same circumstances. I have served two years in thepenitentiary; my face adorns the rogues' gallery. I might go out intothe world and try a new way of living, but I must always be an impostor.Why not be an impostor in Trafton, as well as anywhere else? I havealways believed that, some day, I should be found out."