CHAPTER XII
Word from the Fugitive
I glanced at my watch; it wanted still half an hour of eleven o'clock.
"Let's walk on together," I said; "this needs talking over. Aspecial-delivery letter from New York, then, causes Marcia Lawrence, awell-poised, self-possessed, happy woman, to flee from the man sheloves, to wreck her life, throw away her future----" I stopped indespair. Really, I felt for the moment like tearing my hair.
"It seems incredible, doesn't it?" asked Godfrey, smiling at mybewildered countenance.
"Incredible? Why, it's more than that--it's--it's--I don't know any wordstrong enough to describe it. Godfrey, what is this secret?"
"I know what it isn't."
"Well, what isn't it, then?"
"It isn't about Curtiss. We've looked into his life--I just got a reportfrom Delaney--and he's as straight as a string."
"And the women?"
"With the women it isn't so easy. You see, they were in Europe for sixor seven years, and it's hard to follow them. However, we're on theirtrack, and I have hopes."
"Hopes?"
"Of proving my theory the right one. Depend upon it, Lester, there'seither a lover or a husband in the background somewhere."
But again I remembered the photograph.
"A lover, perhaps," I admitted, "but not a husband, Godfrey. There's nostain like that on her--there's no stain at all. She's spotless--I'llstake my soul upon it!"
He was gazing at me curiously.
"You seem mighty certain about it," he commented.
For an instant, I had an impulse to show him the photograph. But Istifled it.
"I _am_ certain," I answered lamely. "Certain your theory's all wrong."
"Well, I'm going to stick to it till I find a better one."
"Are you going to make it public?"
"No, not till we've something more to back it. We've wired our Europeancorrespondents to look up the record of the women while they wereabroad. We'll wait till we get reports from them, which will beto-morrow or the day after. Let's see if we can find out which way MissLawrence went last night."
We had reached the hotel, and, as he spoke, Godfrey turned into it.
"The ticket agent boards here," he said, "and I took care to makefriends with him. I thought perhaps he might be able to help me. Ah,there he is now. Wait a moment."
He hurried forward and intercepted a well-dressed man who was justleaving the office. I saw them stop for a moment's low-tonedconversation; then Godfrey turned back towards me.
"No," he said, "no luck. Miss Lawrence bought no ticket at the stationhere last night, nor did either of the Kingdons. The agent was on dutyfrom six o'clock till midnight. But he suggests a very simple way inwhich she could have escaped notice, had she wished. She had merely toenter the train without buying a ticket, and pay her fare direct to theconductor. I'm inclined to think that's what she did--providing, ofcourse, that she left town at all."
"I think she's left," I said; "and that's no doubt the way she did it."
"Now, I'll have to say good-bye," he added. "I don't think I shall stayhere much longer--the case isn't worth it. When do you go back?"
"I don't know, yet," I answered. "I've got to have something to take toCurtiss. I can't go back empty-handed."
"I'll let you know if I hear anything," he said. "Our correspondent herewill be on the lookout for developments. My sympathies are all withCurtiss. I want to help you."
"Thank you," I said. "Good-bye."
I watched him for a moment, as he hurried down the street; then I turnedback towards the Lawrence house. Yes, Godfrey evidently wished to helpme; and yet, while he had given me a lot of what he called "interestinginformation," and had treated me to a no-less-interesting theory, he hadonly made the mystery more impenetrable than ever.
"Beg pardon, sir," said a voice, and somebody ran into me.
I glanced up to see that it was a pert-looking boy, wearing a cap with"W. U." on the front. We were just at the Lawrence gate.
"All right," I said. "No harm done," and entered.
Not till I was half-way up the walk, did it occur to me that the boy hadprobably come out of the gate--that he had brought a message--from whom?for whom?
I rang the bell, and a girl admitted me; but it was not Lucy Kingdon,whom I had hoped to see. She showed me into the library, and took mycard. She must have met her mistress in the hall, for it was only amoment before the rustle of approaching skirts announced her. As sheentered, I noticed with a quick leap of the heart that she held crushedin her hand a sheet of yellow paper.
"Good-morning, Mr. Lester," she said, quite composedly, and it wasevident that she had entirely conquered the agitation which had rackedher the evening before. "Sit down, please," and she herself sank into achair. "I've been thinking over what you said to me yesterdayafternoon," she continued, "and I believe that you were right. Mr.Curtiss unquestionably has the right to know what it is that takes hispromised wife away from him, and to decide if he shall permit it to takeher away forever."
"Then it's not _impossible_ that she should be his wife?" I questionedquickly. "Your daughter was mistaken?"
"She perhaps thought it impossible at first; but I don't see it so. Shehas been moved, I should say, by a sense of faithfulness to the dead. Idon't think--I can't think--that he will take it so seriously as shedoes. He will look at it from a man's point of view; he won't shrinkfrom it as she did; besides, he'll see that it is no fault in her, thatshe's just as she always was, sweet, pure, and lovable. She herself willtake it less seriously when she has time to think it over."
"Yes," I agreed, striving to conceal from her the fact that I did not inthe least understand. "No doubt of that. The first shock when she readthe letter----"
"The letter?" she broke in. "Which letter?"
"But I thought you knew!"
"I knew nothing of any letter," she said, her face suddenly white.
"Yesterday morning," I said, "just as Miss Lawrence was going upstairsafter looking at the decorations, a boy came to the door with aspecial-delivery letter from New York. It was addressed to her--marked'Important, read at once.' She took it and came into this room, and itwas here she learned this secret----"
But Mrs. Lawrence was no longer listening. She was sitting there,staring straight before her, her face livid.
"A letter!" she repeated hoarsely. "A letter! I don't understand. Ithought she had been told--I thought that woman had told her--I was sureof it. Yes--that must have been it--I cannot be mistaken--the letter hadnothing to do with it. It was that woman. She had waited all theseyears, and then----"
There was a step at the door, and Lucy Kingdon's dark face appeared. Shewas going past, but at the sight of us, she hesitated, and then stoppedon the threshold.
"Did you call, ma'am?" she asked, shooting me at the same time a glanceso venomous that I recoiled a little.
"No!" said Mrs. Lawrence, and it seemed to me that there was abhorrencein the look she turned upon the other woman. "Yet stay," she addedquickly. "Go to your sister. Tell her I wish to see her--here--at once."
I saw the girl's start of surprise; she half-opened her lips to speak,then glanced at me again and closed them.
"Very well, ma'am," she said, and left the room.
Mrs. Lawrence turned to me, still breathing quickly under the stress ofthe emotion which shook her.
"You must leave me to solve this mystery, Mr. Lester," she said rapidly,"by myself and in my own way. I must find who it is that has dared tomeddle in my family affairs. I was prepared to forgive--but there aresome things which can never be forgiven--however deeply one maypity----"
She checked herself; perhaps she saw the intentness of my interest.
"But that is no concern of yours," she went on more calmly, and I couldnot but admit the justice of the rebuke. "You're seeking Marcia. In thatI would help you, if I could, but I don't know where she is. As soon asI do know, I will summon Mr. Curtiss; I promise you that. Perhaps youwill f
ind her without my help. If you do, tell Mr. Curtiss to go to herand demand an explanation; it is due him, and she has my full permissionto tell him everything. Then let him decide whether she shall be hiswife. We will both bow to his decision."
"But you've heard from her?" I persisted.
"Only this," she answered, and thrust a crumpled piece of paper into myhand, then turned and left the room.
I smoothed it out and read the message at a glance, noting that it wasdated from New York:--
"I am safe. Do not worry. Will write.
"Marcia."