Read That Affair at Elizabeth Page 14


  CHAPTER XIV

  Recalled to the Front

  Never were slippers and easy-chair more welcome to me than they werethat night. I was thoroughly weary in mind as well as body, and as Idropped into the chair and donned the slippers, I determined to go earlyto bed, and to forget all about the Lawrence enigma. I was heartily gladthat I was rid of it; it had proved so baffling, so discouraging that Irejoiced at the chance which had taken it out of my hands. Burr Curtissmust puzzle it out for himself.

  I fancied I could see him, pacing up and down the deck of the _Oceanic_,staring ahead into the starlit night, bracing himself for that meetingwhich would mean so much to him. I wondered what Marcia Lawrence'sthoughts were. Did she regret that she had fled? Did she already see thefatal error of that step? Ah, if her lover were only beside her, thereon the deck, as he might have been but for that cruel irony of fatewhich had swept her from him! She could not know that he was pursuingher--that he would be the first to meet her as she stepped ashore atLiverpool. How would she bear the shock of that meeting?

  I had bought a copy of the last edition of the _Record_ as I came upfrom dinner, and I shook it out and glanced over it. Apparently Godfreyhad discovered nothing new in the affair at Elizabeth, for the papermade absolutely no reference to it, so far as I could discover. No doubthe had returned to New York immediately after bidding me good-bye; bythis time he was probably deep in the untangling of some other mysteryfor the benefit of the _Record's_ readers. Sensations of to-day eclipsedthose of yesterday, and I realised how quickly Burr Curtiss and hisaffairs would drop from the public mind.

  But as I laid the paper aside, and filled my pipe for a final smokebefore turning in, I told myself that I could scarcely hope that theywould drop so easily from my mind, however much I might wish it;besides, I had left it unsolved and seemingly unsolvable, and a mysteryof that sort is not easily forgotten. It is like an unfinished book, anunsettled case--it lives to oppress the mind and pique the imagination.

  I knocked out my pipe impatiently. The place for me was in bed. I wasbecoming obsessed by this affair. If I did not shake it off, it wouldend by getting such a grip of me that I could not sleep at all, or Iwould fall asleep only to be startled awake again as I had been thenight before. That was truly a terrifying prospect!

  I started for my bedroom, when a tap at my door stopped me. I opened itto find Mrs. Fitch, my landlady, on the threshold.

  "A telegram for you, Mr. Lester," she said, and held it out to me. "Itold the boy to wait."

  "Thank you," I said, and tore open the envelope. "There'll be noanswer," I added, a moment later, and shut the door somewhat hastily Ifear, but Mrs. Fitch's eyes are sharp ones, and I did not wish her tosee my face just then.

  I dropped into my chair and read the message again:--

  "I advise you to return to Elizabeth at once. New developments in which you will be interested.

  "GODFREY."

  "New developments!" Ah, Godfrey knew me well! For already my fatigue wasforgotten in the ardour of the chase, and a moment later I found myselfchanging from slippers to shoes as fast as my fingers could handle thelaces.

  Mrs. Fitch met me on the stair.

  "Not going out again, Mr. Lester!" she protested. "Why, you'll killyourself."

  "I can't help it, Mrs. Fitch," I said. "I've got to go."

  "Not bad news, I hope?"

  "No."

  "And you'll be back soon?"

  "Not to-night, I'm afraid."

  "Oh, nonsense, Mr. Lester----"

  But I left her protesting on the step, and hurried down the street. Mrs.Fitch meant well, but she was sometimes a little in the way.

  I took the elevated to Cortlandt Street, and hurried down to the ferry,expecting every instant to hear the gong which announced the departureof the boat. But I found that I had ten minutes to wait before there wasa train, and I spent them walking feverishly up and down the narrowwaiting-room, where the road's patrons are herded like cattle behind theslatted gates.

  At last the gates opened; there was the usual rush to the boat; the slowcrossing of the wide river, with the cool salt breeze coming in from theocean; the stampede to the coaches through the great Jersey Citystation; and finally I found myself in a seat, with the train rumblingout from under the long shed.

  I stared out into the night, wondering what the new developments couldbe. They must have been unusual and unexpected ones, to stir Godfrey tosending me that telegram! But what _could_ they be? For the present, thecase was closed. Curtiss and Miss Lawrence were both in mid-ocean, andany further developments must await their meeting. Besides, it was onlya few hours since I myself had left Elizabeth, and there had seemed noprospect then of anything further happening there. Godfrey had announcedhis own intention of leaving the place at once--he had said that thecase wasn't worth wasting any more time over. What, then, had detainedhim?

  Was it possible, I asked myself, that Marcia Lawrence had not sailed onthe _Umbria_, that the message had been merely a blind, that she hadforeseen that we would trace it to the West Street office, that she hadwritten it on a sheet of the steamer's paper for the purpose ofdeceiving us? Yes, that was clearly possible. She may have returnedhome, and Godfrey, discovering the return, had summoned me to be presentat her unmasking! I had really only half-believed that it was she whomCurtiss had descried upon the _Umbria's_ forward deck. But if she had,indeed, done all this, she must be far more deeply versed in deceptionthan I had supposed. I should hardly have given her credit for laying aplan so adroit as that; but one can never judge a woman's capabilities.

  Suddenly conscious again of my fatigue, I laid my head back against theseat, and dozed away until the sharp call of the brakeman aroused me.Not until I had left the train did I remember that Godfrey had appointedno rendezvous. He might, perhaps, be awaiting me at the hotel, or, atleast, he had certainly left a message there for me, and I started upthe street.

  But an inquiry of the clerk developed the fact that, while Godfrey wasstill stopping there, he had gone out immediately after dinner, and hadleft no message of any kind. For a moment I was fairly taken aback, soconfident had I been; but perhaps Godfrey had deemed a messagesuperfluous after the hint given in the telegram--I knew how he detestedthe obvious. He had no doubt thought that hint sufficient--and it was.

  Eleven o'clock was striking as I gained the street again, and turned mysteps toward the Lawrence place. If there were indeed any newdevelopments, it must be either there or at the cottage that they hadcome to light. That was self-evident; that could be the only rendezvous;it was there Godfrey was awaiting me. So I walked on rapidly, and in avery few minutes reached my destination.

  The house was dark and gloomy, as it had been the night before. Ientered the grounds and made a careful circuit of the place, but not aglimmer of light could I detect at any of the windows. There was nothingto indicate that any one was stirring, nor did I come upon any trace ofGodfrey, though I half expected to collide with him at any moment.Plainly there was nothing to be discovered here, and at last I turned mysteps toward the path which led to the cottage.

  Then suddenly I stopped, for it seemed to me that I had caught sight ofa dim figure flitting among the trees. I was facing the street, and theglow from the arc lights there made a grey background against which Ifancied I saw a shadow moving. I strained my eyes--yes--there it wasagain, approaching the house along the path.

  I am no more superstitious than most men, yet, for an instant, thenotion seized me like an electric shock, that this was no earthlyvisitant. But I shook myself together, and leaned forward watching itfrom behind a sheltering tree. It went directly to the balcony steps,and mounted them with a swiftness which showed how familiar it was withthe place. Had I been right in my conjecture, then? Had Marcia Lawrencereally come home again?

  The question flashed through my brain like lightning. I had alreadydelayed too much; it was time that I did something!

  In an instant I had gained the path and mounted the steps. One o
f thewindows was open. I passed through it into the library.

  There was a sharp click and, in the sudden flare of light, I foundmyself looking down the barrel of a revolver, behind which glared thesinister face of Lucy Kingdon.