CHAPTER XXIV
The Secret
The dusk of evening was falling as we were ferried across to the city. Ibade Godfrey good-bye, and took a cab direct to my rooms, for I wasweary in body and spirit. But a bath and dinner improved both, and ateight o'clock I was ringing at Mr. Royce's door, for I knew how anxioushe would be to hear my story, and besides, I owed him some reparationfor leaving him alone at the office.
He opened the door himself, and his face brightened at sight of me.
"Why, Lester!" he cried, and shook hands warmly. "Come in. I'm mightyglad to see you."
"I thought you'd like to hear about it," I said.
"Of course I shall. It was like you to think of it."
"I wanted to talk it over with you. It may help to straighten thingsout. I was afraid there wouldn't be time at the office."
"We are rushed there, and that's a fact. Suppose we go up to the den. Wecan talk our talk out, there. Though," he added, as he led the way upthe stair, "we could do that anywhere to-night. I'm keeping bachelor'shall. That affair at Elizabeth so upset my wife that she's gone away tothe mountains to get braced up. Here we are," and he threw open a door.
It was a cheery room, where he had gathered together the impedimentawhich had marked his progress through bachelordom, mementoes of hiscollege days, and such other possessions as were peculiarly his.
"Now," he said, when we were settled, "let's have the story. Of courseI've read the papers, but I hope you won't take that into account."
So I told it step by step, while he listened silently, save for anoccasional exclamation of astonishment.
"It's the most remarkable thing I ever heard," he said, when I hadfinished. "I don't wonder that you believed at first that it had someconnection with the Lawrence affair."
"It was certainly a remarkable coincidence that they should happentogether as they did."
"And the first affair is as deep a mystery as ever?"
"Godfrey says it's deeper than ever. I showed him Miss Lawrence'sphotograph as we came in on the train together, and after he'd looked atit, he said it was the strangest puzzle he'd ever encountered. It'sabsolutely unexplainable."
Mr. Royce smoked for a moment in silence.
"Of course there must be some explanation," he said, "and an adequateone. Marcia Lawrence wouldn't have run away without good and sufficientreason."
"No," I agreed, "but there's one thing certain--whatever the reason, itisn't of a nature to render the marriage impossible. She was probablyoverwrought when she wrote that note to Curtiss--something had upset herso suddenly and completely that she couldn't see clearly."
"How do you know that?"
"Don't you remember her mother's last words to me? She said it would befor Curtiss to decide."
"Yes, I remember. And I think there's no question as to what hisdecision will be."
"No," I agreed. "Most men would be glad to get Marcia Lawrence upon anyterms."
"Not Curtiss--but then he's desperately in love. Maybe he'll be willingto recede a shade or two from his ideal."
"He won't have to recede," I asserted confidently. "She's spotless,whatever the secret."
"I hope so," agreed our junior slowly. "Well, they'll have to fight itout together when they meet on the other side. If I were Curtiss, I'd bemighty shaky about that meeting."
"And I. Of course," I added, "the whole mystery hinges on that letterfrom New York. Godfrey imagined he knew the contents, but the eventshowed how wide he was of the mark. He had a theory that the letter waswritten by a disreputable, blackmailing husband of the girl, whom she'dbelieved dead. That was his theory from the first--the only possibleexplanation, he called it. Then, when he found that a picturesquestranger had asked the way to the Kingdon cottage, he immediatelyconcluded that the letter had appointed a rendezvous, and that MissLawrence had kept it. All of which was afterwards shown to be meremoonshine."
"Not the first part of it," Mr. Royce objected. "There's been nothing todisprove that."
"Nor anything to prove it."
"True--but it has a certain speciousness."
"Yes--all of Godfrey's theories have that. Do you remember what aperfect one he built up in the Holladay case, and how it fell to pieces?Well, I believe this is wilder yet. A look at Miss Lawrence's face willshow you she hasn't any past of that kind. Godfrey himself admits thatnow."
My companion ran his fingers savagely through his hair.
"Of course I don't know anything about it," he said, "but I've alreadytold you how the affair affects me. Trust me, Lester, there's someterrible secret just below the surface. I wanted to say as much toCurtiss, but didn't quite dare. That's why I shiver at the thought ofthat meeting. I pity him when he comes face to face with it. Thatreminds me--I found an old photograph of him the other day." He turnedto his desk and, after a moment's search, brought out a card. "He gaveit to me when we were chums together at college," he added, and handedit over to me.
It showed Curtiss as he was at twenty or twenty-one. The face wasplumper than I knew it, and the skin much fairer. The hair was wornlonger and the absence of beard or moustache revealed fully thesingularly pure lines of the lower portion of the face--a poetic face,yet full of fire and vigour.
"We used to call him 'The Beaut.'," went on my companion. "I told youthat he was rather girlish-looking. Well, see here--here he is as thesoubrette, in a burlesque we got up in senior year."
He handed me a group picture including the whole company. The centralfigure was a charming girl, with admirable arms, hands, shoulders--aninimitable way of holding the head....
"Great Scott!" I shouted, springing to my feet. "Don't you see it? Don'tyou see it, man?"
"See it? See what, Lester?" repeated Mr. Royce, in amazement. "What'sthe matter, old fellow?"
"No, I haven't gone mad," I laughed, as he put a restraining hand on myarm. "It's the key to the mystery," I added, as calmly as I could. "I'mnot going to tell you--I want you to see it for yourself. Come along."
He followed me down to the street without a word, though I could see howhis hand trembled as he took down his hat. I myself was quivering fromhead to foot with excitement--with triumph. What a blind fool I had beennot to suspect it long ago. Godfrey had never seen Curtiss, or he wouldhave known the instant his eyes rested on that photograph!
Luckily, the journey was not a long one, or I could not have kept thesecret.
"Sit there," I said, when we reached my room, and I motioned him to achair near the table. I turned down the light and arranged myproperties--let me confess at once to a secret liking for thedramatic--the unexpected. Then I turned up the light.
"Now look at them," I said, and pointed to the three photographs placedside by side before him.
He stared at them--at Marcia Lawrence; at Burr Curtiss, smooth-faced andgirlish; at the soubrette....
I knew by the sudden deep breath he drew that he understood. There couldbe no mistaking. Feature for feature they would not match at all; butthere was a tone, an expression, that little way of holding the head....
"Of course," he said slowly, at last. "Of course."
How easily it explained Marcia Lawrence's panic, her flight--there couldbe no marriage, no explanation--only flight!
"There's one crucial test," I said, glancing at my watch. "I'll make itthis very evening."
* * * * *
An hour later, I was shown for the third time into the study of Dr.Schuyler at Elizabeth. He was sitting at his desk, just as I had foundhim once before.
"Ah, Mr. Lester," he began.
"Dr. Schuyler," I interrupted, "I've a photograph here which I'm veryanxious for you to see. This is it--whose do you think it is?"
He took it with a glance of astonishment, moved over to the table, andheld it beneath the rays of the lamp.
"Why," he faltered, "why--it reminds me very strongly of young BoydEndicott, as he was when I knew him, thirty years ago."
My heart leaped.
"As a matter of fact, Dr. Schuyler," I said, "it's a photograph of BurrCurtiss, as he was ten years ago."
He stared at me for a moment without understanding, then I saw the lightof comprehension in his eyes, and he sank heavily back into his chair.
"Poor woman!" he murmured hoarsely. "Poor woman!"
And all the way back to New York, I was wondering which of the women hehad meant. Which was the more to be pitied--the woman who, thirty yearsbefore, had been whirled away from her lover by a trick of fortune; orthe younger one, innocent and unsuspecting, discovering, only at thelast moment, the horrible abyss yawning at her feet?
Which of the women had he meant?