CHAPTER VIII
The Path through the Grove
I had no trouble in finding the path and in following it through thegrove, noting how the trees screened it from the street. I reached ahedge enclosing a garden which the path skirted, and finally a secondhedge, which seemed to be the one bounding the estate. The path led to agate which opened upon the grounds of a cottage just beyond. I could seethat there was a garden and that the cottage was covered with vines, butno further details were discernible.
Suddenly a light flashed out from one of the windows, and I saw a womanmoving about within, no doubt preparing supper. But at that moment, Icaught the sound of hurried footsteps along the path behind me andshrank aside into the shadow of the trees just in time to avoid anotherwoman whom, as she dashed past, I recognised as the dark-faced maid. Shecrossed the garden without slackening her pace and entered the house. Isaw her approach the other woman, pause apparently to speak a word toher, and then the two disappeared together.
What was happening within this house? Was it here that Miss Lawrence hadfound refuge? And as I turned this question over and over in my mind,staring reflectively at the lighted window before me, it seemed to memore and more probable that I had already reached the end of my search.The fugitive must have escaped by some avenue screened from the publicgaze, else she would surely have been noticed. She must have known aplace of refuge before she started; a woman of her self-poise would notrush wildly forth with no goal in view. And, lastly, that goal must havebeen close at hand, or she could not have escaped discovery.
The house before me answered all of these conditions; but how could Imake certain that Miss Lawrence was really there? Suppose I burst inupon her, what could I say? I could not ask her to tell _me_ thestory--indeed, I would not even know her if I met her face to face. Imust see the photograph, first, which Curtiss had promised to leave forme at the hotel.
Besides, I asked myself--and in this matter, I confess, I was verywilling to be convinced--would it not be wiser, more merciful, to waittill morning, till the first shock was past, till she had time to rallya little, to get her calmness back? Then, I could dare to approach her,to show her how she had wronged Burr Curtiss, to persuade her to seehim. It were better for both her and Curtiss that they should not meetfor a day or two; they would have need of all their courage; all theirself-control, for that meeting must reveal a secret which it chilled meto think of. At least, I would try to force no entrance to the cottagenow. I shrank from any show of violence. Curtiss would countenancenothing of that sort.
To approach the cottage now, while the maid was within, would be atactical error--would be to court failure. She could easily prevent myseeing her mistress--she would, no doubt, shut the door in my face. Whyshould I show her that I suspected Miss Lawrence's place of refuge? Whyput her on her guard and urge the fugitive to farther flight? How muchwiser to wait until the maid was absent, till I could make sure ofseeing Miss Lawrence, and then calmly and clearly lay the case beforeher. Yes, decidedly, I would wait. I even found it in my heart to regretthat I had already showed the maid so much of my suspicions. I wouldbetter have kept them to myself.
Convinced by this last argument, I made my way back to the street; andas I passed the Lawrence grounds I was impressed again by their extentand excellent order. At the front gate a curious crowd still lingered,staring at the silent, darkened house, whose drawn blinds gave no hintof life within, or listening to the knowing gossip of three or fouralert young fellows whom I recognised as reporters. There was still apoliceman there, and he was quite willing to be drawn into talk--to tellall he knew, and much that he did not know.
"Who lives in that cottage back yonder?" I asked, after an unimportantquestion or two.
"The Kingdon sisters," he answered. "The youngest one works in theLawrence house--a maid or something."
The crowd had collected about us and was listening with ears intent; Icaught a quick glitter of interest in the eyes of the reporters; so Iended the talk abruptly by asking the way to the Sheridan House.
"Right down this street, sir," he said. "You can't miss it--a big squarebuilding on the corner."
As I thanked him and turned away, I caught the cry of newsboys down thestreet, and in a moment they were among the crowd and were selling theirpapers right and left. Both the _Leader_ and the _Journal_, stirred tounusual enterprise by the day's events, had evidently made use of thelargest and blackest type at their command to add emphasis to theirheadlines. I bought copies of both papers, and hurried on to theSheridan, for I was becoming disagreeably conscious that I had eaten nolunch that day. I found the hotel without difficulty, and afterregistering, sat down in the office and opened the papers. Thereporters, no doubt, would save me a lot of trouble.
The scene at the church had been even more sensational than I hadpictured it, for evidently the Lawrences were a more important familysocially than I had imagined, and the list of guests had beencorrespondingly large. They had gathered, had gossiped, had admired thedecorations and criticised each other's gowns; a murmur of satisfactionhad greeted the whispered announcement that the groom and his best manwere waiting in the study; the organist played a selection or two andthen stopped, expectant, ready to begin the wedding march. The ringingof bells and blowing of whistles announced the noon hour, but the bridehad not arrived. Then, from somewhere, came the sudden whisper thatsomething was wrong. A shiver ran through the crowd as two carriagesdrew up at the church door. Heads were craned and a sigh of relief ranaround as the bridesmaids were seen to alight. But where was the bride?There was no bride! The bride had disappeared!
Uneasiness changed to wonder, wonder to astonishment, as the detailswere gradually gleaned from the exclamations of the excited young women;tongues began to wag, innocently at first, then, inevitably, with atouch of malice, for the bride's action had been a direct affront to allthese people. Many of them, usually well-bred, waited in the hope ofcatching a glimpse of the groom's face as he hurried away. Both he andMrs. Lawrence had been protected from the reporters, but the decoratorand some of the Lawrence servants had evidently made the most of theiropportunities, for the papers had the details of the disappearancesubstantially as I had learned them. And nobody had been found who hadseen the bride leave the house, or had caught a glimpse of her duringher flight.
That was the gist of the information contained in the papers. Both ofthem gave space to much speculation as to the reason for this remarkableevent, but plainly both were wholly at sea and had no theory to fit thefacts. So, finally, I folded them up, put them in my pocket, made ahasty toilet, and went in to dinner. That over, I again sought thereading-room and lighted a reflective cigar.
I had said to Mrs. Lawrence that the cause of her daughter'sdisappearance--the mystery underlying it--did not concern me; yet thatwas by far the most interesting feature of the case. To trace the girlmust prove an easy task--indeed, I fancied it already as good asaccomplished. But to probe the secret--ah, that would not prove so easy!There was no reason why I should attempt it, and yet I could not keep mymind from dwelling on it with a sort of fascination. For I knew it wasno ordinary secret--it was something dark and terrifying--somethingbeside which a woman's happiness and reputation had seemed a littlething.
Before I could hope to make any further progress in that direction, Irealised that I needed to know more of the family--of its history andsocial standing. Besides, I must be armed cap-a-pie before I went tothat interview which I had determined to seek, in the morning, withMarcia Lawrence.
"Beg pardon, sir," said a voice at my elbow, and looking up, I saw thehotel clerk standing there. "This is Mr. Lester, isn't it?"
"Yes," I answered.
"I have a package here for you," he went on, and handed me a squareenvelope. "It was left here for you this afternoon."
"Oh, yes," I said; "thank you," and I slipped the envelope into mypocket. "You've had rather an exciting time here to-day," I added.
"You mean the wedding that didn't come off?" he asked, smil
ing. "It_has_ torn the town wide open, and no mistake."
"So I judged from the papers. The Lawrences are pretty prominent, aren'tthey?"
"Yes; top-notchers; especially in church circles. I'll bet Dr. Schuyleris all broken up."
"Dr. Schuyler?"
"Pastor of their church--First Presbyterian--that big church just downthe street yonder. They've been great pets of his."
"He was to have performed the ceremony?"
"Sure. They wouldn't have had anybody else. Nice old fellow, too.Besides, he's been their pastor for years."
Here was the source I had been looking for--the source from which Imight draw detailed and accurate information, if I could only reach it.
"I suppose that house next to the church is the parsonage," I ventured.I had never seen the church, but it seemed a safe shot.
"Yes; the one this side of it."
I nodded.
"I thought so. Thank you for giving me the package," I added, andglanced at my watch and rose.
"Oh, that's all right, sir," he answered, and turned away to his desk.
As for me, I lost no time in starting out upon my errand. I would seeDr. Schuyler--I would put the case before him, and ask his help. It wasnearly eight o'clock, doubtless well past his dinner hour, and Iresolved to seek the interview at once.
Lights had sprung up along the street, casting long shadows under thetrees which edged either side. The windows of the houses gleamed throughthe darkness, and here and there, where the blinds had not been drawn, Icaught glimpses of families gathered together about a paper, with headseagerly bent. From the dim verandas, I heard the murmur of excitedgossip--and I knew too well what it was all about. To-night, this city,from end to end, could have but a single all-absorbing subject todiscuss--to wonder at and chatter over with that insatiable curiositywhich we inherit from the monkeys.
But I had not far to go. The tall, straight spire of a church told methat I had reached my destination, and I turned in at the gate of ahouse which was unmistakably the parsonage. The maid who took my card atthe door returned in a moment to say that Dr. Schuyler was in his studyand would see me. I followed her and found the clergyman seated beside atable upon which were lying the evening papers. A glance at them showedme what he had been reading, and his perturbed face bespoke great inwardagitation. He was a small man of perhaps sixty years, with snow-whitehair and beard and a delicate, intellectual face. He arose to greet me,my card still in his fingers, and then motioned me to a chair.
"Candidly, Mr. Lester," he said, "I was half-inclined to excuse myself.This has been a trying day for me. But I saw that you had come from NewYork."
"Yes, and on an errand which, I fear, may not be very welcome to you,Dr. Schuyler."
"Not connected with the deplorable affair of to-day, I hope?"
"Yes, sir; connected with that."
"But," and he glanced again at my card apprehensively, "you are nota--reporter?"
"Oh, no," I laughed. "I can easily guess how they've been harassing you.I'm acting for Mr. Curtiss," I added, resolving quickly that the bestthing I could do was to tell him the whole story so far as I knew it,which I did, as briefly as possible. He heard me to the end with intent,interested face. "I think you'll agree with me, Dr. Schuyler," Iconcluded, "that my client is quite right in deciding to demand anexplanation."
"Yes," he answered, after a moment's thought, "I suppose he is--I'm surehe is. It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of--and the mostdeplorable. Until this moment, I had hoped that they had gone away to bemarried elsewhere."
"Hoped?" I asked.
"Yes, hoped. I've seen them together, Mr. Lester, and it seemed to me anideal attachment. I can conceive of nothing which could keep them apart.Has any explanation of it occurred to you?"
"Only one," I said, "that Miss Lawrence has been married before, butthought her husband dead, and discovered that he was still alive only atthe last moment."
But the clergyman shook his head.
"You don't know Miss Lawrence?" he asked.
"No," I answered.
"You would see the absurdity of such a theory if you did."
"I fancied it might have happened when she was very young," I explained;"when she was abroad, perhaps. I've even pictured the man to myself asan adventurer, French or Italian, a man of the world, polished, withoutheart, perhaps even base at bottom--a man who would not hesitate to takeadvantage of her girlish innocence."
My companion smiled faintly.
"I see you have a lively imagination, Mr. Lester," he said. "Don't letit run away with you."
"She would not be the first to succumb to such a one," I retorted.
"No, nor the last, I fear. Have you worked out the rest of the story?"
"Granting the premises, the rest is easy enough. She soon found him outand took refuge with her mother. The scoundrel was bought off anddisappeared. She supposed him dead; but at the last moment, he appearedagain."
Dr. Schuyler had listened with half-closed eyes. Now he opened them andlooked at me amusedly.
"It sounds like some of the yellow-backs I used to read in myunregenerate youth," he commented. "I fancy you must have read them too,Mr. Lester. Now I want you to dismiss that theory," he went on, moreearnestly. "I tell you, once for all, it's ridiculous and untrue. Restassured that whatever the secret is, it does not in any way reflect uponher."
"Then that leaves us all at sea," I pointed out. "There can be noquestion of her love for Curtiss."
"None whatever. As I said, I've seen them together, and I'm sure sheloved him devotedly. Of his feeling for her you have, of course, beenable to judge for yourself. I've looked forward to the wedding with muchpleasure, for it seemed to me the least worldly one that I had ever beenasked to consecrate. It is a singular coincidence, though----" Hestopped suddenly and glanced about the room. "Of course, thisconversation is between ourselves, Mr. Lester?"
"Certainly," I assented. "I would wish to have it so."
"With that understanding, I shall be glad to help you, if I can. I wasabout to say that it is a very singular coincidence that something ofthe same sort happened many years ago to Mrs. Lawrence."