CHAPTER XX THE GREAT MOMENT
The revelation that had come to Lucile as she sat there listening to thefirst notes of a great concerto, led by a famous virtuoso, was sounusual, so altogether startling, that she felt tempted to doubt hersenses.
"Surely," she whispered to herself, "I must be mistaken. There is aresemblance, but she is not that woman. Imagine a great virtuoso, one ofthe famous musicians of our land, being in a department store at twohours before midnight! Fancy her going up and down streets, in and out ofthe stores and shops dressed in all manner of absurd costumes, playingthe star role in a newspaper stunt to increase circulation! Howimpossible! How--how utterly absurd!"
She paused for reflection and as she paused, as if to join her in quietthought, the great musician allowed her flying fingers to come to rest onthe keyboard while a violin soloist did his part.
Then, quick as light, but not too swiftly for Lucile's keen eyes, sheslipped something from her finger, a something that sent off a brilliantflash of light. This she placed on the piano beside the keyboard.
To Lucile, resting as it did against the black of the ebony piano, thisthing stood out like a circle of stars against the deep blackness ofnight. She felt her lips forming the words:
"Don't put it there! A hundred people will see it!"
That dull gray circle with the flashing spot of light was a ring;Cordie's iron ring with its diamond setting. There was no longer a singlevestige of doubt in the girl's mind regarding the identity of the MysteryLady and the Spirit of Christmas. They were one and the same, andtogether they were Patricia Diurno, the celebrated virtuoso.
Somehow Lucile got through that two hours without screaming or jumpingfrom her seat to hurl herself upon the platform, but she will never quiteknow just how she did it. At times she drove the whole affair from hermind to think of other unsolved problems--of Laurie and the lost author;of Cordie, and of Sam. At other times she found herself completelyabsorbed by the wonderful music which poured forth.
The majesty of the music grew as the evening passed. When at last theorchestra struck out into that masterpiece, Tschaikowsky's Concerto in Bminor, she forgot all else to lose herself in the marvelous rise and fallof cadent sound that resembled nothing so much as a storm on a rockboundcoast.
The piano, leading on, called now to the violin to join in, then upon thecello, the bass viols, the cornets, the saxophones, the trombones, thetrap-drums, until all together, in perfect unison, they sent forth such avolume of sound as shook the very walls.
The great virtuoso, forgetful of all else, gave herself completely to hermusic. Turning first this way, then that, she beckoned the laggingorchestra on until a climax had been reached.
Then, after a second of such silence as is seldom experienced save aftera mighty clap of thunder, as if from somewhere away in a distant forestthere came the tinkle, tinkle of the single instrument as her velvettipped fingers glided across the keys.
A single violin joined in, then another and another, then all of them,until again the great chorus swelled to the very dome of the vastauditorium.
This was the music that, like the songs of mermaids of old, charm meninto forgetfulness; that lifts them and carries them away from all dullcare, all sordid affairs of money and all temptation to the mean, the lowand the base.
It so charmed Lucile that for a full moment after the last note had beenstruck and the last echo of applause had died away, she sat therelistening to the reverberations of the matchless music that still soundedin her soul.
When she awoke from her revery it was with a mighty start.
"Where is she?" she exclaimed, leaping from her seat.
"Who?" said Laurie.
"Patricia Diurno! The Mystery Lady! Spirit of Christmas! Where has shegone?"
Staring to right and left, she found her way blocked. Then with thenimbleness of an obstacle racer, she vaulted over four rows of seats todash away through the milling crowd toward the platform.
"Where is she?" she demanded of an attendant.
"Who, Miss?"
"The--the Mystery Lady. No, No! Miss Diurno, the virtuoso."
"Most likely in the Green Room, Miss. Who--who--is some of her folksdead?"
"No, no! But please show me where the Green Room is, quick!"
Leading the way, he took her to the back of the stage, through a lowdoor, down a long passage-way to a large room where a number of peoplestood talking.
A glance about the place told her that Miss Diurno was not there.
"Is this the Green Room?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Then where is she?"
"I don't know, Miss. You might ask him."
He nodded to a large man in an evening suit.
"Where--where is Miss Diurno?" she asked timidly.
"Miss Diurno did not stay. She left at once."
"Gone!" Lucile murmured. "And my opportunity gone with it." Sinkingweakly into a chair, she buried her face in her hands.
This lasted but a moment; then she was up and away like the wind. MissDiurno, the Mystery Woman, Spirit of Christmas, had gone out on theBoulevard. She had promised, through the news columns, to be about theBoulevard until midnight. There was still a chance.
Hurrying back to the now almost deserted hall, she found Laurie andCordie waiting for her.
"Well now, what does this mean?" Laurie laughingly demanded. "Did yourecognize in the hands of some violinist the Stradivarius that was stolenfrom your grandfather fifty years ago?"
"Not quite that," Lucile smiled back. "I did discover that someone hasvanished, someone I must find. Yes, yes, I surely must!" She clenched herhands tight in her tense excitement. "I want you two to promise to walkthe Boulevard with me until midnight, that is, if I don't find hersooner. Will you? Promise me!"
"'Oh promise me,'" Laurie hummed. "Some contract! What say, Cordie? Areyou in on it?"
"It sounds awfully interesting and mysterious. Let's do."
"All right, we're with you till the clock strikes for Christmas morning."
Lucile led the way out of the hall. They were soon out in the cool, crispair of night. There had been a storm but now the storm had passed. Thenight was bright with stars.
To promenade the Boulevard at this hour on such a night was not anunpleasant task. Out from a midnight blue sky the golden moon shoneacross a broad expanse of snow which covered the park, while to the leftof them, as if extending their arms to welcome jolly old St. Nicholas,the great buildings loomed toward the starry heavens.
The street was gay with light and laughter, for was not this the night ofall nights, the night before Christmas?