XXIV
ROGER'S APPOINTMENT AT THE CLUB
Roger Sands dined alone at his club that night. Many men hailed him ashe came in, very late, and in sixty seconds he received six invitationsto dine. He refused them all, however.
It was with the hope of meeting a certain man that Roger had gone to theclub. He had excused himself to Beverley on the plea of an appointment,because he had wanted to be alone, and had no intention of dininganywhere.
It was upon an impulse that he had taken the sealed envelope addressedto Justin O'Reilly. Afterward, he felt that his whole course of conduct,from the moment he had entered the room till the moment he had left theflat, was radically wrong. He ought, perhaps, to have shown himself toBeverley when she came in, despite Miss Blackburne's appeal. If he haddone this, he would have learned the truth about that envelope. Seeingher husband at such a moment, Beverley must have betrayed herself, Rogerthought, if there were anything to betray in connection with theenvelope. Had its concealment been important, she would mechanicallyhave sprung to hide it. Had it been left inadvertently by O'Reilly, forno concern of hers, Beverley's ignorance of his presence, or herindifference, would have cleared her in Roger's eyes.
He could not contemplate confessing to Beverley that he had hiddenhimself and then taken the envelope. She would probably say: "I neverdreamed that you'd be mean enough to spy upon me! Why didn't you showyourself, like a brave man, instead of hiding?"
No, he would not tell Beverley that he had been a witness of the scenebetween her and the pearl-stringer; nor that he was responsible for thevanishing of O'Reilly's envelope. Let her think what she liked about itsloss, just as he--Roger--was free to think what he liked about the lossof the pearls! He would wait for Beverley to tell him that the pearlswere gone. Her carelessness, to say the best of it, her ingratitude anddisloyalty, to say the worst, gave him the right to keep his knowledgeto himself. He would wait and see what Beverley meant to do. Then hedecided to send back the sealed letter to O'Reilly. Ten minutes afterleaving home he had given the envelope to a messenger, with directionsto take it at once to the Dietz.
It was when he had thus disciplined himself, that Roger turned towardthe club. A man who was an old acquaintance of Roger's, and a friend ofO'Reilly's, often dropped in there on a Sunday evening. Possibly hewould come that night. Roger had thought of a question to ask. He sawthat there might be a way to getting even with O'Reilly, a way just asefficacious, and more open, than the one he had sacrificed.
While he pretended to dine and read an "evening edition," a hatefullittle voice in Roger's brain chirped suggestions to him. What ifBeverley had somehow been in O'Reilly's power? What if she had writtenhim love letters which afterward she wished to get back, and he refusedto surrender? What if she had contrived to steal them, and O'Reilly hadfollowed, for reprisals? What if, since then, the man had been torturingher, and Clodagh Riley (a poor relation of Justin O'Reilly's, perhaps)had been acting as a go-between? What if the girl had pretended illnessas an excuse to bring O'Reilly into the flat, and the man had frightenedBeverley into giving him the pearls?
He was sipping his demi tasse, and had ceased to expect the man hewanted, when that man walked into the room. Before he could sit down ata neighbouring table Roger hailed him; a small, dark man of Jewish type,a man of forty-five, perhaps, with the brilliant eyes of a scientist andthe arched brows of a dreamer.
"Hello, Doctor Lewis! I've been hoping you'd blow in!" Sands saidcordially. "Won't you dine with me?"
"But you've finished. I'd be keeping you."
"I want a talk with you, my dear chap," Roger assured him.
The doctor sat down at Sands' table.
"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain,"but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I wasasked to stop and see--whom do you think?"
"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he wasthere."
"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends ofO'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed."
"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz.Your patient was one of those two--Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don'tsomehow see Heron 'collapsing.'"
"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, butMrs. H---- was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, ofcourse?"
"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly.
"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many peoplethought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business inCalifornia, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and broughtHeron out on top. Your reward was great!"
Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph,and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great.
"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor.
"Not yet," said Sands.
"Well, he's hardly more than just arrived. Heron's a wiry chap. It needsa good deal to knock him over. If it had happened last summer, or fall,when the big row was on, there'd have been plenty of excuse, as Mrs.Heron remarked. It appears the two had been quietly sitting togetherdown below, in the big hall, watching the crowd, and waiting for JustinO'Reilly to go in with them to dinner. Mrs. H---- sent Heron back totheir bedrooms to find something she'd forgotten. She got scared at lastwhen time passed and neither Heron nor O'Reilly came down. She went tosee for herself what was up, and found her husband in a fainting fit.She 'phoned just as I was leaving my other patient, and by the time Iarrived on the scene O'Reilly had floated in from the next-door suite.He'd been out while the Herons thought he was dressing to dine withthem. All's well that ends well. Heron will be as brisk as ever in a dayor two."
"I'm glad to hear that," Roger said, gravely. "As you say, Heron's not aman to be knocked over easily. Last year, when I was in California, hecame within an ace of being shot one night, and never turned a hair."
"His wife was asking him, when he came to, a lot of questions. Heronwouldn't want to worry her, naturally. Didn't she have some great shocklast summer, or fall, while you were out West? A brother who was killed,or killed himself?"
"A brother who died suddenly. There was no proof of violence. The youngman's death occurred the day I left, and not in California, but in NewMexico--near the town of Albuquerque, at a house belonging to Mrs.Heron. The Herons haven't been married many years," Roger went on. "Notmore than eight or ten. Mrs. Heron can't be much over thirty. I neversaw the brother. He was something of an invalid, and lived always at theAlbuquerque place. His handsome sister stayed with him sometimes. He wasa few years younger than she."
Sands had the air of giving these details somewhat grudgingly, as aconcession to the very evident curiosity of Lewis: but having satisfiedit as far as necessary, he turned the conversation to his own affairs:the affairs, in fact, which had suggested to him this meeting with thedoctor.
"Whenever I have leisure just now I cut down to Newport to see how thedecorators get on with an alleged 'cottage' I've bought there for mywife," he said. "It's been quite an amusement to me for the past fewweeks. I'm tired of living in an apartment, though ours isn't bad, asflats go. I want a house, and I want an old one, or my wife does, with alittle romance of history attached to it. I'd like to get hold of one,as a surprise for her. I know there aren't many in the market. I supposethere's nothing good down in your neighbourhood?"
"Well, as you know, Gramercy Park and all round there has been prettythoroughly modernized," said Lewis, who lived in a big new house ofapartments, not far from Gramercy Park. "The only fine, old-fashionedmansion I can think of, that would just suit you is Miss TheresaO'Reilly's--a patient of mine--when she's any one's patient. Do you knowanything about the ancient dame?"
Roger knew so much that he had waited for Lewis entirely for the reasonthat Miss Theresa O'Reilly was a patient of his.
"Isn't she related to your friend, Justin O'Reilly?" he inquired.
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"She's a distant cousin. As for the house, Justin feels that it ought tobe his. I have this from her, not from him. The old lady told me theother day that she heard Justin had been hoarding up his money to buythe house, and was coming to New York on purpose to talk matters over,but she would refuse to see him."
"A cranky old bird!" Sands sympathized.
"You're right. Last year she mentioned to several people, me amongothers, that she thought of offering the place for sale if she could geta good price, because the New York climate gave her rheumatism, andshe'd like to try the French Riviera. But the minute she'd spoken tome--a friend of Justin's--she could have cut out her tongue. You see,Justin's great-great-grandfather built the house: an Irishman who cameover before the Revolution, and fought with the Americans against theEnglish. It remained in the family till a few years before Justin'sbirth, when his father was obliged to sell through poverty, and move outWest. This old lady, Theresa O'Reilly, was the purchaser. She was, ofcourse, a youngish woman then, though no chicken. The story is that sheloved Justin's father, and tried to catch him with her money--she was arich heiress. He was on the point of engaging himself when he felldesperately in love with a poor girl Theresa employed as socialsecretary, or something of the sort. Out of revenge, Theresa went towork in secret ways to ruin Justin Senior, who was a gay, carelessfellow, without too much money to lose, or too much patience to makemore. She's said to have put men up to lead him into bad investments.Anyhow, she got the house, and California got the man and his family. Iimagine there was a hard struggle out there at first. Young Justin hashad to carve his own fortune: his father and mother, and an olderbrother, died when he was a boy. All this long story came out of yourwanting an old house. It can't have interested you much, I'm afraid!"
"Certainly, there's enough romance attached to that house!" said Roger,with a short laugh. "But Miss O'Reilly has changed her mind, and won'tsell?"
"So she assures me," answered Lewis. "You see, she couldn't be sureJustin wasn't standing behind a dummy buyer, now she knows he'sdefinitely after the place, and able to purchase for a decent price. Itake it that in the circumstances she won't sell to any one. Perhaps shenever meant to when the test came."
"So poor O'Reilly wants the home of his ancestors?"
"He does. I've known of that dream for years. He told me once he'd grownup with it."
Roger made his comment upon this: but he determined to write to MissO'Reilly the moment Lewis had gone.