CHAPTER XVII MADAME ISIS
"Yep, Miss Avice, I gotter go. Judge Hoyt, he's got me a norful goodplace in a lawyer's office, an' I'm goin' to get quite a bunch o' moneyoffen it. I do hate to leave this little ole town, but I don't wanta trowdown that swell job in Philly. So I come over to say goo'by, an' ifyou'll lemme I'd like to wish you well."
Fibsy was embarrassed, as he always was in the presence of gentlefolk.The boy was so honestly ambitious, and tried so hard to overcome hisstreet slang and to hide his ignorance of better language, that heusually became incoherent and tongue-tied.
"I'm glad, Fibsy," Avice said, for she somehow liked to use his funnynickname, "that Judge Hoyt did get you a good position and I hope you'llmake good in it."
"Yes'm, I sure hope so, but you see I'd doped it out to stay an' help youout on this here case o' yourn. I mean about Mr. Trowbridge--youknow----"
"Yes, I know, Fibsy, and it's kind of you to take such interest, but, Idoubt if so young a boy as you are could be of much real help, and soit's as well for you to go to a good employer, where you'll have a chanceto learn----"
"Yes, Miss Avice," Fibsy interrupted impatiently, "an' I begs you'llfergive me, but I wanta ask you sumpum' 'fore I go. Will you--wouldyou--"
"Well, say it, child, don't be afraid," Avice smiled pleasantly at him.
"Yes'm. Would you--" his eyes roved round the room,--"would you now,gimme some little thing as a soovyneer of Mr. Trowbridge? I was orfulfond of him,--I was."
"Why, of course, I will," said Avice, touched by the request. "Let mesee," she looked about the library table, "here's a silver envelopeopener my uncle often used. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes'm--thank you lots, Miss Avice, and I guess I better be goin'--"
"Terence," and Avice, struck by a sudden thought, looked the boy straightin the face, "Terence, that isn't what you started to ask,--is it? Answerme truly."
The blue eyes fell and then, lifted again, looked at her frankly.
"No, ma'am it ain't. No, Miss Avice, I--I fibbed, I was a-goin' to askyou sumpum else."
"Why didn't you?"
"It was one o' them sudden jerks o' my thinker, 'at makes me fibsometimes, when I least expect to. I dunno what that thing is, but ittrips me up, lots o' times, an', Miss Avice, I always just hafto fib whenit comes, an'--" his voice lowered to a whisper, "an' I'm always glad Idone it!"
"Glad you fibbed! Oh, Terence! I thought Judge Hoyt lectured you aboutthat habit."
"Yes'm, he did, 'm. But there's times when I gotter,--jest simpullygotter, an' that's all there is about it!"
Somewhat shamefaced, the boy stood, twirling his cap.
"You're a funny boy, Fibsy," said Avice, smiling a little at thedisturbed countenance.
"Yes'm, I am, Miss: but honust, I ain't so bad as I look. An' I don'ttell lies,--not up-and-downers. But they's times--yes'm, there sure istimes--oh, pshaw, a lady like you don't know nothin' 'bout it! Say, MissAvice, kin I keep the cutter thing, all the same?"
"Yes, you may keep that" and Avice spoke a little gravely, "and Fibsy,let it be a reminder to you not to tell naughty stories."
"Oh, I don't, Miss, truly, I don't do that. The fibs I tell ain't whatyou'd call stories. They's fer a purpose--always fer a purpose."
The earnestness in his tone was unmistakable, whatever its reason forbeing, and something about him gave Avice a feeling of confidence in histrustworthiness, notwithstanding his reputation.
He went away, awkwardly blurting out a good-by, and then darting from theroom in a very spasm of shyness.
"Funny little chap," said Avice to Eleanor Black, telling her of theinterview.
"Horrid little gamin!" was the response. "I'm glad he's going toPhiladelphia; you were becoming too chummy with him altogether. And Ithink he's too forward. He oughtn't to be allowed to come in the house."
"Don't fuss, Eleanor. He won't be here any more, so rest easy on thatquestion."
And then the two began to discuss again the question that wasall-absorbing and never finished,--the subject of Kane's arrest.
Avice had concluded not to ask Eleanor of her previous acquaintance withLandon, for they had practically joined forces in an effort to prove hisinnocence, and Avice wanted to keep friends with the older woman, atleast until she had learned all Eleanor could tell her in friendship'sconfidences.
So they talked, hours at a time, and not once had Eleanor implied by wordor hint, that she had known Landon in Denver. And yet Avice was sure shehad, and meant to find out sooner or later from Kane himself.
But she rarely had opportunity of seeing him, and almost never alone. Onher infrequent visits to him at The Tombs, she was accompanied by JudgeHoyt, and, too, Landon, was morose and taciturn of late, so that theinterviews were not very satisfactory.
He had been indicted by the Grand Jury, and was awaiting trial in a verydifferent frame of mind from the one he had shown on his arrest.
The prosecuting attorney was hard at work preparing the case. As is oftenthe condition in a great criminal affair, there were antagonisticelements in the matters of detection and prosecution. The districtattorney did not always agree with the police, nor they with the pressand general public.
The personal friends and members of the family, too, had their own ideas,and each was equally anxious to prove evidence or establish a case.
The police had done well, but their work had to be supplemented byWhiting and his own detectives, and evidence had to be sifted andtabulated, statements put in writing and sworn to, and much detail worklooked after.
Avice chafed at the delay, but Judge Hoyt assured her it was necessary,and asserted that he, too, had much to do to prepare his case for thedefence.
So the days dragged by, and one afternoon, when a stranger was announced,Avice said she would see her, in sheer hope of diversion. And a diversionit proved.
The visitor was a middle-aged woman of the poorer class, but of decentappearance and address.
But she had a mysterious air, and spoke only in whispers. Her large darkeyes were deep-set, and glittered as with an uncanny light. Her thin lipsdrew themselves in, as if with a determination to say no more than wasneedful to make known her meaning. Her pale face showed two red spots onthe high cheek bones, and two deep lines between her eyes bespoke earnestintentness of purpose.
"I am Miss Barham," she said, by way of introduction, and paused as iffor encouragement to proceed.
"Yes," said Avice, kindly. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing, Miss Trowbridge. I am here to do something for you." Her voicewas so piercing, though not loud and her eyes glittered so strangely,Avice drew back a little, in fear.
"Don't be scared," said Miss Barham, reassuringly. "I mean no harm to youor yours. Quite the contrary. I come to bring you assistance."
"Of what sort?" and Avice grew a little impatient. "Please state yourerrand."
"Yes, I will. I have had a revelation."
"A dream?"
"No, not a dream--not a vision,--" the speaker now assumed a slow,droning voice, "but a revelation. It concerned you, Miss AviceTrowbridge. I did not know you, but I had no difficulty in learning ofyour position and your home. The revelation was this. If you will go toMadame Isis, you will be told how to learn the truth of the mystery ofyour uncle's death."
Avice curled her lip slightly, in a mild scorn of this statement. Thecaller was, then, only an advertising dodge for some clairvoyant ormedium. A charlatan of some sort.
"I thank you for your thoughtfulness," she said, rising, "but I must begyou to excuse me. I am not interested in such things."
"Wait!" and the woman held out a restraining hand, and something in hervoice compelled Avice to listen further.
"You are perhaps interested in the freedom or conviction of Mr. Landon."
"But I do not wish to consult a clairvoyant regarding that."
"I have not called Madame Isis a clairvoyant."
"Your allu
sion to her gives me that impression. Isn't she one?"
"She is a seer of the future, but she reads the stars. Oh, do not tamperwith fate! If you go to her she will give you definite and exactdirection for finding the real murderer, and it is not the man named KaneLandon. No, it is not!"
The tones were dramatic, but they carried a certain conviction.
"Who are you?" asked Avice. "You do not seem yourself like a fraudulentperson, and yet----"
"I am not! I am a plain American woman. I was a schoolteacher, but I havenot taught of late years. I--I live at home now."
There was a simple dignity in her way of speaking, as if she regrettedthe days of her school work. But she quickly returned to her melodramaticpleading; "Go, I beg of you, go, to Madame Isis. Can you afford not towhen she can tell you the truth, or the way to the truth?"
"What do you mean by the way to the truth? Where is she? No, I will notgo! How dare you come to me with this rubbish?"
Avice was getting excited now. She was suddenly aware of a mad longing tosee this clairvoyant, whoever she might be. It could do no harm, at anyrate. But even as these thoughts went through her brain, came others ofthe absurdity of the thing she was thinking. Go to a clairvoyant to learnhow to save Kane! Well, why not?
"Why not?" said Miss Barham, almost like an echo. "It can do no harm andit will show the way to the light."
"Are you a fraud?" and Avice suddenly stooped and looked into the woman'seyes, taking her off her guard.
"No," she replied so simply and calmly that for the first time Avicebelieved she was not.
"No, I am no fraud. I tell you truly, if you go to Isis, she will tellyou. If you do not, you will never know, and,"--she paused, "you willregret it all your life."
The last words, spoken in an emphatic and impressive manner, wereaccompanied by a nod of the head, and the speaker moved toward the door."That is all," she said, as she paused on the threshold, "I have toldyou. You may do as you choose, but it will be an eternal regret if youfail to do my bidding."
She was gone, and Avice, bewildered, sat quiet for a moment. "Howabsurd," she thought, as soon as she could think coherently at all."Fancy my going to a clairvoyant, or seer or whatever she called her! Andanyway, I don't know where the Isis person is."
Then, chancing to look down at the table near her, she saw a card lyingthere. Immediately she knew what it was and that the woman had left it.She picked it up, and saw the address of a palmist and fortune-teller inLongacre Square.
"I'll never go there," she said to herself, but she put the card away ina book.
It was after only two or three brown studies over the queerness of thething that she started for the address given. She had a subconsciousnessthat she had known all along that she would go, but she had to persuadeherself first. That she had done, almost without knowing it, and now shewas on her way. She had told no one, for she hadn't even yet acknowledgedto herself that she would go in, only that she would go and look at theplace.
It was in an office building, unpretentious and altogether ordinary. Shewent up in the elevator and looked at the door that bore the givennumber. And in another moment she was inside.
It was the usual sort of place, decently furnished, but commonplace ofatmosphere and appointments. There was no attempt at an air of mystery,no velvet hangings or deep alcoves. The room was light and cheerful. AsAvice waited, a young woman came in. She wore a trailing robe and herpale gray eyes had a mystic far-seeing gaze.
"You want a reading?" she asked in a low, pleasant voice.
"I do if you can tell me one thing I want to know," replied Avice, alittle bluntly, for she had no faith in the seer's powers.
"I am Isis," and the clairvoyant or astrologer or whatever she calledherself, looked at her client closely. "I think I can tell you what youwish to know, better, by gazing in my crystal."
She went to her table, and taking a crystal ball from its case set it ona black velvet cushion. Then resting her chin on her hands she staredinto the changing depths of the limpid crystal.
Avice watched her. Surely, if she were a fraud, she had most sincere andconvincing manners. There was no attempt at effect or pretense of occultpower.
After a time, Isis began in her soft, low voice: "I see a man in dangerof his life. He is dear to you. I do not know who he is or what he hasdone, but his life is in grave danger. Ah, there is his salvation. I seea man who can save him. The man who is to save him must be summonedquickly, yes, even at once. Waste no time. Call him to you."
"Who is he?" and Avice breathlessly awaited the answer.
"Fleming Stone. He is the only hope for the doomed man. Fleming Stonewill rescue him from peril, but he must come soon. Call him."
"Who is Fleming Stone? Where can I find him?"
"He is a detective. The greatest detective in the city. Maybe, in thecountry. But he is the one. None other can do it. It is all. You do yourown will, but that is the truth."
Isis turned from the crystal, looking a little weary. She raised her paleeyes to Avice's anxious face, and said, "Will you obey?"
"I don't know. How can I call a detective? I am pretty sure my adviserswill not approve of calling another detective on the case, for it is acase. A criminal affair."
Avice found herself talking to the clairvoyant as if she had known her along time. It seemed as if she had. She could not have said that sheliked the personality of Isis, but neither did she dislike it. She seemedto Avice more of a force than a person. She seemed to have no particularindividuality, rather to be merely a mouthpiece for otherwise unavailableknowledge.
Avice rose to go. "That is all?" she said.
"That is all, but will you not consent to save this man?"
"Is there no hope else?"
"None. It rests with you. You will agree to call Mr. Stone?"
Compelled by the glance, almost hypnotic, that the seeress bent upon her,Avice said "Yes," involuntarily.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"You will tell no one until after you have summoned Stone." This was anassertion rather than a question, and Isis went on. "You can find hisaddress in the telephone book, and then write him a letter. Tell him hemust come to you,--but stay,--can you afford it?"
"Is it a great price?"
"As such things go, yes. But not more than a person in fairly goodcircumstances can pay."
"I can afford it, then."
Avice paid the fee of Madame Isis, and went away in a daze. Not so muchat the directions she had received, as at the fact of this woman knowingabout Kane and knowing that it was a case for a great detective. For itwas, Avice felt sure of that. She had become conscious of late, ofundercurrents of mystery, of wheels within wheels, and she could not restfor vague, haunting fears of evil still being done, of crime yet to becommitted. The whole effect of the clairvoyant's conversation heightenedthese feelings, and Avice was glad to be advised to seek out Stone. Shehad heard of him, but only casually; she knew little of his work and hadbut a dim impression that he stood high in his profession.
She went to the nearest telephone booth and found his address. But sheremembered she had been told to write him, not telephone.
So, not waiting to get home, and also, with a view toward secrecy, shestopped in at one of her clubs, and wrote to Fleming Stone, urging him totake this case, and promising any fee he might ask.
Then, feeling she had burnt her bridges behind her, or, rather that shewas building a new bridge in front of her, Avice went home.