CHAPTER I.
When I met Taylor at the club the other night, he looked so cheerful Iscarcely knew him.
"What is it?" cried I, advancing with outstretched hand.
"I am going to be married," was his gay reply. "This is my last night atthe club."
I was glad, and showed it. Taylor is a man for whom domestic life is anecessity. He has never been at home with us, though we all liked himand he, in his way, liked us.
"And who is the fortunate lady?" I inquired; for I had been out of townfor some time and had not as yet been made acquainted with the latestsociety news.
"My intended bride is Mrs. Walworth, the young widow----"
He must have seen a change take place in my expression, for he stopped.
"You know her, of course," he added, after a short study of my face.
I had by this time regained my self-possession.
"Of course," I repeated, "and I have always thought her one of the mostattractive women in town. Another shake upon it, old man?"
But my heart was heavy and my mind perplexed, notwithstanding the forcedcordiality of my tones, and I took an early opportunity to withdraw bymyself and think over the situation.
Mrs. Walworth! She was a pretty woman, and what was more, she was, toall appearance, a woman whose winning manners bespoke a kindly heart."Just the person," I contemplated, "whom I would pick out for thehelpmate of my somewhat exacting friend, if----" I paused on that if. Itwas a formidable one, and grew none the smaller or less important undermy broodings. Indeed, it seemed to dilate until it assumed giganticproportions, worrying me and weighing so heavily upon my conscience thatI at last rose from the newspaper at which I had been hopelesslystaring, and looking up Taylor again, asked him how soon he expected tobecome a Benedict.
His answer startled me. "In a week," he replied, "and if I have notasked you to the ceremony, it is because Helen is not in a positionto----"
I supposed he finished the sentence, but I did not hear him. If themarriage was so near, of course it would be folly on my part to attemptto hinder it. I drew off for the second time.
But I could not remain easy. Taylor is a good fellow, and it would be ashame to allow him to marry a woman with whom he could never be happy.He would feel any such disappointment so keenly, so much more keenlythan most men. A lack of principle or even of sensibility on her part,would make him miserable. Anticipating heaven, it would not take a hellto make him wretched, a purgatory would do it. Was I right, then, inletting him proceed in his intentions regarding Mrs. Walworth, when shepossibly was the woman who----I paused and tried to call up hercountenance before me. It was a sweet one and possibly a true one. Imight have trusted her for myself, but I do not look for perfection andTaylor does, and will certainly go to the bad if he is deceived in hisexpectations. But in a week! It is too late for interference--only it isnever too late till the knot is tied. As I thought of this, I decidedimpulsively, and perhaps you may say unwisely, to give him a hint of hisdanger, and I did it in this wise.
"Taylor," said I, when I had him safely in my own rooms, "I am going totell you a bit of personal history, curious enough I think to interestyou even upon the eve of your marriage. I do not know when I shall seeyou again, and I should like you to know how a lawyer and a man of theworld can sometimes be taken in."
He nodded, accepting the situation good-humoredly, though I saw by theabstraction with which he gazed into the fire, that I should have to bevery interesting to lure him from the thoughts that engrossed him. As Imeant to be very interesting, this did not greatly concern me.
"One morning last spring," I began, "I received in my morning mail aletter, the delicate penmanship of which at once attracted my attentionand awakened my curiosity. Turning to the signature, I read the name ofa young lady friend of mine, and, somewhat startled at the thought thatthis was the first time I had ever seen the handwriting of one I knew sowell, I perused the letter with an interest that presently becamepainful as I realized the tenor of its contents. I will not quote theletter, though I could, but confine myself to saying that after a modestrecognition of my friendship for her--quite a fatherly friendship, Iassure you, as she is only eighteen and I, as you know, am well ontoward fifty--she proceeded to ask, in an humble and confiding spirit,for the loan--do not start--of fifty dollars. Such a request coming froma young girl, well connected, and with every visible sign of beinggenerously provided for by her father, was certainly startling to an oldbachelor of settled ways and strict notions, but remembering her youthand the childish innocence of her manner, I turned over the page andread as her reason for proffering such a request, that her heart was setupon aiding a certain poor family that stood in immediate need of food,clothes, and medicines, but that she could not do what she wishedbecause she had already spent all the money allowed her by her fatherfor such purposes, and dared not go to him for more, as she had oncebefore offended him by doing this, and feared if she repeated her faulthe would carry out the threat he had then made of stopping her allowancealtogether. But the family was a deserving one and she could not see anymember of it starve, so she came to me, of whose goodness she wasassured, convinced I would understand her perplexity and excuse her--andso forth and so forth, in language quite childlike and entreating,which, if it did not satisfy my ideas of propriety, at least touched myheart, and made any action which I could take in the matter extremelydifficult.
"To refuse her request would be at once to mortify and aggrieve her; toaccede to it and give her the fifty dollars she asked--a sum, by theway, I could not well spare--would be to encourage an action, easilypardoned once, but which if repeated would lead to unpleasantcomplications, to say the least. The third course of informing herfather of what she needed I did not even consider, for I knew him wellenough to be sure that nothing but pain to her would be the result. Itherefore compromised the affair by enclosing the money in a letter inwhich I told her that I comprehended her difficulty and sent withpleasure the amount she needed, but that as a friend I must add thatwhile in the present instance she had run no risk of being misunderstoodor unkindly censured, that such a request made to another man and underother circumstances might provoke a surprise capable of leading to themost unpleasant consequences, and advised her if she ever again foundherself in such a strait to appeal directly to her father, or else todeny herself a charity which she was in no position to bestow.
"This letter I undertook to deliver myself, for one of the curiouspoints of her communication had been the entreaty that I would not delaythe help she needed by trusting the money to any hand but my own, butwould bring it to a certain hotel down town, and place it at thebeginning of the book of Isaiah in the large Bible I would find lying ona side table in the small parlor off the main one. She would seek itthere before the morning was over, and so, without the intervention of athird party, acquire the means she desired for helping a poor anddeserving family.
"I knew the hotel she mentioned, and I remembered the room, but I didnot remember the Bible. However, it was sure to be in the place sheindicated, and though I was not in much sympathy with my errand, Irespected her whim, and carried the letter down town. I had reached MainStreet, and was in sight of the hotel designated, when suddenly, on anopposite corner of the street, I saw the young girl herself. She lookedas fresh as the morning, and smiled so gayly I felt somewhat repaid forthe annoyance she had caused me; and, gratified that I could cut mattersshort by putting the letter directly in her hand, I crossed the streetto her side. As soon as we were face to face, I said:
"'How fortunate I am to meet you. Here is the amount you need sealed upin this letter. You see I had it all ready.'
"The face she lifted to mine wore so blank a look that I pausedastonished.
"'What do you mean?' she asked, her eyes looking straight into mine withsuch innocence in their clear blue depths I was at once convinced sheknew nothing of the matter with which my thoughts were busy. 'I am veryglad to see you, but I do not in the least understand what you mean bythe a
mount I need,' and she glanced at the letter I held out with an airof distrust mingled with curiosity.
"I could not explain myself. If she had been made the victim of aconspiracy to procure money from me, it would not help to preserve thatsweet innocence of hers to know it. So, with a laugh, I put the letterin my pocket, saying:
"'You cut me short in my efforts to do a charitable action. I heard, nomatter how, that you were interested just now in a destitute family, andtook this way of assisting you in their behalf.'
"Her blue eyes opened wider. 'The poor are always with us,' she replied;'but I know of no special family just now that requires any such help asyou intimate. If I did, papa would give me what assistance I needed.'
"I was greatly pleased to hear her say this, for I am very fond of myyoung friend, but I was deeply indignant also against the unknown personwho had taken advantage of my regard for this young girl to force moneyfrom me. I, therefore, did not linger at her side, but, after dueapologies, hastened immediately here, where there is a man employed who,to my knowledge, had once been a trusted member of the police.
"Telling him no more of the story than was necessary to insure hisco-operation in the plan I had formed to discover the author of thisfraud, I extracted the bank-notes from the letter I had written, and putin their place stiff pieces of manilla paper. Taking the envelope sofilled to the hotel already alluded to, I placed it at the openingchapters of Isaiah in the Bible as described. There was no one in eitherof the rooms when I went in, and I encountered only a bell-boy as I cameout; but at the door I ran against a young man whom I strictly forboreto recognize, but whom I knew to be my improvised detective coming totake his stand in some place where he could watch the parlor, and notewho went into it.
"At noon I returned to the hotel, passed immediately to the smallparlor, and looked into the Bible. The letter was gone. Coming out ofthe room, I was at once joined by my detective.
"'Has the letter been taken?' he eagerly inquired.
"I nodded.
"His brows wrinkled and he looked both troubled and perplexed.
"'I don't understand it,' he remarked, 'I've seen every one who has goneinto that room since you left it, but I do not know now any more thanbefore who took the letter. You see,' he continued, as I looked at himsharply, 'I had to remain out here. If I had gone even into the largeroom the Bible would not have been disturbed nor the letter either, soin the hope of knowing the rogue at sight, I strolled about this halland kept my eye constantly on that door, but----'
"He looked embarrassed and stopped.
"'You say the letter is gone?' he suggested, after a moment.
"'Yes,' I returned.
"He shook his head. 'Nobody went into that room or came out of it,' hewent on, 'whom you would have wished me to follow. I should have thoughtmyself losing time if I had taken one step after any one of them.'
"'But who did go into that room?' I urged, impatient at his perplexity.
"'Only three persons this morning,' he returned. 'You know them all.'And he mentioned first Mrs. Couldock."
Taylor, who was lending me the superficial attention of a pre-occupiedman, smiled frankly at the utterance of this name. "Of course she hadnothing to do with such a debasing piece of business," he observed.
"Of course not," I repeated. "Nor does it seem likely that Miss Dawescould have been concerned in it either. Yet my detective told me thatshe was the next person who went into the parlor."
"I do not know Miss Dawes so well," remarked Taylor carelessly.
"But I do," said I, "and I would as soon suspect my sister of adishonorable act as this noble, self-sacrificing woman."
"The third person?" suggested Taylor.
I got up and crossed the floor. When my back was to him I said quietly:
"Was Mrs. Walworth."
The silence that followed was very painful. I did not dare to break it,and he doubtless found himself unable to do so. It must have been fiveminutes before either of us spoke, then he suddenly cried:
"Where is that detective, as you call him? I want to see him."
"Let me see him for you," said I. "I should hardly wish Sudley, discreetas I consider him, to know you had any interest in this affair."
Taylor rose and came to where I stood.
"You believe," said he, "that she, the woman I am about to marry, is theone who wrote you that infamous letter?"
I faced him quite frankly. "I do not feel ready to acknowledge that," Ireplied. "One of those three women took my letter from out the Biblewhere I placed it; which of them wrote the lines that provoked it, I donot dare conjecture. You say it was not Mrs. Couldock. I say it was notMiss Dawes, but----"
He broke in upon me impetuously.
"Have you the letter?" he asked.
I had and showed it to him.
"It is not Helen's handwriting," he said.
"Nor is it that of Mrs. Couldock or Miss Dawes."
He looked at me for a moment in a wild sort of way.
"You think she got some one to write it for her?" he cried. "Helen! myHelen! But it is not so; it cannot be so. Why, Huntley, to have sentsuch a letter as that over the name of an innocent young girl, who butfor the happy chance of your meeting her as you did, might never havehad the opportunity of righting herself in your estimation, argues acold and calculating selfishness closely allied to depravity. And myHelen is an angel--or so I have always thought her."
The depth to which his voice sank in the last sentence showed that forall his seeming confidence he was not without his doubts. I began tofeel very uncomfortable, and not knowing what consolation to offer, Iventured upon the suggestion that he should see Mrs. Walworth andfrankly ask her whether she had been to the hotel on Main Street on sucha day, and if so, if she had seen a letter addressed to Miss N. lying onthe table of the small parlor. His answer showed how much his confidencein her had been shaken.
"A woman who, for the sake of paying some unworthy debt, or ofgratifying some whim of feminine vanity, could make use of a younggirl's signature to obtain money, would not hesitate at any denial. Shewould not even blanch at my questions."
He was right.
"I must be convinced in some other way," he went on. "Mrs. Couldock orMiss Dawes do not either of them possess any more truthful or ingenuouscountenance than she does, and though it seems madness to suspect suchwomen----"
"Wait," I broke in, "let us be sure of all the facts before we go on.You lie down here and close your eyes; now pull the rug up so. I willhave Sudley in and question him. If you do not turn toward the light hewill not know who you are."
Taylor followed my suggestion and in a few moments Sudley stood beforeme. I opened upon him quite carelessly.
"Sudley," said I, throwing down the newspaper I had been ostensiblyreading. "You remember that little business you did for me in MainStreet last month? Something I've been reading made me think of itagain."
"Yes, sir."
"Have you never had a conviction yourself as to which of the threeladies you saw go into the parlor took the letter I left hid in theBible?"
"No, sir. You see, I could not. All of them are well known in societyhere and all of them belong to the most respectable families. I wouldn'tdare to choose between them, sir."
"Certainly not," I rejoined, "unless you had some good reason for doingso, such as having been able to account for the visits of two of theladies to the hotel and not of the third."
"They all had good pretexts for being there. Mrs. Couldock gave her cardto the boy before going into the parlor and left as soon as he returnedwith word that the lady she called to see was not in. Miss Dawes gave nocard but asked for a Miss Terhune, I think, and did not remain a momentafter she was informed that that lady had left the hotel."
"And Mrs. Walworth?"
"She came in from the street adjusting her veil, and upon looking aroundfor a mirror, was directed to the parlor, into which she at oncestepped. She remained there but a moment and when she came out passeddirectly into the
street."
These words disconcerted me; the mirror was just over the table in thesmall room, but I managed to remark nonchalantly:
"Could you not tell whether any of these ladies opened the Bible?"
"Not without seeming intrusive."
I sighed and dismissed the man. When he was gone I approached Taylor.
"He can give us no assistance," I cried.
My friend was already on his feet, looking very miserable.
"I know of but one thing to do," he remarked. "To-morrow I shall callupon Mrs. Couldock and Miss Dawes and entreat them to tell me if for anyreason they undertook to deliver a letter mysteriously left in the Bibleof the ---- Hotel one day last month. They may have been deputed to doso, and be quite willing to acknowledge it."
"And Mrs. Walworth? Will you not ask her the same question?"
He shook his head and turned away.
"Very well," said I to myself, "then I will."
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