Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER III.

  THE STORY OF A CRIME.

  Nurse Hagar was displeased. She plied her knitting-needles fiercely,and seemed to rejoice in their sharp clicking. She rocked furiouslybackwards and forwards, and sharply admonished the cat to "takehimself away," or she "would certainly rock on his tail." She "wantedto do something to somebody, she did!" She looked across the fields inthe direction of Oakley, and dropping her knitting and bringing herchair to a tranquil state, soliloquized:

  "It's always the way with young folks; they don't never remember thatold uns have feelings. They run away after a new face, and if it's ayoung one and a handsome one, they turn everybody out of theirthoughts; everybody else. Not that I think that city fellow's ahandsome chap; by no means," she grumbled; "but Maidie does; that'scertain sure. And she won't let me say a word about him--oh, no; I'm apoor old woman, and my advice is not wanted!"

  Hagar resumed her knitting and her rocking with fresh vigor. But herface relaxed a measure of its grimness as, looking up, her eye restedon a dainty nosegay, tossed in at the window only that morning, bythis same neglectful young girl.

  "She don't mean to forget me, to be sure," she resumed. "She is alwayskind and gentle to her old nurse. She is lonesome, of course, andshould have young company, like other girls, but--" here the needlesslacked again--"drat that city chap! I wish he had stayed away fromBellair."

  "Goodness, auntie, what a face! I am almost afraid to come in."

  Madeline laughed, despite her anxiety, as Aunt Hagar permitted heropinion of the "city feller" to manifest itself in every feature.

  "Get that awfully defiant look out of your countenance, auntie,"continued Madeline; "for I'm coming in to have a long talk with you,and I must not be frightened in the beginning."

  The lovely face disappeared from the open window, and in a momentreappeared in the doorway.

  To permit herself to be propitiated in a moment, however, was not inthe nature of Dame Hagar.

  "I s'pose you think it's very respectful to pop your saucy head in atan old woman's window, and set her all of a tremble and then tell her,because she is not grinning for her own amusement, that she looksawfully cross, and that you are afraid she will bite you. You are anice one to talk of being afraid; you, who never showed an atom offear of anything from your cradle up. If you were a bit afraid, whenyou were out in the woods, for instance, and meet a long-legged animalwith a smooth tongue, and eyes that ought to make you nervous,'twouldn't be to your discredit, I think. Of course, I don't mean tosay that you don't meet him quite by accident; oh, no! And I don't_say_ that he ain't a very nice, respectable sort of chap, whatever Imay _think_. You are just like your poor mother, and if this fellowwith a name that might as well be Devil, and done with it--"

  "There, now, auntie--" Madeline's face flushed, and she put the catdown with sudden emphasis; "I won't let you say bad things of Mr.Davlin, for I think you would be sorry for it afterward."

  She drew a low seat to the side of the old lady, and looking her fullin the face, spoke in a voice low, intense, full of purpose.

  "Auntie, it is time you told me more about my mother. You have evaded,my step-father has forbidden, my questioning, but if I am ever to knowaught of my dead mother's history, I intend to hear it from your lipsto-day."

  Surprise for a time held the old woman speechless; a look of sorrowand affection drove the querulousness out of her face and voice.

  "What ails you, child?" she said, wonderingly. "Do you want to makeMr. Arthur hate me more, and keep you from me entirely? Don't youknow, dearie, how he swore that the day I told you these things, hewould forbid you to visit me; and if you disobeyed, take you awaywhere I could not even hear of you?"

  Tears were in Hagar's eyes, and she held out her wrinkled handsimploringly. "Don't tease your old nurse, dearie; don't. I can't tellyou these things now, and they could not make you any happier, child.Wait a little; the time will come--"

  "So will old age, auntie; and death, and all the knowledge we want, Isuppose, when it is too late to make it profitable. Well, auntie, Iwill tell you something in exchange for my mother's story, and to makeit easier for you to relate it. But first, will you answer a fewquestions?--wait, I know what you would say," as the old woman made adeprecating movement, and essayed to speak. "Hear me, now."

  Hagar looked at the girl earnestly for a moment, and then said,quietly:

  "Go on then, dearie."

  "First," pursued Madeline; "my father dislikes me very much; is thisthe truth?" Hagar nodded assent.

  "He dislikes you because you were always good to me." Here she paused,and Hagar again nodded.

  "Because you were attached to my mother." Again she paused, and againthe old woman bowed assent.

  "And because"--the girl fixed the eyes of the old nurse with herown,--"because you were too familiar with my mother's past, and his,and knew too well the secret of his hatred of me!"

  Hagar sat silent and motionless, but Madeline, who had read her answerin the troubled face, continued: "Very good; I knew all this before,and I'll tell you what else I know. I know why Mr. John Arthur hatesme!"

  Hagar opened her mouth, and shut it again quickly.

  "He hates me," pursued Madeline, "because my mother left him herfortune so tied up that he can only use it; never dispose of it. Andat his death it reverts to me."

  Hagar still looked her amazement, and Madeline condensed the remainderof her force into one telling shot.

  "If I would be kind enough to die, he would consider it a great favor.But as I evidently intend to live long, he desires, of course, to seeme happy. Therefore he has bargained me in marriage to Amos Adams, forthe splendid consideration of a few thousand dollars, and the promiseof a few thousand more _if I die young_!"

  Still the bewildered look rested upon the old woman's face, and stillshe gazed at the young girl before her. Suddenly, she leaned forward,and taking the fair head between two trembling hands, gazed long ather. As if satisfied at last with her scrutiny, she drew a deep,sighing breath and leaned back in her chair.

  "It's true," groaned Hagar; "it's too true! She has found it out, andmy little girl has gone away;--my Baby Madeline is become a woman!There was never a coward in all the race, and a Payne never forgave!It has come at last," she wailed, "and now, what will she do?"

  Madeline lost not a look nor tone; and when the old woman ceased herrocking and moaning, she suggested, with a half smile:

  "Hadn't I better marry old Adams, auntie, worry them both intountimely graves, and be a rich young widow?"

  Hagar gazed at her in silence. And Madeline, taking her hand in herown, said: "Shall I tell you how I discovered all this, auntie, dear?"

  "Yes, child; go on." And she bent upon the girl a look of attention.

  Madeline drew close to her side, and briefly related what hadtranspired while she sat in her favorite tree; not stating, by thebye, how it occurred that she was in the grove at that very opportunetime. Hagar's indignation was unbounded, but she continued to gaze atMadeline in a strange, half fearful, half wondering, wholly expectantway, that the girl could not interpret.

  "And now, Aunt Hagar," pursued Madeline, seriously, "I want tounderstand this matter more fully, and I will not say a word of myplans until you have told me what I came to hear. I shall not come toyou again for this information; it is surely my right, and time now isprecious."

  Madeline half rose, seeing that her nurse still rocked dismally andlooked irresolute. "I can bide my time, and fight my battles alone, ifneed be," she continued, coldly. "I won't trouble you again, nurse,"turning as if to go.

  "Stop, child!" cried Hagar; "let an old woman think. I'll tell you allI can; all I know. Don't turn away from your old nurse, dearie; heronly thought is for your good. Yes; you must not be left in the darknow,--sit down child; sit down."

  Madeline resumed her seat, and old Hagar, after another season ofmoaning and rocking, proceeded to relate, with many wanderings fromthe point, and many interpolations and opinions of her
own, the brief,sad story of Mrs. Arthur's married life and early death. Bereft ofHagar's ornamental extras, it was as follows:

  Madeline Harcourt, an orphan, and the adopted daughter of a wealthybachelor uncle, had incurred his displeasure by loving and marryingLionel Payne, handsome, brave to a fault, with no other wealth thanhis keen intellect, his unsullied honor, and his loving, manly heart.

  "I can bide my time, and fight my battles alone if needbe."--page 30]

  Lionel Payne had entered upon the study of law, but circumstancesthrew in his way certain mysteries that had long been puzzling theheads of the foremost detectives, and the young law studentdiscovered in himself not only a marked taste for the study ofmysteries, but a talent that was remarkable. So he gave up his lawstudies to become a detective. He rose rapidly in his new profession,giving all the strength of his splendid ability to the study ofintricate and difficult cases, and became known among detectives, anddreaded among criminals, as "Payne, the Expert."

  He had lived two happy years with his young wife, and been six monthsthe proud father of baby Madeline, when he fell a victim to hisdangerous pursuit, shot dead by a bullet from the hand of a fleeingassassin.

  John Arthur had been a fellow law student with Lionel Payne, and hehad followed the career of the young expert with curious interest,being, as much as was possible to his selfish nature, a friend andadmirer of the rising young detective. And Lionel Payne, open andmanly himself, and seeing no trace of the serpent in the seemingdisinterestedness of Arthur, introduced him proudly into his happyhome. Arthur was struck by the beauty of the young wife, and became afrequent and welcome visitor.

  One day, there came to the office where John Arthur earned his breadreluctantly, as a salaried clerk, the uncle of Madeline Payne. He hadcome to make a will, in which he left all his possessions to hisbeloved niece, Madeline, and her heirs forever after. This was severalmonths before the sudden death of Lionel Payne.

  Ten months after she became a widow, Madeline's uncle died. Left alonewith her little child, and with no resources but her own efforts,Madeline's mother struggled on, ever the object of the kindwatchfulness and unobtrusive care of John Arthur, who professed toadore the child for the sake of the father, and through the babyMadeline, gradually won his way in the mother's esteem. Mrs. Payne wasdeeply grateful, and her mother's heart was touched by the devotion ofArthur to her little child. So it came about that, after a time, shegave him her hand, and all of her heart that was not buried withLionel. A little later she learned that her uncle was dead, and shebecame mistress of a handsome fortune.

  Soon came the knowledge that her husband's heart was not all gold, andthe suspicion, as well, that her uncle's will and its purport had longbeen no secret to him. But, partly from force of habit, and partlybecause he was not yet quiet hardened, John Arthur kept up his farceof affection for the child. And while his wife awoke to a knowledge ofmany of his short-comings, she always believed in his love for herlittle one.

  The two elements that were strongest in the nature of John Arthur wereselfishness and pride. From his youth up his idols had been gold andself. Born into the world minus that "golden spoon" for which hesighed in youth, and schemed in later years, he had ever felt towardssaid world a half-fledged enmity. As he reached the age of manhood,his young sister was formally adopted by the only surviving relativesof the two; and becoming in due course of time and nature solepossessor of a very nice little fortune, afterwards held her head veryhigh. Later, in consequence of some little indiscretions of herbrother at the time when he was set free in the world--the result ofthe popular superstition held by him that "the world owed him aliving,"--she held herself aloof from and ignored him completely.

  By degrees Mrs. Arthur's eyes became opened to the true character ofthe man she had married. Moments she had of doubting, and then offearing that she wronged him too deeply, for her nature was a justone. It was in one of these latter moods that she made her will,before she had become aware that even his love for her little girl wasonly a well acted lie; believing her secure of love and care duringhis life, she made sure that, at his death, her darling should besupplied with all that money could give. She had long been in thefatal toils of that dread destroyer, heart disease, and suddenly,before she had found opportunity for securing her little daughterfurther, as she had since begun to realize it was needful to do, shewas seized with a paroxysm that snapped the frail cord of life.

  A short time before her death, she had given into the keeping of oldHagar, a package, to be delivered to little Madeline when she shouldbecome a woman, and with the express wish that, should John Arthurprove a kind guardian meanwhile, she would burn the journal itcontained, unread.

  Old Hagar now placed in Madeline's hands the package, which was foundto contain her mother's most valuable jewels, and the tear-stainedjournal, which the girl seated herself to peruse, with sorrowful awe.

  The last page being turned, and the sad life of her mother fullyrevealed, Madeline bowed her head and wept bitterly, heedless of theattempt of old Hagar to comfort her, until the name of her step-fatherupon the old woman's lips brought her suddenly to her feet, the tearsstill on her cheeks, but her eyes flashing, and on her countenance alook that might have been a revelation to John Arthur, had thatgentleman been there to see. Taking the old woman's hand, and holdingit tightly in her own, the girl said:

  "Thanks, auntie, for recalling me. I have no time for tears now.Listen, and don't interrupt me. My poor mother died with a heartfilled with fears for my future, left to that man's keeping. At thetime of her death, he believed himself her unconditional heir. Shefeared for her life with him, and her sickness was aggravated in everypossible manner by him, and I fully believe that, in intent if not indeed, John Arthur is my _mother's murderer_!"

  The old woman's face expressed as plainly as words could do, that sheshared in this belief. The girl went on, in the same rapid, firm tone:

  "He killed the mother for gold, and now he would sell her child. Hewill fail; and this is but the beginning. As he drove my mother intoher grave, I will hunt him into his! He shall suffer all that shesuffered, and more! I know where you obtained your independence now,Aunt Hagar; and he hates you doubly because my mother's love providedfor you a home, and for her child a haven in time of need. It waswell. Keep the old cottage open for me, Aunt Hagar. Keep an eye onJohn Arthur, for my sake. Never fear for me, whatever happens. Expectto hear from me at any time, to see me at any moment. Don't answer anyquestions about me. A thousand thanks for all your love and kindness,auntie; good-by."

  Before the old woman could recover from her astonishment, or utter aword, Madeline had kissed her, swiftly taken up the precious package,and was gone! Hagar hastened to the door, but the girl was speedingswiftly down the path, and was quickly lost to view.

  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" moaned Hagar, seating herself in the doorway; "herfather's passion and her mother's pride! Sorrow and trouble beforeher, and she all alone; dark, dark, dark; the world against her!Sorrow and trouble--it's in the blood! And she'll never give it up!She'll fight her wrongs to the bitter end. Oh, my precious girl!" andshe buried her head in her apron and wept.

  The sun's last ray had faded from the highest hill-top. The littlebirds had folded their wings and hushed their warblings. Dark cloudscame sweeping up from the west, and one, heavy and black, passed abovethe roof of Oakley, bent down, and rested there. Hagar, stillsorrowing in the doorway, saw and interpreted. Dark days to come tothe master of that overshadowed house. Dreary days and bitternights--ah, how many, before that cloud should be lifted from over it,or light hearts beat beneath its roof.

  "I beg pardon, madame, you appear in trouble; perhaps I intrude?"

  It was Lucian Davlin's soft, lazy voice, and that disagreeable halfsmile lurked about the corners of his eyes and mouth.

  "I've had more welcome visitors," said the old woman, with more truththan politeness, and rubbing her eyes with the corner of her apron,"what do you want?"

  "Only a small matter of information, w
hich I believe you can give me."

  "Well," said Hagar, testily.

  "I want to make a few inquiries about Mr. Arthur of Oakley."

  "About Miss Madeline, I suppose you mean. I won't tell you a word--"

  "My dear, good woman, I don't ask nor wish any information regardingthat young lady--my inquiries solely concern the father. He is said tobe wealthy!"

  "What is John Arthur or his money to you?" she questioned, eying himwith much disfavor.

  "Nothing whatever," he indifferently replied. "I merely inquire onbehalf of a friend."

  "I'll throw him off the scent if he does mean Madeline," thought theold woman.

  "Well, Mr. whatever your name is, if it will satisfy your friend toknow that Mr. John Arthur is master of Oakley, and everybody knowsthere's no finer property in the State, and that he has a yearlyincome of ten thousand or more, why, tell him or her so. And you mayas well say, at the same time, that he is too stingy and mean to keepthe one in repair, or spend decently the other. And when hedies"--here she suddenly checked herself--"well, when he dies, hisheirs, whoever they may be, will inherit all the more because of hismeanness."

  "And who, pray, may be his heirs?"

  "How should I know who a stingy old reprobate will choose to inheritafter him? I think he has a sister somewhere, but I don't know."

  "H'm, thank you--for my friend. Good-night."

  Smiling that same Mephistophelian smile, Lucian Davlin sauntered away,apparently satisfied with himself and what was passing in his mind.

  "He'll do," he muttered; "and she'll do him. It will be a good thingfor her, just now, and very convenient for me into the bargain. Cora'sa marvellously fine woman, but little Madeline is fresh as a rose, anda few months of the city will make her sharp enough. Only let me keepthem apart; that's all." Satisfaction beamed in his eye and smiled onhis lip. "Pretty Madeline will be the envy of half the boulevard."

  Now he has neared the trysting tree. "I think I'll just smoke here,and wait for my pretty bird; this is the place and almost the time."

  He smoked and he waited; the time came, and passed; his cigar expired;the shadows deepened--but still he waited.

  And he waited in vain. No light form advanced through, the gatheringnight; no sweet voice greeted him.

  The time was far past now, and, muttering an oath, the disappointedlover strode away, and was lost in the night.

  Madeline was standing in her own room, the threshold of which JohnArthur had never crossed since the day when a silent form was bornefrom it, and laid in that peaceful home, the churchyard. She had justreceived the summons, for which, only, she lingered--the command ofMr. Arthur to attend at the altar of hospitality, and pour, for Mr.Amos Adams, the tea.

  She was attired in a neat dark garment which was vastly becoming. Shehad made her toilet with more than usual care, as if, perhaps, to dohonor to her ancient suitor--at least so thought Mr. Arthur, when shepresented herself before him.

  She had put her chiefest treasures in a little, a very little,travelling bag. And now she threw across her arm a large cloak, tookher hat, veil, and bag, and descended softly to the hall below. It wasfaintly lighted from the lower end, and Madeline deposited herbelongings in a darkened niche near a door, peeped put into the nightthat had come on cloudy and starless, and entered the room wherewaited the two conspirators, and supper.

  John Arthur was more bland and smiling than Madeline had ever beforeknown him, while as for old Amos, he nearly lost himself in a maze ofgrins and chuckles, but displayed a very unloverlike appetite,nevertheless, and divided his attention pretty evenly between thebeautiful face of Madeline, and the viands on the table.

  Madeline betrayed no sign of surprise at her step-papa's unwontedcordiality, and no annoyance at the ogling and chuckling of herantiquated suitor. In truth, she favored him with more than oneexpressive smile, the meaning of which he little guessed, as shecontrasted him once more with handsome Lucian Davlin, and smiled againat the picture of his coming defeat.

  The meal was partaken of in comparative silence, all apparently quitesatisfied with their own thoughts--ah, how different! It was not untilold Jane, the servant, had been dismissed that Mr. Arthur drew hischair a trifle nearer that of his friend, and leaning his arms uponthe table, looked across at Madeline, and said:

  "My dear, I believe you are aware of the honor this gentleman desiresto confer upon you? I think I have hinted at the truth upon one or twooccasions?"

  Madeline veiled her too expressive eyes behind their long lashes, butmade no reply.

  "It is my desire," he continued, surveying with satisfaction theappearance of humility with which his words were received, "and thedesire of Mr. Adams as well, that we should come to a satisfactoryunderstanding to-night. We will, therefore, settle the preliminariesat once:--this is your desire, I think, Mr. Adams?"

  "Oh, certainly! Oh, yes, yes," ejaculated old Amos, in a transport ofgrins.

  "And this will, I trust,"--he was growing more stately and politeevery moment--"this, of course, is satisfactory to you, MissMadeline?"

  "Perfectly." She looked him full in the face now, and somehow herglance slightly impaired his feeling of dignity and security.

  "Very good; and now having formally accepted the proffered hand of Mr.Adams--"

  "Pardon me, sir, you are too fast. Mr. Adams has not offeredhimself."

  "Nonsense,"--Mr. Arthur suddenly forgot his politeness--"haven't Ijust stated his offer?"

  Madeline leaned back in her chair, and looked from one to the otherwith a tranquil smile.

  "Perhaps; but unfortunately there is a law in existence whichprohibits a man from marrying his grandmother, and likewise objects, Ibelieve, to a young woman's espousing her step-papa, however muchadored. And as you can't marry me, my dear parent and guardian, why Iobject to listening to a proposal from your lips."

  John Arthur gazed in angry consternation upon the girl's still smilingface, but before the impatient words that he would have uttered couldfind voice, old Amos, who had interpreted her smiles as beingfavorable to himself, came gallantly to the rescue.

  "Right! quite right," he chuckled. "Of course, you know, Arthur--MissMadeline, ahem--that's what I meant, you know. It's the proper way,"he gasped; and the general expression of his countenance did not tendto make his observations the more lucid--"I meant, you know--ah,well--will you honor me Miss Madeline--by--by your hand, you know?"

  This effort of oratory was received with smiling attention by thegirl, who now addressed herself entirely to him, without heeding theeffect of her words upon her step-father, or his interpolations, asshe proceeded.

  "Mr. Adams;"--she spoke in a low, even tone, and gradually permittedthe real feelings that were seeking for expression to show themselvesin her every feature--"Mr. Adams, I think I appreciate _as itdeserves_ the honor you desire to bestow upon me; believe me, too,when I say that I am as grateful as it is proper I should be. But, Mr.Adams, I am only a mere girl, and you might pay too dearly for me."

  "What the deuce does the fool mean?" growled Mr. Arthur.

  "I don't dispute the fact that I am a perfectly marketable commodity,and it is very right and proper that my dear step-papa--who dotes onme, whose idol I have been for long years--should set a high valuationupon my unworthy head. Yet this little Arcadian transaction is reallynot just the thing for the present century and country. And so, Mr.Adams, I must beg leave to thank you for the honor you proffer, and,thanking you, to decline it!"

  For a moment no one spoke; there was neither sound nor movement in theroom. John Arthur was literally speechless with rage, and old Amos wasjust as speechless from astonishment; while Madeline gazed from one tothe other unmoved. As soon as he could articulate, John Arthurconfronted her, and taking her roughly by the shoulder, demanded:

  "What do you mean, you ungrateful jade? What are you talking about?"

  "About your contract in flesh and blood, Mr. Arthur. About your veryworthy scheme for putting money in your pockets by making me thisman's
wife. If I am to be sold, sir, I will make my own bargain; bevery sure of that; and _this_ is not my bargain!"

  "Don't talk to me of bargains, you little idiot! Do you think to defyme? Do you dare to defy me?"

  His rage passed all bounds. She put the width of the table betweenthem and surveyed him across it, mockingly.

  "Listen, girl, I am your lawful guardian; you shall obey me!"

  "Really, now, don't, step-papa; you are actually purple in the face!You might die, you know; think of your heart, do, and take a glass ofwater."

  Old Adams collapsed in the remote corner whither he had fled. Themiser was not at home in a tempest, and this was already beyond hisdepth. He gasped in speechless amaze and affright. Was this the girlhe had thought to mold as his wife, this fearless, defiant creature?Already he began to congratulate himself upon his lucky escape. "Shewould murder me some day," he thought, shuddering.

  For the time being, John Arthur was a madman. Defied, mocked, by thisgirl who had been a burden to his very life! He raged, he raved, hecursed; and so raging and raving, he cursed her, and then in vile,bitter words hurled his anathema at her dead mother's memory.

  Then the mocking smile was gone, the taunting voice changed its tone;and as it changed, old Amos, cowering in his corner, shuddered afresh.Her whole face underwent a transformation. Her form dilated, shesprang before her step-father and the ring of her voice checked theimprecations on his lips.

  "Stop," she cried; "don't add the last drop to your already overfullmeasure! Don't double the force of the thunderbolt that will strikeyou some day! Is it not enough that you have hated me all my lifethrough; that you have loaded down my childhood with unkind words,curses, and wishes for my death? Not enough that you follow me withyour hatred because my mother's own will be mine at your death? Notenough that you would barter my life--yes, my _life_--for gold, sellmy heart's blood for your own ease and comfort? And now must youpollute the name of my mother, as you polluted her life? Never breatheher name again; never _dare_ to name her! I, her daughter, tell youthat for her every tear, every heart pang, every sigh, _you_ shall paydearly; _dearly!_ I will avenge my mother's wrongs, some day; for _youare her murderer_!"

  "I will avenge my mother's wrongs some day; for _youare her murderer_."--page 42.]

  John Arthur gazed in speechless amaze into the space before him--butshe was gone! The stern, vengeful, set face was no longer there. Theproud, ringing voice was no longer sounding in his ear. The uplifted,warning, threatening hand menaced him only in memory. And before themight of her purpose, and the force of her maledictions, he stood asin a trance.

  When he had so far recovered himself as to think of her suddendisappearance, he went out quickly. The entrance door stood wide open;the dim light flickered on an empty hall and stairway; the sky wasblack with clouds, and never a star; the wind moaned about the house;and across the meadow came the doleful howl of old Hagar's watch-dog.

  But Madeline was not to be found.

  Always, in the days to come, he remembered her face as it had lookedon him that night. Often in dreams he would start and cry out, hauntedby the sound of her scornful voice, the spectre of her threateninghand.