Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER XIV.

  WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS.

  "Take especial care with my toilet this morning, Celine," drawled MissArthur, as she sat before a mirror in her luxuriously appointeddressing-room.

  Wise Cora had seen the propriety of giving to this unwelcomesister-in-law with the heavy purse, apartments of the best in thenewly fitted-up portion of the mansion.

  "I want you to be _especially_ careful with my hair and complexion,"Miss Arthur continued.

  "Yes, mademoiselle," demurely. Then, as if the information might bearupon the question of the toilet, "Does mademoiselle know that MonsieurDavlin left an hour ago?"

  "Certainly, Celine, but I expect a visitor. He may arrive at any timeto-day, and you must do your very best with my toilet."

  "Mademoiselle _est charmante_; slight need of Celine's poor aid,"cooed the little hypocrite, and the toilet proceeded.

  At length, the resources of art having been exhausted, Miss Arthurstood up, and approved of Celine's handiwork.

  "I really do look nicely, Celine; you have done well, very. Now gosend me a pot of chocolate and a bit of toast."

  "Yes, mademoiselle."

  "And a bit of chicken, or a bird's wing."

  "Oui."

  "And a French roll, Celine, with perhaps an omelette."

  "Pardonne, mademoiselle, but might I suggest we must not forget this,"touching Miss Arthur's tightly laced waist.

  "True, Celine, quite right; the toast, then. And, Celine, remaindown-stairs and when Mr. Percy comes," (her maid visibly started atthe name) "show him into the little parlor, and tell him I amsomewhere in the grounds--you understand? Then come and let me know. Iprefer to have him fancy me surprised, you see," smiling playfully.

  "I see; mademoiselle has _such_ tact," and the French maiddisappeared.

  "Mr. Percy?" muttered the French maid, in very English accents; "Iwill certainly look for your coming, Mr. Percy. Can it be that I am tomeet you at last?"

  Mrs. John Arthur was restless that morning. She fidgeted about afterthe departure of her brother; tried to play the agreeable to herhusband, but finding this a difficult task, left him to his cigar andhis morning paper, in the solitude of his sanctum, and seizing hercrimson shawl, started out for a turn upon the terrace.

  The "little parlor," as it was called, commanded a view of one end ofthe terrace walk, but no portion of it was visible from the immediatefront of Oakley mansion, the terrace running across the grounds in therear of the dwelling, and being shut off from the front by a thicketof flowering shrubs and trees.

  The hall facing the front entrance to Oakley was deserted now, savefor the figure of Celine Leroque, who was ensconsed in one of thewindows thereof. She had been watching there for more than an hour,and Cora had promenaded the terrace half that time, when a gentlemanapproached the mansion from the front gate-way.

  Celine's eyes were riveted upon the coming figure, as it appeared anddisappeared among the trees and shrubbery along the winding walk. Atlength he emerged into open space and approached nearer.

  Celine Leroque suppressed a cry of astonishment as she anticipated hisring and ushered him in. A very blonde man, with the lower half of hisface covered with a mass of yellow waving beard; pale blue, searching,unfathomable eyes; pale yellow hair; a handsome face, the face she hadseen pictured in Claire's souvenir!

  Celine Leroque led the way toward the little parlor with a heartbeating rapidly.

  "Miss Arthur is in the grounds," she said, in answer to his inquiry."I will go look for her;" and she turned away.

  Mr. Percy placed his hat upon a little table and tossing back his fairhair, said: "I think I can see her now."

  Approaching the window he looked down upon the terrace.

  Celine looked, too, and catching a gleam of crimson, said: "That isnot Miss Arthur."

  "Stop a moment, my girl," the man exclaimed.

  He was gazing down at Cora, who was walking away from them, with apuzzled look. "Good God!" he ejaculated, as she turned and he saw herface.

  He checked himself, and withdrawing hastily from the window, took uphis hat as if about to depart. Approaching the window once again, helooked cautiously forth, and seeing Cora still pacing the terrace inevident unconcern, he muttered to himself, but quite audibly, "Thankgoodness, she did not see me."

  Then turning to Celine: "Girl, who is that woman?"

  The girl approached the window: "That, monsieur, is Madame CoraArthur."

  "A widow, eh?"

  "Oh, no, monsieur. Mr. Arthur is the master of Oakley."

  "Oh! and madame--how long has she been his wife?"

  "She is still a bride, monsieur."

  "Still a bride, is she? How exceedingly pleasant." Mr. Percy hadevidently recovered from his panic. "Was she a miss when she marriedthe master of Oakley?"

  "Oh, no, monsieur; a widow."

  "Widow?" stroking his whiskers caressingly. "What name?"

  "Madame Torrance, monsieur."

  "Madame Torrance, eh? Well, my good girl, take this," offering a banknote. "I really thought that Madame Torrance, I mean Arthur, was anold friend; however, it seems I was mistaken. Now, my girl, go andtell that lady that a gentleman desires to see her, and do notannounce me to Miss Arthur yet. May I depend upon you?" glancing ather keenly.

  "You may, monsieur."

  Taking the offered money, she made an obeisance, and withdrew.

  The little parlor had but one means of egress--through the door bywhich Mr. Percy had entered. This door was near the angle of the room;so near that, as it swung inward, it almost grazed against a hugehigh-backed chair, stiff and grim, but reckoned among the elegantpieces of furniture that are always, or nearly always, uncomfortable.This chair occupied the angle, and behind its capacious back wascomfortable room for one or two persons, should they fancy occupying aposition so secluded. The act of opening the door completely screenedthis chair from the view of any person not directly opposite it, untilsuch time as the door should be again closed.

  As Celine Leroque opened the door and disappeared one might havefancied, had they been gazing at that not-very-interesting object,that the high-backed chair moved ever so little.

  Celine flew along the hall and down the stairway, tearing viciously atsomething as she went. Once in the open air, the brisk autumn breezescaught something from her hand, and sent little fragments whirlingthrough space--paper scraps, that might have been dissected particlesof a bank note.

  Cora listened in some surprise to the messenger, who broke in upon hermeditations with a trifle less of suavity than was usual in MissArthur's maid.

  "A gentleman, to see me! Are you quite sure, Celine?"

  Mrs. Arthur, for various reasons, received but few friends, and Celinethought now that she looked a trifle annoyed.

  "Well, Celine, where is the gentleman? Stop," as if struck by a suddenthought, and changing color slightly, "tell him I am out, but notuntil I have got up-stairs," she said; "not until I have had anopportunity to see him, myself unseen," she thought.

  "But, madame," hesitated Celine, "he is in the little parlor. He sawmadame at the upper end of the terrace."

  "Confusion! What did he say, girl?" excitedly.

  "He said, madame, that he wished to speak with you; that he was an oldfriend."

  "Well, go along," sharply. "I will see the man."

  Celine turned about and Cora followed her almost sullenly. She hadsome apprehension as to this unknown caller, but he had seen her, andwhoever he was she must face him, for Cora was no coward.

  Celine tripped along thinking intently.

  "This man is Edward Percy--Edward Percy, the lover of two women. Hewas frightened when he saw this Mrs. Arthur, and my words reassuredhim; why? At the mention of a strange caller, she must needs see himbefore she permits him an interview--for that is what she meant. Dothey know each other? If so, the plot thickens."

  Edward Percy had certainly been agitated at sight of Mrs. Arthur, andhad as certainly recovered when assured that
the lady _was_ Mrs.Arthur. He looked the image of content now, as he lounged at thewindow. Under the blonde mustaches, a smile of cunning and triumphrested; but his eyes looked very blue, very, very calm, veryunfathomable.

  "Madame Arthur, sir."

  Celine opens the door gently, and admits the form of Cora. Then, asthe two face each other in silence, the door quietly closes, neitherone having glanced toward the girl, who has disappeared.

  Cora stands before him, the folds of the crimson shawl falling awayfrom the plump, graceful shoulders, and mingling with the sweep of herblack cashmere wrapper in rich, graceful contrast. One fair handgathers up the crimson fabric and, instinctively, the other thrustsitself out in a repellant gesture, as the soft voice utters, in tonesof mingled hate and fear: "_You!_"

  He laughs softly. "Yes, I. I knew you would be delighted." All thetime he is gazing at her critically, apparently viewing her lovelinesswith an approving eye.

  And now the woman feels through her whole being but the oneinstinct--hate. She has forgotten all fear, and stands before himerect, pallid, but with eye and lip expressing the bitterness thatrages within her.

  "You won't say you are glad to see me? Cruel Alice," he murmurs,plaintively. "And after all these years, too; how many are they, mydear?"

  "No matter!" fiercely. "They have given the devil ample time to claimhis own, and yet you are upon earth!"

  "Yes," serenely; "both of us."

  "Both of us, then. How dare you seek me out?"

  "My dear wife, I never did you so much honor. I came to this house foranother purpose, and Providence, kind Providence, has guided me toyou."

  The woman seemed recalled to herself. Again the look of fearoverspread her face, and looking nervously about her, she said. "ForGod's sake, hush! What you wish to say say out, but don't let yourvoice go beyond these walls."

  "Dear Alice, my voice never was vulgarly loud, was it? recollect, ifyou please," in an injured tone.

  "Well! well! what do you want with me? Percy Jordan, I warn you--I amnot the woman you wronged ten years ago."

  "No; by my faith, you are a handsomer woman, and you carry yourselflike a duchess. Why didn't you do that when you were Mrs.--"

  "Hush!" she cried; "you base liar, it did not take me long to find youout, even then. Don't forget that you have lived in fear of me for tenlong years."

  "Just so," serenely; "haven't they been long? But they are ended now,my dear; my incubus is dead and--"

  "But documents don't die," she interrupted; "don't forget that!"

  "Not for worlds. For instance, I remember that in a certain church registermay be seen the marriage lines of Alice Ford and--ahem--myself. Andsomewhere, not far away, there must be on record the statement that Mr.Arthur, of Oakley, has wedded the incomparable Mrs. Torrance, a blondewidow--ahem. Where did you go, my dear, when you left my bed and board sovery unceremoniously?

  "'What had I done, or what hadst thou, That through this weary world till now I've walked with empty arms.'"

  He stretched out those members tragically.

  "And I don't forget that I was never legally your wife, as you hadanother living," cried Cora, ignoring the latter part of his speech.

  "No; of course not. Does Mr. John Arthur know that you were once my--"

  "Dupe? no," she interrupted. "Come, time passes; tell me what youknow, and what you want."

  "Softly, softly, Mrs. Arthur. I know enough to insure me against beingturned out of Oakley by you; and I want a wife and a fortune."

  "I don't understand you."

  "The soft voice utters, in tones of mingled hate andfear, '_You?_'"--page 149.]

  "Possibly not, Madame Arthur." Then, with mock emotion: "Might I,dare I, ask you to give to my keeping, that incomparable maiden, thathouri of houris, your young and lovely sister-in-law, Miss EllenArthur?"

  The woman looked at him in silence for a time, and then, flingingherself upon a couch, burst into a peal of soft laughter. Sheunderstood it all now.

  "So you are the expected lover!" she ejaculated, laughing afresh; "andshe is up-stairs, in bright array, waiting for you."

  "And I am down here, pleading for permission to address this pearl ofprice."

  Cora arose and gathered her crimson wrap about her shoulders. "And howis it to be between us?" she asked coolly.

  "My sweet Alice, if you were John Arthur's widow instead of JohnArthur's wife, it should be as if the past ten years were but adream."

  "Indeed--provided, of course, I were John Arthur's heiress as well."

  "Certainly!"

  "And how is it that you are once more fortune hunting? Five years agoyou inherited wealth sufficient for your every need."

  The elegant Mr. Percy went through the pantomime of shuffling anddealing cards, then looked at her with a grimace.

  "All?" she inquired, as if the action had been words.

  "Every ducat," solemnly. "So what is to be my fate, fair destiny?"

  Cora mused, then laughed again. "After all, you may prove a friend inneed," she said. "I shan't interfere between you and Miss Arthur; besure of that."

  Then they fell to settling the preliminaries of a siege upon the heartof Miss Arthur, together with other little trifles that occurred asthey talked. They had both thrown off their air of hostility, andwere seated opposite each other, conversing quite comfortably, whenthe door swung open, and Miss Arthur stood before them; Miss Arthur,in the full glory of snowy cashmere, with cherry satin facings; MissArthur, with curls waving, and in all her war-paint.

  The two plotters arose, and saluted her with much empressement.

  Miss Arthur advanced a step and stood beside the high-backed chair,one hand still resting upon the door. Percy came toward her withoutstretched hands.

  "Ah-h-h!" screeched the spinster, "what was that?"

  Turning quickly she encountered nothing more formidable than herFrench maid, who had evidently hurried to the spot, for she breathedrapidly, and said, in an anxious manner:

  "Pardon, mademoiselle, it is I,--did mademoiselle ring? I thought so."

  "You stepped on my dress, girl," said Miss Arthur, sharply. "No, I didnot ring; perhaps Mrs. Arthur did."

  "I did ring, Ellen," lied Cora, sweetly, wondering what luckyprovidence sent the girl to the door just then. "I rang for you, asMr. Percy here, in whom I have discovered a Long Branch acquaintance,would hardly treat me civilly, so impatient has he been to see MissArthur."

  Miss Arthur looked somewhat appeased. "You may go, Celine," she said,with her most stately air.

  Thus she sailed forward to meet Mr. Percy.

  Celine departed, smiling an odd little smile. She went to her own roomand sitting down upon the bedside, meditated. Presently she arose, andwalking over to her mirror, gazed at her reflected image, and shakingher head at it, murmured:

  "What a nice little maid you are, Celine Leroque--and how thesepeople will love you by and by! You now hold in your hands the threadthat will unravel this mixture of mystery, and when the reckoningcomes, it will not be you that falls."

  Thoughtfully she paced the little apartment. By and by she threwherself upon the bed and closed her eyes, still thinking. If she couldonly know just how these two had separated--Edward Percy and CoraArthur; and what part Lucian Davlin had played in that separationdrama. Did Cora know Lucian ten years ago--did Percy know him for hisrival? Suddenly the girl sprang up, and smiting her two palmstogether, exclaimed:

  "If these two men were rivals, then we may yet find a reason whyLucian Davlin should attempt the life of Edward Percy!"

  And now what should she do?

  Claire Keith's bright face rose before her as she asked herself thequestion. Claire must be warned and saved; but how? The girl's browdarkened.

  "She will scorn the man," she muttered, between pale lips, "and thenshe will learn to value that other. She will grieve for a time,perhaps, but not for long; then--then she will become _his_ wife,while I--What right has she to all the blessings?"

  Th
e girl stood motionless, with hands tightly clasped. The conflictlasted but a moment when, in a firm, clear voice she continued:

  "It would be base not to save her from this wretch--and save her Iwill; and I will restore to Olive Girard her husband; is that notpayment enough for all they have done for me? But he, Clarence, myhero--why must I yield him up without a struggle? She does not lovehim; she never will love him if I say the word; she is as generousas--as I am base, I think. No, it is not base to love him, to try towin him. And why not? I must think, think, think."

  All that day and night the girl pondered deeply. In the morning shearose weary, unrefreshed.

  "I will save Claire Keith from the suffering that befell me," shesaid. "But she shall not have all the good things of this life, and Inone."