Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter

by Lawrence L. Lynch

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  CLAIRE TURNS CIRCE.

  There was more to tell than to learn, when Clarence called, a day ortwo later, at the villa.

  The expert who had been dogging the steps of Lucian Davlin, had madehis report, it is true. But that report was a very unsatisfactoryaffair:

  A man, whom Clarence readily identified with the Professor, was analmost constant visitor at the rooms of the Man of Luck, but they,that is, the Professor and Davlin, were never seen on the streettogether, nor, indeed, anywhere else. In short, Lucian Davlin had beenclosely shadowed, but with no success to speak of. He came and wentjust as such a man usually does. And no person that might be made toanswer for a doctor, had been visited by him or had visited himunless, and this began to appear possible, the Professor himself wasthe man.

  After a long and serious discussion of the pros and cons of the case,Olive and Clarence decided they would instruct the detective totransfer his attentions to the Professor, only keeping a general_surveillance_ over Davlin. They began to fear that they were watchingthe wrong man.

  Those were pleasant days to Doctor Vaughan; the days when he rode downto the pretty villa to consult with Olive and to look at Claire.

  And those were pleasant days to Claire as well. Once, and that notlong before, she had taken but little interest in Clarence Vaughan.She had thought of him very much as had Madeline that first night oftheir meeting, when she looked at him sitting near her in a railwaycarriage, and regarded him as just a "somewhat odd young man with agood face." Now, Madeline thought him not only the noblest but thehandsomest of men. And Claire was beginning to agree with her.

  But on one thing she was determined. Doctor Vaughan must learn to lookupon her only as a friend, and he must learn to love Madeline. SoClaire and Clarence vied with each other in chanting the praises ofMadeline Payne, and learned to know each other better because of her.

  One day when he called, Claire chanced to be alone. Somehow she foundit hard to be quite at her ease when there was no Olive at hand,behind whom to screen her personality from the eyes that mightoverlook that sisterly barrier, but could not overleap it. If his eyeshad said less, or if she could have compelled her lips to say more!But her usually active tongue seemed to lack for words and she foundherself talking in a reckless and somewhat incoherent manner upon allsorts of topics, which she dragged forward in order to keep in checkthe words which the look in his eyes heralded so plainly.

  When she was almost at her wit's end, and tempted to flee ingloriouslyin search of Olive, that lady entered and Claire felt as if savedfrom lunacy. But she could not quite shake off the consciousness thathad awakened in her, and soon framed an excuse for leaving the room.Once having escaped, she did not return, nor did Olive see her againuntil she came down to dinner, and Doctor Vaughan had gone.

  While lingering over that meal, Olive said, after they had talked ofMadeline through three courses, "I think, by-the-by, that DoctorVaughan expected to see you again before he went."

  If I were writing of impossible heroines, I might say that Clairelooked conscious; but real women who are not all chalk and water, donot display their feelings so readily to their mothers and sisters. SoClaire Keith looked up with the countenance of an astonished kitten.

  "To see me? What for?"

  "How should I know, if you don't?" smiling slightly.

  "And _how_ should I know?" carelessly.

  "Well, perhaps I was mistaken. But why have you kept your room allthis afternoon?"

  "I have been packing. Please pass the marmalade."

  "Packing!" mechanically reaching out the required dainty.

  "Yes, packing. You don't think I came to spend the winter, do you?"

  "But this is so sudden."

  "Now, just listen, you unreasonable being!" assuming an air of graveadmonition. "Don't you know that I have overstayed my time by almost amonth?"

  "Yes, but--"

  "Well, don't you know that if I tell you beforehand that I am going,you always contrive excuses and hatch plots, to keep me at least threeweeks longer?"

  "I plead guilty," laughed Olive.

  "Well, you see I have staid out my days of grace already. And knowingyour failing, and feeling sure that I could not humor it, I have justtaken advantage of you, and packed my trunks."

  "And you won't stay just one more little week?"

  Claire laughed gleefully. "What did I say? It is your old cry. Now,dear, be reasonable. Mamma wants me, and the boys want me. You haveplenty of occupation just now. It will take you one-third of the timeto keep me informed of all that happens."

  "Well," sighed Olive, "of course you must go sometime; but you don'tmean to go to-morrow?"

  "I do, though."

  "What will Doctor Vaughan say?"

  "Whatever Doctor Vaughan pleases. I can't lose a day to say good-by tohim, can I?"

  "But why didn't you tell him good-by to-day?"

  Claire looked up in some surprise. "Upon my word, I never thought ofit."

  And she told the truth. She had thought only of how she could avoidanother meeting.

  Olive looked puzzled. "And I supposed that you liked Doctor Vaughan,"she said, after a moment's pause.

  "Why, and so I do; I was very careless. Olive, dear, pray make myadieus to him, and all the necessary excuses. I do like the doctor,and don't want him to think me rude."

  And Olive accepted the commission, and was deceived by it. For she,absorbed in her own fears and hopes, was not aware of the drama oflove and cross purposes that was being enacted under her very eyes.

  When Clarence called, on the next day but one, he found, to hissurprise and sorrow, that the bright face of the girl he loved so wellwas to smile upon him no more, at least for a time. Making his call anunusually brief one, he rode back to the city in a very grave andthoughtful mood. Or, rather, the gravity and thoughtfulness usual inhim was tinged with sadness.

  * * * * *

  On the same day, almost at the same hour, Claire Keith stood in hermother's drawing-room, answering the thousand and one questions thatare invariably poured into the ears of a returned traveler.

  By and by, drawing back the satin curtain, that shaded the windows ofthe drawing-room, Claire gazed out upon the familiar street whichseemed smiling her a welcome in the Autumn sunshine. Finally sheuttered an exclamation of surprise, and turned to Mrs. Keith.

  "_Merci!_ Mamma! what has happened to the people across the way? Why,I can't catch even one glimpse of red and yellow damask, not oneflutter of gold fringe; have the _parvenus_ been taking lessons ingood taste? Positively, every blind is closed, and there isn't aliveried being to be seen."

  Mrs. Keith laughed softly. "I don't know what has happened to the_parvenus_, my dear, but whether good or bad it has taken them away,liveries and all. The house has a new tenant, who is not so amusing,perhaps, but is certainly more mysterious. So, after all, the exchangemay not have been a gain to the neighborhood."

  Claire peeped out again. "A mysterious tenant, you say, mamma? Thatmust be an improvement. What is the Mystery like?"

  Mrs. Keith smiled indulgently on her daughter.

  "There is not much to tell, my love. I don't know whether the ladywho has taken the house is young or old, handsome or ugly, married orsingle. She lives the life of a recluse; has never been seen, at leastby any of us, to walk out. But she drives sometimes in a closecarriage, and always with a thick veil hiding her face. She is tall,dresses richly, but always in black, although the fabric is not thatusually worn as mourning. She moves from the door to her carriage witha languid gait, as if she might be an invalid. No one goes there, andI understand she is not at home to callers, although, of course, Ihave not made the experiment myself. There, my dear, I think that isabout all."

  "She seems to be a woman of wealth?"

  "Evidently; her horses are very fine animals, and her carriage acostly one. Her servants wear a neat, plain livery, and apparently herhouse is elegantly furnished."

>   "And mamma," said Robbie, who had been standing quietly at her side,"you forget the flowers."

  "True, Robbie. Every day, Claire, the florist leaves a basket of whiteflowers at her door."

  "I like that," asserted Claire. "She must have refinement."

  "She certainly has that air."

  "Well," said Claire, laughing lightly, "I shall make a study of thewoman across the way."

  With that the subject dropped for the time. But as the days went on,and she settled herself once more into the home routine, Claire foundthat not the least among the things she chose to consider interestingwas the mysterious neighbor across the way.

  And now, having put considerable distance between herself and EdwardPercy, she wrote him a few cool lines of dismissal.

  And here again the individuality of the girl was very manifest. Many awoman would have written a scathing letter, telling the man howthoroughly unmasked he stood in her sight, letting him know that shewas acquainted with all his past and his present, and bidding him makethe most of the infatuation of the last victim to his empty pockets,the ancient Miss Arthur.

  What Claire did was like Claire; and perhaps, after all, she bestcomprehended the nature she dealt with. Certainly no tirade ofaccusing scorn could have so wounded the self-love of the selfish,conscienceless man as did her cool farewell missive.

  Edward Percy was in a very complaisant mood when Claire's letterreached him. True, he had received no reply to his two last effusions;but knowing that Claire must be soon returning to her home, if she hadnot already gone, he assured himself that it was owing to this that hehad received no letter as yet. He never doubted her attachment tohimself. That was not in his nature.

  Opening a rather heavy packet, as he sat in his cosy sitting-room, outdropped two letters; two letters full of poetry and fine sentiment,that his own flexible hand had penned and addressed to Miss ClaireKeith. His letters, and returned with the seals unbroken. He couldscarcely believe the evidence of his senses. His handsome,treacherous, light-blue eyes darkened and widened with astonishmentand anger.

  He never moved in a hurry, never spoke in a hurry, never thought in ahurry. And slowly it dawned upon his mind to investigate further andfind some clue that would make this unheard-of thing appear lessincomprehensible. Accordingly he took up the envelope that hadcontained his rejected letters, and drew from them a brief note:

  BALTIMORE, Saturday, 6th.

  It will scarcely surprise Mr. Percy to learn that Miss Keith desires now to end an acquaintance that has been, doubtless, amusing "intellectually" and "socially" to both.

  Of course, a gentleman so worldly-wise as himself can never have been misled by the semblance of attachment, that has seemed necessary in order to make such an acquaintance as ours at all interesting. A flirtation based upon a "sympathy of intellect," must of necessity end sooner or later, and has, no doubt, been as harmless to him as to CLAIRE KEITH.

  Yes, without doubt Claire knew how to hurt this man most. He was notpermitted to know that she felt the keen humiliation, which a proudnature must suffer when it discovers that it has trusted an unworthyobject. Instead, he was to feel himself the injured one; the onehumiliated. He, the deceiver, must own himself deceived. When hebelieved himself loved, he was laughed at. His own words were flung inhis teeth in an insolent mockery. "A sympathy of intellect;" yes, hehad used these words so often. He had obeyed the beckoning of a Circe,and now she held out to him his swine's reward of husks.

  Edward Percy had been dissatisfied with others, with circumstances,and surroundings, many a time and oft; but to-day, for the very firsttime, he felt dissatisfied with himself.

  And Claire had revenged her wrongs twofold.