CHAPTER X.
"I AM YOUR SHADOW."
It is not a pleasing task to Alan Warburton, but, spurred on by Vernet,and acting according to his suggestions, it is undertaken andaccomplished. Within twenty minutes, two gay, fun-loving young fellows,one habited in the garb of a Celestial, the other dressed as aTroubador, are hastening from room to room in search of the mysteriousGoddess of Liberty.
"Who was the Mask that posted us about this mysterious lady?" queriesthe Celestial, as he lifts a _portierie_ for his comrade to pass.
"If I am not mistaken, it was Warburton."
"Isn't that a queer move for His Dignity?"
"Well, I don't know. Presuming the fair Mystery to be an intruder, hemay think it the easiest way of putting her to rout. At any rate there'sa little spice in it."
And there is spice in it. Before the evening closes, the festiveCelestial is willing to vote this meeting with a veiled mystery anoccasion full of flavor, and worthy to be remembered.
Leaving the pair in full chase after the luckless, petticoat-encumberedStanhope, we follow Van Vernet, who, having set this trap for the feetof his unconscious comrade, is about to play his next card.
Gliding among the maskers, he makes his way to a side entrance, andpassing the liveried servant on guard at the door with a careless jest,he leaves the house, and hastens where, a few rods distant, a solitaryfigure is standing.
"How long have you been here, Harvey?" he asks hurriedly, but withnoticeable affability.
"About half an hour."
"Good; now listen, for you are to begin your business. Throw on thatdomino and follow me; the servants have seen me in conversation with themaster of the house and they will not require your credentials. Keepnear me, and follow me to the dressing-rooms; by-and-by we will exchangecostumes there, after which, you will personate me."
"But,--"
"There will be no trouble; just mingle with the throng, saying nothingto anyone. No one will address you who could doubt your identity; Iwill arrange all that. You comprehend?"
"I think so. You are wanted, or you want to be, in two places at once.This being the least important, you place me here as figure-head, whileyou fill the bill at the other place."
"You have grasped the situation, Harvey. Let us go in, and be sure youdo justice, in my stead, to the banquet--and the Warburton champagne."
Van Vernet had planned well. Knowing the importance of the Raid in handfor that night, he had determined to be present and share with Stanhopethe honors of the occasion, while he seemed to be devoting all hisenergies to the solution of the mystery that was evidently troubling hiswealthy patron, the master of Warburton Place.
Vernet was a man of many resources, and trying, indeed, must be thesituation which his fertile brain could not master.
Having successfully introduced his double into the house, he made hisway, once more, to the side of his patron, and, drawing him away fromthe vicinity of possible listeners, said:
"Mr. Warburton, if you have anything further to say to me, please makeuse of the present moment. After this it will be best for us to hold nofurther conversation to-night."
Alan Warburton turned his eyes toward the detective with a cold,scrutinizing stare.
"Why such caution?"
"Because it seems to me necessary; and, if I may be permitted tosuggest, you may make some slight discoveries by keeping an eye, more orless, upon Mrs. Warburton."
With these words Van Vernet turns upon his heel, and strides away withthe air of a man who can do all that he essays.
"He is cool to the verge of impudence!" mutters Alan, as he gazes afterthe receding figure in the British uniform. "But I will act upon hisadvice; I _will_ watch Mrs. Warburton."
It is some moments before he catches sight of her glimmering robes, andthen he sees them receding, gliding swiftly, and, as he thinks, with anervous, hurried movement unusual to his stately sister-in-law.
She is going through the drawing-room, away from the dancers, and hehastens after, wondering a little as to her destination.
From a flower-adorned recess, a fairy form springs out, interrupting thelady in the glimmering robes.
"Mamma!" cries little Daisy, "oh Mamma, I have found MotherGoose--_real, live_ Mother Goose!"
And she points with childish delight to a quaintly dressed personationof that old woman of nursery fame, who sits within the alcove, leaningupon her oaken staff, and peering out from beneath the broad frill ofher cap, her gaze eagerly following the movements of the animated child.
"Oh Mamma!" continues the little one, "can't I stay with Mother Goose?Millie says I must go to bed."
At another time Leslie Warburton would have listened more attentively,have answered more thoughtfully, and have noted more closely the mannerof guest that was thus absorbing the attention of the little one. Nowshe only says hurriedly:
"Yes, yes, Daisy; you may stay a little longer,--only," with a hastyglance toward the alcove, "you must not trouble the lady too much."
"The lady wants me, mamma."
"Then go, dear."
And Leslie gathers up her glimmering train and hastens on without onceglancing backward.
Pausing a few paces behind her, Alan Warburton has noted each word thathas passed between the lady and the child. And now, as the little onebounds back to Mother Goose, who receives her with evident pleasure, hemoves on, still following Leslie.
She glides past the dancers, through the drawing rooms, across the musicroom, and then, giving a hasty glance at the few who linger there, shepulls aside a silken curtain, and looks into the library. The lights aretoned to the softness of moonlight; there is silence there, andsolitude.
With a long, weary sigh, Leslie enters the library and lets the curtainfall behind her.
Alan Warburton pauses, hesitates for a moment, and then, seeing that thelittle group of maskers near him seem wholly absorbed in their ownmerriment, he moves boldly forward, parts the curtain a little way, andpeers within.
He sees a woman wearing the garments of Sunlight and the face ofdespair. She has torn off her mask, and it lies on the floor at herfeet. In her hand is a crumpled scrap of paper, and, as she holds itnearer the light and reads what is written thereon, a low moan escapesher lips.
"Again!" she murmurs; "how can I obey them?--and yet I _must_ go." Then,suddenly, a light of fierce resolve flames in her eyes. "I _will_ go,"she says, speaking aloud in her self-forgetfulness; "I will go,--but itshall be _for the last time_!"
She thrusts the crumpled bit of paper into her bosom, goes to the windowand looks out. Then she crosses to a door opposite the curtainedentrance, opens it softly, and glides away.
In another moment, Alan Warburton is in the library. Tearing off theblack and scarlet domino he flings it into a corner, and, glancing downat his nautical costume mutters:
"Sailors of this description are not uncommon. Wherever she goes, I canfollow her--in this."
Ten minutes later, while Leslie Warburton's guests are dancing andmaking merry, Leslie Warburton, with sombre garments replacing the robesof Sunlight, glides stealthily out from her stately home, and creepslike a hunted creature through the darkness and away!
But not alone. Silently, with the tread of an Indian, a man followsafter; a man in the garments of a sailor, who pulls a glazed cap lowdown across his eyes, and mutters as he goes:
"So, Madam Intrigue, Van Vernet advised me well. Glide on, plotter; fromthis moment until I shall have unmasked you, _I am your shadow_!"
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 11
