CHAPTER XXXIV.
FLINT TO STEEL.
There was a long moment of silence, and then Alan Warburton spoke.
"Much as I desire to hear that sentence completed, Mrs. Warburton, Icould do no less than interrupt."
Leslie dropped Winnie's hand and rose slowly, moving with a statelygrace toward the entrance before which Alan stood. And Winnie, with awrathful glance at the intruder, flung aside a handful of loose leaveswith an impatient motion, and followed her friend.
But Alan, making no effort to conceal his hostile feelings, still stoodbefore the entrance, and again addressed Leslie.
"May I detain you for a moment, Mrs. Warburton?"
Leslie paused before him with a face as haughty as his own, and bowedher assent. Then she drew back and looked at Winnie, who, with a gesturemeant to be imperious, commanded Alan to stand aside.
"Will you remain, Miss French?" asked Alan, but moving aside with acourtly bow.
"No; I won't," retorted the irate little lady. "I don't like the changeof climate. I'm going up stairs for my furs and a foot-warmer--ugh!"
And casting upon him a final glance of scorn, she dashed aside thecurtains, and they heard the door of the library close sharply behindher.
For a moment they regarded each other silently. Since the night of thatfateful masquerade they had not exchanged words, except suchcommonplaces as were made necessary by the presence of a third person.Now they were both prepared for a final reckoning: he with stern resolvestamped upon every feature; she with desperate defiance in look andmanner.
"I think," she said, with a movement toward the _portierie_, "that ourconversation had better be continued there."
He bowed a stately assent, and held back the curtains while she passedinto the library.
She crossed the room with slow, graceful movements, and pausing beforethe hearth, turned her face toward him.
Feeling to her heart's core the humiliation brought by the knowledgethat this man, her accuser, had fathomed the secret of her past love forhim; with the thought of the Francoises' threat ever before her--LeslieWarburton stood there hopeless, desolate, desperate. She had ceased tostruggle with her fate. She had resolved to meet the worst, and to braveit. She was the woman without hope, but she was every inch a queen, herhead haughtily poised, her face once more frozen into pallidtranquility.
Standing thus, she was calm, believing that she had drained her bittercup to its very dregs; that Fate could have no more poisoned arrows instore for her.
Ah, if she had known that her bitterest draught was yet to be quaffed;that the deadliest wound was yet to be inflicted!
She made no effort to break the silence that fell between them; shewould not aid him by a word.
Comprehending this, after a moment of waiting, he said:
"Madam, believe me, I have no desire to do you an injustice. I havepurposely avoided this interview, wishing, while my dead brotherremained among us, to spare you for his sake. Now, however, it is myduty to fathom the mystery in which you have chosen to envelop yourself.What have you to say?"
"That, knowing his duty so well, Mr. Alan Warburton will do it,undoubtedly." And she bowed with ironical courtesy.
"And you still persist in your refusal to explain?"
"On the contrary, I am quite at your service."
She smiled as she said these words. At least she could humble the prideof this superior being, and she would have this small morsel of revenge.Her answer astonished him. His surprise was manifest. And she favoredhim with a frosty smile as she asked:
"What is it that my brother-in-law desires to know?"
"The truth," he replied sternly. "What took you to that vile den on thenight of your masquerade? Are those Francoises the people you have sofrequently visited by stealth? Are they your clandestinecorrespondents?"
"Your questions come too fast," she retorted calmly. "I will reversethe order of my answers. The Francoises _are_ my clandestinecorrespondents. My visits by stealth, have all been paid to them. It wasa threat that took me there that eventful night."
"A threat?"
"Yes."
"Then you are in their power?"
"I was."
"And their sway has ceased?"
"It has ceased."
"Since when?"
"Since the receipt of this."
She took from her pocket the crumpled note, and held it out to him.
He read it with his face blanching.
"Then it was _you_!" he gasped, with a recoil of horror.
"It was a blow in my defence," she said, with a glance full of meaning."It would not become me to save myself at the expense of the one whodealt it."
His eyes flashed, but she looked at him steadily. "Do you _know_ whostruck that blow?" he asked.
"To tell you would not add to your store of knowledge," she retorted."Have you more to say, Mr. Warburton?"
"More? yes. Who are these Francoises? What are they to you?"
Her answer came with slow deliberation. "They call themselves my fatherand mother."
"My God!"
"It is true. I was adopted by the Ulimans. My husband and Mr.Follingsbee were aware of this. It seems that I was given to the Ulimansby these people."
She had aimed this blow at his pride, but that pride was swallowed up byhis consternation. As she watched his countenance, the surprise changedto incredulity, the incredulity to contempt. Then he said, dryly:
"Your story is excellent, but too improbable. Will you answer a few morequestions?"
"Ask them."
"On the night of the masquerade you received here, in your husband'shouse, by appointment, a man disguised in woman's apparel."
"Well?"
"You admit it? Do you know how I effected my escape that night?"
"I do. A brave man came to your rescue."
"Precisely; and this 'brave man', is the same who was present at themasquerade; is it not so?"
"It is."
"Who is this man?"
"I decline to answer."
"What is he to you, then?"
"What he is to all who know him: a brave, true man; a gentleman."
"Hem! You have an exalted opinion of this--this _gentleman_."
"And so should you have, since he saved your life, and what you valuemore, your reputation. And now listen: this same man has bidden me tellyou, has bidden me warn you, that dangers surround you on every hand;that Van Vernet has traced the resemblance between you and the Sailor ofthat night; that he will hunt you down if possible. Your safety dependsupon your success in baffling his efforts to identify you with thatSailor."
"Your _friend_ is very thoughtful," he sneered.
She turned toward the door with an air of weariness.
"This is our last interview," she said coldly; "have you more to say?"
He made a quick stride toward the door, and placing himself before it,let his enforced calmness fall from him like a mantle of snow from astatue of fire, with all his hatred and disgust concentrated in the low,metallic tones in which he addressed her.
"I have only this to say: Your plans, which as yet I only halfcomprehend, will fail utterly. You fancy, perhaps, that this snare, intowhich I have fallen, will fetter my hands and prevent me from undoingyour work. I cannot give life to the victim whose death lies at yourdoor, the husband who was slain by your sin, but I can rescue your latervictim, if her life, too, has not been sacrificed. As for these twowretches, whose parental claim is a figment of your own imagination, andthis _lover_, who is the abettor, possibly the instigator, of yourcrimes, I shall find him out--"
"Stop," she cried wildly, "I command you, _stop_!"
"Ah, that touches you! I repeat, I shall find him out. To succeed, youshould have concealed his existence as effectually as you have concealedpoor little Daisy."
A death-like pallor overspreads the face of the woman before him. Shestretches out her arms imploringly, her form sways as if she were aboutto fall, and she utters a wailing cry.
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br /> "As _I_ have concealed Daisy? Oh, my God; my God! I see! I understand!My weakness, my folly, has done its work. I _have_ killed my husband! I_have_ brought a curse upon little Daisy! I _have_ endangered your lifeand honor! _I_ conceal our Daisy? Hear me, Heaven; henceforth I amnameless, homeless, friendless, until I have found Daisy Warburton andrestored her to you!"
Her voice died in a low wail. She makes a forward movement, and thenfalls headlong at the feet of her stern accuser. For the second time inall her life, Leslie Warburton has fainted.
One moment Alan Warburton stands looking down upon her, a cynical halfsmile upon his lips. Then he turns and pulls the bell.
"Mrs. Warburton is in a swoon," he says to the servant who appears."Call some one to her assistance."
And without once glancing backward, he strides from the library.
Dangerous Ground; or, The Rival Detectives Page 35
