CHAPTER XV.
LOUISE RECEIVES A CALLER.
Mr. Pembroke met Clara at the train when it arrived in the GrandCentral Depot promptly at nine o'clock. He was plainly anxious, almostagitated.
"Tell me, child," he exclaimed, "why you have come?"
"I couldn't be satisfied," she replied, "without setting at rest therumors that connect Ivan's name with Lizzie White."
"Oh," said her uncle, apparently relieved, "is that all?"
"All, uncle? Why, no, not if I find anything that leads me to believethat Ivan is in New York. In that case I shall search for him here.What did you think I had come for?"
"I had nothing in mind except anxiety. When I received your telegram,I feared something had happened. I couldn't tell what. I have been sooccupied with business matters recently that I haven't been able tokeep up with you, you know."
"I'm so sorry to give you more trouble and anxiety," said Clara, withthe sincerest contrition, "but I felt as if I must come on."
"Let us go straight to the hotel," said Mr. Pembroke; "I supposethere's nothing you want to do to-night?"
They had been standing on a station platform as they talked, and notfar away was Litizki, watching, trying to listen, and wondering whothe gentleman could be whom Clara greeted so affectionately. He knewnothing about her relationships, and supposed that Mr. Pembroke washer father. He followed them and saw them enter a hack, and he managedto get near enough to overhear Mr. Pembroke say "Travelers' Hotel" tothe driver. Not content with knowing the hotel, however, Litizki ranalong the sidewalk, keeping the vehicle in view all the way, and he didnot turn aside content until he saw by the departure of the hack emptythat Clara and her escort were both in the hotel. Then he felt that shewould be safe through the night, for he was possessed of the idea thatthe powerful Poubalov would follow her, and he feared that she wouldcome to harm at his hands.
Mr. Pembroke had said little on the way from the depot to the hotel,but when they were in the quiet of Clara's room, he remarked:
"I suppose, my dear, that this coming to see Lizzie White is the laststep you will take in this matter, isn't it?"
"I cannot tell yet, uncle," she replied; "I do not see why it shouldbe, but, of course, I know so many things connected with the case thatI have had no opportunity to tell you--things that I want to tell. Ihave needed somebody's advice, so much, and I could not intrude on youwhen you are so busy. I would not even now but that I think you oughtto know as much as I do of what has happened."
An expression of pain crossed Mr. Pembroke's features, and he respondeduneasily:
"Of course I want to help you, Clara, and I am more regretful than Ican possibly express that my business has been in such shape."
"Are you seriously alarmed about it, uncle?"
"I was, but I think we shall pull through all right now. Let us talkof your affairs. I would like to suggest, with all sympathy, Clara,that the world in general, while it would admire your loyalty if itunderstood it, would yet do so in a pitying way that would be eminentlydistasteful to you if on your own part you understood the world. Yousee, you are regarded, no matter how unjustly, as deserted. You have aremarkably clear head, and you must see what I mean without putting meto the necessity of using disagreeable terms."
Clara flushed. She felt at that moment the full force of the calamitythat had overtaken her. While she was actively at work building uptheories, investigating clews, and examining those who might throwlight on the matter, her grief had been measurably lightened. Thethought that she was working, however doubtfully, toward an end, hadenabled her to keep her emotions in control. Her uncle's words, whichwere evidently but the preface to an appeal to give up the struggle,reopened her wounds. It was as if he had torn away the foundations ofthat structure of the mind by which she had supported her heart. Withdifficulty she restrained her tears, and responded:
"It would be better, uncle, to use plain language. Then there would beno possible chance of a misunderstanding. I know how I am looked upon,as deserted by my lover, perhaps not for another woman, but at allevents deserted by him. The world will say that it would comport betterwith womanly dignity to suffer in silence and solitude, and that it isunmaidenly to pursue the man."
"You use harsher language than I would have used had I spoken withoutconsideration of your feelings," interposed her uncle, nervously. Hisniece's faculty for manifesting occasionally an imperious will, andof firmly maintaining her own way without regard to general opinion,had always been a bit of a terror to him. It was difficult for him toreconcile it with her affectionate disposition, her real considerationfor the sufferings of others. He could not see that in this matter,without the faintest trace of egotism, she unconsciously measured herown suffering as infinitely greater than that of anybody else who wasrelated to the case, and that she as unconsciously asserted her rightto minister to that suffering in the way best calculated to alleviateit. Such characters as hers, under the pressure of great trouble,elevate self-interest to the very heights of nobility.
"I ask no consideration for my feelings," said Clara, almost coldly;"it seems to me that real consideration would credit me not only withdignified motives but with an intelligent basis for my conduct. Uncledear," and she suddenly crossed to him and put her arms about his neck,"let me take that back. I didn't mean it. I wouldn't for the world sayan unkind word to you, but you see I feel my lonely position so keenly.I do what I think is right, but there is no one to uphold me."
Mr. Pembroke disengaged her arms, and again the expression of painflitted across his face.
"I am doing as well as I can under the circumstances," he said huskily,"not only to show you my deep sympathy, but to guide you also. Foryour own interests, I must point out one possibility of your interviewto-morrow. I shall place no obstacle in the way of your seeing LizzieWhite, but I caution you, without knowing more about her than that sheleft a good home, that she may take a most unfriendly attitude. Ifthere is anything unseemly in the meeting, I know that it will arisefrom her. No one can tell me that she lacks your native refinement; itmust be so; a woman such as she is at heart may make a dreadful scene,whether she be interested in Ivan or not. To be concerned in such ascene, my dear child, would be a stigma from which even your goodnesscould not escape. Clara, there is nothing so scandalous as a quarrelbetween women when a man is in question."
"You wish me not to see her," said Clara, faintly.
Mr. Pembroke rose and paced up and down in extreme agitation forseveral minutes, while Clara sat with a dreadful weight upon her heart;for she not only loved her uncle, and wished earnestly to be guidedby him if possible, but she also realized that his warning was a wiseone. She had herself, with all her thought, scarcely considered howshe should approach Lizzie White. So certain was she that Ivan had noteloped with her, that the interview itself had not appealed to her asmore than a friendly discussion of facts and rumors as to which bothwould be in accord. But there was her theory that Lizzie might be anaccomplice of Poubalov's. What attitude might she not take, therefore,in order to carry out her part in the spy's design?
"I would say yes," declared Mr. Pembroke at length, "for that is mywish, but I do not, cannot say it. Go to this Lizzie White to-morrow,Clara. You will know how to speak with her better than I can tell you.I will myself go to the house with you, but you shall have your meetingall alone if you so desire. Of course you do."
"Then, uncle," said Clara, "let me tell you of the strange things thathave occurred since I began to search for Ivan. I am sure you willfeel, when you know all, that I am justified in my general course,however much I may have been mistaken in details."
Mr. Pembroke listened with the closest attention to the narrative. Hewas deeply moved by it, and when she had finished he said brokenly:
"There is great villainy at work here."
Then he leaned his head upon his hand, shielding his eyes from hersas she eagerly sought, not so much commendation of her persistence assuggestion as to what to do, or some theory upon wh
ich to explain themany mysteries that centered upon the disappearance of Ivan.
"I wonder," he mused at last, "if this could have been accident?"
"Accident, uncle!" exclaimed Clara, with just a touch of impatience;"don't you see that if it had been accident, we should have known ofit? Think: in a busy street of a city no accident could have occurredby which Ivan could be incapacitated without some report of it comingto the authorities. Even if Ivan had not been taken to a hospital inthe usual way, but had fallen into the hands of private persons, it isnot possible that with all the stir that was made by his disappearance,police or reporters should not have found some trace of him."
"True, true," said Mr. Pembroke, vacantly; "I was thinking--you see itis hard to master all these strange details at once. I marvel at yourcourage."
"Courage! What else could I do?" asked Clara.
"Nothing with your character, nothing else. You have done right, Clara.I am very tired. Let us talk further of this in the morning."
Mr. Pembroke was not disposed to talk in the morning, however, andClara was engrossed with a long letter from Louise that had been mailedon the train leaving Boston at midnight.
"Poubalov," she wrote, "was at the house when I returned from seeingyou off. If the man were capable of expressing emotion, I should saythat he was disappointed at not seeing you; but whatever he felt,he masked it under his grand assumption of dignity and courtesy. Hehad called, he said, to make his apologies for his extraordinaryleave-taking of the evening before, and also, he added with ponderoushumor, to recover his property. I got his hat and cane for him, andwhat do you think! he had brought a lovely basket of flowers for you,to plead his apologies, as he put it. There was no refusing such anoffering, dear, and I am enjoying their fragrance and rich colors as Iwrite. I hope this will reach you in time to be of use if Poubalov'scall can be of use to you in New York. I thought it my duty to reportit. I felt how immeasurably superior you are to me intellectually--Iwon't draw other comparisons lest they be odious to one of us--for Iwas utterly at a loss to draw him out. He didn't present his excusesto me, and how he managed to evade doing so I can't quite see now as Ithink it over, for he remained several minutes, talking with apparentcandor. The man himself is as great a mystery as anything connectedwith your trouble. All I can say is that with one hat on his head,and his other hat and his cane in his hand, he eventually took hisdeparture, promising to call again. There is one thing I managed notto do, though it was quite plain, even to me, that he was trying tofind out. I didn't tell him where you were. Of course I had to saythat you were not at home, and in answer to direct questions that Idid not expect you before Saturday, but I didn't even hint at New Yorkor Lizzie White, and he made no allusion to either. Did I do right? Ihope so, for I have felt so often what a shame it is that I cannot beof more help to you. I believe in Ivan as you do, dear, and my heartand thoughts are with you."
They were at breakfast in the great dining-room of the hotel when Clararead this letter, and she furtively kissed the paper that conveyed suchloyal sympathy to her. As she replaced the letter in the envelope, shewas surprised to see the old man Dexter hobbling across the room. Therewas an ugly scowl upon his face as he bowed to her, and Mr. Pembrokerose from his chair with an expression little less than fierce.
"Another time, Dexter," he exclaimed under his breath, taking the oldman by the arm and wheeling him around. As Mr. Pembroke walked himaway, Clara heard Dexter croak:
"What is she here for, Mat Pembroke?"
When her uncle returned, his face was still dark and he said:
"Business necessities, Clara, that sometimes compel a man to toleratedisagreeable persons. I wouldn't have him near you, however."
"He is disagreeable, surely," responded Clara, "but I could have bornewith him for your sake, uncle."
The subject seemed intensely disagreeable to Mr. Pembroke, and nothingfurther was said about it.
After breakfast Mr. Pembroke inquired the number of the house on SecondAvenue from which Lizzie White had written, and they set out to find it.
"I shall have to leave you, Clara," said her uncle, "as soon as I amsure you have found the right place. I will call for you or I will puta carriage at your disposal."
"There is no telling how long I shall be," returned Clara, "and I don'tsee why you should need to inconvenience yourself. I have acquiredmore self-dependence during the last three or four days than I everhad before, and I think you can trust me to take care of myself.But I should think it would be well to have a carriage at command;and, uncle, all the expense I have been to thus far has come from myallowance. You will let me pay for a carriage, won't you?"
"If you prefer to," said Mr. Pembroke, "and we will engage one in thevicinity of the house as we can reach the place readily by a cross-townline of cars."
So they proceeded by street-car, and when they alighted in SecondAvenue they were but a short distance from the desired number. Mr.Pembroke signaled to a passing hack and instructed the driver to waitnear the house to which they were going. Then they continued their wayon foot.
Just before they came to the steps leading up to the door theirattention was attracted by the noise of a man running behind them, andthen a voice panting, "Miss Hilman! Miss Hilman!"
They turned about quickly, and, to her unspeakable surprise, Clara sawthat it was Litizki. His sallow face was flushed with the exertion ofhis long run, for he had chased them afoot from the hotel. He couldhardly speak for lack of breath when he came up to them, but he didmanage to gasp:
"I've seen him, Miss Hilman, this morning!"
The Mission of Poubalov Page 15
