He started into the building, but was back in an instant.
"Say," he exclaimed. "There's a dance at Sherry's to-night, and I'vegot an extra card. Don't start till eleven or so. How about it?"
Barry's mind was made up in a flash. That would give him time fordinner and a call on Miss Rives. His meeting with Hamersley had setstirring within him an intense desire to mingle with his kind, to be oneof the passing show, instead of a mere onlooker, no matter howspectacular a part the latter was. He wanted to go to that dance. Hewould go.
"That hits me all right," he said; "nothing I'd like better."
As he walked on down the street the smile still lingered on his lips.He was thinking of what he had been twenty-four hours before. Alreadythe pain and suffering and sordidness of that phase of his life seemednebulous and unreal. At times he caught himself wondering if it had notbeen an amazingly vivid and horrible nightmare.
The wheel of fortune was whirling him higher with every passing moment.
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*FOLLOWED.*
Having completed his purchases at several shops along the avenue,Lawrence finally emerged from the last one near Thirty-first Street, andpaused on the sidewalk to consider how he should put in the time beforelunch. It was not long after twelve, and he did not feel as if he couldpossibly lunch before half past one or two o'clock.
He glanced back at the dull-red facade of the Waldorf. He might go backthere and take his place among the loungers in one of the corridors orsmoking rooms, but he had an instinctive dislike for that sort of thing.
His eyes, ranging swiftly in the other direction, suddenly encounteredthe shifting glance of a man who stood looking into a window of the shopBarry had just come from; and at once Lawrence's mind, for some reasonor another, reverted to the mysterious fellow with the beard.
There was no resemblance between the two. This one was young and tall,smooth-shaven, and very blond. His clothes, while inconspicuous, bore acertain foreign touch which Barry had learned to recognize in that yearhe had spent abroad, directly after leaving college, as secretary toDoctor Grenfell, wealthy scientist and Harvard lecturer.
Nevertheless, there was something in that hastily averted glance he hadsurprised which made Lawrence wonder whether the unknown stranger wasanything more than an ordinary lounger, and decided him to put intooperation a little test he had found extremely effective during his lateunpleasant experience with Tappin's detectives.
Still swinging his stick gently back and forth and humming a tune underhis breath, he turned and began to survey the man critically. Slowlyhis gaze wandered from the narrow-brimmed, precisely dented felt hat,down the length of belted overcoat to the narrow, flat, rather clumsilyshaped shoes. Then he reversed the process. And when his eyes came torest upon the strong, rather rough-hewn profile presented to him, Barrywas interested to observe that the stranger was fidgeting nervously, andthat a dull red was slowly stealing upward from the high, close-fittingcollar.
All this proved nothing, for any man was likely to be embarrassed bybeing stared at in such a pointed way. But when, as the scrutinycontinued, the fellow finally turned from the window, and walked slowlyon down the avenue, without so much as a glance at Barry, the latterfelt that his suspicions were more than justified. An ordinaryindividual would have glared at him, or shown other signs of ill temper.
The affair was only beginning, however, and, as Lawrence moved leisurelytoward Thirty-first Street, he decided that he would have no difficultyin being entertained until luncheon time.
Rounding the corner, he hurried toward Broadway for a hundred feet orso, then stopped abruptly to look into a shop window.
As he expected, the blond individual appeared almost instantly, crossedthe street, and came briskly along on the opposite side.
From that moment the game progressed merrily for nearly an hour. Barrydid not exert himself at first. He wanted to test the stranger'scleverness, so he confined himself to entering one door of a departmentstore or hotel, and hastily departing by another; leaping on a surfacecar just as it was starting, only to alight as swiftly a few blocksfarther on, and take one going in the opposite direction.
These, and half a dozen other tricks of a like nature, he tried, only toend up at Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue with the blond fellowsticking to him like a leech.
"He's no slouch," Barry reflected, as he turned slowly eastward. "Ireckon I'll have to be a little spryer."
Turning uptown at Fifth Avenue, he kept a sharp lookout for a solitarytaxi. When one finally came along behind him, he hailed it swiftly, ranout into the street, and leaped in almost before the car had come to astop.
"Metropolitan Building--Madison Avenue entrance," he said quickly."Hustle!"
The chauffeur did hustle, and Lawrence, glancing back through the littlewindow, was pleased to see his pursuer swiftly lost in the crowd ofnoon-day pedestrians.
There was a short delay at the Flatiron Building, then the car sped upthe west side of the square, on account of traffic regulations, eastalong Twenty-sixth, and thence into Madison. It was just as theyrounded the last corner that Lawrence spied another flying taxi whichseemed to be following them.
He had a bill ready, however, and, as the car slowed down, he leapedout, thrust it into the chauffeur's hand, and darted into the building.
The arcade was full of people moving in both directions, and Barry,hurrying through them, slipped suddenly into a little cigar store midwayto Fourth Avenue, which had another entrance on Twenty-third Street.Less than a minute later he was diving into the subway entrance.
Fortunately a local was just drawing into the station, and, as he tookhis seat, he chuckled a little to himself.
"You'll have some trouble in following that trail, my friend," hemurmured.
He got out at Fourteenth Street, and took an uptown train, but longbefore reaching Fifty-ninth Street the smile had vanished, and a puzzledfrown furrowed his forehead.
There seemed no doubt now that his encounter with the bearded man lastnight had not been the result of chance. He was being followeddeliberately, and there were at least two men who seemed tremendouslyinterested in every move he made. What was their object? What motivegoverned this inexplicable pursuit?
Try as he would, Barry could find no answer to the questions. If theyhad been attracted by the emerald ring, and were following him for thepurpose of robbery--and last night's experience certainly pointedstrongly toward that solution--what earthly sense was there in theactions of the blond stranger? Did he expect to sandbag and rob avictim in broad daylight, amid the crowds which swarmed the citystreets? It was absurd, Barry told himself, yet what else was there tothink?
The problem occupied him on his way over to the Plaza, and made himsomewhat absent during the progress of the simple luncheon he ordered.He did not, in fact, really pay much attention to his surroundings untilan odd event effectually brought him to himself.
He had arisen from his table, and was making his way slowly to the door,his progress somewhat impeded by the simultaneous departure of a largeluncheon party. As he trailed along behind the laughing crowd of girls,he happened to glance casually to the left, and encountered the gaze ofa woman sitting at a table near the wall.
She was not young, but there was a stately distinction in her looks andmanner which impressed Lawrence. Her face was a perfect oval, showingremnants of great beauty, and Barry had a vague impression that he hadseen her before. She was perfectly gowned, and wore no jewels, save asingle strand of wonderful pearls. Her companions were much younger,and wholly charming. The head waiter hovered obsequiously about thetable.
As their eyes met, Barry saw her start slightly and stare for a second,a look of puzzled astonishment on her face. The next instant she smiledand bowed in a manner which was even more than cordial.
Automatically Lawrence returned the bow with what grace he could assume,and passed on. At the door he turne
d for a backward glance. and wassurprised to see that the lady had moved a little in her chair, and wasfollowing him with her eyes.
"I suppose I've met her somewhere," he thought, pausing in the doorway."I wish I could remember her name. She's certainly somebody."
An instant later he caught the eye of the head waiter, and summoned himwith a slight gesture.
"Who is the lady at the fourth table from the door?" he asked briefly."I seem to have forgotten her name."
The haughty functionary followed the direction of Barry's glance, andthen turned back, an odd expression in his eyes.
"That is Mrs. Winslow Courtney, sir," he answered stiffly.
For a second Lawrence was almost feezed. Then, with a short nod, hepassed on into the corridor.
Mrs. Winslow Courtney! No wonder he could not recall meeting herbefore. He doubted whether he had ever even seen her, save, perhaps, inher box at the opera; for it was she, more than any other woman, whoruled New York society. With family, vast wealth, and a charmingpersonality, she had taken her place in that innermost circle aroundwhich the social life of the entire country revolved. One of herdaughters was the wife of Prince von Lauenberg, the wealthiest noblemanin Prussia; another was the Duchess of Wilton.
Decidedly Barry had no right to that charming smile from Mrs. WinslowCourtney.
"I suppose she took me for some one else," he murmured, as he left thePlaza. "I wouldn't mind knowing her, though. Her friends, heracquaintances, have to be somebody."
*CHAPTER XV.*
*THE GIRL WHO VANISHED.*
Having grown a little weary of dodging people, Lawrence decided not togive those who seemed so interested in his movements a chance to pick uphis trail again that afternoon. He was fond of motoring, so heproceeded at once to hire a good car, and, with only a chauffeur forcompany, went spinning out over the snowy, level roads of WestchesterCounty.
In spite of the cold, he enjoyed it so much that it was nearly a quarterpast five before he entered the yacht club, and sent up his name toHamersley.
The latter descended at once, and, when he had finished upbraidingBarry, they went up to the famous model room, and, settling down in acorner with cigars, chatted, and joked each other for over an hour.
Two or three times Lawrence was on the point of asking his friendwhether he had an opening for a good stenographer in his office, buteach time he could not seem to bring himself to make the inquiry. Andso they parted without Miss Rives and her very pressing necessitiesbeing mentioned.
"I'll talk it over with her to-night, and ask her if she won't let mefind her a position," Barry decided, as he walked around to the hotel.
Having dressed with unusual care, he took a taxi to the Waldorf anddined there again in solitary state.
Though he kept his eyes open throughout the meal, he saw nothing of theblond fellow he had outwitted that morning, or of the bearded man. Therewas apparently no one in the dining room or about the hotel corridorswho paid any more attention to him than would be accorded to anyhandsome, well-dressed, prosperous-looking chap. Instead of beingrelieved at this, Barry was affected in quite the opposite manner. Thesudden cessation of interest struck him as being decidedly unnatural,and made him wonder whether it was not a bluff to hide the realintentions of the unknown spies.
After he had dined, he had a taxi summoned, and not until it was at thedoor did he leave the lighted corridor for the street.
Giving the Forty-eighth Street address, he stepped in and took up aposition that would enable him easily to glance through the back windowevery now and then, and see whether he was being followed.
Until they turned out of Longacre Square it was impossible to tell thiswith any certainty. The streets were full of taxis and motor cars,carrying people to theaters or the opera or coming away empty. But,having turned into the comparatively deserted cross street, Barry keptan extra sharp lookout. Before the taxi reached Eighth Avenue he wasrewarded by seeing another car skid around from Broadway in their wake.
With a slight frown of annoyance, he wondered how they had managed it.It is always more or less trying to miss a trick of any sort, andLawrence rather prided himself on his keenness of observation.
The slowing down of his car as they approached the house made him thrustthe matter from his mind in favor of more agreeable things. After all,his pursuer could accomplish nothing here.
Stepping out on the sidewalk, Barry told the chauffeur to wait, and ranup the steps. After a prolonged wait, a rather untidy-looking maidanswered his ring, holding the door only partially open, and peeringdoubtfully through the crack.
"Is Miss Rives at home?" Lawrence inquired.
The girl stared. "Miss--who did you say?"
"Miss Rives--Miss Shirley Rives!" Barry's tone was slightly impatient.Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the second taxi had crawledpast, and come to a stop a few doors beyond. "She arrived last night, Ibelieve."
The maid sniffed. "It's news to me," she remarked pertly. "Mebbeyou've got the wrong house. There ain't no Miss Rives, nor anybody likeit, stopping here just now."
Lawrence's eyes flashed, but he restrained his anger with an effort. Hehad never seen quite such a stupid creature in his life.
"I have made no mistake in the house," he retorted abruptly. "Kindlyask your mistress to see me for a moment."
"She ain't in." The girl's tone was plainly triumphant. Evidently shesensed the irritation in Barry's voice, and was glad of a chance toretaliate.
For an instant Lawrence was stumped. It was intolerable that he shouldbe cheated out of something he had been looking forward to all day bythe stupidity of a saucy maid. Whether it was anything more thanstupidity he did not know, but he was determined not to give in yet.
"Then take my card to Miss Sally, the young lady who has your top floorfront," he said tersely, slipping one hand into his pocket, and drawingforth a cardcase.
The maid hesitated, frowning. For an instant it seemed as if she meantto close the door in his face, and Barry was all ready to thrust a footinto the crack. Then something in his determined expression must havedecided her, for she grudgingly stood aside for him to enter.
Taking out a gold pencil, Lawrence hastily scrawled a few words on hiscard, and handed it to her in silence.
The girl took it and glanced insolently at the hatrack. Finding thatthere was nothing there or anywhere else in the hall of an easilyportable nature, she tossed her head and flounced to the stairs.
It seemed an eternity to the impatient Lawrence before a door closedhastily above, and he heard the sound of light footsteps hurrying downfrom the top floor. Presently a girl came in sight on the stairs, arather nice-looking girl, with trim black hair and fresh coloring. Asshe saw Barry, she slackened her pace, and made the last few steps veryslowly, indeed, pausing at the foot with one hand still resting on thebalustrade.
"I'm very sorry, indeed, to have troubled you," Lawrence said, with apleasant smile, "but I came to see Miss Rives, and the girl insists sheisn't here."
The blank stare of amazement she gave him struck Barry with a chillsense of foreboding.
"Miss Rives!" the girl repeated slowly. "You can't be talking aboutShirley Rives?"
"That's just who I mean. She came here last night. She had--er--lefther boarding place rather suddenly, and when I--met her downtown she wason her way to see you."
For a second the girl looked keenly into his eyes, without speaking.Then she gave her head an odd shake.
"You don't look like a person who is joking," she said quietly, "so Is'pose you've made a mistake some way. I haven't seen Shirley Rives intwo months, and more."
Barry's jaw dropped, and some of the ruddy glow left his cheeks. Thething was impossible. He had left Shirley on this very doorstep nottwenty-four hours before--had even seen her enter the house on her wayto this friend's room. And now they had the audacity to tell him thatshe had never been here. There was something que
er about the wholematter, and he meant to find out what it was before he left the place.
"I haven't made a mistake," he said sternly. "I brought Miss Rives tothis door myself a little before eleven last night. She looked up atyour window, and when she saw it lighted she said it was all right; thatSally must still be here, because she used to read till all hours. Sherang the bell, and I waited till the door opened and she went inside.And now you want me to believe that you never----"
He broke off abruptly, startled at the look on the girl's face. She hadgrown pale, and her eyes were dilated until they looked like holesburned in a white sheet. Her hands--slender, well-kept hands theywere--were clenched tightly, and as Barry stopped she flung them up withan odd, eloquent gesture.
"It's the truth!" she gasped, in a frightened voice. "I haven't seenher--I swear it!" Her lips were trembling, and she caught them swiftlybetween her teeth. "Something's happened to her--it must have! Was shedown in her luck? Had she lost her job?"
Barry nodded miserably. He was dazed--bewildered. But overtopping everyother sensation was cold, deadly fear; fear for another one cares for,which is infinitely more gripping and powerful than an emotion involvingself alone.
"Yes," he stammered. "She'd lost her job. She'd been turned out of herroom--turned into the street last night. Do you know what that mighthave meant if I hadn't found her?"
The swift, horrified intake of her breath told him that she knew onlytoo well. For a second she stood absolutely still, her mouth working.Then suddenly she put up both hands swiftly to her face, and began tosob. Almost as swiftly, she snatched them away again, and stared at himout of eyes filled with tears.
The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve Page 6
