"What's come to her?" she demanded fiercely. "Why'd she leave this housewithout seeing me? What made her go, and where's she gone? Tell methat! She didn't vanish into air, did she? Where's she gone,and--where--is she--now?"
Lawrence did not answer her. For some seconds that same question hadbeen pounding through his brain with the dull, rhythmical iteration of ahammer on an anvil.
Where was she now?
*CHAPTER XVI.*
*ANOTHER WOMAN.*
As Barry departed a little later he was conscious of a maddeningsensation of helplessness. There seemed no question in his mind thatShirley Rives had left the house of her own accord. The fact that shehad made not the slightest attempt to see her friend, Sally Barton,proved that conclusively. It was possible, of course, that the head ofthe establishment, a Mrs. Weston, could throw some light upon themystery; but she had gone over to Long Island, and was not expected backuntil the following morning.
Barry's first impulse had been to go at once to the station house, makeinquiries there, and possibly send out a general alarm; but he realizedalmost at once that such a step would be unwise. Miss Rives had givenhim no right to interfere in her affairs. She was a perfectly freeagent to come and go as she liked, and where she chose; but the factthat she had disappeared in this utterly inexplicable manner droveLawrence distracted.
Wild thoughts of suicide, under the burden of her troubles, flashedthrough his mind. Girls, even of her high mental caliber, had beendriven to such desperate acts. Mrs. Weston's reception of her mighthave been the last straw to an already staggering load, and driven herimpulsively forth into the street again. Worse yet, it might not havebeen Mrs. Weston at all who opened the door. There was quite as good achance of its being some lodger on his way out. And Sally Barton'sestimate of some of the lodgers was far from reassuring.
The maid had been summoned again, and interrogated sharply by the girl,but to no purpose. She had gone to bed about half past nine, leavingher mistress making up accounts in the back room. She knew nothingfurther, had heard nothing out of the way; and in the morning there hadnot been the slightest sign of any stranger having been in the house.
And there Lawrence was obliged to leave the matter. Think as he would,he could hit upon nothing else he might do. The stenographer promisedto telephone him the instant she learned anything from Mrs. Weston; butBarry had already determined to call at the house directly afterbreakfast next morning. How he was going to remain in suspense for eventhat length of time he did not understand.
It was barely nine as he left the house, and for a moment or two hehesitated on the curb, wondering where he should go. Then a whimsical,absurd notion came to him, and, having ordered the chauffeur to drive tothe northwest corner of Madison Square, he stepped into the taxi.
There was not the slightest hope in his mind of thus finding any clew.The vagaries of chance were strange and improbable enough, to be sure,but they could scarcely be expected to bring about such an utterly wildcoincidence as that. He simply had a feeling that he wanted to returnto that spot where he had first met her, and anything in the way ofaction was better than moping alone in his rooms.
As the car jerked forward and sped across town, Barry paid littleattention to the second taxi, except to notice that it was followingabout half a block behind. At the corner of the square he got out, toldthe chauffeur to wait, and walked slowly down the winding walk.
As before, the place was deserted. The great, glittering tower stillloomed high above the branches of the gaunt trees. The fountain hadthat same look of dreariness and desolation. The cold was as bitter;but the wind had died away, and everything was still.
As he rounded the ice-rimmed basin, Barry's heart leaped into histhroat. Entering the square, just as she had entered it last night, wasa slight, slim figure, who came toward him hurriedly, yet with that sameodd sense of hesitation in her movements. As they approached eachother, Lawrence's heart was thudding so loudly that he fancied he couldhear the beats. It was impossible--utterly impossible; and yet hehoped.
She came on hurriedly, and his pace slackened the barest trifle as hetried to penetrate the shadow beneath the black hat brim. Then he sawthat it was not Shirley Rives. It was a girl, pinched and worn withfatigue and hunger.
Half a dozen steps he took blindly, fairly sick with disappointment,before he stopped abruptly and turned around. The girl was hurrying on;she had almost reached the fountain.
"Stop!" Barry cried impulsively. "Wait a minute."
Instinctively she obeyed, twisting her head backward to watch hiscoming; and the thin, white wedge of face, ghastly in the pitilesselectric light streaming down upon it, smote Lawrence with a new pang.By the time he reached her he held a thin leather case with gold cornersin his hand.
"Here!" he said harshly, yet with a certain throbbing undercurrent ofpity in his voice. "Take this and get something to eat. Do youunderstand?"
She stared at the bill he held out, then her fingers closed over itconvulsively.
"Thanks," she said hoarsely. She stood for a second or two, gazing intohis face. Then she shivered. "Thanks," she repeated, and this time itseemed as if a whole world of despair and misery was in that littleword.
Barry made no answer. There was nothing more to say, and he knew it.Still he lingered for a second before he uttered a brief good night, andturned toward his waiting taxi.
It was the old, old tragedy, but somehow the strange coincidence of timeand place filled Lawrence with an awful, unreasoning dread, and made hisride back to the hotel a torture.
*CHAPTER XVII.*
*BEYOND BELIEF.*
At first Barry was tempted to phone Hamersley, and tell him he could notcome to the dance. He had never felt less like such a thing in his life,but, as he slowly approached the instrument, trying to think up aplausible excuse, he realized that anything would be better in hispresent state of mind than sitting alone in his room.
So he ordered a taxi to be ready for him at ten. When that time came hedescended, and was driven to the Hamersley house, just off upper FifthAvenue. He saw that the other car was still trailing him persistently,but somehow he did not care. That seemed no longer a very importantmatter.
There was a considerable delay in getting started, for Jock's mother andsister were going along, and, as the big chap expressed it: "To be readyin time for a dance, a woman ought to start dressing when she gets up inthe morning."
They came down at length, however, and, after a little conversation, allfour got into the limousine, which had been waiting nearly an hour, andwere soon bowling down Fifth Avenue.
It was after eleven when they entered the great ballroom at Sherry's,and the dance was apparently in full swing. The glittering lights, theflowers, the wonderful, intoxicating music, the gleam of jewels andbright eyes, could not but arouse Barry from his abstraction and makehim glad that he had come.
Large as the room was, it seemed crowded with dancers, while about thewalls and in the anterooms sat patronesses, chaperons, and othernon-participants, watching the brilliant scene, chatting amongthemselves, or here and there indulging in a rubber of the inevitablebridge.
"It's very mixed, of course," Miss Hamersley was saying, as they glidedover the perfect floor. "That's always the way with a big affair likethis. If there's any one you want to meet just make Jock introduce you.He knows everybody. Yes, surely, Peter. Thanks, very much, Mr.Lawrence."
Before the latter could collect his wits, she was whirled away on thearm of the young fellow who had cut in; and Barry backed up against thewall, diverted by the kaleidoscopic scene, his eyes roving about theroom in search of possible acquaintances.
For a time he saw no one he knew. There were plenty of charming faces,beauties of every type, and not a few of whom glanced curiously in hisdirection. There were many girls whom he would have liked immensely tomeet twenty-four hours befor
e; but, somehow, now that he had seenShirley Rives, he ceased to be enthusiastic over others.
The thought of her, leaping back into his mind after a briefdistraction, brought a faint pucker into Barry's forehead. Presently,still thoughtful, he moved slowly from his place, drifting toward theend of the room where the line of ladies stood to receive the belatedguests who still dribbled in at intervals.
Presently his eyes fell upon a group at some distance from him, and hegave a great start. The group consisted of a girl surrounded by five orsix men. Her back was squarely toward Lawrence, but there was somethingabout her slim, graceful figure, tiny but exquisitely proportioned, andthe tilt of her head, with its wonderful crown of coppery hair, whichwas so like Shirley Rives that it almost hurt.
She wore a close-fitting gown of shimmering golden tissue, in whichsequins gleamed and winked with every movement. A gorgeous string ofpearls was wound twice about her neck. On her arms were several costlybracelets.
Apparently she had only just arrived. It would seem, also, that she washaving some difficulty in choosing a partner from the number of menhovering about her. Barry, watching her with unconscious curiosity,could see her laugh and shake her head several times. Once, when ayouth stepped forward with lifted arms, as if the matter were settled,she slipped away from him, holding up the big spray of orchids shecarried with a gesture of admonition.
At length, with a sudden display of dignity, she lifted her head, andnodded to a tall, handsome fellow who stood, apparently unmoved, on theouter edge of the circle.
As he came swiftly forward, the others fell back with shrugs anddisappointed looks. The girl caught up her skirts, and placed one tinyhand upon her partner's shoulder; and Lawrence, who had been watchingthe little comedy with more interest than he realized, decided that in amoment she would turn, and he would see her face.
An instant later she did turn--full upon him; and Barry's heart almostceased to beat. In that brief second, before she was whirled away intothe crowd, he saw the wonderful brown eyes, the tender, shapely mouth,the graceful curve of cheek and chin which had so fascinated him thenight before, and which had scarcely left his mind for a moment since.
The girl was Shirley Rives!
*CHAPTER XVIII.*
*CHAOS.*
Never in all his life had Barry Lawrence been so staggered. For amoment or two he refused to believe the evidence of his senses. The ageof miracles was passed, and it was nothing less than a miracle to seethis girl, who had been penniless, friendless, desperate the nightbefore, now clad in silks, glittering with jewels, and apparentlyabsolutely at home amid these luxurious surroundings.
It was more than absurd; it was utterly impossible. He had beendeceived by some chance resemblance, coupled with the fact that her faceremained so vividly and constantly in his mind, into fancying for asecond that this stranger was Shirley Rives.
Recovering his composure with an effort, Barry moved swiftly along thewall until he reached a nook banked with palms and ferns. Slippingthrough them, he let the trailing green curtain fall into place behindhim. Then he waited, his eyes, fixed upon the gliding throng, for thegirl to reappear. He meant to satisfy himself that he had made nomistake.
Subtle, seductive, almost intoxicating in its rhythmic sweetness, thewonderful waltz music, while it fell upon unheeding ears, seemed,nevertheless, to stir his being with vague unrest. Couples flashedswiftly by his corner or glided past more slowly. Some were the epitomeof graceful motion; others romped about the hall in modifications of theuncouth turkey trot and other dances of the same sort which had, oflate, been attracting so much unfavorable comment. There were tallgirls and short, beautiful and plain; but Barry's eyes passed over theirfaces with the utmost indifference. Not one of them was the girl hesought.
Suddenly his heart began to thud, and his figure stiffened as he bentforward and parted the leaves a little more. She was coming toward himdown the polished floor, moving with that inimitable grace which seemsborn in most Southern girls.
There was a gleam of jewels on her corsage and in her hair. The diamondbuckles on her absurdly tiny satin slippers winked and sparkled as herfeet kept perfect time with the music. The swish of her gown soundedclearly to the strained senses of the man behind the palms.
Just as the couple glided so close that he could almost have touchedthem, the girl looked up into her partner's face, and laughed, a low,soft, bewitching laugh, which sent the blood boiling into Barry's face,and brought his teeth together on his under lip.
He had not made any mistake. She was Shirley Rives beyond any questionor doubt. She was the girl whom he had found half frozen, perishingfrom cold and hunger, without a roof to cover her--without a singlefriend, apparently, in that whole vast city, save a stenographer in acheap West Side lodging house.
The look in her eyes, the curve of her half-smiling lips as she glancedup into the face of her tall partner, the very sound of her laugh, droveLawrence almost mad. He hated the fellow with every atom of hatred inhis being; hated his graceful dancing, his polished manner, his air ofproprietorship; detested, above all, his dark, handsome face with itsexpression of captivating melancholy. It was only a pose, he toldhimself bitterly, to gain attention and sympathy.
But swiftly that feeling was displaced in the realization that his idolhad been shattered. The girl had deliberately deceived him from thevery first. She had never been friendless and homeless and desperate atall. As to what reason she could have had for playing with him as shedid he had not the remotest conception, but the bitter, intolerable,fact remained that she had made a fool of him.
How she must have laughed to herself when he fell into the trap, like agreat booby! How entertained she must have been in the restaurant, andlater, when he practically forced the money upon her. No doubt it hadbeen a merry play to her, over which she would probably laugh herselfweary whenever it came back into her mind. Very likely she had alreadyamused her friends by telling them of her little adventure, and what aneasy mark she had found.
Barry shivered at the thought. Then he laughed mirthlessly. Thetrouble with him was that he had taken the jest with deadly seriousness.It was up to him to think of some way to play up to her. She must neverknow how much the thing had hurt him. He must make her think that he,too, had been playing a part all the time, instead of being the goat.
Unfortunately such a thing was much more easily thought of than put intoexecution. Barry was sore and hurt beyond measure, and not at all incondition for playing a game of that sort. The lights and music, thelaughter and gayety, suddenly palled. He felt as if he wanted to getaway from it all, yet he did not want to go as long as she was here.
The result was that he kept his place behind the palms for fifteen ortwenty minutes, during which Miss Rives circled past him time aftertime. The handsome, melancholy youth had disappeared, and given placeto a tawny-haired giant with a strong, pleasant face and infectiouslaugh which Lawrence disliked unreasoningly. Then followed a slim,graceful chap with a delicately penciled mustache, who showed aninclination for the most sensational dances, and was evidentlyrestrained only by his partner's preference for the more sedate Boston.
To one and all of them Shirley Rives seemed equally pleasant and equallyfascinating. Instead of relieving Lawrence, as this should have done,it simply aggravated him the more; and presently, unable longer tocontain himself, he left his corner, and made his way straight to theretirement of the smoking room.
He had scarcely entered it, and was taking out his cigarette case, whena tall, smooth-shaven fellow, very ruddy and very blond, sprang from achair in which he had been lounging, and, rushing forward, grippedBarry's hand.
"By Jove, Oscar, old chap!" he exclaimed heartily. "Why, this isripping, don't you know! To think of seeing you in this bally place!"
Lawrence frowned, and withdrew his hand as soon as the other's fingersrelaxed their pressure. He was in no mood for talking to strangers, eveni
f they did labor under an innocent case of mistaken identity.
"I think you must have made a mistake," he returned coldly. "I don'tremember ever having seen you before."
The Englishman's face took on an expression of incredulous astonishment,and he fumbled for the monocle depending from his neck by a broad blackribbon.
"But, I say!" he objected, in a plaintive tone. He had screwed the glassinto his left eye, and was regarding Barry inquiringly. "You don't meanyou've really forgotten the ripping times we had at Cambridge? You'rejust chaffing, old chap! You couldn't forget the bloomin' rackets weused to pull off in your rooms--eh, what?"
"I really have," Barry retorted shortly. "You are evidently taking mefor some one else."
The other's jaw dropped, but the monocle remained firmly in its place.
"Fancy, now!" he gasped helplessly. "Extraordinary lapse of memory!"He shrugged his shoulders, and went on, with heavy sarcasm: "I dare say,then, you don't even remember Cambridge?"
"I remember Cambridge perfectly," Lawrence retorted sharply, goadedbeyond endurance; "but I have no recollection of you whatever."
Turning on his heel, he flung away his unlighted cigarette, and left theroom without giving the other a chance to speak.
*CHAPTER XIX.*
*PROTECTIVE MEASURES.*
"Fool!" muttered Lawrence, as he passed down the corridor toward theballroom. "If that was meant as a joke, it was a poor one."
The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve Page 7
