A Husband by Proxy

by Jack Steele

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A NEW ALARM

  Without, for a moment, comprehending the drift of Dorothy's fears,Garrison led her to a parlor of the house, looking at her in a mannerso fixed that she realized their troubles were not confined to the lossof her certificate.

  "What do you think? What do you fear? There isn't anything else?" shesaid, as he still remained dumb for a moment. "What shall we do?"

  "Theodore threatened that something might occur," he said. "He hasevidently done his worst, all at once."

  "Why--but I thought perhaps my certificate was stolen here," whisperedDorothy in agitation. "How could Theodore----"

  "No one in this house could have known you had such a document aboutyou," interrupted Garrison. "While you were drugged, or chloroformed,in the Robinsons' house, the old woman, doubtless, searched youthoroughly. You told me your certificate was sewed inside----"

  "Inside--yes, inside," she interrupted. "I thought it was safe, forthey put a blank paper in its place, and I might not have thought ofanything wrong if I had not discovered a black thread used instead ofthe white silk I had been so careful to employ."

  "There is ample proof that Theodore has utilized his wits to goodadvantage," he said. "Your marriage-certificate episode is only a partof what he has achieved. This paper contains all the story--suggestingthat your uncle may have been murdered, and telling the conditions ofthe will."

  He held up the paper before her startled eyes, and saw the look ofalarm that came upon her.

  "Printed--in the paper!" she exclaimed in astonishment and utterdismay. "Why, how could such a thing happen?"

  She took the paper and scanned the story hurriedly, making exclamationsas she read.

  "Theodore--more of Theodore," said Garrison. "From his point of view,and with all his suspicions concerning our relationship, it is amaster-stroke. It renders our position exceedingly difficult."

  "But--how could he have found out all these things?" gasped Dorothy."How could he know?"

  "He has guessed very shrewdly, and he has doubtless pumped yourstepbrother of all that he happened to know."

  "What shall we do?" she repeated hopelessly. "We can't proveanything--just now--and what will happen when the will comes up forprobate?"

  "I'll land him in prison, if he doesn't pull out of it now," saidGarrison, angered as much by Theodore's diabolical cleverness as he wasby this premature publicity given to the story. "He has carried it allwith a mighty high hand, assured of our fear to take the business intocourt. He has stirred up a fight that I don't propose to lose!--afight that has roused all the red-hot Crusader of my being!"

  "But--what shall we do? All the newspaper people will be digging atthe case and doing their best to hunt up everyone concerned!"

  "No reporters can be seen. If the fact leaks out that you are here,through anyone connected with the house, you must move at once, andchange your name, letting no one but me know where you are."

  She looked at him blankly. "Alone? Can't you help me, Jerold?"

  "It is more important for me to hasten up country now than it wasbefore," he answered. "I must work night and day to clear things upabout the murder."

  "But--if Foster should really be guilty?"

  "He'll be obliged to take his medicine--otherwise suspicion mightpossibly rest upon you."

  "Good Heavens!"

  She was very pale.

  "This story in the _Star_ has precipitated everything," he added."Already it contains a hint that you and your 'husband' are the oneswho benefit most by the possible murder of John Hardy."

  She sank on a chair and looked at him helplessly.

  "I suppose you'll have to go--but I don't know what I shall do withoutyou. How long do you think you'll be away?"

  "It is quite impossible to say. I shall return as soon ascircumstances permit. I'll write whenever I can."

  "I shall need some things from the house," she said. "I haveabsolutely nothing here."

  "Buy what you need, and remain indoors as much as you can," heinstructed. "Reporters will be sure to haunt the house in Ninety-thirdStreet, hoping to see us return."

  "It's horrible!" said Dorothy. "It almost makes me wish I had neverheard of any will!"

  Garrison looked at her with frank adoration in his eyes.

  "Whatever the outcome, I shall always be glad," he said--"glad of theday you needed--needed assistance--glad of the chance it has given meto prove my--prove my--friendship."

  "I'll try to be worthy of your courage," she answered, returning hislook with an answering glance in which the love-light could only atbest be a trifle modified. "But--I don't see how it will end."

  "About this marriage certificate----" he started, when the door-bellrang interruptingly.

  In fear of being overheard by the landlady, already attending a caller,Garrison halted, to wait. A moment later the door was opened by thelady of the house herself, and a freshly-groomed, smooth-shaven youngman was ushered in. The room was the only one in the house for thissemi-public use.

  "Excuse me," said the landlady sweetly. "Someone to see Miss Ellis."

  The visitor bowed very slightly to Dorothy and Garrison, and stoodsomewhat awkwardly near the door, with his hat in his hand. Thelandlady, having made her excuses for such an intrusion, disappeared tosummon Miss Ellis.

  Garrison was annoyed. There was nothing to do but to stand there inembarrassing silence. Then Miss Ellis came shyly in at the door,dressed so becomingly that it seemed not at all unlikely she had hopedfor the evening's visitor.

  "Oh, Mr. Hunter, this is a very pleasant surprise!" she said. "Allowme to introduce my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax." She added toGarrison and Dorothy, "This is Mr. Hunter, of the New York _Star_."

  Prepared to bow and let it go at that, Garrison started, ever soslightly, on learning the visitor's connection. Mr. Hunter, on hispart, meeting strangers unexpectedly, appeared to be diffident andquite conventional, but pricked up his ears, which were strung to catchthe lightest whisper of news, at the mention of the Fairfax name.

  "Not the Fairfax of the Hardy case?" he said, for the moment intent onnothing so moving as a possible service to his paper. "Of courseyou've seen----"

  Garrison sat down on the copy of the _Star_ which Dorothy had left in achair. He deftly tucked it up beneath his coat.

  "No, oh, no, certainly not," he said, and pulling out his watch, headded to Dorothy, "I shall have to be going. Put on your hat and comeout for a two-minute walk."

  Then, to the others:

  "Sorry to have to run off in this uncomplimentary fashion, but I trustwe shall meet again."

  Hunter felt by instinct that this was the man of all men whom he ought,in all duty, to see. He could not insist upon his calling in such asituation, however, and Garrison and Dorothy, bowing as they passed,were presently out in the hall with the parlor door closed behind them.In half a minute more they were out upon the street.

  "You'll be obliged to find other apartments at once," he said. "You'dbetter not even go back to pay the bill. I'll send the woman a coupleof dollars and write that you made up your mind to go along home, afterall."

  "But--I wanted to ask a lot of questions--of Miss Ellis," said Dorothy,thereby revealing the reason she had wished to come here before. "Ithought perhaps----"

  "Questions about me?" interrupted Garrison, smiling upon her in thelight of a street-lamp they were passing. "I can tell you far moreabout the subject than she could even guess--if we ever get the time."

  Dorothy blushed as she tried to meet his gaze.

  "Well--it wasn't that--exactly," she said. "I only thought--thought itmight be interesting to know her."

  "It's far more interesting to know where you will go," he answered."Let me look at this paper for a minute."

  He pulled forth the _Star_, turned to the classified ads, found the"Furnished Rooms," and cut out half a column with his knife.

  "Let me go back where I was to-night," she suggested.
"I am really tootired to hunt a place before to-morrow. I can slip upstairs and retireat once, and the first thing in the morning I can go to a place whereAlice used to stay, with a very deaf woman who never remembers my nameand always calls me Miss Root."

  "Where is the place?" said Garrison, halting as Dorothy halted.

  "In West Eighteenth Street." She gave him the number. "It will lookso very queer if I leave like this," she added. "I'd rather not excitesuspicion."

  "All right," he replied, taking out a booklet and jotting down "MissRoot," and the address she had mentioned. "I'll write to you in thename the deaf woman remembers, or thinks she remembers, and no one needknow who you are. If I hurry now I can catch the train that connectswith the local on the Hartford division for Rockdale."

  They turned and went back to the house.

  "You don't know how long you'll be gone?" she said as they neared thesteps. "You cannot tell in the least?"

  "Long enough to do some good, I hope," he answered. "Meantime, don'tsee anybody. Don't answer any questions; and don't neglect to leavehere early in the morning."

  She was silent for a moment, and looked at him shyly.

  "I shall feel a little bit lonely, I'm afraid," she confessed--"withnone of my relatives, or friends. I hope you'll not be very long.Good-by."

  "Good-by," said Garrison, who could not trust himself to approach thesubject she had broached; and with his mind reverting to the subject ofhis personal worry in the case, he added: "By the way, the loss of yourwedding certificate can be readily repaired if you'll tell me the nameof the preacher, or the justice of the peace----"

  "I'd rather not--just at present," she interrupted, in immediateagitation. "Good-night--I'll have to go in."

  She fled up the steps, found the door ajar, and pushing it open, stoodframed by the light for a moment, as she turned to look back where hewas standing.

  Only for a moment did she hover there, however.

  He could not see her face as she saw his.

  He could not know that a light of love and a mute appeal forforgiveness lay together in the momentary glance bestowed upon him.

  Then she closed the door; and as one in a dream he slowly walked away.