CHAPTER XIII
DIANA REVOLTS
Charlie Mershone had no difficulty in securing his release when Parkercame on duty at six o'clock. He called up a cab and went at once to hisrooms at the Bruxtelle; and Fogerty followed him.
While he discarded his dress-coat, took a bath and donned his walkingsuit Mershone was in a brown study. Hours ago Louise had been safelylanded at the East Orange house and placed in the care of old MadameCerise, who would guard her like an ogre. There was no immediate need ofhis hastening after her, and his arrest and the discovery of half hisplot had seriously disturbed him. This young man was no novice inintrigue, nor even in crime. Arguing from his own stand-point herealized that the friends of Louise were by this time using everyendeavor to locate her. They would not succeed in this, he was positive.His plot had been so audacious and all clews so cleverly destroyed orcovered up that the most skillful detective, knowing he had abducted thegirl; would be completely baffled in an attempt to find her.
The thought of detectives, in this connection, led him to decide that hewas likely to be shadowed. That was the most natural thing for hisopponents to do. They could not prove Mershone's complicity in thedisappearance of Louise Merrick, but they might easily suspect him,after that little affair of Weldon's arrest. Therefore if he went to thegirl now he was likely to lead others to her. Better be cautious andwait until he had thrown the sleuths off his track.
Having considered this matter thoroughly, Mershone decided to remainquiet. By eight o'clock he was breakfasting in the grill room, andFogerty occupied a table just behind him.
During the meal it occurred to Charlie to telephone to Madame Cerise forassurance that Louise had arrived safely and without a scene to attractthe attention of strangers. Having finished breakfast he walked into thetelephone booth and was about to call his number when a thought struckhim. He glanced out of the glass door. In the hotel lobby were manyloungers. He saw a dozen pairs of eyes fixed upon him idly or curiously;one pair might belong to the suspected detective. If he used thetelephone there would be a way of discovering the number he had askedfor. That would not do--not at all! He concluded not to telephone, atpresent, and left the booth. His next act was to purchase a morningpaper, and seating himself carelessly in a chair he controlled theimpulse to search for a "scare head" on the abduction of Miss Merrick.If he came across the item, very well; he would satisfy no critical eyethat might be scanning him by hunting for it with a show of eagerness.The game was in his hands, he believed, and he intended to keep itthere.
Fogerty was annoyed by the man's evident caution. It would not be easyto surprise Mershone in any self-incriminating action. But, after all,reflected the boy, resting comfortably in the soft-padded cushions of abig leather chair, all this really made the case the more interesting.He was rather glad Mershone was in no hurry to precipitate a climax. Along stern chase was never a bad chase.
By and bye another idea occurred to Charlie. He would call upon hiscousin Diana, and get her to telephone Madame Cerise for informationabout Louise. It would do no harm to enlighten Diana as to what he haddone. She must suspect it already; and was she not a co-conspirator?But he could not wisely make this call until the afternoon. So meantimehe took a stroll into Broadway and walked leisurely up and down thatthoroughfare, pausing occasionally to make a trifling purchase andturning abruptly again and again in the attempt to discover who might befollowing him. No one liable to be a detective of any sort could hediscern; yet he was too shrewd to be lulled into a false belief that hiseach and every act was unobserved.
Mershone returned to his hotel, went to his room, and slept until afterone o'clock, as he had secured but little rest the night before in hisprimitive quarters at the police station. It was nearly two when hereappeared in the hotel restaurant for luncheon, and he took his seatand ate with excellent appetite.
During this meal Mr. Fogerty also took occasion to refresh himself,eating modestly at a retired table in a corner. Mershone's sharp eyesnoted him. He remembered seeing this youth at breakfast, andthoughtfully reflected that the boy's appearance was not such as mightbe expected from the guest of a fashionable and high-priced hotel.Silently he marked this individual as the possible detective. He had twoor three others in his mind, by this time; the boy was merely added tothe list of possibilities.
Mershone was a capital actor. After luncheon he sauntered about thehotel, stared from the window for a time, looked at his watch once ortwice with an undecided air, and finally stepped to the porter and askedhim to call a cab. He started for Central Park; then changed his mindand ordered the man to drive him to the Von Taer residence, where onarrival Diana at once ordered him shown into her private parlor.
The young man found his cousin stalking up and down in an extremelynervous manner. She wrung her delicate fingers with a swift, spasmodicmotion. Her eyes, nearly closed, shot red rays through their slits.
"What's wrong, Di?" demanded Mershone, considerably surprised by thisintense display of emotion on the part of his usually self-suppressedand collected cousin.
"Wrong!" she echoed; "everything is wrong. You've ruined yourself,Charlie; and you're going to draw me into this dreadful crime, also, inspite of all I can do!"
"Bah! don't be a fool," he observed, calmly taking a chair.
"Am _I_ the fool?" she exclaimed, turning upon him fiercely. "Did _I_calmly perpetrate a deed that was sure to result in disgrace anddefeat?"
"What on earth has happened to upset you?" he asked, wonderingly. "Itstrikes me everything is progressing beautifully."
"Does it, indeed?" was her sarcastic rejoinder. "Then your informationis better than mine. They called me up at three o'clock this morning toenquire after Louise Merrick--as if _I_ should know her whereabouts. Whydid they come to _me_ for such information? Why?" she stamped her footfor emphasis.
"I suppose," said Charlie Mershone, "they called up everyone who knowsthe girl. It would be natural in case of her disappearance."
"Come here!" cried Diana, seizing his arm and dragging him to a window."Be careful; try to look out without showing yourself. Do you see thatman on the corner?"
"Well?"
"He has been patrolling this house since day-break. He's a detective!"
Charlie whistled.
"What makes you think so, Di? Why on earth should they suspect you?"
"Why? Because my disreputable cousin planned the abduction, withoutconsulting me, and--"
"Oh, come, Di; that's a little too--"
"Because the girl has been carried to the Von Taer house--_my_ house--inEast Orange; because my own servant is at this moment her jailor, and--"
"How should they know all this?" interrupted Mershone, impatiently. "Andhow do you happen to know it yourself, Diana?"
"Madame Cerise called me up at five o'clock, just after Louise's unclehad been here for the second time, with a crew of officers. Cerise is inan ugly mood. She said a young girl had been brought to her a prisoner,and Mr. Mershone's orders were to keep her safely until he came. She isgreatly provoked at our using her in this way, but promised to followinstructions if I accepted all responsibility."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I knew nothing of the affair, but had put the house and herservices at your disposal. I said I would accept no responsibilitywhatever for anything you might do."
Mershone looked grave, and scowled.
"The old hag won't betray us, will she?" he asked, uneasily.
"She cannot betray me, for I have done nothing. Charlie," she said,suddenly facing him, "I won't be mixed in this horrid affair. You mustcarry out your infamous plan in your own way. I know nothing, sir, ofwhat you have done; I know nothing of what you intend to do. Do youunderstand me?"
He smiled rather grimly.
"I hardly expected, my fair cousin, that you would be frightened intoretreat at this stage of the game, when the cards are all in our hands.Do you suppose I decided to carry away Louise without fully consideringwhat I was doing, and the immediate
consequences of my act? And whereinhave I failed? All has gone beautifully up to this minute. Diana, yourfears are absolutely foolish, and against your personal interests. Allthat I am doing for myself benefits you doubly. Just consider, if youwill, what has been accomplished for our mutual benefit: The girl hasdisappeared under suspicious circumstances; before she again rejoins herfamily and friends she will either be my wife or Arthur Weldon willprefer not to marry her. That leaves him open to appreciate the charmsof Diana Von Taer, does it not? Already, my dear cousin, your wishes areaccomplished. My own task, I admit, is a harder one, because it is moredelicate."
The cold-blooded brutality of this argument caused even Diana toshudder. She looked at the young man half fearfully as she asked:
"What is your task?"
"Why, first to quiet Louise's fears; then to turn her by speciousarguments--lies, if you will--against Weldon; next to induce her togive me her hand in honest wedlock. I shall tell her of my love, whichis sincere; I shall argue--threaten, if necessary; use every reasonablemeans to gain her consent."
"You'll never succeed!" cried Diana, with conviction.
"Then I'll try other tactics," said he blandly.
"If you do, you monster, I'll expose you," warned the girl.
"Having dissolved partnership, you won't be taken into my confidence, myfair cousin. You have promised to know nothing of my acts, and I'll seeyou don't." Then he sprang from his chair and came to her with a hard,determined look upon his face. "Look here, Di; I've gone too far in thisgame to back out now, I'm going to carry it through if it costs me mylife and liberty--and yours into the bargain! I love Louise Merrick! Ilove her so well that without her the world and its mockeries can go tothe devil! There's nothing worth living for but Louise--Louise. She'sgoing to be my wife, Diana--by fair means or foul I swear to make her mywife."
He had worked himself up to a pitch of excitement surpassing that ofDiana. Now he passed his hand over his forehead, collected himself witha slight shudder, and resumed his seat.
Diana was astonished. His fierce mood served to subdue her own.Regarding him curiously for a time she finally asked:
"You speak as if you were to be allowed to have your own way--as if allsociety was not arrayed against you. Have you counted the cost of youraction? Have you considered the consequences of this crime?"
"I have committed no crime," he said stubbornly. "All's fair in love andwar."
"The courts will refuse to consider that argument, I imagine," sheretorted. "Moreover, the friends of this kidnaped girl are powerful andactive. They will show you no mercy if you are discovered."
"If I fail," answered Mershone, slowly, "I do not care a continentalwhat they do to me, for my life will be a blank without Louise. But Ireally see no reason to despair, despite your womanish croakings. Allseems to be going nicely and just as I had anticipated."
"I am glad that you are satisfied," Diana returned, with scornfulemphasis. "But understand me, sir; this is none of my affair in anyway--except that I shall surely expose you if a hair of the girl's headis injured. You must not come here again. I shall refuse to see you. Youought not to have come to-day."
"Is there anything suspicious in my calling upon my cousin--as usual?"
"Under such circumstances, yes. You have not been received at this houseof late years, and my father still despises you. There is another dangeryou have brought upon me. My father seemed suspicious this morning, andasked me quite pointedly what I knew of this strange affair."
"But of course you lied to him. All right, Diana; perhaps there isnothing to be gained from your alliance, and I'll let you out of thedeal from this moment. The battle's mine, after all, and I'll fight italone. But--I need more money. You ought to be willing to pay, for so farthe developments are all in your favor."
She brought a handful of notes from her desk.
"This ends our partnership, Charlie," she said.
"Very well. A woman makes a poor conspirator, but is invaluable as abanker."
"There will be no more money. This ends everything between us."
"I thought you were game, Di. But you're as weak as the ordinaryfeminine creation."
She did not answer, but stood motionless, a defiant expression upon herface. He laughed a little, bowed mockingly, and went away.
Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society Page 13
