CHAPTER XXI
THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
Madame Cerise, well knowing she had accelerated the march of events to atwo-step, calmly sat herself down in the little housekeeper's room offthe lower hall and, leaving Louise to her moody solitude upstairs,awaited the inevitable developments.
Outside the weather was cold and blustering. The wind whirled its burdenof snowflakes in every direction with blinding, bewilderingimpartiality. It was a bad day to be out, thought the old Frenchwoman;but a snowstorm was not likely to deter an anxious lover. She calculatedthe time it would take Monsieur Weldon to arrive at the mansion: if hewas prompt and energetic he could cover the distance in an hour and ahalf by train or three hours by motor car. But he must prepare for thejourney, and that would consume some time; perhaps she need not expecthim within two hours at the earliest.
She read, to pass away the time, selecting a book from a shelf ofwell-worn French novels. Somehow she did not care to face her tearfulprisoner again until she could restore the unhappy girl to the arms ofher true lover. There was still romance in the soul of Madame Cerise,however withered her cheeks might be. She was very glad that at last shehad summoned courage to act according to the dictates of her heart.
Eh? What is this? A rumble of wheels over the frozen snow caused her toglance at the clock above the mantel. Not by any possibility couldMonsieur Weldon arrive so soon. Who, then, could it be?
She sat motionless while the doorbell rang, and rang again. Nothing mustinterfere with the pretty _denouement_ she had so fondly anticipatedwhen Louise's faithful knight came to her.
But the one who had just now alighted was persistent. The vehicle hadbeen sent away--she heard the sound of receding wheels--and the newarrival wanted to get in. The bell jerked and jangled unceasingly for atime and then came a crash against the door, as if a stalwart shoulderwas endeavoring to break it down.
Madame Cerise laid down her book, placed her _pince-nez_ in the case,and slowly proceeded down the hall. The door shook with another powerfulimpact, a voice cried out demanding admittance.
"Who is it, then?" she called shrilly.
"Open the door, confound you!" was the irritated reply.
The woman reflected. This was surely young Mershone's voice. And she hadno excuse to deny him admittance. Quietly she unbolted the door andallowed it to open an inch while she peered at the man outside.
"Oh! it is Monsieur Mershone."
"Of course it is," he roared, forcing the door open and stalking in."Who in thunder did you think it was?"
"A thousand pardons, m'sieur," said Cerise. "I must be cautious; it isyour own command. That you may be protected I deny admittance to all."
"That's all right," said Mershone gruffly, while he stamped his feetupon the rug and shook the snow from his clothing. "Haven't you any firein this beastly old refrigerator? I'm nearly frozen. Where's MissMerrick?"
"She is occupying Ma'm'selle Diana's room, in the west wing. Willmonsieur please to come this way?"
She led him to her own little room, and so engrossed were they thatneither remembered he had failed to rebolt the front door.
A good fire burned in the grate of Cerise's cosy den and Mershone threwoff his overcoat and warmed his hands as he showered questions upon theold caretaker.
"How is the girl behaving? Tears and hysterics?"
"At times, m'sieur."
"Takes it hard, eh?"
"She is very unhappy."
"Ever mention a man named Weldon?"
"Often."
"Humph!" He did not like this report. "Has anyone been here to disturbyou, or to make enquiries?"
"No one, m'sieur."
"We're safe enough, I guess. It was a mighty neat job, Cerise, takenaltogether, although the fools have been watching me night and day.That's the reason I did not come sooner."
She made no comment. Mershone threw himself into a chair and staredthoughtfully at the fire.
"Has Louise--Miss Merrick, you know--mentioned my name at all?" "Attimes."
"In what way?"
"With loathing and contempt."
He scowled at her savagely.
"Do you think she suspects that I carried her away?"
"She seems to know it absolutely."
He stared at the fire again.
"I've got a queer job on my hands, Cerise, and I rely on you to helpme," said he presently, assuming a more conciliating manner. "PerhapsI'm in a box, or a hole, or whatever else you like to call it, but it'stoo late too back down now--I must push ahead and win. You see the caseis this: I love the girl and had her brought here to keep her fromanother man. By hook or crook I'm going to make her my wife. She won'ttake kindly to that at first, perhaps, but I'll make her happy in theend. In one way this delay has been a good thing. It must have worn herout and broken her spirits quite a bit; eh?"
"She seems very miserable," conceded the woman.
"Do you find her hard to manage? Does she show much temper? In otherwords, do you suppose she'll put up a fight?"
Madame Cerise regarded him wonderingly.
"She is a good girl," was her reply. "She loves with much devotion theman from whom you have stolen her. I am quite positive she will neverconsent to become your wife."
"Oh, you are? Well, I intend she shall marry me, and that settles it.She's unnerved and miserable now, and I mean to grind her down till shehasn't strength to resist me. That sounds hard. I know; but it's theonly way to accomplish my purpose. After she's my wife I'll be very kindto her, poor thing, and teach her to love me. A man can do anything witha woman if he sets about it the right way. I'm not taking this standbecause I'm cruel, Cerise, but because I'm desperate. All's fair in loveand war, you know, and this is a bit of both."
He was pacing the floor by this time, his hands thrust deep in hispockets, an anxious look upon his face that belied his bombastic words.
The Frenchwoman's expression was impassive. Her scorn for the wretchbefore her was tempered with the knowledge that his cowardly plan wasdoomed to defeat. It was she who had checkmated him, and she was glad.Now and again her eyes sought the clock, while she silently calculatedthe time to elapse before Arthur Weldon arrived. There would be a prettyscene then, Cerise would have much enjoyment in witnessing theencounter.
"Now, then, take me to Louise," commanded Mershone, suddenly.
She shrank back in dismay.
"Oh, not yet, m'sieur!"
"Why not?"
"The young lady is asleep. She will not waken for an hour--perhaps two."
"I can't wait. We'll waken her now, and give her an idea of the changeof program."
"But no, m'sieur! It is outrageous. The poor thing has but now sobbedherself to sleep, after many bitter hours. Can you not wait a briefhour, having waited five days?"
"No. Take me to her at once." As he came toward her the woman drewaway.
"I cannot," she said firmly.
"See here, Cerise, I intend to be obeyed. I won't endure any nonsense atthis stage of the game, believe me," he announced fiercely. "In order towin, there's just one way to manage this affair, and I insist upon yourfollowing my instructions. Take me to Louise!"
"I will not!" she returned, the bead-like eyes glittering as they methis angry gaze.
"Then I'll go alone. Give me the key."
She did not move, nor did she answer him. At her waist hung a smallbunch of household keys and this he seized with a sudden movement andjerked loose from its cord.
"You miserable hag!" he muttered, inflamed with anger at her opposition."If you propose to defend this girl and defy me, you'll find I'm able tocrush you as I will her. While I'm gone I expect you to come to yoursenses, and decide to obey me."
With these words he advanced to the door of the little room and openedit. Just outside stood Fogerty, smiling genially.
"Glad to meet you again, Mr. Mershone," he said. "May I come in? Thankyou."
While Mershone stood bewildered by this unexpected apparition thedetective entered th
e room, closed the door carefully, and putting hisback to it bowed politely to Madame Cerise.
"Pardon this seeming intrusion, ma'am," said he. "I'm here on a littlematter of business, having a warrant for the arrest of Mr. CharlesConnoldy Mershone."
Aunt Jane's Nieces in Society Page 21
