Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter

CHAPTER XLIV.

A FRESH COMPLICATION

On leaving so abruptly the companionship of Dr. Vaughan, Claire rushed straight to her room. Closing and locking the door, she flung herself down upon a couch and indulged in a hearty cry. She was at once happy and sorry, angry and pleased. Presently, Claire sat up and began to review things more calmly.

"What a wretched little dunce I am!" she soliloquized. "And what must he think of me! Well!" with a little sigh, "the worse his opinion of me, the better for Madeline. And here I am this minute, in spite of myself, actually rejoicing in my heart because he has not done the very thing I have resolved that he should do. But he never will know it. Neither shall any one else. I won't give him another chance to talk to me; no, not if I have to take to my heels ten times a day. It's only right that I should give him up; I, indeed, who fancied myself in love with a white-handed, yellow-haired villain."

At this point in her meditations, some one rapped softly at her door.

"Claire, dear," said a soft voice, "open your door; I want to come in."

It was Mrs. Ralston, and Claire advanced slowly and turned the key in the lock.

"I – I thought it was somebody else," she said, hypocritically. "Come in, Mrs. Ralston."

Thus invited, the lady entered. Without making a comment on the disturbed appearance of her young friend, she crossed to the window, and sitting down in a cosy dressing-chair, said: "Come directly here, young lady, and sit down on that ottoman."

Looking somewhat surprised, the girl obeyed.

"Claire, my child, I have a confession to make. I was in the library while you sang: 'When sparrows build.'"

The girl's cheek flushed and then paled; but she made no answer.

"And," pursued Mrs. Ralston, "I heard more than your song."

No reply.

"And more than your words!"

"More than – my – my words?"

"Yes; I heard your heart's secret."

Claire's face drooped. "What do you mean?" she asked, deprecatingly.

"My darling, I mean that your heart spoke through your voice, and it belied your words. Why did you deny your love for so noble a man?"

Claire raised her head. "I didn't!" she said, suddenly, as if driven to bay.

"No," smiled Mrs. Ralston. "You were a wily little serpent. But you deceived him."

"I don't care," doggedly.

"Now you are telling a fib!"

"Well, I am not sorry, then," getting hold of her monitor's hand. "Why do you turn against poor me, when I am trying to do my duty?"

"Because you are not doing your duty."

"Yes, I am; indeed, I am. You don't know."

"Then tell me, and let me be your friend and adviser."

"But you can't advise," objected Claire, "because you don't know the – the other one."

"Well, I do know you."

"There it is!" burst forth the champion of the absent. "You know me, but you don't know what a worthless, unattractive little imp I am compared to her. You don't know her, but you shall! And when you do, poor me will have to take a seat lower down in the tabernacle of your affections."

"I wonder if this 'other' would so readily resign her lover to you?" she said.

"Would she!" flashed Claire. "Would she not? Has she not? Ah, if you knew her, you would never say that!" Then suddenly capturing the other hand of the lady, she said, in quieter but very grave tones: "Can you listen to a long story, Mrs. Ralston; rather to several stories combined in one? I am going to tell you what I have so much wanted you to know – the story of Madeline Payne."

Mrs. Ralston expressed her more than willingness to hear all that Claire had to tell, and the girl settled down comfortably on the ottoman at the feet of her friend, and began at the beginning. It was indeed a long story, for Claire omitted nothing. As she told how Madeline had exposed to her the baseness of Percy, Mrs. Ralston started up, her face pale as death, and then sank back in her chair.

"Percy!" she cried. "What – what is his other name?"

Claire stared at her in amazement. "What is it, Mrs. Ralston – you are ill?"

"No," almost gasped the lady; "tell me – his name."

"I did not intend to speak his name," Claire said, slowly. "It is Edward Percy."

Mrs. Ralston was on her feet in an instant, her face flushing with excitement. "Come with me!" she almost shrieked. "Quick! to my room."

Wondering vaguely, Claire followed.

Mrs. Ralston almost flew to her apartment. She flung open the door, and in an instant was on her knees beside a trunk, opening trays and searching for something eagerly.

"Look!" she cried, suddenly thrusting out something toward Claire; something from which she averted her own face. "Look, did you ever see that face?"

The girl gave one glance and uttered a sharp cry. It was a miniature painted on ivory; painted years ago, but she knew it only too well.

Mrs. Ralston regained her feet, trembling so that she could scarcely stand.

"Where did you get it?" cried Claire. "It is he; Edward Percy!"

Mrs. Ralston started forward and took the picture from her hand. "It is my husband!" she whispered.

With the words on her lips, she fell heavily to the floor, in a dead faint.

When Mrs. Ralston awoke to consciousness, she was lying upon her bed, with Dr. Vaughan bending over her, Olive standing near, and Claire a little aloof, looking pale and anxious. Her first thought was of the picture.

"Where is it?" she murmured, addressing Claire, who stepped forward eagerly.

"It is here, dear Mrs. Ralston," said Claire. "I caught it from your hand after you fell. I thought – " And then she hesitated.

"I understand," she said, looking at the girl fixedly. "Drop it from your hand, Claire; drop it there," pointing to the grate. "It has done its work; we need never look upon it again."

Claire obeyed her silently. For the second time she had consigned to the flames the pictured face of Edward Percy.

To the surprise of the three who had so lately seen her coming slowly back from the swoon, so like death, Mrs. Ralston raised herself to a sitting posture, and then slowly arose from the bed and stood upright before them, and there was a flush on her cheek, and a light in her eyes that was new to that usually pale, sad face.

"Dear friends," she said, turning toward Clarence and Olive, who had been watching the burning of the picture with surprised and somewhat curious eyes, "I am quite recovered; and I want to think. Will you please leave me alone, quite alone, for a little while?"

Olive, Claire and Clarence went slowly and silently down to the drawing-room, Claire keeping very close to her sister and carefully avoiding the eyes of the young man. Seating herself beside Olive, Claire told, in her own way, all that she knew of the affair.

"I wanted to tell Mrs. Ralston of Madeline," she commenced, "and, not to omit anything, I told her poor Philip's story, – all about the two men, and how the man, Percy, had appeared at Oakley as the lover of Miss Arthur. When I spoke his name, she ran to her room, almost dragging me with her, and – "

Suddenly she paused, horrified at a sudden thought. How could she explain to these two, who knew nothing of her "affair" with Edward Percy – who did not dream that she had ever seen his face – her ability to recognize the picture Mrs. Ralston had shown her?

"And?" interrogated Olive.

Clarence Vaughan saw that there was a reason for her hesitation, and while wondering what it could be, came to her rescue. "And fainted, of course," said he. "Well, she is better now, and perhaps we shall hear the conclusion of the mystery all in good time."

If she had dared, Claire would have given him a glance of gratitude. As it was, she only averted her face and felt herself a great hypocrite.

Doctor Vaughan was to remain for lunch; and while he talked quietly with Olive, Claire sat considering what they would say if they knew all. Presently her reverie was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who said:

"Mrs. Ralston wishes Miss Keith to come to her."

Claire started up, and without a word to either her lover or her sister, hurried into the presence of her friend.

Mrs. Ralston advanced to meet the girl as she entered the room, and laying a hand upon her shoulder, said: "I understood you to say that your sister knows nothing of your acquaintance with that man. Am I right?

"Yes."

"And you do not wish her to know?"

Claire hesitated. "I did not then think it was wrong to conceal it from her," she said, finally; "but now, if you think it best, I will try and tell her."

"But I do not think it best, my darling. I should have been convinced of his identity even had I not used the picture as a test. We will say nothing on that subject. And now, let us go down-stairs, for we have work to do!"

So saying, she led the way from the room and Claire followed, wondering how all this was to end.

CHAPTER XLV.

MRS. RALSTON'S STORY

Mrs. Ralston entered the drawing-room with the light of a new and strong purpose shining in her eyes.

"Dear friends," she said, "sit near me and give me your attention. I have a story to tell, and I must not fatigue myself too much in the telling."

Without a word, Clarence moved forward an easy chair. As she seated herself, they all grouped about her with grave, expectant faces.

"I will make brief mention of myself," said the lady, sinking back in the luxurious chair with a slightly weary smile. "My life has never been a bright one. Married for the first time at the age of sixteen, my childhood was prematurely blighted, and my first real trouble fell upon me. It was not a happy marriage, and during the years of my first husband's life, I became more and more alienated from my relatives.

"When at last my husband died, I was thirty-six years old, and owing to ill-health, looked much older. But – I was wealthy. Then I met a man, younger than myself, and very handsome. I was weak and foolish. I believed in him and – married him. For four years he squandered my money and made my life a burden. At last, when I could endure no longer, and when, because he had inherited a fortune from some relative, I knew he would trouble himself little as to particulars, I caused him to believe me dead and buried.

"In reality I was in better health than usual, and while he was spending his new fortune and fancying me in the grave, I sailed for Europe. Before I departed, however, I saw him once more, myself unseen. It is this part of my story that will make your hearts glad."

She paused for a moment, and her three listeners gazed into each other's faces in silent wonder.

"I was going to Europe in company with some friends of Mrs. Lord who, of course, knew my secret. They twice postponed their time for sailing, and while waiting for them I went with my maid to a little mountain inn where travelers only came for a day, and then went on up the mountain.

"When I first arrived, the garrulous hostess made frequent mention of a hunting party that had gone up the mountain a few days before, stopping for dinner at the inn. I had been nearly two weeks in my mountain retreat when my maid came rushing in, one day, crying out that the hunting party had come back, and that one of their number had been badly hurt.

"Well, they brought the wounded man up-stairs, and put him in the room that adjoined my sleeping apartment. The partitions between were of the sham kind – merely boards papered over. After he was settled, and the hum of many voices died away, I went into my little bed-room.

"I had scarcely entered when a voice from the next room, a man's voice, deep and full, although then subdued, startled me. I listened unthinkingly. 'There's no use in being weak about this business,' he said. 'Of course, you can make me trouble if you like, but hang me, Percy, I can't see how it will benefit you.'

"I see you are amazed, Doctor Vaughan, and Mrs. Girard is turning pale. You are beginning to guess the truth. Yes, it was Edward Percy who answered the first speaker, and – Edward Percy is my husband."

Again she paused for a moment. One could have heard a pin drop, so breathlessly eager, so silent, were her listeners. No one stirred or spoke, and she soon resumed:

"At the first sound of the other voice, I sank down sick with fear lest the man should, in some way, find me out. Sitting there, I heard him say, in the half fretful, wholly languid tones that I knew so well, 'It's easy to talk as you do; show me wherein it will be to my advantage, if you don't want me to knock down your pretty story. Curse you, what did you try to murder me for?"

"Then the other answered impatiently: 'I tell you, man, I was mistaken. I took you for him. Now listen: Neither you nor I love the fellow, and we each hold a trifle of power over the other. You can refute my statement, if you like, and accuse me of attacking you. In that case I may be imprisoned; but that won't keep you above water long. If I am arrested for assault with intent to kill, you will soon find yourself in the next cell, accused of the still more serious crime of bigamy. On the other hand, if you let the matter rest as it is, and let him take his chances, I won't use those little documents I hold, which prove conclusively that you married a second wife while the first was living. Come, what do you say?'

"I remember their very words; not one syllable escaped me then, or has drifted from my mind since. And I could have predicted what the next words of my husband would be. I know his weakness so well, and I knew, too, then, for the first time, that my vague suspicions had been too true – that he had indeed been false to me, more than false.

"'I will do this,' said he, halting at every few words. 'If you will give me back the money you won from me up there, and will give me up those papers, we will not quarrel over this affair. We will let His Majesty take the consequences of your act, if you choose. I like him even less than I do you. But the money I must have.'

"The other replied: 'I'll do it.' Then the money was counted out and the 'papers' changed hands.

"While they talked, I was seized with an unaccountable desire to see the man I had once loved. I heard my maid moving in the next room, and I arose and went to her. She was a quick-witted creature, and knew just what to do. She made me put on a hat and veil, and throw a shawl about me, and then bade me go down-stairs, while she knocked at the door of the sick-room. When I heard it open I was to come up, and while she made a pretense of offering her services, in case of need, I could obtain, over her shoulder, a view of the occupants of the room. Her ruse was successful. When I ascended the stairs, I obtained a full view of the two men. I should know the dark face of the tall stranger if I came upon it in Africa.

"To do myself justice, I never once thought of the wrong they were doing their victim; never realized that it was my duty to denounce them. Having seen the face of my husband I had but one idea, one desire; to get away, anywhere, the farther the better.

"Early the next morning, I was en route to the city, and there, to my infinite relief I found my friends ready to sail. When at last I was actually on the ocean, and realized that I was safe from discovery, I began to think of the victim whose name I had not heard. But it was too late then, and I tried to ease my conscience by thinking that, after all, as Edward was not dangerously hurt, it might not turn out a serious matter. I watched the papers, but somehow the accounts of the trial all missed me."

As she ceased speaking, her eyes rested sadly upon the face of Olive, and she started forward suddenly, saying: "Doctor, she is going to faint!"

"No," gasped Olive, half-rising, "I, I – "

And she fell forward to be caught in the ready arms of Clarence Vaughan. When at last they succeeded in arousing her from that death-like stupor, and she could sit up and look about her, slowly recalling events, Mrs. Ralston stepped readily into the position of leader, and turning to Claire, said:

"Go and see that lunch is served immediately, dear. We have much to do before night, and must not work fasting."

"Oh," cried Olive, as Claire disappeared, "is this true? Will Philip be released at last, released with every doubt cleared away, every suspicion removed? Tell me, I cannot realize it."