CHAPTER VI "THE CHEST IS EMPTY!"
"Jeanne, you left the door open!"
Standing on the stair landing before the door to their apartment,Florence gave her companion a reproving glance.
"I? Leave the door open?" The little French girl was vigorous in herdenial. "To be sure I did _not_ leave it open. I closed it tight!"
"Then," said Florence, catching her breath, "some one has been here, maybe here yet."
"If they are here still, you may throw them out of the window. See, youhave my permission." Crowding past her, Jeanne entered their living roomand snapped on the light.
What she saw caused her to hold up her hands in horror. The place was inthe wildest state of confusion. Cushions had been dragged from sofas andchairs, beds tumbled about, dresser drawers emptied on the floor.
"Anyway," Jeanne sighed, "they are gone."
"And the chest!" Florence exclaimed. "That Oriental chest?"
"The chest is empty, to be sure." Jeanne threw back the lid. "What wouldyou have? They came for that which was in the chest; nothing more. Whythen would they not take it if they found it here?"
"Gone!" Florence sat down to stare at the chest. "And I don't feel sosorry about that. After all, what use could we have for some dusty oldChinese banners and a silly little bell?"
"What indeed?" There was a curious light in Jeanne's eye that Florencedid not quite understand.
"But Jeanne!" Florence sprang to her feet. "If those people found whatthey wanted in the chest, why did they take the trouble to tear thisplace up so terribly?"
"Who knows?" Jeanne's eyes were veiled, dreamy now.
When order had been restored, Florence retired for the night.
Jeanne sat up for a long time studying. She was reading the book she hadpurchased in the Golden Temple of Jehol.
As she read her wonder grew. From her reading she learned for certainthat the embroidered panels that had but yesterday reposed in the nowempty chest had indeed come from the temples of China--not one, but manytemples; that they had been made of gold and silver thread. When sherecalled them one by one and attempted to compute their value, it madeher a little dizzy.
"But then," she sighed at last, "it is not so much what one possessesthat counts; it is what he is able to sell it for.
"And how did you come to Chicago?" She addressed the chest. "You have noaddress on you. No, not one! I scoured you clean. You have only a dragonon your cover. Did some one steal all those priceless things? And werethey afraid at last to claim them in America?"
Once again she recalled the circumstances under which she had bought thebox. Both she and Florence had long haunted auction houses. Once she hadbought an ancient gypsy god.
"And did that cause me trouble!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "Oo, la, la!But it was great fun, and very mysterious, too.
"And now there is this box." She kicked the thing with her toe. "It waslost in the express with no label on it, the auctioneer said.
"I made a bid. A Chinaman raised me. I bid again. Once more he raised.There was murder in his eye. And then--" She paused for breath. "Thensome officers in plain clothes came and carried him away.
"Poor fellow! It is hard when you wish very much to buy a package somysterious, and you cannot.
"But then," she added after a moment, "perhaps it was to him not somysterious after all. Possibly he knew what was in the chest.
"Ah, well, we will keep an eye out for that one with the long ears. Andif we find him? What then?"
Unable to answer this question, she crept into her bed and fell asleep.
Next day she spent three hours alternately laughing and crying overSandburg's life of Lincoln called _The Prairie Years_.
"Ah, now I understand it all," she sighed, as she wiped her eyes afterreading the chapter telling of the love of young Abe for Ann Rutledge."Who would not gladly scrub the floors of those buildings where ourlittle Jensie Crider labors? And yet, how I love her for it!"
On this day Florence was given the surprise of her life. And to Jeanne abright new dream was born.
Florence was on her way to work on the Enchanted Island. She was about tostart across the bridge over the lagoon when she saw some one leaning onthe rail looking away at the water.
"Why, it's Jeanne!" she exclaimed in a whisper. "What in the world?"
Tiptoeing up to the girl who was looking away from her, she seized her bythe shoulders as she fairly shouted in her ear:
"Jeanne! How did you get here? And where did you get that jacket? It's apeach!"
Taken by surprise, as she undoubtedly had been, the girl did not so muchas start.
"My name's not Jeanne!" Her voice was icy cold. "What's got you?"
"Oh, come on, Jeanne," Florence laughed, looking her full in the face,"you can't fool me! But, honest, where _did_ you get that jacket?"
A sudden and quite surprising light overspread the other girl's face.
"Say!" There was a ring in her voice now. "I told you the truth the firsttime. My name's not Jeanne. But say! Do you mean to tell me there's agirl in this city that looks so much like me that you really can't tellI'm not that girl even when you look me square in the face?"
Florence stared at her in blank amazement. "If you're not Petite Jeanne,the little French girl, who are you?"
"I'm Lorena LeMar, the movie star. Surely you must recognize me from thescreen!"
"I--I'm sorry. I seldom go to the movies." Florence looked her apology."I'm convinced now, and I--I apologise."
She was about to pass on when the other girl seized her arm eagerly. "Whois this girl? Has she been in the movies? No, of course not. Could sheact a part, do you think?"
The girl seemed so much in earnest that for a moment Florence could onlystare.
When at last she found her tongue she assured the young movie star thatwhile Jeanne had never appeared in the movies she was quite capable ofacting a part, that she had once starred for an entire season in lightopera and that for one glorious night she had sung a stellar part ingrand opera.
"Do you believe in luck?" the girl demanded.
"Mostly in the luck that comes after a lot of hard work," Florencesmiled.
"Sometimes you get the breaks. You can't deny that," the girl insisted."Might as well call it luck. Who is this friend of yours? Does she likeacting? Does she need money? Is she a kindly person? Would she throw arope to a drowning soul?"
"Mostly yes," Florence smiled.
"Lead me to her."
"Can't now. Going to work."
"What work?"
"Over on the Enchanted Island."
"When can I see her then?"
"At eleven to-night, at the Rutledge Tavern in the Lincoln Group."Florence was thinking fast. She must be on her way.
"That--that will be swell. Here, shake on it!" The girl grippedFlorence's hand. "You won't fail me?"
"We'll be there."
Florence went dashing across the bridge. All the way over she was saying:"What does it all mean? What can she want of Petite Jeanne?"
No answers came to her, but deep in her soul was the conviction thatJeanne was in for one more novel adventure, and the sort of adventure sheloved, at that.
Still, she had not guessed the half of it.