CHAPTER LVIII.
HOW STANHOPE CAME BACK.
Again we are in the office of the Chief of the detectives; in hisprivate office, where he sits alone, looking bored and uncomfortable.
"Everybody late," he mutters, "and I hoped Follingsbee would comefirst."
He consults his watch, and finds that it is four o'clock. Four o'clock,and his interviews with the lawyer, the Australian, and the Englishman,yet to come.
Ten minutes more of waiting. Then the boy enters to announce Messrs.Parks and Ainsworth.
The Chief rises to receive them, and accepts their excuses in silence.
"We drove about the city," says Walter Parks, "to pass away a portion ofthe time. An accident to our vehicle detained us."
Then the two men sit down and look expectantly at the Chief.
"Mr. Ainsworth," he says gravely, "I have news for you of Thomas Ulimanand his wife; bad news, I regret to say."
"Bad news!" The Australian's face pales as he speaks. "Tell it at once,sir."
"Thomas Uliman and his wife are both dead."
The Australian bows his head upon his hand and remains silent.
"I can furnish you with dates and addresses that will enable you to makepersonal investigation. In fact, I am every moment expecting a visitfrom the gentleman who was Mr. Uliman's legal adviser."
"Ah," sighs the Australian, "he may tell me where to find my littledaughter."
"I have also," resumes the Chief, "a brief report from Mr. Vernet."
At these words Walter Parks leans forward.
"May we hear it?" he asks anxiously.
"Mr. Follingsbee, sir," says the office-boy at the door, in obedience toorders. And then Mr. Follingsbee enters.
"I think," says the Chief, after performing the ceremony ofintroduction, "I think that we may waive all other business until Mr.Ainsworth's anxiety has been, in a measure, relieved."
"By all means," acquiesced Walter Parks, suppressing his own feelingsand withdrawing his chair a little into the background.
Then John Ainsworth turns to the lawyer an anxious face.
"I am told that you knew Thomas Uliman and his wife," he beginsabruptly.
"The late Thomas Uliman," corrects the lawyer; "yes, sir."
"How long have they been dead?"
"More than three years. They died in the same year."
"Allow me"--the Chief interrupts. "This gentleman, Mr. Follingsbee, isthe only brother of the late Mrs. Uliman. He has just been informed ofher death."
"Indeed!" Mr. Follingsbee rises and extends his hand. "I have heard herspeak of her brother John," he says. "She grew to believe that you weredead."
"And my daughter, my little girl--did _she_ think that, too?"
"Your daughter?" Mr. Follingsbee turns an inquiring look upon the Chief."Pardon me, I--I don't understand."
"My child--I sent my child to her aunt--twenty years ago."
Again Mr. Follingsbee looks from one face to the other inquiringly, andan expression of apprehension crosses the face of the Chief.
"Mr. Ainsworth's daughter was less than three years old when she wassent to Mr. Uliman's care. In searching out the history of this family,I learn that they left an adopted daughter," the Chief explained.
Mr. Follingsbee coughs nervously.
"They left such a daughter," he says, hesitatingly, "but--she _was_ anadopted daughter--the child of unknown parents."
Slowly John Ainsworth rises to his feet, his eyes turning appealinglyfrom one to the other.
"My God!" he exclaims hoarsely, "where then is my child?"
In silence the three who sympathize with this father, look at oneanother helplessly. And as they sit thus silent, from the outer officecomes the sound of a clear, ringing, buoyant laugh.
Instantly the Chief starts forward, but the door flies open in his face,and Richard Stanhope stands upon the threshold.
"Stanhope!" exclaims the Chief; "why, Dick!"
"It's me," says Stanhope, seizing the proffered hand and giving it ahearty pressure. "Oh, and here's Mr. Follingsbee. Glad you are here,sir."
As he grasps the hand of the lawyer he notes, with a start of surprisethe presence of Walter Parks.
"Mr. Parks!" he exclaims, "this is better than I hoped for."
And then his eyes rest upon John Ainsworth's disturbed countenance.
"Mr. Stanhope," the Chief says gravely, "this is Mr. Ainsworth, late ofAustralia. He is interested in your search almost equally with Mr.Parks."
The detective starts, and scans the face of the Australian with strangeeagerness. Evidently his impressions are satisfactory for his facelights up as he asks:
"Not--not Mr. John Ainsworth, once the friend of Arthur Pearson?"
"The same," replies Walter Parks, for John Ainsworth seems unable tospeak.
"Then," and he extends his hand to Mr. Ainsworth, "this is indeed amost opportune meeting. My lack of knowledge concerning you, sir, was myone anxiety this morning."
The four office-chairs being occupied, Stanhope perches himself upon thecorner of the desk, saying, as the Chief makes a movement toward thebell:
"Don't ring, sir; I'm quite at home here."
And he looks "quite at home;" as cool, careless, and inconsequent as onthe day when, in that same room, he had accepted with reluctance hiscommission for the masquerade.
He had, on leaving Vernet, taken time to wash the stains and pencilingsfrom his face, and to don an easy-fitting business-suit. Stanhope ishimself again: a frank, cheery, confidence-inspiring presence.
"It seems to me," he says, gazing from one to the other, "that theremust be a special Providence in this meeting together, at the righttime, of the very men I most wish to see. Of course, your presence isnot mysterious," nodding toward his Chief, "and Mr. Follingsbee--"
"Is here at my request," interposed the Chief.
"Is he?" queries Stanhope. "I thought he was here at mine."
"I believe," says the lawyer, smiling slightly, "that your invitationdid come first, Mr. Stanhope."
"I had a reason for desiring Mr. Follingsbee to be present at thisinterview," explains Stanhope. "And as I don't want to be unnecessarilydramatic, nor to prolong painful anxiety, let me leave my explanationsto the last. Mr. Parks, I believe I have found Arthur Pearson'smurderer."
"Oh!"
"Mr. Parks, I believe I have found Arthur Pearson'smurderer!"--page 440.]
Walter Parks springs up with a hoarse cry. John Ainsworth leans back inhis chair, pale and panting. The Chief clutches at Stanhope's knee inexcited eagerness, and waits breathlessly for his next words.
Only Mr. Follingsbee, who has never heard of Arthur Pearson, remainsunmoved.
"Are you sure?" articulates the excited Englishman. "Where is he? Who ishe?"
"He is in a good, strong cell by this time, in the city jail."
"Oh!" gasps John Ainsworth.
"And his name is Franz Krutzer, although for many years he has beenknown as Papa Francoise."
"Good heavens!" cries Walter Parks. "Franz Krutzer! why, Stanhope--why,Ainsworth, it was that man's wife who had the care of your little girl!"
"Precisely," confirms Stanhope.
John Ainsworth leans forward and extends two trembling hands.
"You know," he whispers, "what do you know of my child?"
And then as Stanhope hesitates, he cries piteously: "Oh, tell me, is shealive?"
"I have not a doubt of it," says Stanhope, smiling. "She was alive halfan hour ago."
"And safe and well?"
"And safe and well."
"Thank God! Oh, thank God!"
A moment he bows his head upon his hands, then lifts it and exclaimseagerly:
"Half an hour, you said; then--she must be near?"
"Yes; she is very near."
"Take me to her--tell me where to find her--at once."
"Mr. Ainsworth--" Stanhope drops from the desk and extends his hand tothe anxious father--"your daughter is near and safe, but she has lat
elypassed through a terrible ordeal. She is exhausted in body and mind.More excitement just now might do her serious harm. I beg you to bepatient. When you have heard what I am about to tell these gentlemen andyourself, you will feel assured that you have a daughter to be proudof."
With a sign of assent, the Australian sinks back upon his chair, makinga visible effort to control his impatience. And Stanhope resumes hisperch upon the desk.
"I must begin," he said, "with Mr. Follingsbee; and I must recall somethings that may seem out of place or unnecessary. It was nearly sixweeks ago," addressing himself to his Chief, "that you gave me acommission from Mr. Follingsbee."
The Chief nodded; and the lawyer stared as if wondering why thatbusiness need be recalled.
"I was to attend a masquerade," resumes Stanhope, "and to meet there thelady who desired my services. I was to be escorted by Mr. Follingsbee,and I decided to wear, for the sake of convenience, a dress I bought inEurope, and which I had there worn at a masquerade that I attended incompany with Van Vernet. After accepting this commission, and receivingmy instructions, I put on a rough disguise, and went to a certainlocality which we had selected as the place for a Raid that would movethe following night. I was to leave the ball at a very early hour, inorder to conduct this Raid. And to make sure that none of my birdsshould slip through my fingers, I went, as I have said, on the nightbefore, to reconnoitre the grounds. In a sort of Thieves' Tavern, wherethe worst of criminals assembled, I found a young fellow, evidently anescaped convict, in a hot fight with some of the roughs. I brought himout of the place, and as he seemed dying, I took him to a hospital, andleft him in the care of the Sisters. The next day I prepared for theRaid, and the Masquerade."
He pauses for a moment, and then resumes his history, telling first, howin company with Mr. Follingsbee, he had entered the Warburton Mansion;had been presented to Leslie and learned from her lips that she had asecret to keep; how Van Vernet had discovered his presence there, andthe means the latter had taken to detain him, and to secure theleadership of the Raid.
Through the scenes of that night he led his amazed listeners; telling ofLeslie's advent among the Francoise gang; of Alan's pursuit; the killingof Siebel; and the manner in which he had outwitted Vernet. Then onthrough the days that followed; relating how, disguised as FranzFrancoise, he had appeared before the two old plotters; been accepted bythem as the real Franz, and so dwelt among them.
"It was an odd part to play, and oddly suggested," he said. "It was justafter Vernet's discovery of Alan Warburton's picture, when I was at aloss how to make my next move, that I went to visit my woundedex-convict--the one, you will remember, whom I rescued from the Thieves'Tavern. I found him very low; indeed dying. He was in a stupor when Icame, but soon passed into delirium, and his ravings attracted myattention, for he repeated over and over again the name of Krutzer,Franz Krutzer. Now, I had obtained from Mr. Parks here, a list of thenames of all who composed that wagon-train, and I remembered the name ofFranz Krutzer. And as he raved on, I gathered material enough to arousemy suspicions. He talked of a child whom they wished to keep; of moneyhoarded and strangely gotten; of beatings because of his eavesdropping.One moment he defied them in wild, boyish bravado, and babbled gleefullyof what he had overheard. The next, he writhed in imaginary tortureunder the lash, vowing that he did not listen; that he would never tell.Then he was frightened by an approaching thunder-storm; he was crouchingbeneath his blankets, and crying out: 'Oh, don't make me go out--don't;I'm afraid. I won't! I won't!' Then he seemed to have returned fromsomewhere. 'Let me in!' he cried. 'I'm wet and cold; let me in, quick!Yes, he's there; up by the big rock. He's fast asleep and I didn't wakehim.' Then, 'where is dad going?' he said. 'Oh, I don't, I don't; Ididn't have the hammer.' Then, after more random talk: 'I won't tell;don't beat me. I'll never tell that I saw him there asleep. Oh, maybe hewas dead then!'
"I had not intended to remain, but I did. I never left him until hisravings ceased; until the end came. In his last moments, consciousnessreturned. For a time he was strong, as the dying sometimes are. He wasvery grateful to me because I had not taken him back to the prison todie, and he willingly answered a few questions concerning himself andhis parents. I had entered him at the hospital under a false name, andunder that name he was buried.
"Immediately after his death, I came and announced my readiness todevote myself exclusively to the Arthur Pearson case. And as soon as hewas buried, I notified the prison-officials of his death, and asked themto keep my information a secret for a time. I then made minute inquiriesinto the character and history of Franz Francoise, and learned enoughfrom the penitentiary-officials, and from his imprisoned comrades--someof them, not knowing of his death, were very anxious to have himrecaptured--to enable me to personate him as I did.
"When I presented myself to the Francoises, it was with the doublepurpose of solving the Pearson mystery and finding Daisy Warburton, forI agreed with Mrs. Warburton in thinking that they had stolen the child.I could not then foresee the complications which would arise, nor did Idream of the formidable and fox-like enemy I was to encounter in MammaFrancoise. It had been my intentions to draw them into my net by lettingthem see that I knew, or remembered, too much about that Marais desCygnes affair. But a few days of the old woman's society convinced methat this would be a false move, and so I never once alluded to the daysso far gone by. But the girl, Nance, was there, and although they wouldhave concealed it if they could, they were obliged to tell me what Iguessed before, that she was dangerous to them. Then I grewblood-thirsty, and professed a dislike for the girl. She was anencumbrance, and I offered to remove her. I took her away one night, andthey imagined her at the bottom of the river, when in reality she was inthe hands of merciful women, who brought back her senses, and who stillhave charge of her, until such time as I may want her to testify againstPapa. My investigation was progressing slowly, when Mrs. Warburtonappeared among us one night, and announced her purpose to remain untilthey gave back little Daisy. I had not planned for this; and during thenight I thought the matter out and resolved in some way to make myselfknown to her, and to persuade her to return home and leave the rest tome. But in the morning she was in a raving delirium."
He paused for a moment and then resumed, drawing a graphic picture ofLeslie's life among the Francoises; telling how Mamma had suddenlyconceived her famous scheme of marrying Leslie to her son; of Leslie'sillness, and how he had contrived to make Dr. Bayless--who was really agood physician, albeit he had been implicated in some very crookedbusiness--useful, and his abettor; giving a full account of all that hadtranspired.
"Mrs. Warburton's condition," he concluded, "was such that I dared notconfide in her, as I had intended. She was too ill and weak to exerciseself-control, and we had too much at stake to run any risk. Indeed, Ihad begun to realize what an enemy we had to deal with, and to fear thatwe could only succeed by playing our desperate game to the end. In fact,there seemed no alternative. From the moment of Mrs. Warburton's comingamong us, Mamma's watch was lynx-like. I could not have removed the ladyor interposed to save her one moment's uneasiness, without being myselfbetrayed. And then our situation would have been worse than ever; Mammawould have revenged herself upon us through the little girl. At everypoint, that vile old woman was a match for me. When she proposed themarriage, I pretended to withhold my consent until she should telleverything concerning the lady's prospective fortune. For two long weeksI enacted the part of a blustering, drunken ruffian; cursing,quarrelling, threatening; before I extorted the truth from her. Somepapers, that had accidentally fallen into her hands, had informed herthat Mrs. Warburton--or the child, Leschen, she called her--was thedaughter of one John Ainsworth. These same papers--they were thoseconfided to her by Arthur Pearson--gave a specific account of thefortune John Ainsworth possessed at the time he left the mines."
Again he paused, and the Australian lifted his head, speaking quickly.
"I comprehend," he said; "I sent such memoranda in a letter to mysister, and also to
ld her of investments I proposed to make inAustralia. I wanted her to understand my business affairs for littleLea's sake."
"And through these documents," resumed Stanhope, "the shrewd old womantraced your Australian career, and knew that your fortune, in the twentyyears of your exile, had swollen immensely. When she saw theadvertisement of your lawyer, she took alarm. She must act promptly or,perhaps, lose her game. So she stole the little girl, hoping to use heras a means by which to compel Mrs. Warburton to yield up a large sliceof her prospective wealth. And had her first plan been carried out, shewould not have hesitated to find means to remove from her path thegreatest obstacle to her ambition--yourself, Mr. Ainsworth."
"I see," said the Australian gravely. "Yes, it is quite probable."
"The unexpected coming of myself, as Franz Francoise, and of Mrs.Warburton so soon after, caused them, or rather Mamma, to reconstructher plan, as I have told you. And she reached the height and depth ofher cunning by effectually concealing, from first to last, thehiding-place of the little girl. Nothing could wring this secret fromher; on that subject she was absolutely dangerous. She never visited thechild, so nothing was learned by shadowing her. Indeed, when she broughtthe child to the house to-day, she eluded the two men whom I had set towatch her, and did it so cleverly that they could not even guess, afterher first feint, which way she went. And I was playing my last cardwithout knowing that the child was in the house, when her pitifulprayer betrayed her presence.
"Until then I had not intended to reveal myself; the men were to arrestPapa Francoise, and to try and make terms through him for the ransom ofthe child. One of my men was disguised as a Priest, and of course we hadarranged to make Papa's arrest cut short the wedding ceremony. Holt,Beale and the others have aided me wonderfully, though they do not yetknow what it was all about."
"They shall be generously rewarded," breaks in Walter Parks; "every manof them who has in any way assisted you."
Let the reader imagine all that followed: the praises showered uponStanhope; the congratulations of each to all; the eager questions ofWalter Parks; the desire of John Ainsworth to hear of his daughter'scourage and devotion over and again; the general jubilation of theChief.