III
Van Dam saw that which filled him with an aching pity; for, instead of agirl, he found awaiting him a frail, sweet-faced old woman whose fingerswere locked as if in prayer, whose lips were murmuring the name of herson. Her hair, softer and finer than silken floss, was silvery white;her wistful, wrinkled countenance was ablaze with a glad excitement thatmade it glorious and holy. That which caused Van Dam's heart to melt andto turn away completely, however, was the fact that she was blind.
She had heard his step, muffled as it was in the inch-thick carpet, androse with a tender cry, pausing with her arms outstretched, her bodyshaken by an ecstasy of yearning.
"Emile! Emile!" she whispered, and came toward him. Her sightless eyeswere wet; she was trembling terribly.
Van Dam experienced a desire to flee. He tried to speak and to warn heroff, but as the feeble figure swayed toward him, the age-old, appallingtragedy of mother love caused his throat to tighten. Then he took herhands in his; his arms enfolded her. She lay against his breast, weepingsoftly, gladly, while he bowed his head reverently over hers. Had hislife depended upon his speaking, he could not have done so. He merelywaited, with a sick feeling of dread, the instant of her awakening. Hewas vaguely surprised as moment followed moment and it did not come.Then he discovered the explanation. Grief had set her wits to wandering;days and weeks and months of yearning had burned away some part of herfaculties, leaving her possessed by such a reasonless hunger that almostany object would have served to fill her want. He had heard of dementedmothers whose minds had been saved by the substitution of a living for adead child, and it seemed that this was a similar case; for she wasflooded now with a supreme content and appeared to experience nosuspicion of fraud.
The touch of her fluttering fingers on his cheek was like the caress ofbutterfly wings; her voice was soft; her words, though wandering, weretender and filled with such a heaven-born adoration that his distresswas multiplied. This was her hour, he reflected. Perhaps an all-wiseProvidence had selected him to fill this part and to bring glory to herwithered heart. At any rate, he would have been unspeakably cruel todisillusionize her.
He led her to a chair, then knelt and bowed his head to her strayingfingers, murmuring those terms of endearment which cause a mother'sbreast to thrill. When he looked up to Madelon, at last, she saw that hewas crying--quite like a little boy.
From the disconnected words that fell from the blind woman's lips hebegan, after a time, to piece the truth together.
Emile had been an only son, a paragon of manly virtues, the keeper ofhis mother's soul. There had come a great shock and a great disgracethat had evidently conspired to unseat her reason. She spoke indirectlyof them, as a child marked by some prenatal influence recoils at contactwith the cause of its infirmity. Then, it seemed, Madelon had come towatch over and to comfort her, filling a son's place with a daughter'sdevotion. There had been persecution, want, the loss of property throughan enemy of whom the mother spoke ramblingly. Van Dam recollected thedried-up villain in the closet down the hall, and felt a flame of ragemount through him. He longed mightily to ask questions, to run thematter down without delay, but dared not, for he was in momentary dreadthat the imposture would be discovered. So he spoke as infrequently aspossible, and substituted for words those gentle caresses and endearingattentions that are far more welcome to a starving heart. Madelonremained close by, adding a grain of comfort and encouragement now andthen, and regarding Van Dam with a strangely bewildered attention.
But the mother was far from strong. Her excitement had wearied her, andnow, with the relaxation of contentment, fatigue stole over her. She layback among the soft cushions, her restless hands moving more slowly, hergentle voice stilled. She dozed at last, her face serene and beatific.
Madelon motioned to Van Dam, and he rose. Noiselessly they stole acrossthe hall and into the drawing-room, leaving the placid figure in repose.
She turned upon him, saying, doubtfully: "With every moment you surpriseme, Emile. You are not at all what I expected, not at all the cousin ofwhom I have heard so much! Even in looks you seem--how shall I sayit?--strange."
"Are you pleased or disappointed?"
"Ah! Pleased! I--I feel that I must weep. You are so brave and strong,and yet so gentle, so sweet! Perhaps only a mother recognizes the goodthat is in one. That scene in yonder was very--touching. I--I can hardlycredit my ears and my eyes."
"It's plain you have a wrong idea of me. I'm not at all a bad sort."
"So I begin to believe, in spite of everything. La! It is confusing. Iam all in a whirl." She uttered a hesitating, silvery little laugh thatproved her embarrassment.
"We must speak quickly," he said. "I am also greatly confused. You haveopened up a great possibility for me, Madelon. The whole world issuddenly different. I--I think I am in love with you, my little cousin."
She flung out her hand to check him, crying: "No, no! I could never loveyou!"
Her voice was uncertain, and he imprisoned her outstretched palm. Then,with his free hand, he removed her mask. She made no resistance, she didnot even draw away from him. His heart leaped wildly at the face he saw;for it was more perfect even than he had imagined. The eyes were deepbrown, the skin was smooth and olive-hued, the lips were red and poutingwith embarrassment. She met his hungry gaze with a flaming blush ofdefiance; then she smiled pathetically, and without further delay hedrew her to him and kissed her once, twice, again and again, until shelay, spent and shaken, in his arms. After a time, she said, wonderingly:
"What miracle is this? I have always hated you; I--hate you now when Ithink of the evil you have done. I shall continue to hate you."
"I hardly believe that."
"It is very sad that this has come to pass; it means nothing butunhappiness."
"How so?"
"Can you ask? You--a refugee, with a price upon your head!" Sheshuddered and buried her face against his shoulder. "Why have you mademe love you?"
"It was fate, my little witch. If you will trust me, all will come outright in the end. But there is a great deal here that I don'tunderstand. For instance, how came you two to be in want?"
"Surely you know as well as I."
"I do not."
"But I wrote--"
"Letters go astray. Tell me."
"There is little to tell. We hardly know ourselves, except that wetrusted in our good cousin Alfred, as you trusted. He is a snake!" Sheclutched Roland fiercely by the folds of his domino. "Oh! It is too badthat I did not know you sooner, Emile! I would have saved you from thoseevil men; for I am very wise. But now you must suffer the punishment foryour crime; and I must suffer also. It is hardly just, is it?"
"Suppose I told you--er--I am innocent?"
"Please!" One rosy palm closed his lips. "You must never lie to me, evento promote my happiness. No! When a woman loves, she loves blindly,without reason, regardless of her lover's unworthiness. You have broughtmisery to me as you brought it to--her. Perhaps you, too, will suffer,as a punishment."
"And why have you devoted yourself to my mother?" he inquired.
"I love her. I am alone in the world. We are poor together. CousinAlfred has my money, too, you understand."
Van Dam was tempted, as upon several former occasions, to tell her thetruth, but a sudden idea occurred to him--an idea so inspiring, sobrilliant, that it brought an exclamation to his lips.
"Wait here for a moment," he said, and, leaving her, he stole into thelibrary. With an eye upon the sleeping figure, he knelt before the safeand turned the knob. It opened noiselessly; and the sight of theclose-packed cash-drawer filled him with a tremendous merriment. It wasexhilarating, it was God-like to be endowed with the power ofrestitution and retribution. He greatly enjoyed the feel of the crispnew bank-notes as he emptied the compartment and assembled the packagesinto a bundle. He was amazed at the amount represented. There must havebeen twenty thousand dollars, all in those smooth, unsoiled ten-dollarbills. Evidently the old miser preferred lock and key to a banke
r'svagaries. Naughty Alfred, to rob widows and orphans! Well, he had beenwarned of the danger of robbery. Van Dam predicted apoplexy for theowner when he discovered his loss.
The girl was waiting where he had left her, but when she discovered thenature of the gift he bore, she drew back in amazement.
"Come! Come!" he said. "It belongs to you and--Felice."
"But--_Mon Dieu!_"
"I have prospered. A lucky speculation--a gift from the gods, as itwere! You need have no hesitation in accepting it, for it is yours. Andno one can take it from you, not even Cousin Alfred."
She was still protesting, when they heard the mother call.
"This money--another miracle!" Madelon exclaimed. "It is wonderful! Ifeel that I am dreaming. But come! We have overstayed; we may bediscovered at any moment."
He took her in his arms again and whispered his adoration. "I am comingto find you, Madelon. I have the power to work miracles, you see."
"No, no! If you care for me, you must guard yourself. Perhaps after manyyears--perhaps when you have shown yourself worthy, and the world hasforgotten--then--" She shivered at thought of the weary wait ahead ofher; her lips quivered pathetically.
There were many things he wished to ask her; the hunger to retain her inhis arms was almost unbearable. But now that she had been reawakened tothe perils of their situation she allowed him no opportunity. She toreher lips reluctantly from his; she held him off in an agony of pleading,and when the mother's voice sounded a second time they returned hand inhand to the study.
There followed a touching farewell as the blind woman clung shakingly tothe gentle impostor, praying for his safety, imploring him piteously tobe a good man and to walk in the shadow of righteousness. Then came alingering, heart-breaking caress, and once more the three were at thefront door.
Van Dam seized the girl's fingers and kissed them, while the look in hiseyes brought tears to hers. Then they were gone; and he stood alone inthe hall of the house he had robbed.
He remained motionless for a time, lost in a blissful intoxication. Wasthis strange, new-born delirium--love? It must be, it could be, nothingelse. It was quite amazing, utterly bewildering. He had never dreamed ofanything at all like it. He felt a desire to cry aloud the news of thismarvel; he was melting with pain and gladness; something inside him wassinging gloriously. At thought of Madelon's deep, wide eyes, of hertender lips, dewy with the birth of passion, his muscles swelled and thewhole world seemed to applaud. But it was so new--so unbelievable! Theswift rush of this afternoon's events had left him in a dizzy whirl. Anhour ago he had been deaf, dumb, and blind, but he had suddenly regainedhis every sense. He was no longer _blase_; he was awake with yearningsand appreciations. Madelon had taught him the greatest secret of theuniverse. Madelon--But who the devil was Madelon?
Van Dam brought himself abruptly out of his reverie. There had beenenough mystery for one day. Now for the solution of this puzzle. Backyonder, gagged and bound, was a cringing human rat who knew everythingVan Dam desired to know, and who would talk, if forced to do so. Rolydecided to have the inmost details of this affair, if it becamenecessary to roast the soles of Cousin Alfred's feet over a slow fire inorder to loosen his tongue. Time had flown, but there was a littlemargin left.
He hurried down the hall, flung open the door behind which his captivelay, then recoiled, with mouth agape. The closet was empty!
"Alfred!" he called. "Alfred!" But his voice echoed lonesomely throughthe empty rooms. Not a sound broke the silence. There on the floor laythe handkerchief and the two tasseled curtain cords. He felt a chill ofapprehension, for unseen eyes were observing him, he was certain. Withthat vindictive little ruffian at large, the situation altered; eachdoor might hide a menace, each moment add to his peril.
The thought of that rifled safe, and the consequences of discovery,convinced Van Dam that this was no place for a respectable New Yorksociety man, so he clapped on his mask and darted down the hall towardthe rear of the house.
Past the pantry and into the kitchen he fled, his precipitate hastenearly causing him to collide with another masked figure that had justentered from the garden. Instinctively the two men recoiled. Van Dam sawthat the stranger wore a black domino like his own, and that a whitegardenia was pinned over his heart--it was a twin to the flower thatreposed upon his own breast.
"Emile!" he exclaimed.
With a start the new-comer swept his mask downward, and simultaneouslyhe conjured an automatic revolver from some place of concealment. Theface that he exposed was not pleasant to look upon, for it was coarsenedby dissipation, and the eyes were both violent and furtive. Underneathhis heavy, passionate features, however, lay a marked resemblance to theblind mother who had just left.
"Yes. I am Emile," he panted; then, with a snarl, he raised his weaponuntil it bore upon Van Dam's breast. "And you are one of the gang, eh?"
"Here! Don't point that confounded thing at me. It might go off." Rolybrushed the mask from his own face, explaining, "I'm not one of thegang; I'm a friend."
Emile eyed him intently before lowering his weapon. "I never saw youbefore."
"Of course not. But--come. We've both got to get out of here."
"Indeed! I came to see my cousin Alfred. It is a little call I promisedhim."
"I know everything; and, believe me, you have no time to lose."
"How do you come to know so much?" demanded Emile, suspiciously. "Andwhat is that?" With the muzzle of his weapon he indicated the waxenwhite flower upon Roly's domino.
"There's no time to explain everything--but I know why you are here. Theold man has gone--"
"Gone! Bah! That is a lie. I have followed him all through the city.I've been to his office, and they told me he was here. I've a littlematter to settle with him. It will only take a moment."
"I tell you he's gone."
"Who the devil are you, anyhow? I have no friends."
"I am Madelon's fiance," Van Dam said, boldly.
"Another lie! She has no fiance." The speaker's face darkened. "If shemarries any one, it shall be me."
An unfamiliar pang smote Van Dam suddenly, but he disregarded it.
"Don't be a fool," he insisted. "I know why you came here, but you'retoo late. Your mother and Madelon were here, too, a moment ago--"
"Here?" exclaimed the youth, incredulously.
"Yes! Alfred heard you were in the city and he planned to ambush you; Itied him up and threw him into a closet. Then I robbed his safe and gavethe money to Madelon and your mother."
Emile's face was a study at this amazing intelligence.
"When I came to look for the old fellow, a moment ago, I found he'descaped. I don't know where he has gone. That's why we'd better cut andrun for it, before he sets up an alarm."
"Run!" Emile shook his head. "I have been running--with the Black Wolfat my heels. I thought they had me cornered more than once. They'reafter me now, the whole pack."
"Do they know you're here?"
"I dare say; they were right behind me." He cursed violently. "And tothink that I missed Cousin Alfred, after all!"
"You had no business in the city. You must get out again."
"It's too late now. Why, it's nearly six o'clock. I could never get awaybefore it's time for masks off."
"Nevertheless, you must try," Van Dam said, decisively. "If you stayhere, you're lost. We'll climb the fence at the rear of the next yardand slip out through the stable way."
Emile pondered for a moment. "I hadn't thought of that. It's a chance,but you can't go with me. I sha'n't allow it."
"Nonsense!"
"You don't know the Wolf! If I were seen it would mean the death of bothof us."
"Very well, then, I'll leave by the front way. Now go!"
Van Dam half shoved the young man toward the door.
"Thanks," murmured the fugitive. "You seem to be the right sort. If Ilive, I sha'n't forget." The next instant he was gone.
Roly watched him race across the yard, squeeze through the hedge; the
n,an instant later, saw his form as he mounted the fence to the wagoninclosure where the Spider had gone to his destruction earlier in theafternoon. It was a risky route to safety, he reflected, but, in view ofwhat Emile had said about his pursuers, it was infinitely preferable toany other.
Why he had helped the fellow Van Dam scarcely knew, unless it wasbecause of his sympathy for the under dog. Whatever the boy had done, hepossessed a reckless bravery that was commendable, and he still held hismother's love.
Roly was about to close the door when he saw a second man, in a long,black domino, briefly silhouetted above the fence. Then he heard awhistle. The fellow dropped over into the tracks of Emile, leaving theNew-Yorker amazed at the apparition. A sickening fear clutched Van Dam,but he knew it was useless to cry out. Could it be that he had sent theyoung fellow to his death?
When a moment, then another, had passed with no sound from that quarter,he closed the kitchen door and retraced his steps swiftly to the frontof the house.
As he came to the library entrance he found it closed, and, from inside,he heard a tinkle as if a telephone hook was being violently agitated.Inclining his ear, a low, agonized voice came to him:
"... Le Duc again.... Why haven't you sent the police?... Robbery.... Mycousin Emile ... murder me.... God above! They are slow!... He willescape...."
Van Dam tried the door. It was locked. Then he called, sweetly: "Alfred!My dear cousin Alfred!"
The voice at the telephone ended in a shriek. There came a crash as theinstrument fell from the old man's fingers.
So the police were on their way! Escape, then, must be but a matter ofmoments. With his heart pounding, Van Dam stepped into the drawing-roomand reconnoitered from a front window. What he saw did not reassure him,particularly in view of Emile's words; for, directly opposite, he behelda masked man in a black domino who looked very much like the Black Wolf.Scattered up and down the block were others, all idling about in aseemingly objectless manner. Evidently the house was surrounded. Hedared not risk the back way, after what he had seen. He could notremain. From the library again came that faint, frantic tinkling.
Van Dam dropped his mask, tore the flimsy robe from his back, and strodeto the front door. Under any other circumstances he would have preferredto remain and to take the consequences, but for Madelon's sake he darenot risk an explanation to the police. Besides--how could he explainthat twenty thousand dollars, in clean, crisp ten-dollar notes, that shehad in her possession? He flung the portal wide, stepped out, thenturned and bowed as if to some one inside. "Good-by!" he called,cheerily. "Had a delightful afternoon." The door closed with a click,and he was in the open air. He extracted a cigarette from his jeweledcase, noting from the corner of his eye that, with one accord, themaskers were closing in upon him. Descending the steps, he turned to theleft, walking briskly.
His one chance now depended upon whether these men knew Emile by sight.If so, he felt that he was reasonably safe. If not--
He was approaching two of them. They separated to let him pass between.From beneath their fatuously smiling masks he saw eyes staring at himcuriously. The flesh along his spine crinkled and rippled, but he didnot turn his head or falter, even when he knew they had halted. He couldfeel the puzzled gaze of many eyes upon him, and imagined themystification his appearance had excited. In the midst of theirindecision there sounded the faint clamor of a gong. It grew rapidlyuntil, with wild clangor, a patrol-wagon reeled into the street and drewup in front of the house Van Dam had just quitted. He turned as ahalf-dozen blue-coats tumbled out of it and rushed up the steps;incidentally, he saw that the black-clad figures were melting away invarious directions.
Roly did not wait to observe what followed. He turned the first corner,then quickened his gait, at the next corner swinging once more to theleft. His pulses were jumping, his ears were roaring, he found themuscles of his jaw were aching from the strain. A close call, surely!But he had come through it all safely; he was whole, and on his way outof this mysterious neighborhood. Once more his promptness and resourcehad saved him. Here was the very street up which he and Madelon hadfled; yonder was the entrance to the blind alley that led into thestable-yard.
He noticed that a little crowd was congregated there, many of itsmembers in the costume of merrymakers. He reflected that Emile mighthave found their presence awkward in making his escape. They seemedgreatly excited or shocked over something, he noted, as he approached.They completely blocked the alley entrance. In among them he forced hisway, then paused, staring down with startled eyes at what he saw. Ababble of voices smote his ears, but he heard nothing. He was elbowedaside, but his gaze remained riveted upon the body of a man in a blackdomino. It lay sprawled in the dirt, and covering the face was a maskwhich smiled placidly up at the beholders; on the left breast was pinneda solitary gardenia, crimson with blood. It had been pierced with adagger, and out of it had trickled a bright-red arterial stream.
Van Dam continued to stare at the gruesome sight while his wits whirleddizzily. Why, it was but a moment ago that this boy had left him, in thefull flower of his youth! The body was still warm. It seemedinconceivable that the grim reaper could have worked this grisly changein so short a time! How had it happened? He recalled that somber figureas he had seen it scaling the fence; he recalled that warning whistle.At the memory he turned sick. Was it possible that he had been to blamefor this? He shook the notion from him, reflecting that Emile's fatewould have been the same, or worse, had he chosen any other course.Arrest, he knew, would have been no more welcome than this.
Roly felt a great desire to shout the truth at these people who stoodabout so stupidly; he longed to set them on the trail of the Black Wolfand his pack, but he refrained. How little he really knew, after all!Who was the Black Wolf? Who was this Emile? What had the young scapegoatdone to place himself not only outside the law, but outside the goodgraces of those conspirators? What intricate network of hatred and crimewas here suggested? The desire to know the truth overcame all thought ofhis own safety, so he began to question those around him, heedless ofthe fact that he was being hunted in this very block.
The crowd was growing. An officer returned after sending a call for anambulance, and began to force the people back.
Van Dam discovered a voluble old woman, evidently a shopkeeper, whoseemed better informed than the others, and to her he applied himself.
"Do I know him, indeed?" she cried, shrilly, in answer to his question."And who should know him better than I, Emile Le Duc--a fine boy, sir,of the very best family. Think of it! To be murdered like this! Ah!That's what comes of a bad life, sir. But right at my own doorstep, asyou might say, and in the light of day! Well! Well! What can you expect?He must have been mad to return, with the whole city knowing him sowell." She was greatly excited, and her voice broke under the stress ofher feelings. "It doesn't help the neighborhood, you understand, to havesuch things happen," she ran on, "although nobody can say it's not asquiet and respectable hereabouts as the next place. You've noticed asmuch yourself, I dare say. Nothing ever happens. A misfortune to all ofus, I call it. Why, it's barely two hours ago that they brought a poorfellow out of this very alley with his head lolloping around like a ballon a string. He fell and hurt himself, I hear, although he lookedperfectly dead to me. Think of that! Two in one day. Oh, it doesn't helpthe neighborhood, although there's nobody in the whole block as would doanother an injury, unless it might be that poor boy's cousin, the oldrip who lives in the fine house through yonder. He's a bad one, farworse than Emile, if I do say it who never speaks ill of my neighbors.And there's others besides me who'll be sorry it isn't him instead ofthe young man who lies there with a hole through his ribs. Why, Ithought he was some masquerader, up to his carnival pranks, or drunk,perhaps, until I noticed him all over blood."
Van Dam drew the speaker into her shop, which was near by, then handedher a bank-note. "Come! I want you to tell me all you know."
"Ho! A detective, eh? Not that I wouldn't tell you all I know withoutthis--Ten dollar
s, is it? Peace and love! You _are_ generous! Well,then, he has stood right in your tracks, in this very store, many's thetime. Law! What a lad he was! Nothing bad about him, but just reckless,we used to think. Of course that was before we learned the truth."
"What do you mean?"
"You must be a stranger. Why, the whole world knows the scandal. It madea commotion, I can tell you. But the poor lad! He's paid for all hisevil deeds. Why, sir, he was dead when he walked out into the street. Hemust have been a corpse even when I took him for a merrymaker. Strangethings do happen on these carnival days. They must have finished himwith one stroke. Ugh!"
"They? Whom do you mean?"
The old woman winked, and wagged her head sagely. "Oh! You'll neverlearn who, but we know. You think the gang was broken up when Emile wentto prison, but where do all these counterfeits come from, eh? Answer methat. There's not a week goes by that one of them doesn't find its wayinto my store. They're perfect, or nearly so; it would take abank-teller to find a flaw. I'm always frightened to death till I workthem off again. For all I know, this very ten-dollar bill you gave me isbad, but I'll risk it. Some people don't seem to mind them at all, andso long as there's a chance to get rid of them, why, I don't object. Butthat's how it all came about--through counterfeit money, sir. They usedEmile for a cat's-paw, so I've heard, but when he was caught they lethim take his punishment. It was his cousin, Alfred Le Duc, who got himto confess, under promise of a light sentence. They do say the oldrascal fooled him into it, for what reason nobody ever knew. Anyhow,they sent Emile away for ten years. He threatened to turn state'sevidence, and perhaps he would have done so if he hadn't escaped."
"Ah! So he broke jail?"
"Exactly! And they've been hunting him ever since, with a reward on hishead, and all the time the counterfeits are still coming in, and thepolice are as far from the truth as ever. Poor boy! There he lies, dead,with a flower over his heart. And I saw him fall! This will kill hismother. She's blind, you know, and very feeble."
"He has a cousin, Madelon, I believe," Roly ventured.
"Eh? Then you know her? A blessed angel, with a face like a picture anda heart of pure gold. Hark!" The old lady listened. "There go the clocksstriking six. That means masks off and the end of the carnival. Too bad!Too bad! And Emile with a flower over his heart."
* * * * *
Like one in a dream Roland Van Dam emerged from the foreign quarter intothe broad reaches of Canal Street. He had been gone nearly three hours.The pavements were strewn with confetti and the litter of a Mardi Grascrowd, but nowhere was a masker to be seen. Directly ahead of him loomedthe Grunewald, a splendid tower of white brick and terra-cotta. Insidewere his friends, awaiting him, perhaps. He realized, with a sinkingsensation, that Eleanor Banniman was among them and that he had askedher to be his wife. What a change three hours had brought to him! Why,in that brief interval he had lived through all those very emotions theexistence of which they had both denied earlier in the day. Life hadopened for him, and he had seen it in the raw. On his hands was theblood of a fellow-man; on his lips the fragrance of a kiss that set hisveins afire.
"I say, Roly, where _have_ you been?" Miss Banniman's strident voicedemanded, as he entered the cafe.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed her father, waving his prospective son-in-lawto a chair with a pudgy hand. "We thought you were lost in the tallgrass. You missed tea, but you're in time for a cocktail. Eleanor isquite cranky if she misses hers."
"Beastly stupid place, don't you think?" Miss Banniman inquired of hersweetheart.
"Um-m! I haven't found it so," Roly said, with a sigh of relief. "Factis, I've been quite entertained."
"You have _such_ absurd tastes. A dash of absinthe in mine, if youplease, waiter. Papa has ordered the car attached to the evening train,and we're dining aboard. What d'you say to Pinehurst and a week ofgolf?"
Roly felt a sudden distaste for Pinehurst, for golf, for all the placesand people he had known. "Lovely!" he managed to say; then, summoninghis courage: "I'll join you later, perhaps. Sorry to break up the party,but I've a little business here that will take a day or so."
"Business? _You?_ How funny!" exclaimed Eleanor.
"Too bad!" her father said. "It's blooming hot here, and the flies areawful."
The others joined in commiserating the young man. When they arose to goup-stairs and prepare for the train, Roly fell in behind them with MissBanniman.
"See here, Eleanor, are you sure you love me?" he asked.
She lifted her brows slightly. "Not at all. What put such an idea intoyour head? You're a charming boy, even if you are a bit romantic. Butlove--I thought we understood each other."
"I've been thinking--something unusual for me--and I don't believe we'reeither of us quite ready to take the fatal plunge. How does it strikeyou?"
"I'm in no hurry," Miss Banniman said, indifferently. "Let's call it offfor the present. We can try it on again in the autumn, if we feel likeit."
"Mighty sensible of you," Van Dam told her, with relief.
"Oh, that's all right! Don't let this keep you away from Pinehurst,however. The season's nearly over, and we'll need you for a foursome."She extended her hand, and Van Dam took it gratefully.
Her father called from the elevator: "See you in a few days, Roly. Goodluck with your business, and don't take any bad money." Mr. Banniman'suse of slang was neither brilliant nor original, but he was chuckling asthe car shot up out of sight.
Van Dam hastened to the desk and called for a city directory, then ranthrough it to the L's.
"_L-a, L-e--_" Ah, there it was! "Le Duc, Felice--wid. res. 247 BouleSt."
He made a note of the address, then settled his hat upon his head, lit acigarette, and walked jauntily out into the evening and turned towardCanal Street. It was growing cool; the street lights were gleaming; longrows of them were festooned for blocks in all directions, blazing forthin fanciful designs. In a short time now the Rex parade would be underway, with its countless floats depicting "The Age of Romance."
"Romance, indeed!" smiled Mr. Van Dam, contentedly. Why _this_ was theage of romance. Something recalled Mr. Banniman's parting words tohim--"bad money!" The young man paused abruptly. "Bad money!" What acoincidence! He pictured a safe sunk into a library wall, an opencash-drawer jammed with neatly pinned packages of crisp, new ten-dollarbank-notes. Then he recalled the story of the garrulous old shop-woman.
Roly came to himself with a jerk. He began to laugh.
"Good Lord!" said he, aloud. "I wonder if Cousin Alfred's money wascounterfeit!"
He was still smiling as he bought a white gardenia and placed it in hisbuttonhole.
ROPE'S END