Barry took a few quick steps forward, and paused, a little embarrassedby the way those keen, dark eyes were fixed upon his face, as ifsearching the very depths of his soul. A faint touch of color came intohis cheeks; but his eyes never wavered, and he held his head high.Presently, as the odd silence began to seem intolerable, his lipsparted, as if he meant to speak, only to close again without a soundissuing. When at last the silence was broken, it was the woman whospoke.
"So you are Barry Lawrence," she said abruptly, with an oddly puzzledundercurrent in her voice.
He bowed.
"Humph!" she commented. "Read that!"
As she thrust her hand toward him, Barry saw that a letter was crumpledbetween her fingers. Without a word, he took it eagerly and twitched itopen. It was written in a simple, running hand without any specialcharacteristics, and was unsigned:
DEAR MADAM: This is to let you know that your niece is all right as longas you keep quiet and don't interfere. Very likely you think that moneyand position can do everything, but in this case you're wrong.
Nothing is going to happen to the girl unless you go running to thepolice; but if you do, you won't be a bit better off, and there'll onlybe a big scandal raised which will do irreparable harm to her and herhusband.
This is just a tip to keep quiet and let things run their natural courseunless you want to do a lot of harm to all concerned.
Lawrence scarcely took in the meaning of the second paragraph. Hisbrain was reeling. Her husband! He could not believe that he had readaright, and dazedly his eyes sought the paragraph and tried to focusthemselves upon the amazing, impossible, dastardly words.
Before he could do so, however, an impatient movement came from thewoman beside him, and her voice broke the stillness.
"Well?" she snapped. "Are you her husband?"
Barry flung back his head and stared at her with blazing eyes.
"No!" he replied sharply. "No, I'm not! I'd give anything under heavenif there could ever be a chance for me to be."
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he realized, with a pangof dismay, that he had been stung into saying something he never meantto say. All day he had been telling himself over and over again that noword concerning his feelings for Shirley Rives should ever pass hislips, yet now he had blurted it out like a blundering fool. The colorflamed into his face, and his lids drooped before the curious expressionin Mrs. Wilmerding's eyes.
"Indeed!" she said tersely. "And may I ask why you think there isn't?"
Lawrence stared at her in astonishment. Then he pulled himself togetherand glanced again at the crumpled letter.
"If this is true----" he began.
But Mrs. Wilmerding cut him short with a most emphatic snort.
"Fiddlesticks!" she snapped. "You don't believe that, I hope? Haven'tyou any faith at all in Shirley? It's all a lie from beginning to end."
"But what----"
"I don't know," she broke in, frowning. "I don't understand it yet, butI know it's a lie."
Barry's spirits began to rise. There was something about her tone ofpositiveness which heartened him instinctively. He had not reallydoubted Shirley; but the statement of the unknown writer was sononchalant and matter-of-fact that it bewildered him.
"Still," he remarked more calmly, "you asked me----"
"I had my reasons; but it wasn't because I thought it true." She stoodleaning against the side of a heavy, carved table, both hands restinglightly on the dull, waxed surface, her shrewd, bright eyes holding hisin thrall. "What stands between you and Shirley?" she questionedquietly.
Lawrence threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. "Everything!" heexclaimed. "Her money and my lack of it are enough, without wastingtime to go into any others."
"Her money!" Mrs. Wilmerding repeated. Then, with a sudden frown, shewent on swiftly: "You're right. We are wasting time. Let us get downto business at once. Shirley must be found to-night, and yet I don'tfeel like putting the matter into the hands of the police."
"You don't believe there can be a particle of truth in this letter?"Barry questioned.
"Of course not. I told you it was a lie. At the same time, you mustsee that if the matter became public it might do my niece an irreparableamount of harm. No. We must work it out ourselves. To be strictlyaccurate, you must find her. Being a woman, I can't very well traipsearound town without causing all sorts of talk. You won't fail me, Iknow."
"Fail you!" Lawrence cried. "I should say not! I won't rest or sleepuntil Miss Rives is found. I'll rake the city with a fine-tooth comb,and if any harm has come to her----"
He broke off abruptly, his face hard, almost cruel, his eyes narrowed.The momentary silence which followed was more expressive than manywords.
*CHAPTER XXXV.*
*THE ASTONISHING MRS. WILMERDING.*
Mrs. Wilmerding looked at him with an odd touch of wistfulness in hergaze. Then she sighed a little. "Youth is a very wonderful thing," shemurmured. "I shouldn't make such a vow as that, though. You might haveto break it. Have you thought of any plan?"
"Not yet. I only know I'll find her in some way. You must tell meeverything you know quickly. We haven't any time to lose. When did shego out?"
"A little after three. She said she was going to call on a girl friendshe met at the dance--a Miss Jennings."
"And did she?"
"Yes. When I reached home, about half past five, and did not find herhere, my secretary called up the Jennings house on Fifty-seventh Street,and found that Shirley had left there an hour before. Even then therewas nothing to worry about. She might easily have gone shopping. Butwhen another hour had passed I began to be troubled. At twenty minutesto seven this letter was delivered at the door."
"Delivered!" Barry exclaimed. "Did the man notice by whom?"
"An ordinary messenger boy in uniform."
Barry's eyes sparkled. "By Jove!" he burst out. "You're sure thereisn't any mistake about that?"
"Perfectly. Naturally, I asked Pagdon about it instantly.Unfortunately, he did not notice the boy's number; but there was nomistaking the uniform."
"May I have a telephone book?" Lawrence asked abruptly. "It may take alittle time, but there won't be any real difficulty in running the boydown."
Mrs. Wilmerding stepped over to the fireplace and pressed a buttonconcealed in the carving. Almost instantly the velvet hangings wereparted, and the footman stood in the doorway.
"Bring a New York telephone directory, Pagdon," Mrs. Wilmerding directedtersely; "and then tell Miss Winters I wish to see her at once. Mysecretary can do the telephoning as well as you," she went on, turningto Lawrence. "It will give you time for a bite of dinner, which youmight not otherwise have."
Barry protested that he wanted nothing to eat; but his hostess insisted,and, to avoid actual rudeness, he was finally obliged to give in. Theinstant the directory was brought, he turned hastily to the list ofAmerican District Telegraph offices, and discovered that there werealmost fifty in Manhattan and the Bronx alone. A number of them couldbe eliminated, however, and that he proceeded to do, jotting down thephone numbers of the most likely ones on a sheet of note paper. He hadjust finished the list, when the secretary, a trim, capable-looking girlof twenty-six or so, entered the room.
Having acknowledged the introduction, Lawrence explained what he wanted.
"We must find out which of these offices handled the letter that wasdelivered to Mrs. Wilmerding about half past six," he said hurriedly."Will you please call them up, Miss Winters, beginning with the numbersI've jotted down here? If you fail to locate the right one, take therest of the numbers from the book. The instant you succeed, tell themanager to hold the boy until I can get down, and kindly let me know atonce."
The secretary nodded, and, gathering up list and book, was leaving theroom when Barry had a sudden idea.
"Before you do anything else," he said quickly, "will you please c
allthe Yale Club and get Mr. Jacob Hamersley, junior? Tell him that I'mdelayed, but that it's most important he should wait at the club until Ican get down there."
The girl nodded understandingly, and disappeared into the hall; whileLawrence followed his hostess through some wide doors at the farther endof the drawing-room into a library lined with books and as bewilderinglyrich in its furnishings as the rest of the house.
At one end was a fireplace with a carved oak mantel and paneling blackwith age, which looked as if it had been transported from some oldEnglish country house--as it probably had. A fire of logs blazed andtwinkled there; and drawn up before it was a small round table, set fortwo. Evidently Mrs. Wilmerding had not been idle while Barry was busywith the telephone book.
"I had it brought here because it is nearer the telephone," sheexplained as Lawrence drew out her chair. "It is only the simplest sortof a supper."
It proved to be extremely satisfactory, for all that. The butler and afootman who served the dishes seemed to realize the necessity for haste,and there was not a second's delay. Consequently, in an incrediblyshort space of time the meal was over, and they returned to thedrawing-room a moment or two before Miss Winters reappeared.
"The office is on Broadway, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth," she saidquietly. "The boy had not been sent out again, and the manager willhold him there until you get down."
Lawrence sprang to his feet. "Good!" he exclaimed. "And Hamersley?"
"He had left the club a moment or two before I called. He left word,however, that he would be back within half an hour."
Barry turned to Mrs. Wilmerding. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Ithought my friend might help, but I can pick him up afterward if it'snecessary."
"You might call the club again, Miss Winters," the older womansuggested, "and have them request Mr. Hamersley not to leave until hehears from Mr. Lawrence."
When the secretary had departed, she glanced swiftly back to Barry.
"You have enough money?" she asked.
"Plenty."
"Then hurry. Be sure and keep me informed of what you are doing whenit's possible. I trust you to find her to-night."
She held out her hand, and Lawrence took it quickly. For an instantthey stood looking into one another's eyes; then the woman threw backher head.
"You love my niece," she said rapidly. "You think there areinsurmountable barriers between you. I tell you this, Barry Lawrence:The moment you bring Shirley back to me those barriers shall cease toexist. You understand? It shall be as if they had never been."
A flood of bright crimson leaped into Barry's face, and he stared ather, unable to credit his senses.
"But that will be--impossible!" he gasped. "I'm almost a--pauper! Ihave no position; my very name is--tarnished."
"Humph!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Tarnished through some fault ofyours?"
"N-o; but everybody thinks----"
Her teeth came together with a click; her eyes were flashing. "Bah!"she retorted impatiently. "Do you suppose for a minute that I care whateverybody thinks? I trust my own judgment, and it has never failed. Ifa man is clean and straight and decent, money isn't worth that!" Shesnapped her fingers. "I have more of it than I know what to do with.You understand? Well, go, then--and remember what I've said."
*CHAPTER XXXVI.*
*TAKING UP THE TRAIL.*
Dazed, bewildered, his mind in a turmoil of mingled joy and acuteanxiety, Lawrence hastened down the steps of Mrs. Wilmerding's house andacross the sidewalk to the waiting taxi.
"No. 854 Broadway, and go like the deuce!" he cried out as he leapedinside.
The door slammed behind him and the machine leaped forward like a thingalive. Straight down the wide avenue it flew, past marble palacesgleaming with lights, past the park entrance with its guarding statue ofgolden bronze, past great hotels whose tiers of twinkling windows seemedalmost to touch the stars, past shadowy churches, glittering shopwindows, and looming skyscrapers stealing slowly northward in thatinexorable march of progress.
Sitting stiffly upright on the seat within, Lawrence saw nothing savethose twin lines of opalescent globes which seemed to converge with suchintolerable slowness until at last they came together miles and milesbeyond. He knew that they would have to go almost to that point beforenearing their destination, and he chafed impatiently at the slightestdelay made necessary by traffic regulations.
Now that he had commenced the quest, he seemed to feel, even morestrongly than before, the necessity for haste. While he was searchingblindly for a clew, Shirley might be suffering all sorts of annoyances,humiliations, and fears. He ground his teeth and swore softly under hisbreath at the thought of his helplessness. He had started out with thequixotic belief that earnest effort, coupled with money, couldaccomplish anything; but slowly, as the car flew southward, a doubtbegan to creep into his mind.
What was he going to do if the messenger boy could tell him nothing? Hehad talked bravely enough about raking the city with a fine-tooth comb,but he knew that was an impossibility. The vastness of New York defiedhim, and made him feel suddenly as small and insignificant as a tinyinsect. Without a clew, what possible chance had he to find a trace ofthe girl, whose captors would naturally be doing their best to bafflepursuit?
By the time the taxi had whirled through Thirteenth Street, and halfwayup the block, Barry was well-nigh despairing. He pulled himselftogether with an effort, however, and hurried into the telegraph office.
There were telephone booths in the front, but he passed them withunseeing eyes and made straight for the desk beyond a railing, abovewhich was painted, on a tin sign, the word, "Manager." A young fellowof about his own age occupied the revolving chair, and glanced upinquiringly as Barry stopped in front of him.
"My name is Lawrence," the latter explained swiftly. "I phoned downsome twenty minutes ago asking you to hold the boy who delivered aletter to Mrs. Ogden Wilmerding about half past six this evening. Hehasn't been sent out, I hope."
"Nope! I only came on ten minutes ago, but the boss told me to keepJimmy till you showed up. He's over there."
Lawrence followed the direction of his thumb, and saw a very diminutiveyoungster, with a pert, freckled face and fiery red hair, sittingnonchalantly on the end of the bench and eying the newcomer withundisguised curiosity.
"Want me to call him over?" continued the temporary manager. "Maybe Ican help you get what you want out of him."
Barry shook his head. "If you don't mind, I'll just talk to him overthere." He hesitated an instant and then went on, in an attempt toassuage the other's very evident curiosity: "The letter was unsigned,and Mrs. Wilmerding is very anxious to have a description of the personwho sent it."
"Well, go ahead and see what you can do," replied the man at the desk."Jimmy's a sharp little cuss, though, and if he's been paid to hold histongue, you'll have a job getting anything out of him."
"I can try, anyhow," smiled Lawrence. "By the way, you have a record ofwhere the call came from, I suppose?"
"Sure!" The young man reached across the littered desk and drew a slipof paper toward him. "I thought you might want to know, so I looked itup when I first came in. It was phoned in from the Merton House atsix-five. Party by the name of Brown."
"Much obliged," Barry remarked thoughtfully. "I'll see what I can getout of the boy."
As he turned toward the youngster, he saw the latter's eyes drop and hisheels begin to kick automatically against the rungs of the wooden bench.
"Just a little too careless to be natural," Barry reflected. "Looks tome as if you'd been well coached, my son."
The boy did not look at him squarely as Lawrence took his seat on thebench beside him; but the man caught a flashing glint from the blue eyeswhich told him that his young neighbor was on the alert.
For a second Barry sat silent. Then, turning suddenly toward theyoungster, he said quietly:
"I'm in trouble
, Jimmy, and I want you to help me."
*CHAPTER XXXVII.*
*TWO SHEETS OF PAPER.*
There was no reply in words, but the boy moved uneasily and twisted onefoot around the bench leg.
"You went to the Merton House a little after six to-night," Lawrencewent on, in the same low, even voice, "and got a letter there, which youtook to Mrs. Ogden Wilmerding on Fifth Avenue. Do you remember anythingabout the man who gave it to you?"
The boy squirmed a little, and seemed intent on poking a minute pebbleinto a crack in the floor.
"Nothin' special," he mumbled at last.
Barry laughed. "Oh, come now!" he returned. "You must remember what helooked like."
The youngster thrust both chapped and freckled hands deep into thepockets of his trousers, and scowled.
"Well," he muttered slowly, his eyes still on the floor, "he was sort o'short, an' fat, an'--an' had a--a squint in one eye. His hairwas--light. That's all I know about him."