A Husband by Proxy

  Produced by Al Haines

  A HUSBAND BY PROXY

  By

  JACK STEELE

  NEW YORK

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

  PUBLISHERS

  Copyright, 1909, by

  Desmond FitzGerald, Inc.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. THE PROPOSITION II. A SECOND EMPLOYMENT III. TWO ENCOUNTERS IV. UNSPOKEN ANTAGONISM V. THE "SHADOW" VI. THE CORONER VII. A STARTLING DISCOVERY VIII. WHERE CLEWS MAY POINT IX. A SUMMONS X. A COMPLICATION XI. THE SHOCK OF TRUTH XII. A DISTURBING LOSS XIII. A TRYST IN THE PARK XIV. A PACKAGE OF DEATH XV. SIGNIFICANT DISCOVERIES XVI. IN QUEST OF DOROTHY XVII. A RESCUE BY FORCE XVIII. THE RACE XIX. FRIGHT AND A DISAPPEARANCE XX. NEW HAPPENINGS XXI. REVELATIONS XXII. A MAN IN THE CASE XXIII. THE ENEMY'S TRACKS XXIV. A NEW ALARM XXV. A DEARTH OF CLEWS XXVI. STARTLING DISCLOSURES XXVII. LIKE A BOLT FROM THE BLUE XXVIII. A HELPLESS SITUATION XXIX. NIGHT-WALKERS XXX. OVERTURES FROM THE ENEMY XXXI. THE FRET OF WAITING XXXII. A TRAGIC CULMINATION XXXIII. FOSTER DURGIN XXXIV. THE RICHES OF THE WORLD XXXV. JOHN HARDY'S WILL XXXVI. GARRISON'S VALUED FRIEND XXXVII. A HONEYMOON

  A Husband by Proxy

  CHAPTER I

  THE PROPOSITION

  With the hum of New York above, below, and all about him, stirring hispulses and prodding his mental activities, Jerold Garrison, expertcriminologist, stood at the window of his recently opened office,looking out upon the roofs and streets of the city with a new sense ofpride and power in his being.

  New York at last!

  He was here--unknown and alone, it was true--but charged with an energythat he promised Manhattan should feel.

  He was almost penniless, with his office rent, his licenses, and otherexpenses paid, but he shook his fist at the city, in sheer good natureand confidence in his strength, despite the fact he had waited a weekfor expected employment, and nothing at present loomed upon the horizon.

  His past, in a small Ohio town, was behind him. He blotted it outwithout regret--or so at least he said to himself--even as to all thegilded hopes which had once seemed his all upon earth. If his heartwas not whole, no New York eye should see its wounds--and the healingprocess had begun.

  He was part of the vast machine about him, the mighty brain, as itwere, of the great American nation.

  He paced the length of his room, and glanced at the door. Thehalf-painted sign on the frosted glass was legible, reversed, as theartist had left it:

  JEROLD -------- CRIMINOLOGIST.

  He had halted the painter himself on the name, as the letteringappeared too fanciful--not sufficiently plain or bold.

  While he stood there a shadow fell upon the glass. Someone wasstanding outside, in the hall. As if undecided, the owner of theshadow oscillated for a moment--and disappeared. Garrison, tempted toopen the door and gratify a natural curiosity, remained beside hisdesk. Mechanically his hand, which lay upon a book entitled "ATreatise on Poisons," closed the volume.

  He was still watching the door. The shadow returned, the knob wasrevolved, and there, in the oaken frame, stood a tall young woman ofextraordinary beauty, richly though quietly dressed, and swiftlychanging color with excitement.

  Pale in one second, crimson in the next, and evidently concentratingall her power on an effort to be calm, she presented a strangelyappealing and enchanting figure to the man across the room. Braverywas blazing in her glorious brown eyes, and firmness came upon hermanner as she stepped inside, closed the door, and silently confrontedthe detective.

  The man she was studying was a fine-looking, clean-cut fellow,gray-eyed, smooth-shaven, with thick brown hair, and with agentleman-athlete air that made him distinctly attractive. Thefearless, honest gaze of his eyes completed a personal charm that wasundeniable in his entity.

  It seemed rather long that the two thus stood there, face to face.Garrison candidly admiring in his gaze, his visitor studious andslightly uncertain.

  She was the first to speak.

  "Are you Mr. Jerold?"

  "Jerold Garrison," the detective answered. "My sign is unfinished.May I offer you a chair?"

  His caller sat down beside the desk. She continued to study his facefrankly, with a half-shy, half-defiant scrutiny, as if she banished anatural diffidence under pressure of necessity.

  She spoke again, abruptly.

  "I wish to procure peculiar services. Are you a very well-knowndetective?"

  "I have never called myself a detective," said Garrison. "I'm tryingto occupy a higher sphere of usefulness. I left college a year ago,and last week opened my office here and became a New Yorker."

  He might, in all modesty, have exhibited a scrap-book filled withaccounts of his achievements, with countless references to his work asa "scientific criminologist" of rare mental attainments. Of hisattainments as a gentleman there was no need of reference. Theyproclaimed themselves in his bearing.

  His visitor laid a glove and a scrap of paper on the desk.

  "It isn't so much detective services I require," she said; "but ofcourse you are widely acquainted in New York--I mean with young menparticularly?"

  "No," he replied, "I know almost none. But I know the city fairlywell, if that will answer your purpose."

  "I thought, of course--I hoped you might know some honorable---- Yousee, I have come on rather extraordinary business," she said, falteringa little helplessly. "Let me ask you first--is the confidence of apossible client quite sacred with a man in this profession?"

  "Absolutely sacred!" he assured her. "Whether you engage my servicesor not, your utterances here will be treated as confidential and asinviolate as if spoken to a lawyer, a doctor, or a clergyman."

  "Thank you," she murmured. "I have been hunting around----"

  She left the sentence incomplete.

  "And you found my name quite by accident," he supplied, indicating thescrap of paper. "I cannot help observing that you have been to otheroffices first. You have tramped all the way down Broadway fromForty-second Street, for the red ink that someone spilled at theForty-first Street crossing is still on your shoe, together with just afilm of dust."

  She withdrew her shoe beneath the edge of her skirt, although he hadnever apparently glanced in that direction.

  "Yes," she admitted, "I have been to others--and they wouldn't do. Icame in here because of the name--Jerold. I am sorry you are notbetter acquainted--for my business is important."

  "Perhaps if I knew the nature of your needs I might be able to adviseyou," said Garrison. "I hope to be more widely acquainted soon."

  She cast him one look, full of things inscrutable, and lowered herlashes in silence. She was evidently striving to overcome someindecision.

  Garrison looked at her steadily. He thought he had never in his lifebeheld a woman so beautiful. Some wild, unruly hope that she mightbecome his client, perhaps even a friend, was flaring in his mind.

  The color came and went in her cheeks, adding fresh loveliness at everychange. She glanced at her list of names, from which a number had beenscratched.

  "Well," she said presently, "I think perhaps you might still be able toattend to my requirements."

  He waited to hear her continue, but she needed encouragement.

  "I shall be glad to try," he assured her.

  She was silent again--and blushing. She looked up somewhat defiantly.

  "I wish you to procure me a husband."

  Garrison stared. He was certain he had heard incorrectly.

  "I do not mean an actual husband," she explained. "I simply mean somehonorable young man who will assume the role for a time, as a businessproposition, for a fee to be p
aid as I would pay for anything else.

  "I would require that he understand the affair to be strictlycommercial, and that when I wish the arrangement to terminate he willdisappear from the scene and from my acquaintance at once andabsolutely.

  "All I ask of you is to supply me such a person. I will pay youwhatever fee you may demand--in reason."

  Garrison looked at her as fixedly as she was looking at him.

  Her recital of her needs had brought to the surface a phase ofdesperation in her bearing that wrought upon him potently, he knew notwhy.

  "I think I understand your requirements, as far as one can in thecircumstances," he answered. "I hardly believe I have the ability toengage such a person as you need for such a mission. I informed you atthe start that my acquaintance with New York men is exceedingly narrow.I cannot think of anyone I could honestly recommend."

  "But don't you know any honorable young gentleman--like some collegeman, perhaps--here in New York, looking for employment; someone whomight be glad to earn, say, five hundred dollars?" she insisted."Surely if you only know a few, there must be one among them."

  Garrison sat back in his chair and took hold of his smooth-shaved lipwith his thumb and finger. He reviewed his few New York experiencesrapidly.

  "No," he repeated. "I know of no such man. I am sorry."

  His visitor looked at him with a new, flashing light in her eyes.

  "Not one?" she said, significantly. "Not one young _college_ man?"

  He was unsuspicious of her meaning.

  "Not one."

  For a moment she fingered her glove where it lay upon the desk. Then alook of more pronounced determination and courage came upon her face asshe raised her eyes once more to Garrison's.

  She said:

  "Are you married?"

  A flush came at once upon Garrison's face--and memories and heartachespossessed him for a poignant moment. He mastered himself almostinstantly.

  "No," he said with some emotion, "I am not."

  "Then," she said, "couldn't you undertake the task yourself?"

  Garrison leaned forward on the table. Lightning from an azure skycould have been no more astonishing or unexpected.

  "Do you mean--will I play this role--as your husband?" he said slowly."Is that what you are asking?"

  "Yes," she answered unflinchingly. "Why not? You need the money; Ineed the services. You understand exactly what it is I require. It isbusiness, and you are a business man."

  "But I have no wish to be a married man, or even to masquerade as one,"he told her bluntly.

  "You have quite as much wish to be one as I have to be a marriedwoman," she answered. "We would understand each other thoroughly fromthe start. As to masquerading, if you have no acquaintances, then whowould be the wiser?"

  He acknowledged the logic of her argument; nevertheless, the thingseemed utterly preposterous. He rose and walked the length of hisoffice, and stood looking out of the window. Then he returned andresumed his seat. He was strangely moved by her beauty and someunexplained helplessness of her plight, vouchsafed to his senses, yethe recognized a certain need for caution.

  "What should I be expected to do?" he inquired.

  His visitor, in the mental agitation which had preceded this interview,had taken little if any time to think of the details likely to attendan alliance such as she had just proposed. She could only think ingeneralities.

  "Why--there will be very little for you to do, except to permityourself to be considered my lawful husband, temporarily," she repliedafter a moment of hesitation, with a hot flush mounting to her cheek.

  "And to whom would I play?" he queried. "Should I be obliged, in thiscapacity, to meet your relatives and friends?"

  "Certainly--a few," said his visitor. "But I have almost no relativesin the world. I have no father, mother, brothers, or sisters. Therewill be, at most, a few distant relatives and possibly my lawyer."

  Garrison made no response. He was trying to think what such a gamewould mean--and what it might involve.

  His visitor presently added:

  "Do you consent--for five hundred dollars?"

  "I don't know," answered the man. Again he paced the room. When hehalted before his client he looked at her sternly.

  "You haven't told me your name," he said.

  She gave him her card, on which appeared nothing more than just merelythe name "Mrs. Jerold Fairfax," with an address in an uptown West Sidestreet.

  Garrison glanced at it briefly.

  "This is something you have provided purposely to fit yourrequirements," he said. "Am I not supposed to know you by any othername?"

  "If you accept the--the employment," she answered, once more blushingcrimson, "you may be obliged at times to call me Dorothy. My maidenname was Dorothy Booth."

  Garrison merely said: "Oh!"

  They were silent for a moment. The man was pondering thepossibilities. His visitor was evidently anxious.

  "I suppose I can find someone else if you refuse the employment," shesaid. "But you will understand that my search is one of greatdifficulty. The person I employ must be loyal, a gentleman,courageous, resourceful, and very little known. You can see yourselfthat you are particularly adapted for the work."

  "Thank you," said Garrison, who was aware that no particular flatterywas intended. He added: "I hardly suppose it could do me any harm."

  Mrs. Fairfax accepted this ungallant observation calmly. Sherecognized the fact that his side of the question had its aspects.

  She waited for Garrison to speak again.

  A knock at the door startled them both. A postman entered, dropped twoletters on the desk, and departed down the hall.

  Garrison took up the letters. One was a circular of his own, addressedto a lawyer over a month before, and now returned undelivered andmarked "Not found," though three or four different addresses had beensupplied in its peregrinations.

  The second letter was addressed to himself in typewritten form. He wastoo engrossed to tear it open, and laid them both upon the table.

  "If I took this up," he presently resumed, "I should be obliged to knowsomething more about it. For instance, when were we supposed to havebeen married?"

  "On the 10th of last month," she answered promptly.

  "Oh!" said he. "And, in case of necessity, how should we prove it?"

  "By my wedding certificate," she told him calmly.

  His astonishment increased.

  "Then you were actually married, over a month ago?"

  "I have the certificate. Isn't that sufficient?" she replied evasively.

  "Well--I suppose it is--for this sort of an arrangement," he agreed."Of course some man's name must appear in the document. I should beobliged, I presume, to adopt his name as part of the arrangement?"

  "Certainly," she said. "I told you I came into your office becauseyour name is Jerold."

  "Exactly," he mused. "The name I'd assume is Jerold Fairfax?"

  She nodded, watching him keenly.

  "It's a good enough name," said Garrison.

  He paced up and down the floor in silence a number of times. Mrs.Fairfax watched him in apparent calm.

  "This is a great temptation," he admitted. "I should like to earn thefee you have mentioned, Miss Booth--Mrs. Fairfax, but----"

  He halted.

  "Well?"

  "I don't exactly like the look of it, to be frank," he confessed. "Idon't know you, and you don't know me. I am not informed whether youare really married or not. If you are, and the man---- You have nodesire to enlighten me on these matters. Can you tell me why you wishto pretend that I am your husband?"

  "I do not wish to discuss that aspect of the arrangement at present,"she said. "It is purely a business proposition that should last nomore than a month or two at most, and then terminate forever. I wouldprefer to have you remain out of town as much as possible."

  "A great many haphazard deductions present themselves to my mind," hesaid, "b
ut all are doubtless inaccurate. I have no morbid curiosityconcerning your affairs, but this thing would involve me almost as muchas yourself, by its very nature."

  His brows were knitted in indecision.

  There was silence again between them. His visitor presently said:

  "If I could offer you more than the five hundred dollars, I wouldgladly do so."

  "Oh, the fee is large enough, for up to date I have had no employmentor even a prospect of work," said Garrison. "I hope you will not beoffended when I say that I have recently become a cautious man."

  "I know how strange it appears for me to come here with thisextraordinary request," agreed Mrs. Fairfax. "I hardly know how I havedone so. But there was no one to help me. I hope you will notconsider the matter for another moment if you feel that either of uscannot trust the other. In a way, I am placing my honor in yourkeeping far more than you are placing yourself in charge of mine."

  Garrison looked at her steadily, and something akin tosympathy--something that burned like wine of romance in his blood--withzest of adventure and a surge of generosity toward this unknowngirl--tingled in all his being. Something in her helplessness appealedto his innate chivalry.

  Calmly, however, he took a new estimate of her character,notwithstanding the fact that his first, most reliable impression hadbeen entirely in her favor.

  "Well," he said, after a moment, "it's a blind game for me, but I thinkI'll accept your offer. When do you wish me to begin my services?"

  "I should like to notify my lawyer as soon as possible," answered Mrs.Fairfax, frankly relieved by his decision. "He may regard the factthat he was not sooner notified as a little peculiar."

  "Practically you wish me to assume my role at once," commentedGarrison. "What is your lawyer's name?"

  "Mr. Stephen Trowbridge."

  Garrison took up that much-addressed letter, returned by the post, andpassed it across the table. The one fairly legible line on its surfaceread:

  STEPHEN TROWBRIDGE, ESQ.

  "I think that must be the same individual," he said. "I sent outannouncements of my business and presence here to nearly every lawyerin the State. This envelope has been readdressed, as you observe, butit has never reached its destination. Is that your man?"

  Mrs. Fairfax examined the missive.

  "Yes," she said, "I think so. Do you wish his present address?"

  "If you please," answered Garrison. "I shall take the liberty ofsteaming this open and removing its contents, after which I will placean antedated letter or notification of the--our marriage--written byyourself--in the envelope, redirect it, and send it along. It willfinally land in the hands of your lawyer with its tardiness verynaturally explained."

  "You mean the notification will appear as if misdirected originally,"said Dorothy. "An excellent idea."

  "Perhaps you will compose the note at once," said Garrison, pushingpaper, pen, and ink across the desk. "You may leave the rest, with theaddress, to me."

  His visitor hesitated for a moment, as if her decision wavered in thisvital moment of plunging into unknown fates, but she took up the penand wrote the note and address with commendable brevity.

  Garrison was walking up and down the office.

  "The next step----" he started to say, but his visitor interrupted.

  "Isn't this the only step necessary to take until something arisesmaking others expedient?"

  "There is one slight thing remaining," he answered, taking up her card."You are in a private residence?"

  "Yes. The caretaker, a woman, is always there."

  "Have you acquainted her with the fact of your marriage?"

  "Certainly. She is an English servant. She asks no questions. But Itold her my husband is away from town and will be absent almostconstantly for the next two or three months."

  Garrison slightly elevated his brows, in acknowledgment of thethoroughness of her arrangements.

  "I have never attempted much acting--a little at private theatricals,"he told her; "but of course we shall both be obliged to play thislittle domestic comedy with some degree of art."

  She seemed prepared for that also, despite the sudden crimson of hercheeks.

  "Certainly."

  "One more detail," he added. "You have probably found it necessary towithhold certain facts from my knowledge. I trust I shall not be ledinto awkward blunders. I shall do my best, and for the rest--I beg ofyou to conduct the affair according to your own requirements andjudgment."

  The slightly veiled smile in his eyes did not escape her observation.Nevertheless, she accepted his proposal quite as a matter of course.

  "Thank you. I am glad you relieved me of the necessity of making somesuch suggestion. I think that is all--for the present." She stood up,and, fingering her glove, glanced down at the table for a moment. "MayI pay, say, two hundred dollars now, as a retainer?"

  "I shall be gratified if you will," he answered.

  In silence she counted out the money, which she took from a purse in abag. The bills lay there in a heap.

  "When you wish any more, will you please let me know?" she said. "Andwhen I require your services I will wire. Perhaps I'd better take boththis office and your house address."

  He wrote them both on a card and placed it in her hand.

  "Thank you," she murmured. She closed her purse, hesitated a moment,then raised her eyes to his. Quite coldly she added: "Good-afternoon."

  "Good-day," answered Garrison.

  He opened the door, bowed to her slightly as she passed--then facedabout and stared at the money that lay upon his desk.