CHAPTER IV.
CLARA'S SEARCH BEGINS.
Clara had not fainted in her uncle's arms, but she nestled against himquivering and sobbing; and again it was fortunate for her that theexcited, pent-up forces of her brain had broken through in a flood oftears.
"You see, Dexter!" cried Mr. Pembroke in broken accents, "how my poorgirl suffers. There, there, Clara, better get back to your bed and tryto sleep. I thought Louise was looking after you."
"She has been with me," replied Clara, "but I sent her away. I wantedto think. Has nothing been heard from Ivan?"
"Nothing yet, my dear. You shall know it as soon as we do even if itcomes at three in the morning."
Attracted by her cousin's voice, Louise appeared at this moment and ledClara upstairs, scolding her gently for having left her room. Clarawas greatly subdued, and urged no longer to be left alone. Through therest of the evening she sat quietly listening to Louise, and feeling noreturn of that tensity of the nerves that had preceded and accompaniedher waking dream.
In the morning she was better, stronger in every way. She met her uncleand cousin at breakfast, and although she was very quiet she seemedmore like her natural self than they had expected. Every newspaperhad something to say about the disappearance of Ivan Strobel, and thereporters, apparently, had interviewed everybody directly interestedin him except the unhappy bride herself. The newspapers were in a pileby her uncle's plate when she surprised him by entering the room andtaking her place at the table.
"I'd like to see the papers, uncle," she said after responding to hisgreetings.
Mr. Pembroke glanced nervously at his daughter, and laid his handirresolutely on the pile.
"I am afraid you won't find anything of comfort in them, my dear," hesaid.
"No matter," she replied, "I don't expect to. Don't try to keep themfrom me. I shall get them later if I do not read them now."
Mr. Pembroke passed them all to her except one which he opened andpretended to read himself. He had already been through it, and he didnot intend, if he could help it, that she should see it.
Clara intently read the account of the interrupted wedding in the firstpaper she took up, pausing only once to exclaim, "Then the reporterswere here last evening!"
"Yes," said Mr. Pembroke, "they were coming and going until long aftermidnight."
"I almost wish I could have seen some of them," murmured Clara asshe continued to read. The report told with fair accuracy about thebreak-down at Park and Tremont Streets and the explanation of it givenby the stableman. Mrs. White was quoted, and as much as the reportercould imagine was made of the visit to Strobel by the mysteriousstranger. Then there were interviews with the missing man's employers,State Street bankers, and the highly gratifying intelligence was setforth that there was no reason to suppose that Strobel had tamperedwith the funds or in any way betrayed his trust. Clara blushed withindignation as she read that the books would be examined in themorning, with a view to discovering whether Strobel had been guilty ofany irregularities.
"The idea that Ivan should be suspected of dishonesty!" exclaimedClara, laying the paper down and taking up another.
"People will think anything and everything," said her uncle, "and youmust be prepared for the worst insinuations and speculations."
Clara read the next account in silence. It was much longer than thefirst, and a great deal of attention and imagination had been devotedto the romantic aspect of the situation. Clara was described asutterly prostrated by the blow, dangerously ill, refusing to see hermost intimate friends; and the intended union of the beautiful orphanwith the Russian exile was dwelt upon with appropriate grace andpicturesqueness. She blushed for herself this time and laid the paperdown impatiently.
"I shall show them," she said, "if they pay any further attention tothe affair, that I am not prostrated by the blow, hard as it is."
"What do you mean, Clara?" asked Mr. Pembroke and Louise together.
"Just what I said last evening, uncle. I am going to find Ivan."
"Why! dear, what can you do?" cried Louise, pityingly.
"Do? I don't know yet what the details will be, but I can search forhim. What better, what else could I do? If we had been married, andIvan had disappeared, would it not be my duty as well as my inclinationto turn the world upside down to find him? Should it make anydifference just because the formal word had not been spoken that was tomake us husband and wife?"
Her voice trembled a little at the end of this brief speech, and hereyes were moist, but she took up a third paper resolutely and beganto read. She had debated her situation thoroughly in the long hoursof the previous day and evening, and her determination to devoteherself to the search for her lover was not the effect of a temporaryhallucination. Her uncle and cousin said nothing for the presenteither to dissuade or encourage her, Louise, at least, feeling that indue time Clara would see the futility of attempting anything on herown account as long as experienced detectives were in the field. Mr.Pembroke left the room for a moment, and when he returned the paper hehad been reading was folded and hidden in his pocket. There was stillanother before Clara, and when she had read it she pushed them allaway, saying:
"They're as much alike as if the same man had written them all."
Mr. Pembroke was relieved that she did not notice that one of themorning papers was not included in the lot she had read.
Hardly had they finished breakfast when the bell rang, and a reporterfor an evening paper inquired for news of Mr. Strobel and Miss Hilman'shealth. Mr. Pembroke frowned with annoyance, but Clara was for seeingthe young man.
"I don't want to be pictured as a useless, waiting, tear-drenchedweakling!" she cried when uncle and cousin remonstrated. "Publicity?notoriety? what could be worse than the notoriety I have alreadyacquired? Let me see him, please, so that he may have no excuse fordescribing me as a broken-down, useless incumbrance."
"I will speak to him first," said Mr. Pembroke, hastily. "Wait here aminute. I'll send for you when I have heard what it is he wants."
So Clara and Louise remained at the breakfast table, and a few minuteslater Mr. Pembroke opened the door and said with an assumption ofcheerfulness:
"There! you see, sir, the young lady is bearing her trouble morebravely than the morning papers announced. This is Miss Hilman, Mr.Shaughnessy, and my daughter, Louise."
Mr. Shaughnessy, thus introduced, entered the room bowing withold-fashioned extravagance. His head was bald as an egg, and his facewas three-fourths concealed by a grizzly beard. The "young man" couldno longer look forward to his sixtieth birthday. He wore gold-bowedeyeglasses, and in one hand he held hat and note-book and in the othera stub of a pencil.
"Char-r-med, ladies," he said, "to see you looking so fine upon thisgr-rievous occasion. May I ask, Miss Hilman, how you passed the night?"
What with surprise at her uncle's maneuver in bringing the reporterto the breakfast room, and amusement at the courtly yet business-likemanners of the "young man," Clara could not have repressed a smileif she had tried; and before she could reply, Mr. Shaughnessy hadwhipped his note-book to the top of his hat and written the significantmnemonic, "smile."
"I slept quite as usual, thank you," replied Clara.
"I am delighted to hear it," said Shaughnessy; "health, Miss Hilman, isthe greatest pr-rop in time of trouble. Have you any obser-rvation tomake upon Mr. Strobel's absence? Any theor-ry to account for it?"
"No theory, Mr. Shaughnessy, though I hope to have one some time laterin the day. I should like to have you tell your readers that I haveabsolute faith in Mr. Strobel, and that I expect any theory as to hisdisappearance to accord with honorable conduct on his part."
"Yes, yes," said the reporter, scribbling away for dear life, that hemight not lose a word of this important utterance. "Do I understand youto say that you expect to have news of your--Mr. Strobel before the dayis over?"
"I shall devote all my time to searching for him."
"Clara!" exclaimed Louise, while Mr. Pembro
ke turned away with adespairing shrug.
Shaughnessy looked doubtingly at Mr. Pembroke, and then said:
"May I have the honor of calling on you later, then?"
"I shall be glad at any time," replied Clara, "to give you anyinformation in my power."
Shaughnessy made a note.
"I hope you will pardon me seeming imper-rtinence, Miss Hilman," hecontinued, "but me city editor commanded me to obtain photographs ofyourself and Mr. Strobel."
Louise sighed and looked genuinely alarmed; but Clara thought a moment,and answered that she would loan the reporter pictures if he would besure to return them uninjured.
"I shall be sure to do so," he answered, "and I commend your decision.It saves me a lot of trouble, for, of course, I must obey me cityeditor; he's a tyrant, Miss Hilman, and if you did not give me thepictures, I should have to get them elsewhere."
Clara smiled as she left the room to get the photographs, and when shehad given them to Shaughnessy he took his departure, promising to callagain.
"How could you give him the pictures, Clara?" asked Louisereproachfully.
"Mine will do no harm," answered Clara, quietly; "didn't you hear himsay he was bound to get it anyway? Moreover, it may help in discoveringIvan, if only they will print a good likeness of him."
Clara was right in one respect at least. Nearly every evening paperpublished pictures of herself and Ivan, and nobody at the Pembrokehouse could have told where the originals were obtained.
"Now I must keep my word and begin the search," said Clara after thereporter had gone.
"You're not going to leave the house, I hope?" exclaimed her uncle.
"Certainly, uncle," she replied; "I feel quite well, and I will notovertax myself. I can stand anything better than staying idle here."
"I am strongly disposed to forbid you," said Mr. Pembroke, anxiously;"you are sure to have a most disagreeable and painful experience."
"Please don't go!" cried Louise, who had read the paper that Mr.Pembroke had concealed.
"I am sorry to displease you both," returned Clara, "but if I amforbidden to go I shall have to disobey."
"Then Louise must go with you," said her uncle.
"I should like to have her. Will you, Lou, dear?"
Louise was only too anxious to accompany her cousin, and accordinglythey left the house together just in time to escape a squad ofreporters representing the other evening papers. Clara had arrangedher programme the night before, and left word at the house for Ralphand Paul, should they come in her absence, to go to Ivan's room. Mrs.White had seen Clara on the few occasions when Mr. Strobel had servedafternoon tea to his intended and other friends, and she fell into agreat flurry of agitation when she recognized her at the door.
"Come in," she stammered as she led the way; "of course I am glad tosee you, for I am certain you cannot believe it."
Louise tried to check the landlady from making the inevitablerevelation, but Clara laid one hand on her cousin's arm and asked:
"Believe what, Mrs. White?"'
"Why, what's in the paper," replied the landlady; "you've read thepapers, I suppose? I presumed that was why you came."
"I read the papers," said Clara, "and I came to inquire about Ivan. Doyou refer to the suggested irregularities in his accounts? Of course Ido not believe anything of that kind."
"Dear, no! I didn't suppose you did. I meant about my daughter Lizzie."
"Your daughter!" exclaimed Clara in a low voice, while Louise hid herface in her hands. "What do you mean? Let me see the paper."
More agitated than ever, Mrs. White produced a copy of the paper thatMr. Pembroke had withheld from his niece.
"I must have overlooked this," said Clara, wonderingly, as she saw thatthe account differed in style from those she had read. The reporter ofthis paper, sharper than his rivals, had somehow discovered that LizzieWhite had left her home, and he set forth the circumstances with everydelicate turn that language would allow to suggest a connection betweenher flight and Ivan's disappearance.
"It is shrewdly suspected by the friends of Strobel," so the story ran,"that as the time of his marriage approached, he found his fancy forMiss White stronger than his love for Miss Hilman, and that he choseelopement with the former as less dishonorable than marriage with thelatter."
The writer then proceeded to an elaborate explanation of how Strobelmight himself have arranged the wheel of his coupe so that it wouldfall off, and how he might then, by previous understanding with thesecond cabman, who was also conveniently missing, have been driven tothe Park Square railroad station, where he waited for Miss White. Itwas entirely possible that they might have taken the one o'clock trainfor New York, if not the noon train.
Clara was very pale when she laid the paper down, but her faith in Ivanwas not so much as touched by doubt.
"It's an outrage," she said quietly.
"I knew you wouldn't believe it!" exclaimed Mrs. White.
"Believe it! of course it isn't true! It's not possible!"
There was a ring at the door just then, and Mrs. White excused herselfto answer it.
She opened upon Ivan's mysterious visitor, Alexander Poubalov.