"There's a lady in the blue morning-room to see you, Miss Chandler!"
Evelyn Chandler turned to her maid with anything but an amiable
expression of countenance.
"Her card?" she exclaimed with annoyance.
"She gave me none. She wished me to say that her call was purely a
matter of business, that she would not detain you longer than necessity
required, and begged that you would not decline to see her."
Something in the message aroused Miss Chandler's curiosity.
She hesitated a moment; then with a gesture of deprecation, said:
"Show her up here! I don't feel inclined to walk down-stairs."
Concealing the disgust she felt at the well-known indolence of her
mistress, the maid left the room, but returned a little later, followed
by a woman clothed in somber black.
A heavy veil was drawn across her face, a covering which she took the
precaution not to remove until the maid had retired and closed the door.
"My maid tells me your call is upon business," said Miss Chandler,
curtly. "I have but a few moments to spare, therefore, you will excuse
me if I ask you to be brief."
Without a word the veil was lifted, revealing the lovely features of
Leonie Cuyler.
Miss Chandler was on the point of crying out, but by a mighty effort
restrained the inclination.
She drew herself up coldly, a thousand lightning flashes darting from
her eyes.
"To what am I indebted for the honor of this visit?" she asked icily.
"It is to tell you that I have come," returned Leonie, quietly taking a
chair that had not been offered her. "Will you excuse me if I consume
a little of your valuable time in telling you how I risked my freedom
and my honor only a short time ago to save you from the consequences of
your own folly. Will you----"
"No, I will not!" interrupted Miss Chandler sternly. "I am quite
convinced that you have not come here without a purpose, therefore I
request that you state it as speedily as possible, and without all
this circumlocution. If you wish to impress me with the idea that I am
under an obligation to you, I may as well assure you in the beginning
that I do not recognize the fact; and even if I did, I am not one to be
influenced by such considerations."
"Very well," said Leonie, assuming something of Miss Chandler's own
manner. "If you are determined to have this war and not peace, I am
ready for you.
"There was one," she continued, "to whom I owe more than I could ever
repay were I granted a thousand years of life. No brother could have
shown me greater tenderness, greater consideration, greater mercy."
"How touching!" murmured Miss Chandler, stifling a yawn.
"I refer," Leonie went on, as though the interruption had not been
made, "to Mr. Lynde Pyne."
"I supposed as much. Lynde was always something of a Don Quixote. It
is pleasant to hear of his generosity, but really if you don't hurry I
shall have to leave you. I should not like, for your own sake, to have
my father find you here."
"I have come to tell you, Miss Chandler, that the engagement that
exists between you and Lynde Pyne must be broken!"
Miss Chandler shrugged her shapely shoulders carelessly.
"Have you come here to threaten me?" she asked coldly. "If you have
you will find that you have attacked the wrong person. I think I have
already demonstrated to you the fact that I am not in the least a
coward."
She arose as she finished her sentence, and Leonie followed her example.
"Promise me," she said, "and keep your word, that you will break
this engagement, and I swear to you, that so far as I am concerned,
the secret of your birth and the knowledge of who was the thief in
Leonard Chandler's household, shall be eternally preserved. Refuse, and
whatever it may cost me, the entire matter shall be made public in time
to save Lynde Pyne from the marriage that would not alone wreck his
life, but his soul as well."
"I make no compact with you of any kind!" said Evelyn, harshly. "If
you make this charge, without bringing ample proof to back up your
assertions, I warn you that my father, Leonard Chandler, shall use
the force of his entire fortune against you. His anger against you is
already at fever heat, and I have but to speak the word that will make
him your most deadly foe. As far as my love for Mr. Pyne is concerned,
that is none of your business. Whether I love him or not, I intend to
marry him, for reasons that do not in the least concern you. Now go, or
the servants shall have instructions to put you out!"
There was not the slightest weakness in her demeanor, and Leonie knew
it.
She had hoped to frighten her sister into measures, but she saw there
was about as much possibility of that, as there was in frightening a
desperado into giving himself into the hands of the authorities.
With little outward evidence of the disappointment she really felt,
Leonie again wrapped the veil about her head and left the room.
For some time Evelyn Chandler stood there, seeming to be thinking
deeply.
"She means every word that she has said," she muttered, below her
breath. "She was a typewriter in a lawyer's office long enough to have
absorbed some of their knowledge, and will, therefore, know exactly how
to go to work. I cannot sit still and let her succeed, as undoubtedly
she will if I do not immediately take measures of precaution; but what
shall they be? I cannot consult my adopted father. Therefore, there is
but one course left--I must consult my own father. Bah!"
The sentence was concluded with a shiver of repulsion, but it vanished
almost before it had existed.
She sat down and took her chin in her hands, a favorite position when
in deep thought.
"It is the only way!" she cried, at last. "Let me see! I have an
engagement with my dressmaker at this hour, but when that is ended, we
shall see what Ben Mauprat can suggest. A man who has been a scoundrel
all his life certainly ought to be able to thwart a single-handed girl."