CHESTER HUNT CONFESSES
The dining room of the little hotel opened directly into the lobby and
the proprietor's desk could be plainly seen from where our friends were
seated at dinner. It was Chester Hunt leaning over the desk and
demanding from the proprietor the best room and bath.
"I have been ill, man, and I must be comfortable."
"But the room with the bath is occupied," the landlord objected.
"Well, get them out of it. I telegraphed for reservations. You surely
got my wire."
"I did not, but it was occupied whether you wired or not," bristled the
proprietor.
Finally Chester Hunt must content himself with another room, without
the bath.
"Dinner?"
"Naturally."
Captain and Mrs. Waller's faces were as though they had been carved of
stone as Hunt, all unconscious of their presence, entered the dining
room with something of the superiority in his manner that Josie had
felt he assumed for the benefit of those he did not consider his
equals. His face showed he had been ill. He paid no attention to the
other occupants of the dining room, but seated himself at a table to
one side. He was facing Josie. Mrs. Waller's back was towards him and
Captain Waller's profile was in his direct line of vision. Mrs. Waller
raised her eyes to her husband's face. No graven image could have been
more immovable. Josie gave her attention to Chester Hunt's countenance,
determined not to miss his expression when first he became aware of
Stephen Waller's presence. She felt reasonably certain of his not
recognizing in her his one-time jewel of a general house-worker.
Having given his order for dinner Chester Hunt finally deigned to
notice that there were other occupants of the hotel dining room. He
gave a cursory glance in the direction of the three persons at the
table near him. A spasm of terror crossed his face. There was a sound
of grating on the tesselated floor, as he pushed his chair back. His
mouth opened in an involuntary gasp. Josie noted his agitation but she
could but admire his quick command of himself. In a moment his face had
assumed its normal suavity. It was evident that he had decided that he
had been startled with nothing but a resemblance. This man in the hotel
dining room could not be his stepbrother. Stephen was dead.
Hunt's eyes traveled uneasily to the lady whose back was towards him.
Those lines were unmistakable! That poise of the small head, the way
the hair grew at the nape of the neck--it was Mary Waller, his
brother's wife! Wildly he looked at the third person at the table.
Where had he seen her before? He couldn't for his life remember, but
that countenance was familiar.
There were certain things about Chester Hunt that Josie could not help
admiring, archvillain though she knew him to be. His good looks of
course she must approve of, his debonair grace and easy bearing; but
what she respected about him was his quick grasp of a situation. She
saw the moment he recognized the fact that he was in the same room with
his long lost stepbrother and his wife he became convinced the game was
up and he must make the best of it and begin salvaging what he could
from the wreck he had made of his affairs through his inordinate
ambition and brotherly affection was his cue. He immediately jumped
from his seat and hurried across the room, his hands out and his face
beaming with a joy that he assumed with the ease of a consummate actor.
"Stephen! My brother! I am overcome with joy! My boy, we thought you
were dead--Mary and I. I am here now to take Mary from the sanitarium
where they have effected a most marvelous cure on the poor girl. My
dear brother! My dear sister!"
Funny Stephen did not respond. What could they know? He looked again at
the little person seated at the table with his brother and his wife.
Where on earth had he seen her before? What connection had she with
this affair? He hardly expected much warmth from Mary. She had been
queer of late, but Stephen had always been devoted to him.
"Tell me where you have been, dear boy. Don't be so--so mysterious. I
have been looking after your affairs to the best of my ability."
"Yes?" was all Captain Waller would say.
"You might know I would. Stephen, you are unappreciative. Where have
you been hiding? Why am I, your own brother, the last person to hear
that you are alive and, I hope, well and returned to the bosom of your
family?"
Captain Waller's face lost its frozen expression. His cheeks, which had
been deadly pale from the moment he heard the voice of Chester Hunt,
now flushed painfully. He sprang from his chair and stood facing the
other man.
"Where are my children?" was all he said.
"Oh, they are all right--in good hands. If that is what is eating you,
old fellow, you can drop your heroics and embrace your brother."
"What good hands?"
"When Mary got sick--of course you must know how very ill she has
been--I hardly knew what to do with the kids. They had got a bit
unruly because of their mother's being in such a bad way and naturally
my first care was for her and I felt it wiser to have them away from
her for the time being--"
"So you got some of our good friends at home to look after them? That
was natural and right."
"No-o, I did not. The fact was Polly and Peter were pretty difficult
and nobody really wanted them--that is nobody whom I might have
trusted--so I sent for a cousin of mine, a very worthy, high-principled
young woman, Miss Dingus. You have heard me speak of her. I saw a good
deal of her after I left Atlanta. She is a cousin of my father's.
Cousin Dink, we call her. I was sure she would take good care of the
children and give them the proper surroundings and education until
their mother could resume charge of them. I get weekly reports from her
and she says they are thriving--"
"And where does this Cousin Dink live?"
"She is in Chicago. She writes me she is devoted to the kids and gives
them the greatest care. Polly has had a little trouble with her throat
lately but the doctor assured Cousin Dink it was not infectious."
"How long is it since you have seen them?"
"Eh--eh--some time, now!"
Captain Waller looked at Chester Hunt sadly. Josie saw pity mingled
with indignation in his expression. Mrs. Waller said nothing and never
once took her eyes from her husband's face. Nevertheless she was
listening to every word that passed between the two men.
"I'll telegraph Cousin Dink immediately to prepare the children for the
great surprise," Hunt continued.
"You need not trouble to do that," said Captain Waller. "I reckon they
know we are on the way to get them by this time. Eh, Miss O'Gorman?"
When Josie was included in the conversation Chester Hunt turned and
looked at her curiously. In a spirit of mischief Josie assumed the dull
expression she had used as the Swedish servant girl and looked at her
one-time master with dull and fishy eyes.
"By heavens, Miss Josie Larson!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing
here?"
"I bane dining with Captain and Mrs. Waller, sir." Josie then resumed
her normal expression, which was one of keen intelligence, and with a
glance at her tiny wrist watch, she answered the question concerning
the children: "Yes, Captain Waller, I am sure that by this time the
message is on the way to Polly and Peter and even now Mary Louise may
be reading it to them. The telegraph delivery in Dorfield is very
prompt."
"Dorfield? Polly and Peter in Dorfield? And how did you get in this?"
Chester Hunt's manner was rude and overbearing as he addressed Josie.
"I am not such a fool as I look, Mr. Hunt. Next time you had better ask
for references when you hire a Swedish maid and don't give her bowls
with chickens and rabbits on them so she can go off and identify
husbands and fathers who have lost their memory in the war. Don't let
the fools sort your mail either. They might find out things that might
make it uncomfortable for the gracious master."
"Then you are a spy!"
"Not at all! A detective!" Josie turned over the lapel of her packet,
disclosing a small badge.
"Well, all I can say is a mighty good cook was ruined when you went
into business."
"And a mighty fine detective would be lost to the world if our little
friend here turned cook in dead earnest," said Captain Waller. "But see
here, Chester, there is no use in our beating around the bush with one
another. We must come to an understanding and it might just as well be
here, this moment, unless you are too hungry."
"No, I am afraid my appetite for dinner is gone. It is like you,
Stephen, though, to think of it. I thank you. I have been a beastly cad
and I'm ready to fess up. It was the thought of having a fortune and
owning the old house on Peachtree Street. I always loved it and it
seemed hard for you to have everything. I loved Mary before you did--"
"Never mind that part," said Captain Waller sternly. "It so happens we
know what you intended to do in regard to my wife, but the mystery to
me is what was your idea about my children? Why should you have sent
them traveling about the country with this impossible Dink, who is
nothing but a dancer in vaudeville with no manners and few morals? She
has abused the children and half starved them and finally left them
ragged and hungry in an orphan asylum or some similar institution."
"What? You have been misinformed. That is nonsense. I know for certain
she has the children with her in Chicago. I heard from her only last
week. Here is the letter," he declared, slapping his pocket. "As for
starving and ill treating the children, Dink has had a generous check
from me every week. They have had money enough to live on the fat of
the land."
"Well, then, this Dink must have feathered her own nest with it. Would
you mind, Miss O'Gorman, telling Mr. Hunt what you know of my
children?"
And then Josie told in as few words as possible all she knew of Polly
and Peter and of the whereabouts of Dink.
"There is no use in my telling you how I know these things," she said,
"but it is enough to tell you I do know them, and I also know that the
children made their last breakfast with Miss Dingus, alias Hester
Broughton, alias Margery Dubois, on a pickle and a stale cream puff.
Miss Dubois is now doing a dance turn in Chicago with one Mike Brady.
She fondly imagines when you want to see the children she can come to
Dorfield and get them away from the Children's Home as easily as she
put them there. The fact is, Miss Dingus has more sense in her heels
than her head, and her heart was left out entirely when she was made.
She hopes, however, that she will finally become Mrs. Chester Hunt,
because otherwise she would not have kept these children with her at
all. She has fooled you and you have fooled her. In both cases I am
reminded of the old story in the fairy book called 'The Biter Bit.'"
Chester Hunt bowed his head. "You are right, Miss Josie Larson, alias
Miss O'Gorman, alias Miss Sherlock Holmes. I am bit and stung alike. I
thought at least I could depend on Cousin Dink. That honor among
thieves I was sure she had. But I see she is as bad as I am. I am going
now.
"Good-bye, Stephen. I won't even ask you to shake hands with me. As for
you, Mary, I won't even ask you to speak to me or look at me. I know
you hate me as you do a snake. Miss Josie Larson, I take off my hat to
you, as being wise in your generation. Tell me something, though, if
you don't think it is too frivolous. Did you put too much pepper on my
chop on purpose?"
Josie grinned. "Yes, and if I had not bane such a good Lutheran I would
have burnt your back when I ironed it. It was hard to keep my foot from
slipping again, but I have taken a pride in my laundry work and hated
to begin scorching anything--even your back."
Chester Hunt bowed his proud head again and was gone. His dinner was
left untasted, much to the astonishment of the hotel proprietor.
"He must be a nut from Dr. Harper's," grumbled that individual.