HIDE AND SEEK.
Clara's face was deathly pale, and in her heart anger burned as hotly
at Poubalov's ceremonious insolence as it ached with this fresh blow to
her hopes. Paul, blue with despair, feared for her, but she had not yet
met the emergency that was too great for her to contend with, however
unsuccessful she might be.
"We must waste no time here!" she cried stepping quickly forward to the
coupé. "Return to that house, Paul, and search it; do what you think
is best, according to developments. I am going to pursue Poubalov as I
said I would. If I do not hear from you before the day is over, Paul, I
shall go to that house myself. If you have to go downtown, leave word
at Mrs. White's. Keep that carriage in view, Michael, but don't try to
overtake it. Good-by, Paul!"
Her voice quivered with the desperation that had driven the tears to
the brink of her eyes, and she hastily entered the coupé and pulled
down the window curtains. Thus shut out from view, she gave way freely
to her overstrained emotions, her soul seeming to be borne along on
a rushing torrent of grief, and she felt that appalling desire, than
which there is no more shocking experience of the heart, to throw
herself into the arms of the lost loved one and find comfort there.
It was a great day for sturdy Mike. The regret that he hadn't had time
just now to "lambast" his friend Patterson, was sweetly assuaged by the
fact that he was still pursuing the loafer who did the trick to his
wheel, and the hope that another opportunity would soon offer for a
fine fight.
The chase exhilarated him, and the thought that he was called upon to
champion a beautiful woman, made his fists ache to do valiant service
upon somebody's head, Patterson's preferred, and he thumped his knees
gently with his knuckles by way of practice, and kept his horse at a
brisk trot a few rods behind Poubalov's carriage.
He was quite confident that he could "do" both driver and passenger if
such a thing were necessary, and he longed heartily for an occasion to
demand a trial of his prowess.
After having traversed a considerable distance, he pulled up, got down
and gently opened the door.
"Whist, miss," he said, "they've stopped entirely."
"Where are we, and where are they?" asked Clara, now her composed self
again.
"In Scollay Square," answered Mike, "and they're just foreninst the
Crawford House. The gentleman's talkin' to Patterson. Now he's lookin'
at me, bad luck to him!"
"I don't wish to come up to him," said Clara; "if he comes this way I
shall be glad. You must have no fear if we talk angrily together."
"I'd like to----" began Mike, significantly.
"Yes, I know you would," she interrupted, "but we must have no trouble
unless I give the word. I might do so if I thought a policeman would
arrest him, and not you."
"As to that, miss," said Mike, ruefully, "any copper's more likely to
pull in the poor cab-driver instead of the fine gentleman. My brother's
on the force, an' if we was only on his beat, now!"
"Tell me what they are doing, please."
"The gentleman is going into the hotel. Patterson is starting away.
Shall I follow him?"
Clara reflected just an instant.
"No," she answered. "Stay here. I'm not going to pursue another empty
carriage."
"Huh!" chuckled Mike, "you're a keen one, sure, for that's just what
he's wantin' you to do. Patterson has turned down Hanover Street."
"We'll wait until he comes back," said Clara, "if we have to spend the
rest of the day here; but you watch the hotel--Stay! there's a side
entrance to the Crawford House, isn't there? Can you place the coupé
where you can see both doors?"
"Yes, but I don't know how long the police will let me stay there."
"Try it, please. If they make you move on, drive around the square and
come back."
Mike accordingly drove up to the curb of Tremont Row, where he could
look down Brattle Street. No policeman had disturbed him before
Patterson turned from Cornhill into the square. He had driven around
a few blocks, evidently for the purpose of testing the design of his
pursuers. Clara wondered why Poubalov should permit such a chase to
continue. It would have seemed more like him to come to her with some
of his characteristic sophistry, and either appear to yield, or adopt
an entirely different course. It must be that he had some plan in
view to the execution of which Patterson and his closed carriage were
essential.
Patterson drove to the front entrance of the hotel and waited, casting
ugly glances across the square at Mike, who grinned complacently and
shook his fist.
After a moment Poubalov came out, entered the carriage, and Patterson
promptly drove away. It was plain as day that he had received his
instructions while Poubalov stood on the side-walk at the time of
their arrival there. He was to see whether Clara would persist in her
pursuit, and if so he was to--and that remained to be seen.
Mike speedily resumed the reins, and again the chase was in progress.
Patterson went down Hanover Street, and, without any apparent effort
to distance his pursuer, kept on until he came to Fleet Street, which
leads to one of the East Boston ferries.
He turned in there, and Mike lost a little by reason of a temporary jam
of vehicles. As soon as he was out of it, he too went through Fleet
Street, and saw, to his satisfaction, that Patterson was still but a
short distance ahead.
With painful anxiety, however, he saw that Patterson was making for the
ferry, before which a rapidly increasing line of vehicles stood waiting
for a chance to cross. Mike whipped up energetically, and managed to
beat several drays and express wagons on the way in, and when at last
he had to pull up and take his place in line, Patterson's was the
carriage directly in front of him.
"Smart, ain't ye, ye loafer!" said Mike, disdainfully.
Patterson did not notice this remark, or any other of the many with
which Mike assailed him while they waited for an incoming boat to
discharge its cargo. When at length the gates were opened for the
waiting vehicles, Mike was on the alert to take advantage of any
opening that might occur to enable him to forge ahead, but none
occurred.
Policemen and ferry officials kept the teams to their places, and if
Mike had attempted a trick, he would have been compelled to go back,
and thus lose more than he could have gained.
One by one the carriages and wagons went on board, and just after
Patterson had passed the barrier the gates were closed.
"Hold on there!" howled Mike, beside himself with disappointment and
rage, "don't yees see I've got to get aboard?"
The gateman laughed and told him to make himself easy; and Patterson,
from his place at the very stern of the ferryboat, stood up in his seat
and beckoned to Mike ironically.
The unhappy chap fumed in vain and got down to tell Clara about it.
"We're shook, miss, shook entirely," he said despondently.
When Clara understood the unfortunate meaning of his words, and saw
that Poubalov had won in another skirmish, she herself was in a
quandary.
"There are two ferries, aren't there?" she asked. "Aren't they near
enough together on this side to make it possible to watch both for
their return? for, of course, they haven't gone to East Boston for any
other purpose than to come back here again unperceived."
"That might possibly be done, miss," said Mike, after a look at the jam
of vehicles behind him, "but we're in for a trip across anyways, for I
couldn't turn 'round now. An' then, d'ye see, there's more ways to get
back from East Boston. They might go over to Chelsea, an' come back by
that ferry, or take a run around by road and bridge, so you'd best give
'em up as lost, miss, an' it's sorry I am to tell you so."
"Well," said Clara sighing, "if we have to cross, we can make inquiries
on the other side, and possibly come up with them again. We'll try it."
Inquiries on the East Boston side were vain when they landed there ten
minutes later.
No one to whom they spoke could remember whether a carriage such as
they described had been across or not.
One man, anxious to parade information that he did not possess, thought
vaguely that the carriage might have gone thus and so, and Clara
instructed Mike to drive that way a short distance, and then to return
to Boston by the other ferry.
This was done, and all trace of Poubalov having been lost, and but
one more hope remaining to her--Paul's investigation of the house in
Roxbury--she directed Mike to drive to Ashburton Place.
Paul had arrived at Mrs. White's a few minutes ahead of her.
"I waited for you," he said in a disheartened voice, "because I'm
completely at a loss what to do next, not because I have anything of
importance to say."
"Everything is of importance, Paul," replied Clara, finding herself now
called upon to inspire her allies with courage as well as give them
ideas. "You went to that quaint-looking house, of course?"
"Yes, it's an abandoned tavern--that is, it was formerly run as a
hotel, but the enterprise was a failure, and it is now closed. I
learned that much from a man who was passing while I stood under the
balcony, waiting for somebody to answer my ring. He remarked that
he didn't believe I'd find anybody at home, as the house had been
practically deserted for some time."
"But we saw Poubalov come out of there this morning," urged Clara.
"I said as much to my informant, but he answered that it was probably
somebody who had been looking it over with a view to purchase. Of
course we know better, but it goes to show that neither Patterson nor
anybody else lives there."
"Except Ivan, if he still lives," said Clara gravely.
"Don't think I forgot that possibility," returned Paul, earnestly. "I
quietly tried the door after my informant had passed on; he didn't know
the name of the owner, by the way. Of course the door was locked. I
went around to the side and back, for there is a driveway there leading
to stables that are apparently as little used as the tavern itself.
Every door and every window was closed. I knocked and shouted, and then
neighbors put their heads out of windows and advised me that I was
making a noise to no purpose. If it had been night I would have burst
open a door or window, and have gone through the house from roof to
cellar, but that plan is rather impracticable by daylight."
"I wonder," said Clara, "if the law would allow a search of that
building. I mean something to be done officially. I've heard of
search-warrants."
"It's barely possible, and you might try it; but my idea, such as it
is, would be to go there quietly to-night ourselves, and force an
entrance."
"And in either case Poubalov might return during the day, and effect a
change in the situation that would make the search useless."
"Yes," said Paul, gloomily, "I had thought of that."
"The house must be watched this afternoon," said Clara, decidedly, "but
it is my very distinct impression that Poubalov will go to his lodging
before he returns to Roxbury. It seems to me he must have been on his
way there when he was compelled to make a long detour to elude us. And
that means that I think his lodging should be watched as carefully as
the abandoned tavern. Will you pass the afternoon in your room, Paul?"
"Certainly, unless there is a better way of watching there. You must
remember that Poubalov has discovered my peephole."
"Then," said Clara, "we will borrow the little front hall room occupied
by the young lady. Let us go down at once."
On this occasion Mrs. White had left them to themselves, much to
Clara's relief, for she would not have cared again to discuss her
plans in the good lady's presence. It was not that she distrusted Mrs.
White's intentions, but she had proven before that she was exceedingly
pliable in Poubalov's hands.
As they were ready to go, Clara sought Mrs. White to say good-by.
"I'm sorry you are going so soon," said the landlady; "I thought you
and Mr. Palovna would want a long talk, and so I busied myself in the
kitchen, for fear I couldn't help interrupting to tell you my own good
news. I expect Lizzie home to-night."
"Do you, indeed?" exclaimed Clara; "I am really very glad for you."
"It seems better, doesn't it?" continued Mrs. White, anxious to talk
to somebody, and eager for sympathy; "she hasn't told me a word in her
letters about why she went away, but, of course, I suspected; and I
think from the way she writes in the letter I got this morning that she
feels better, poor thing! At any rate, she's coming, and I feel very
happy, and I should be perfectly content if only you could be happy,
too, Miss Hilman."
"That seems almost an impossible boon for me now," replied Clara,
gently; "I shall come to see you and your daughter if she would like to
have me."
"I am sure she would, Miss Hilman. Must you hurry?"
Every minute seemed so precious to Clara that she almost begrudged the
brief interval spent in this exchange of courtesies. On the way to
Bulfinch Place she told Paul again that she should manage to watch the
tavern during the afternoon, "but," she added, "you are most likely to
meet important developments, and you will know where to find me, either
near the tavern, or at my uncle's. I shall try to watch the tavern in
such a way as not to frighten off Poubalov should he wish to go in, but
once he should enter, I shall follow him, you may be sure."
At the lodging-house Clara made herself known to the occupant of the
front hall room, who was at the time home for luncheon.
Clara talked with her apart at length, telling her in a general way of
her troubles, but not indicating her plans in detail.
The young woman had not come in contact with Poubalov at all, it seemed.
She hardly knew that he was a lodger in the house, and the upshot of
it was that her sympathies were aroused, and Paul was installed in her
room, where he could keep watch upon the roadway through the slats of
the closed blinds. So once more Clara bade him good-by, and set forth
on her own task.
Paul did not venture to keep himself awake by smoking in the young
lady's room, and he therefore had a dreadfully hard time of it, for
the entire afternoon passed without an event of any kind to break the
monotony of his watch.
The young lady returned at six o'clock, and looked in for a moment
before going to dinner. After that she sat gossiping with the landlady.
The sun set and twilight gathered, and Paul began to fear that
Poubalov had changed his quarters without giving notice; but just
before it was too dark to distinguish faces in the street below, a
carriage stopped before the door and Paul saw that Patterson sat on the
box.