THE VENDER OF TOMALES
After Starr Wiley's departure Mason North placed the documents in Willa's
hands, explaining each in turn and she forced herself to a stern
concentration on them that she might master every detail. Already she
was gathering her forces, although no definite purpose outlined itself in
the chaos of her thoughts. Only a blind, as yet unreasoning, repudiation
of the story to which she had just listened sprang full-grown to life
within her and the very strength of her conviction urged her to examine
well the evidence against herself.
It consisted of the marriage-certificate of Frank Hillery and Louise
Henson, dated December 12, 1895; the birth-certificate of Louise Francis
Hillery, October 3, 1897, several maps of the Flathead Lake territory
with trails marked upon them in red ink, the death-certificate of Frank
Hillery, dated April 16, 1916, and a huge sheet of foolscap paper
scrawled with labored characters in wavering lines. At the bottom two
signatures were appended, the first in the same painstaking hand as the
body of the document, but at the second Willa's breath caught again in
her throat and her eyes blurred.
The letters before her, in the same angular heavily down-stroked writing
she knew so well, formed the name of Gentleman Geoff, but a word had been
added; one that she had never seen or heard before. Abercrombie!
Gentleman Geoff Abercrombie!
Had that been indeed the unmentioned surname of the man who had reared
her as his own? Why, then, had he, who had given her all else, not given
her, too, the name to bear?
The document set forth in brief that Frank Hillery, being of sound mind
and sole guardian of his daughter, Louise Frances, did give her to
Geoffrey Abercrombie, known as "Gentleman Geoff," for absolute adoption;
the said Gentleman Geoff promising to bring her up in all ways as his own
child and to leave her whatever he might die possessed of. It was dated
March 12, 1902.
"You will permit me to have photographic copies of each of these papers,
Mr. North?" Willa asked, when the last had been laid aside.
"Certainly, my child." The attorney's voice was suspiciously husky.
"Allow me to assure you that there will be no hurry, of course. It will
take some weeks to verify and substantiate this evidence, and in the
meantime----"
"Willa shall remain with us, of course," Ripley Halstead said with deep
feeling. "This is a most unwelcome revelation to me, I may say to all of
us. We have grown greatly attached to Willa and come to look upon her as
quite one of ourselves.--There is no reason, my dear, why you should not
stay on indefinitely. I am sure my wife will be glad to second me in
this."
"Of course." Mrs. Halstead spoke through tightened lips. "This has been
a most regrettable mistake, and one which will entail a hideous amount of
notoriety, but that cannot be helped now. It is an almost overwhelming
shock, but it explains many things which I have found incomprehensible.
After all, this poor young girl is the worst sufferer, and she will be
welcome here as long as she cares to stay."
Angie gasped, but made no comment and it was Vernon alone who echoed his
mother's assurance in sincere enthusiasm.
"Thank you," Willa said simply. "You are all more than kind, but you
realize, of course, that I should feel like an interloper; my place is no
longer here."
"But, my dear, it will not do to be too hasty! Suppose that these
documents are not--suppose no mistake was made in the original
identification----?" The attorney was halted by her steady gaze.
"Mr. North, you are convinced already. Why delay the inevitable?" She
rose. "However, we won't discuss it further now, if you don't mind.
I--I feel very tired."
"Of course, dear child! We have kept you up till an unconscionable
hour!" Mason North approached her with outstretched hand. "Remember
that you will always find a friend in me. Come to me at any time."
"Thank you. May I send for the photographic copies of the documents
to-morrow?" Willa turned to the others in a grave dignity not without
its pathos. "You have all been very good to me; whatever happens I shall
never forget that. I wish now that I had been more amenable to your
advice and suggestions, but it is too late to think of that. Good-night."
Her head was still high as she walked to the door, but when it had closed
behind her, she paused trembling as though suddenly bereft of her
strength.
In the silence, Angie's querulous tones rose sharply from the other side
of the door.
"I felt all along that something was wrong! I knew that wild uncouth
thing couldn't be a Murdaugh, in spite of the common mother----"
Willa put her hands to her ears and fled madly up the stairs to her room
where she sank limply upon the couch. Exhausted in mind and body with
the storm of emotion which had swayed her and the strain of the
protracted effort of self-control, she fell asleep at last with one
determination firmly fixed in her mind. The roof which had reluctantly
sheltered her should do so no longer.
She awakened in the early morning and lay for a moment in drowsy
bewilderment before full realization came. Then she sprang from her bed,
dressed hastily in her plainest clothes, and, packing a small bag with
necessities, stole softly down the stairs.
She shivered as she let herself out into the cold, bleak morning. As yet
no plan had formed in her mind save to find a temporary abode in some
quiet neighborhood until the search for Tia Juana was ended in some
conclusive fashion. That was still the first of the duties confronting
her and the change in her fortunes did not swerve her an iota from the
charge she had laid upon herself. Later there would be two points to be
achieved; the one which had actuated her from the beginning, and another
which was even now beating upon her consciousness.
When Dan Morrissey came whistling into the garage an hour later, he
stopped short in amazement at the sight of his employer seated just
inside the entrance with her bag at her feet.
"Good-morning, Dan. Is the car in order?"
"Yes, Miss. Good-morning." He stared blankly, and then with a start he
recovered himself. "Just a minute, Miss! I'll have her out in no time."
"I will wait for you at the Broadway corner. Bring my bag, please."
Willa had scarcely reached the appointed place, however, when Dan came
chugging up behind her and in a moment they were speeding away from the
vicinity of the garage.
"I have decided to leave home, Dan," she announced without preamble. "I
want to live quietly under cover until we have found Tia Juana and José.
It is important that none of the family nor their friends shall know
where I have gone. Do you know of any place where I can arrange to board
for a time? The more simple it is, the better."
"Well," Dan remarked, reflectively, "you wouldn't be wanting a plain,
poor kind of a home after all the grandeur you're used to, or I could
take you to my sister, Miss. She's married to a shipping clerk and lives
in a little two-family house up on Washington Heights. It's quiet and
clean and nobody'd think of looking for you there, but I guess maybe
you'd want something a bit more high-toned."
"No, it sounds splendid! Just what I am looking for." Willa paused.
"But do you think she will take me in? You see, I can't explain very
well."
"Explain nothin'!" Dan reddened swiftly. "Excuse me, Miss. Delia's no
more of a hand at askin' questions than me, and she's a good judge of
people. She can tell you're a lady in a minute, and she'll make you more
than welcome if you can put up with the plainness of everything. I'll
have you there in ten minutes."
Dan was as good as his word, and Willa found that he had spoken truly.
His sister proved to be a thin, pleasant-faced woman with a humorous
curve to her lips and alert twinkling brown eyes. She was ready and
willing to take Dan's employer as a lodger and the terms were quickly
arranged.
Willa gave Dan his instructions, and then shut herself in the clean,
sunny room which had been allotted to her and looked the situation
collectedly in the face.
The more she thought of the astounding tale of the previous night and
strove in vain to find the slightest corroboration of it in her memory,
the more deep sank the roots of her conviction of its fallacy. She had
not realized how desperate Wiley's determination was to oust her from his
path, nor dreamed that he would risk forged testimony, but now at length
she had measured the strength of her adversary and her own courage rose
in a dauntless tide to meet his challenge.
In the beginning the Murdaugh name had meant nothing to her and the
inheritance merely a means to an end, but now with Angie's scornful words
heard through the closed door ringing in her ears, she made up her mind
to fight! Not for the sake of position or name or wealth, but for the
"common" brave-hearted mother whose child she felt herself to be beyond
peradventure of a doubt, and about whose memory all unconsciously a
worshiping love had sprung in her heart.
Meanwhile, pursuant to instructions, Dan had presented himself at the
imposing offices of North, Manning and Gilchrist, armed with the note
which Willa had written hastily in his sister's home.
Mason North looked up after perusing it, and favored the messenger with a
keen scrutiny.
"H'm! This letter calls for the delivery to you of certain rather
important documents, young man. I should like to be sure of your
identification before placing them in your hands."
"Well, Sir, I've my bank-book here, and some letters----"
The attorney waved them aside.
"I don't mean quite that. You have been long in Miss Murdaugh's employ?"
Dan was conscious of a movement in the corner behind him and turned to
find a mild, round-faced young man rising from the safe he had been in
the act of closing and regarding him with vast interest. Dan returned
the compliment respectfully.
"How long have you worked for Miss Murdaugh?"
The question was reiterated with a touch of asperity.
"For some time, Sir. Ever since she caught the French maid trying to spy
on her under the orders of Mrs. Halstead." Dan repeated carefully but
with evident satisfaction the message which had been given him. "Miss
Murdaugh told me to tell you, Sir, that I was one of the investments she
had made with Gentleman Geoff's money. She said you would understand."
Mason North nipped at his mustache reflectively and turned to the younger
man. "Winthrop, I wish you'd go and attend to that Erskine matter for
me!"
Winnie departed in obvious reluctance and only when the door had closed
behind him did his father resume:
"In what capacity are you employed by Miss Murdaugh?"
"Confidential agent, she said I was to tell you." Dan could scarcely
suppress a grin of importance. "She told me to remind you that she asked
you particular last night if she might send for the copies of the papers,
not call for them herself, and you said 'yes.' And you'll excuse me,
Sir, but I'm not to answer any more questions."
The attorney shrugged and turned to the telephone, but Dan interposed
quietly:
"Miss Murdaugh ain't at home, Sir. She's waiting for me and she says
she'll not set foot in the house until I bring her the copies of the
papers."
"Very well." Mason North capitulated, and, opening a drawer in his desk,
handed over a rolled package. "Here you are. I shall want a receipt, of
course."
He made out one, which Dan signed, and with a nod turned to leave, when
the attorney halted him on the threshold.
"Ask Miss Murdaugh if she can find it convenient to call here this
afternoon; tell her I would like to talk things over with her and will
expect her between four and five o'clock."
"Very good, Sir."
Dan departed, colliding violently as he did so with an elderly gentleman
who entered the inner office and banged the door behind him.
"Mason, have you heard from her? Do you know where she has gone?"
"Who?" North rose hurriedly. "What is it, Ripley? What has happened?"
"Willa. She's gone!" Ripley Halstead dropped despondently into a chair
beside the desk. "Here's the note the poor, proud little thing left
behind her. Mason, I feel as if, between us, we've given her a beastly,
rotten deal."
But the attorney did not heed the final observation. He pressed the
button in his desk excitedly and when a wondering clerk appeared he
barked:
"That young man who just went out of here! Follow him, stop him!"
"Too late, Sir. He went down in the express elevator as I stepped out of
the local."
North seated himself again with a gesture of hopelessness.
"All right; never mind, then. Ripley----" as the door closed once
more--"if you'd been five minutes sooner I could have located her. Why
under the sun didn't you telephone me?"
"Her absence was only discovered as I was leaving the house and I came
straight to you." Halstead stared. "What young man were you speaking
of?"
"Her messenger. He came with a note from Willa authorizing him to bring
her the photographic copies of those documents, and like a fool I gave
them to him! We've lost our chance of tracing her, and heaven only knows
what difficulties that headstrong wilful child will get into by herself,"
groaned North. "I took her away from her home and friends in Mexico on
this mistaken matter of her inheritance and I feel responsible for her.
I'm fond of the child, too; I like her independent spirit even if it did
raise the deuce with us, and if any harm comes to her----"
"I won't let myself think of that!" Ripley Halstead's kind face had
grown suddenly haggard. "I have a good deal of respect for her
clear-headed ability to take care of herself; nevertheless, I sha'n't
feel easy until she is found. I've taken more comfort in her than in my
own daughter, Mason. My wife doesn't need Willa's share of the Murdaugh
money and I wish young Wiley had never unearthed the truth!"
The attorney had picked up the little note.
"'My dear Mrs. Halstead,' he read.
"'I hope you will forgive me for leaving you so unceremoniously. I do
not mean to be rude or seem ungrateful, but I am afraid that in your
hospitality you would urge me to remain until the documents are verified
at least, and I really cannot do so. If I have been an impostor, it was
an unconscious one. Nevertheless, I could not endure a false position.
Will you permit me once more to thank you and your family for all your
kindness to me, and believe me to be,
"'Ever gratefully yours,
"'BILLIE ABERCROMBIE.'"
"----Poor little girl! I say, where did she get that 'Abercrombie' from?"
"Don't you see?" Ripley Halstead bent forward.
"That's the name on that document; the name of the man who adopted her,
'Gentleman Geoff.' She won't claim 'Murdaugh' and doesn't accept
'Hillery,' so she's chosen the one name she's sure of. Do you suppose
that means she is going to contest the validity of this new claim?"
"Possibly." North shook his head. "It would be a losing fight for her,
though, Ripley. There isn't a chance in the world that Wiley's discovery
could be anything but authentic. No one profits by the affair except
your own family and no one could have any possible incentive for faking
the story. It's too bad the truth didn't come out before, and I'll
always blame myself for my negligence, but as long as a mistake was made,
it is lucky for us that Wiley stumbled on those records now instead of
later, when the fortune was in her hands."
His mission accomplished, Dan was returning to the garage to put the car
up and proceed on foot to his daily round of the hospitals and bureaus of
inquiry, when half-way down the block a shrill voice piped at him.
"Hot tomales! Very fine hot tomales. Try one, Mister!"
Idly he glanced toward the curb. A diminutive, ragged vender crouched
there beside a bright, new hand-cart which contained a huge pot simmering
above a charcoal fire, and bore a sign with the legend "Hot Tomales, 5
cents," in obviously home-made lettering.
His mind intent on his errand of the morning, Dan gave it but passing
heed and drove on into the garage, yet as he busied himself about the
car, the incident kept recurring to his mind. Hot tomales were a queer
commodity for a street-seller to deal in; Dan didn't know exactly what
they were, but he believed them to be some sort of Spanish or Mexican
concoction----
At this point in his cogitations he stopped work abruptly and stood
staring into vacancy.
There had been something appealingly familiar even in that fleeting
glimpse of the tattered crouched figure, and could it be that it had been
hunchbacked?
With an excited cry he dropped the wrench from his hand and sprang out
into the street. Cart and vender were gone, but in the gutter lay a
crushed, greasy mess which had been a tomale. It was still smoking and
as Dan stirred it with his foot, he saw that a wisp of sodden paper clung
to it.
Seizing it, he smoothed it out and read the two jerkily penciled words:
"Mañana. José."