Clavering walked rapidly toward Mr. Dinwiddie's club. He was in no
haste to be alone with himself, although he should have been at his
desk an hour ago. But it was time Dinwiddie had some news for him.
The club was deserted as far as he was concerned and he went on to Mr.
Dinwiddie's rooms in Forty-eighth Street. There he found his friend in
dressing-gown and slippers, one bandaged foot on a stool.
"Gout?" he asked with the callousness of youth. "Wondered why I hadn't
heard from you."
"I've tried to get you no less than four times on the telephone."
"When I'm at work I leave orders downstairs to let my telephone alone,
and I've been walking a lot."
"Well, sit down and smoke. Standing round makes me nervous. You look
nervous yourself. Been working too hard?"
"Yes. Think of taking a run down to Florida."
"Perhaps I'll go with you. But I've something to tell you. That's the
reason I called you up----"
"Well?"
"Don't snap my head off. Got a touch of dyspepsia?"
"No, I haven't. If you had to turn out a column a day you'd be nervous
too."
"Well, take a vacation----"
"What have you found out?"
"It took me a week to get in touch with Harry Thornhill, but he finally
consented to see me. He's lived buried among books for the last twenty
years. His wife and two children were killed in a railway
collision----"
"What the devil do I care about Harry Thornhill!"
"You're a selfish young beggar, but I would have cared as little at
your age. Well--a cousin of his, Maynard Thornhill, did move to
Virginia some thirty-five years ago, married, and had a family, then
moved on to Paris and remained there until both he and his wife died.
Beyond that he could tell me nothing. They weren't on particularly
cordial terms and he never looked the family up when he went over. Has
Madame Zattiany ever said anything about brothers and sisters?"
"Not a word."
"Probably married and settled in Europe somewhere, or wiped out. You
might ask her."
"I'll ask her no more questions."
"Been snubbing you?"
"On the contrary, she's been uncommonly decent. I got rather strung up
the last time I was there and asked her so many leading questions that
she'd have been justified in showing me out of the house."
"You impertinent young scamp. But manners have changed since my day.
What did she tell you?"
"Nothing. I'm as much in the dark as ever. What have you found out
about Josef Zattiany?"
"Something, but not quite enough. I met an Austrian, Countess Loyos,
at dinner the other night and asked her about the Zattianys. She said
the family was a large one with many branches, but she had a vague idea
that a Josef Zattiany was killed in the war. Whether he was married or
not, she had no idea. . . ."
Clavering stood up suddenly and looked down on Mr. Dinwiddie, who was
smiling less triumphantly than ruefully. "Well?" he asked sharply.
"Well?"
"I see you've caught it. It's rather odd, isn't it, that this Austrian
lady, who has lived her life in Viennese Society, knows nothing
apparently of any young and beautiful Countess Zattiany? I didn't give
her a hint of the truth, for I certainly shall not be the one to loose
the bloodhounds on this charming young woman, whoever she may be. Told
her that I recalled having met a very young and handsome countess of
that name in Europe before the war and wondered what had become of
her. . . . But somebody else may let them loose any moment. A good
many people are interested in her already."
"Well, they can't do anything to her. She's a right to call herself
whatever she likes, and she asks no favors. But I'd like to hypnotize
Judge Trent and get the truth out of him. He knows, damn him!"
"He's laying up trouble for himself if he's passing off an
impostor--letting her get possession of Mary's money. I cannot
understand Trent. He's a fool about women, but he's the soul of honor,
and has one of the keenest legal minds in the state. That she has
fooled him is unthinkable."
"He knows, and is in some way justified. Madame Zattiany _must_ have
your friend's power of attorney. That's positive. And there is no
doubt that Countess Zattiany--Mary Ogden--is in some sanitarium in
Vienna, hopelessly ill. She let that out."
"Poor Mary! Is that true?"
"I'm afraid it is . . . perhaps . . . that _may_ be it. . . ."
"What are you talking about?"
"When she was mocking my curiosity she suggested that she might have
been an actress and won the confidence of Countess Zattiany owing to
the resemblance. It struck me as fantastic, but who knows? . . .
Still, why should she use the name Zattiany even if your friend did
give her the power of attorney . . . unless . . ." he recalled Gora's
suggestion, "she is out for a lark."
"Lark? She hasn't tried to meet people. I can't see any point in your
idea. Absurd. And that woman is no actress. She is _grande dame_
born and bred."
"I've met some actresses that had very fine manners indeed, and also
the _entrée_."
"Well, they don't measure up according to my notion. This girl is the
real thing."
"Then why, in heaven's name, doesn't your Countess Loyos know anything
about her? If Madame Zattiany is what she says she is, they must have
met in Viennese Society a hundred times. In fact she would have been
one of the notable figures at court."
"The only explanation I can think of is that Madame Zattiany is all
that she claims to be, but that for some reason or other she is not
using her own name."
"Ah! That is an explanation. But why--why?"
"There you have me . . . unless . . . Ah!" The familiar glitter came
into his eyes and Clavering waited expectantly. This old bird had a
marvellous instinct. "I have it! For some reason she had to get out
of Europe. Maybe she's hiding from a man, maybe from the Government.
Zattiany may be one of her husband's names--or her mother's. Of course
Mary would be interested in her--with that resemblance--and help her
out. She knew her well enough to trust her, and somebody had to
represent her here. Of course Trent knows the truth and naturally
would keep her secret."
"Another plot for the movies . . . still--it's a plausible enough
explanation . . . yes . . . I shouldn't wonder. But from whom is she
hiding?"
"Possibly from her husband."
"Her--her----"
"Like as not. Don't murder me. I think you'd better go to Florida and
stay there. Better still, marry Anne Goodrich and take her along----"
Clavering had flung himself out of the room.