"Even to the farthest star!" he answered.
After coffee had been served in the drawing-room, Hood, again dominating
the company (much to Deering's disgust), suggested music. Pierrette
contributed a flashing, golden Chopin waltz and Pantaloon Schubert's
"Serenade," which he played atrociously, whereupon Hood announced that he
would sing a Scotch ballad, which he proceeded to do surprisingly well.
The evening could not last forever, and Deering chafed at his inability
to detach Pierrette from the piano; but she was most provokingly
submissive to Hood's demand that the music continue. Deering had
protested that he didn't sing; he hated himself for not singing!
He fidgeted awhile; then, finding the others fully preoccupied with their
musical experiments, quietly left the drawing-room. It had occurred to
him that Constance, who had disappeared when they left the table, might
be seeking a chance to speak to him and he strolled through the library
(a large room with books crowding to the ceiling) to a glass door opening
into a conservatory, which was dark save for the light from the library.
He was about to turn away when an outer door opened furtively and
Cassowary stepped in from the grounds. The chauffeur glanced about
nervously as though anxious to avoid detection.
As Deering watched him a shadow darted by, and his sister--unmistakably
Constance in the dark gown with its white collar and cuffs that she had
worn at dinner--moved swiftly toward the chauffeur. She gave him both
hands; he kissed her eagerly; then they began talking earnestly. For
several minutes Deering heard the blurred murmur of rapid question and
reply; then, evidently disturbed by an outburst of merriment from the
drawing-room, the two parted with another hand-clasp and kiss, and
Cassowary darted through the outer door.
Constance waited a moment, as though to compose herself, and then began
retracing her steps down the conservatory aisle. As she passed his
hiding-place Deering stepped out and seized her arm.
"So this is what's in the wind, is it?" he demanded roughly. "I suppose
you don't know that that man's a bad lot, a worthless fellow Hood picked
up in the hope of reforming him! For all I know he may be the chauffeur
he pretends to be!"
She freed herself and her eyes flashed angrily.
"You don't know what you're saying! That man is a gentleman, and if he
went to pieces for a while it was my fault. I met him at the Drakes' last
year when you were away hunting in Canada. He came to our house
afterward, but for some reason father took one of his strong dislikes to
him, and forbade my seeing him again. I knew he was with this man Hood,
and when I left the table awhile ago I met him outside the servants'
dining-room and told him I would talk to him here."
"What does he call himself?" Deering asked.
"Torrence is the name the Drakes gave him," she answered with faint
irony. "He's a ranchman in Wyoming and was in Bob Drake's class in
college."
He knew perfectly well that the Drakes were not people likely to
countenance an impostor. His first instinct had been to protect his
sister from an unknown scamp, and he was sorry that he had spoken to her
so roughly. Her distress and anxiety were apparent, and he was filled
with pity for her. Since childhood they had been the best of pals, and if
she loved a man who was worthy of her he would aid the affair in every
way possible. He was surprised by the abruptness with which she stepped
close to him and laid her hand on his arm.
"Billy, who _is_ Hood?" she whispered.
"I don't know!" he ejaculated, and then as she eyed him curiously he
explained hurriedly: "I was in an awful mess when he turned up, Connie.
I'd gone into a copper deal with Ned Ranscomb and needed more money to
help him through with it. I put in all I had and touched one of father's
boxes at the bank for some more and lost it, or didn't lose it; God knows
what did become of it! It would take a week to tell you the whole story.
Ranscomb disappeared, absolutely, and there I was! I should have killed
myself if that lunatic Hood hadn't turned up and hypnotized me. But
what--what--" (he fairly choked with the question), "in heaven's name are
you doing here? Why did you cut out California? I tell you, Connie, if
I'm not crazy everybody else is! I nearly fainted when you came into the
dining-room."
Constance smiled at his despair, but hurried on with explanations:
"We can't talk here, but I can clear up a few things. Father read that
woman's book, and it went to his head. Yes," she added as Deering groaned
in his helplessness, "father's acting a good deal like those people in
the drawing-room. He's got the May madness, and I'm afraid I've got a
touch of it myself! Father started off to have adventures like the people
in that book and dragged me along to get my mind off Tommy----"
"Tommy?"
"Mr. Torrence!"
Billy swallowed this with a gulp.
"But, Billy," Constance continued seriously, "there's really something on
father's mind; he thinks he's looking for somebody, and I'm not sure
whether he is or not. That's how I come to be here. He made me answer an
advertisement and take this position to spy on these people."
"My God!" Deering gasped, "gone clean mad, the whole bunch of us. Who the
deuce are these lunatics anyhow?"
"I don't know, Billy; honestly I don't! You know nearly as much about
them as I do. Their mail goes to a bank in town, and I met my employer at
a lawyer's office in Hartford. Father suspects something and made me do
it, so I might watch them. The mother and daughter have been abroad a
great deal, and just came home a month ago. I never saw this man Hood
until to-night. The mother and daughter and the old gentleman call each
other by the names you heard at the table, and the books in the library
are marked with half a dozen names. Even the silver gives no clew. I've
been here a week and only one person has come to the house" (she lowered
her voice to a whisper), "and that was Ned Ranscomb!"
He clutched her hands, and the words he tried to utter became a queer,
inarticulate gurgle in his throat.
"Ned came here to see a girl," she went on: "an artist who made the
pictures for 'The Madness of May.' He's quite crazy about her. I did get
that much out of Pierrette. This artist's a victim of the madness too,
and seems to be leading Ned a gay dance!"
"Took my two hundred thousand and got me to steal two more," he groaned,
"and then went chasing a girl all over creation! And the fool always
bragged that he was immune; that no girl----"
"Another victim of the same disease, that's all," answered Constance with
a wry smile.
"Not Ned; not Ranscomb! That settles it! We've all gone loony!"
"Well, even so, we mustn't be caught here," said Constance with decision
as the music ceased.
"Tell me, quick, where can I find the governor?" Deering demanded.
"If you _must_ know, Billy," she replied, her lips quivering with mirth,
"our dear parent is in jail--in _jail_! Tommy collected those glad
tidings at the garage."
Having launched this at her astounded brother, she pushed him from her
and ran away through the conservatory.