THE WARNING
In the meantime Mr. Duval was making himself exceedingly entertaining to
Miss Sallie, Grace and Barbara in the tea garden. Maud and the Count de
Sonde had withdrawn to a seat near the music, and were engrossed in a
tete-a-tete.
Mr. Duval had traveled widely. He told his little audience about Chinese
and Japanese tea gardens. He told tales of many lands and gave accounts
of numerous adventures in which he had participated.
Barbara and Grace listened fascinated. They hardly knew how the time
passed. At last Mr. Stuart came back with Ruth and Mollie. Mr. Warren
and Mrs. De Lancey Smythe had joined them, without Marian. Mr. Warren
was looking for Maud. But Bab wondered how poor Marian had weathered the
storm that must have broken when Mrs. De Lancey Smythe returned to the
hotel that morning.
"Where is Marian?" Ruth asked the widow abruptly, looking her straight
in the eyes.
Mrs. De Lancey Smythe's eyes dropped before Ruth's clear gaze. She
twirled her parasol, looked annoyed then said frigidly: "Marian has a
headache this afternoon."
"I trust the wetting she got this morning had nothing to do with it."
"Marian is an impulsive and reckless girl," snapped her mother. "She is
entirely too fond of disregarding all conventions."
"Has any one seen my daughter?" Mr. Warren's deep voice was now heard
above the hum of conversation. Mrs. De Lancey Smythe joined him and
together they strolled over toward Maud and the count. Mrs. De Lancey
Smythe seized this opportunity to say a few words in favor of the Count
de Sonde, for it was evident that Mr. Warren had taken a violent dislike
to the young man. Had some one persuaded the widow to make this appeal,
or was she genuinely attracted by the young French nobleman?
Mr. Stuart found himself agreeably surprised by Monsieur Duval. When the
sun began to sink, and the tea drinkers prepared to return to their
hotel, Mr. Duval occupied a seat in the Stuart automobile. Moreover,
when he said good-bye on the hotel veranda, he carried with him two
invitations. One was to dine with the Stuart party that very evening,
the other, to go with them the next day on a picnic.
No sooner was Bab out of the automobile than she determined to run up to
Marian's room. She knew the widow had not yet returned. Bab found the
number of Marian's room from the hotel clerk. Then she got in the
elevator and went up to the top floor of the hotel.
She knocked at a door in the middle of a long narrow passage, and a
faint voice said: "Come in."
Bab entered a small bed room situated under the eaves of the hotel roof.
There were three trunks in the tiny chamber which overlooked a court
yard. The room was very close and hot. Marian was on the bed. She had
cried herself to sleep. At Bab's knock she opened her heavy eyes.
"Why, Barbara!" she exclaimed. "It is awfully good of you to come up to
see me, but Mama would have three fits if she knew you had seen this
room. I am glad you have come, because I have something special to tell
you. I----" Poor Marian hesitated and stopped.
Barbara looked at her with questioning eyes.
"I am afraid it is dreadfully disloyal of me to say another word."
Marian pressed her hands to her temples. "And I haven't anything really
definite to tell you. But, oh Barbara, I have a suspicion that something
may happen soon! Will you remember that I had nothing to do with it, and
that I mean to prevent it if I can?"
Barbara, completely mystified, hardly knew what to reply.
"Do you mean to warn me, Marian?" she asked her new friend. "Do you mean
that something is going to happen that may concern us?"
"No; not exactly," Marian answered. Then she made an impetuous movement.
"Please don't question me," she begged. "There is a reason why I dare
not answer your questions. Forget what I have said, if you can. But for
goodness' sake, don't mention to Mama that I have talked with you. I
sometimes wonder what will become of us. Things can't go on much longer.
There is sure to be a grand crash. But please go, now, Barbara, Mama
might come in and she would be very angry to find you here. I will see
you to-night."
Barbara did not meet Mrs. De Lancey Smythe as she left Marian's room,
but she did run across her in the evening. The widow was hurrying
through a side corridor in the hotel. She was wrapped in a long dark
cloak, and appeared to be trying to leave the hotel by stealth. Bab drew
back into one end of the corridor until the widow had disappeared, then
she walked slowly out on the piazza. Marian's warning was ringing in her
ears. What was it that Marian had feared might happen, and why did her
mother leave the hotel in that stealthy mysterious manner?
On the piazza Bab found her own friends enjoying the beauty of the
night. Maud and the Count de Sonde were talking just outside the group.
"Do you know what I heard to-day?" remarked Mr. Stuart. "I understand
that there is a swindler abroad at Palm Beach. A woman at that."
"You don't mean it," exclaimed Miss Sallie. "How dreadful!"
"It seems," continued Mr. Stuart, "that the detectives have been on the
watch for her for some time, but so far she has been too clever for
them. However, they have traced her to the Beach, but among the hundreds
of tourists they have lost their clue. They do not despair of finding
her yet, and a strict watch is being kept. She may be apprehended at any
moment."
"Well, let's hope she doesn't attempt to swindle us," commented Ruth.
"By the way where is Monsieur Duval? He disappeared mysteriously the
moment dinner was over."
"He had an engagement, and begged to be excused," replied Mr. Stuart.
"He said he would return in a little while."
"Speaking of angels," remarked Mollie, "here he comes now."
"Yes, and he's towing along our pet aversion Mrs. D. L. Smythe," said
Grace.
Bab looked toward the approaching pair.
Monsier Duval and Mrs. De Lancey Smythe not yet aware that they were
under the observation of the Stuart party, were deeply engaged in
conversation.
Barbara, watching closely, saw the Frenchman glance up, then he quickly
dropped his eyes, and an expression of cautious cunning flitted over his
face. His lips moved, the widow gave a half frightened look, then her
expression of absorption changed to one of languid indifference. As the
two neared the steps, from their demeanor, one would have concluded them
to be mere acquaintances.
What was the meaning of it all? Barbara wondered. And what secret
understanding was there between those two people? Bab's observant eye
noted that Monsieur Duval carried over one arm the heavy cloak in which
she had seen the widow wrapped a short time before. Had Mrs. De Lancey
Smythe gone to meet the Frenchman, and, if so why did she not do so
openly? Suppose Mrs. De Lancey Smythe were an impostor, with a game to
play. Suppose Mr. Duval were--Barbara sighed impatiently. She was
letting her imagination run riot. She resolved to dismiss the whole
tiresome business from her mind, and enjoy herself.
At that moment Maud Warren came languidly forward, the little count at
her heels. "Miss Stuart," she announced, "I have persuaded Papa to let
me give a masked ball before we go back to New York. There are a number
of smart people here at Palm Beach, and I want the count to see one of
our American balls. We shall wear our masks until midnight, and then
have a cotillon afterwards."
"That will be delightful, Maud!" replied Ruth. "And that reminds me.
Father and I have never arranged about our picnic to-morrow. Don't you
think it would be fun to motor over to the big ostrich farm and have our
luncheon there under the trees?"
"Very delightful," agreed Maud. "Don't you think so, Count?"
"I shall be charmed," replied the little count, with an exaggerated bow.
"But we shan't," whispered Mollie, naughtily to Barbara, under cover of
general conversation.
"In order to cure, we must endure," returned Bab in an undertone.
Whereupon the sisters both chuckled softly.
At this juncture Marian appeared at the end of the piazza, and came
slowly toward the group. Her eyes still showed traces of tears, and she
looked ill and wretched.
Mr. Stuart greeted Marian kindly, and immediately invited her to Ruth's
picnic. And the invitation, of course, had to include Marian's mother.
"I am sorry you have been ill," he said courteously, interrupting his
conversation with Mr. Duval.
Monsieur Duval's eyes rested curiously on Marian. His look searched her
face. "Perhaps the climate of Palm Beach does not agree with your
health," he suggested. "You do not like it here?"
"It is not a question of what I like or dislike, Mr. Duval," said Marian
curtly.
"But what do you prefer?" persisted the Frenchman with a shade of
interest in his manner.
"To mind my own affairs," returned Marian coldly, turning her back on
Monsieur Duval.