Barbara was reading "Smoke" and did not wish to be interrupted by a
"young person" (in the footman's words) who refused to give her name.
Nevertheless she was weakly good-natured in such matters, and closing
her book said: "Very well--in here, John."
A moment later the young person was shown into the living-room. Barbara
was still more annoyed, for young faces covered with powder were odious
to her. But suddenly the young person's mouth curled into a captivating
grin, and the young person trotted forward in a very un-young-personish
way, and cried triumphantly:
"It's me--Bubbles."
And Bubbles followed Barbara's gratifying exclamations of surprise and
inquiry with a syncopated outburst of explanation, finishing with: "And
Mr. Lichtenstein said I was to throw us on your mercy, and ask if he
could stay to finish his writing, and he's stepped into some bushes off
the driveway to put on his own clothes. And please, Miss Barbara, he's
just the finest and bravest ever, and don't care what happens to him,
only he says they're bound to get him now everything's found out, and
he's just got to finish writing down what he carries in his head."
"Of course," said Barbara, "we'll have to tell my father; but all will
be well. Mr. Lichtenstein shall stay. Bring him to me when he's finished
changing, and then you'd best change, and if you don't want to have a
sore face wash all that nasty stuff off it."
Lichtenstein had already changed, and was coming up the driveway
carrying a suit-case. Bubbles brought him at once, and with great pride,
to Barbara. Mr. Lichtenstein had never seen her before. In his bow there
was a trace of Oriental elaboration. And his curiously meagreish,
pug-nosed sandy face beamed with pleasure and admiration.
"I thought I knew my New York, Miss Ferris," he said, "but it seems I
was mistaken."
Since the compliment was obviously sincere, Barbara took pleasure in it,
and the pleasure showed in her charming face. "And Bubbles says," said
she, "that you are the 'finest ever.' I'm glad if staying here is going
to help the cause. You can be as private as you like--" But a sudden
change had come over Lichtenstein's face, the smile had vanished, the
eyes grown sharp, even stern. "What is your maid's name?" he
asked abruptly.
"My maid? Why, what about her?"
"She passed just now--by that door. I saw her in the mirror at the end
of the room. What's her name?"
"Marion--" Barbara hesitated.
"O'Brien?"
"Yes, O'Brien."
[Illustration: He caught her by the wrist, drew her to her feet, and
into the room]
"I thought so. She's in Blizzard's pay. If she has recognized me--Shut
the door into the hall, Bubbles."
The door being shut, Lichtenstein crossed the room and stood near it,
his hand on the knob. For nearly a minute he neither moved nor changed
expression. Then a smile flickered about his mouth, and, sure of his
effect, with a sharp gesture he flung the door wide open, and discovered
Miss Marion O'Brien kneeling in the opening. He caught her by the wrist,
drew her to her feet, and into the room.
"Marion!" exclaimed Miss Ferris.