Let us return now to the Van Kuren family, whom we last saw at the
moment of their departure for Europe. Mr. Van Kuren having determined to
give himself a long rest and his children opportunities for travel in
foreign lands and study under the most competent instructors, journeyed
at once to Paris and there established himself in a great hotel
intending to take a place in the suburbs of the French capital. Laura
and her brother amused themselves by walking and riding through the
city, sometimes with their aunt and sometimes with Mr. Reed, their
tutor, but there were many hours which they were compelled to spend in
their rooms engaged in study, for their lessons went on under the
supervision of their tutor just exactly as they had at home.
One morning they were sitting together in the parlor of Mr. Van Kuren’s
apartment talking about America and their many friends there, as they
frequently did, and Bruce’s name came up with the others.
“I wish,” said Laura, “that papa would let us write to him, because he
must think it very strange that he has heard nothing from us since we
went away. You see he knows nothing about us or why we had to break off
our friendship so suddenly.”
“Oh I’ll get around papa all right one of these days,” said Harry
carelessly, “and I’ve no doubt he’ll let me send him a letter when I ask
him to.”
They were still talking about Bruce and wondering whether he had
completely recovered from his injuries, when the door opened and their
father entered in company with a white haired gentleman whom they
recognized at once as the one who had occupied the big house near their
own and whose name they had long since been forbidden to mention. They
looked up now with their eyes wide open with surprise, as their father
called to them by name and said, “Samuel, these are my children. You
haven’t seen them since they were very small.” Mr. Dexter extended his
hand and said with an extremely pleasant smile on his pale face, “Yes I
remember them very well. This is Laura and this is Harry. You don’t
remember me, children, I suppose?”
Laura made no reply, but Harry spoke up in his impulsive, boyish way and
said, “why you’re the gentleman who lives in that, big square house, and
used to come and see us ever so many years ago. I remember you well but
papa told us long ago that we mustn’t—”
“That will do Harry,” said his father hastily and in a stern tone of
voice which his son was thoroughly familiar with. Then he turned to Mr.
Dexter and said, “It’s some years since we’ve seen you and I didn’t
think the boy had such a good memory.”
“Yes,” replied the other, who had been amused at Harry’s interrupted
remark, “a fatally good memory, I see. But how long do you intend to
stay in Paris?”
“A month or so,” said Mr. Van Kuren, and then the children were sent out
of the room and he and Mr. Dexter seated themselves and entered into a
long talk which lasted until the time came for dinner. During that meal,
of which Mr. Dexter partook also, he asked both Harry and Laura a great
many questions about their studies and amusements, and evinced an
interest in them which neither could quite understand. Laura was burning
to tell him all about Bruce and his strange recollection of the old
house, but no opportunity offered itself, and soon after dinner Mr.
Dexter went out with her father, leaving the brother and sister to amuse
themselves until bedtime.
That night Laura made up her mind to speak to Mr. Dexter as soon as
possible about the subject that was uppermost in her mind. She longed to
ask her father or her aunt why it was that this old gentleman, whom they
had been brought up to avoid, should suddenly appear before them in
Paris as her father’s friend and guest, but when on the following day
she ventured to broach the subject, she was told so peremptorily that
little children should not ask questions, that she did not venture to
repeat her attempt, but determined to await an opportunity to speak to
Mr. Dexter himself. That opportunity soon offered itself, for the old
gentleman became a frequent visitor at the hotel, calling upon her
father almost every day and either going out with him or else remaining
for long and close conversations. Miss Van Kuren went with them in their
journeys or joined them in their talk, but it was some days before Laura
found the chance for which she was looking so anxiously.
One morning the old gentleman arrived just after the whole of the Van
Kuren family, excepting Laura, had gone out and it was she therefore who
received him in the private parlor. Mr. Dexter seated himself in an easy
chair by the fire and entered into conversation with the young girl
regarding her lessons, her friends in America and the amusement which
she found in Paris. This was the chance she had been waiting for, and
with an air of deep mystery she said.
“Mr. Dexter there was a very curious thing that happened some time ago
and if I tell you I want you to promise me not to say anything about it
to anybody not even to papa, and particularly not to Harry.” In her
eagerness she forgot the agreement she had made with Bruce, an agreement
which had more than once prevented him from speaking of the subject to
friends and others who might have aided him in his search.
“Certainly my dear, I will make that promise,” replied Mr. Dexter, with
a beneficent smile, “now tell me what this mysterious thing is. I assure
you I am very anxious to know.”
Then Laura told him the story with which my readers have been already
made familiar—she described to him their acquaintance with Bruce and
repeated what he had told her in regard to the old house and his instant
recognition of it. As she proceeded, the old gentleman’s interest in her
story grew stronger and stronger, and when she ended he wiped the
perspiration from his forehead with a hand that was by no means steady
and exclaimed “What you tell me is very strange indeed! I remember the
young man very well. He came up to my house one day to get some
magazines and papers that I had there; and so he found Harry that very
day did he? Well my dear, I scarcely know what to think of it, for
strangely enough his story fits in with certain other things that I have
learned within a year and makes it more than possible that—but after all
what is the use of allowing such thoughts to enter my head?” and
breaking off abruptly he rose from his chair pacing slowly up and down
the floor talking indistinctly to himself as he did so.
And as he walked, Laura, who had become thoroughly excited over the
mystery which she found as romantic and interesting as any she had ever
found in a novel, watched him intently, carefully noting the effect that
her words had had on him and wondering what the meaning of the whole
matter was.
“Do you happen to know the address of this young man?” inquired Mr.
Dexter suddenly stopping in his walk.
[Illustration: “Mr. Dexter * * * held out his hand for the
address.”—_Page 257._]
“Yes,” said Laura, “I’ll run and get it for you, but you must never tell
anybody that I did because it would make awful trouble for me.”
When she returned she found her father, her aunt and Harry in the room
and for a moment she was at a loss what to do, but Mr. Dexter, who was
anxiously looking for her, held out his hand for the address and said,
as Laura placed the scrap of paper in it, “Remember, this is our secret,
my little girl, and Harry is not to know anything about it.”
The way in which he said this and the smile with which his words were
accompanied stimulated Harry’s curiosity and at the same time served to
put the elders off the scent. Then the conversation was turned into
other channels and in five minutes the incident had passed out of the
minds of everyone but the two concerned in it.
That afternoon Laura spread her writing materials on the parlor table
and sat down to write her regular weekly letter to her dear friend in
America, Kitty Harriott. She had just written “Dear Kitty,” when a
thought came into her mind that caused her to drop her pen and sit for a
moment in deep meditation. Then with cheeks flushed with excitement, she
continued as follows:
“I hope you are well and enjoying yourself and that all the other
girls are well too. We are having a splendid time here but we have
to study as hard as we did at home. There is something that I want
you to do for me and you must never tell any one that I mentioned it
to you for it is something very mysterious and important. You know
about Bruce Decker, the young fireman who was in the hospital. I
have often talked to you about him. Well, Papa has made me promise
not to write to him and I dare not disobey him, but I did not
promise that you would not write to him, and something has happened
which he ought to know. I want you to write him a letter and send it
to the address on the scrap of paper enclosed. Tell him that Mr.
Dexter and Papa are great friends now and he comes to see us every
day. This morning I was alone when he called and he sat down and we
had a long talk. I told him what Bruce told me about the Dexter
house (just write it that way and he will know what I mean), and he
was very much interested in what I said and got up and walked up and
down the room talking to himself but I could not hear a word he
said. Then he asked me for Bruce’s address and I copied it out and
gave it to him right before Papa and Aunt Sarah and Harry who had
all come into the room, and Harry’s wild to know what was on the
paper I gave him. Now Kitty you must do exactly what I tell you.
Bruce will know who you are because he has heard me talk about you
and I’m sure he’s just dying to know you. But remember it is
important that he should get this message right away and nobody must
know anything about it. If he makes any answer to your note write to
me at once. No more at present, from
Your loving friend
LAURA VAN KUREN.”