Lyon would probably have found himself somewhat embarrassed in
explaining Kittie and her methods to Miss Wolcott if Mrs. Broughton
had not been there. But Mrs. Broughton was there (and so was Mr.
Broughton, whose presence at an exceedingly hasty and exceedingly
private wedding that morning had been found necessary), and when
Kittie saw her she ran to her and clung to her with hidden face, while
Lyon told her story to the amazed little group of three.
"Poor child, poor child," murmured Mrs. Broughton, softly, touching
the defiant little head that was crushed against her sleeve.
"Will Mr. Lawrence be released, then, without anything further?" asked
Edith Wolcott. It was perhaps natural that to her that would be the
pivotal point of the situation.
"Immediately. Howell is attending to the red tape of it now. It
certainly won't take long."
Edith put up her hand to hide her trembling lips. Mrs. Broughton gave
her a glance of sympathetic understanding, and then said to Lyon,
"And what about this dear little girl? Are there any other
formalities,--"
"Howell will take care of that. There isn't anything to worry about.
Her deposition will be laid before the county attorney, but as I
understood it, she is not likely to be called on for much of anything
else. The Grand Jury would only act on information laid before them,
and if the county attorney is satisfied, there won't be any bill
brought. In the meantime,--"
"I won't go back to Miss Elliott's. I won't--ever," Kittie interrupted
suddenly.
Lyon glanced hesitatingly at Miss Wolcott, but that young woman was
regarding the volcanic schoolgirl with surprise and with no special
warmth of emotion.
"That's what she says," said Lyon, with a whimsical appeal. "If she
persists, I suppose I must write--or someone must--to her uncle in
Columbus, and explain why she refuses, and assure him that she is safe
with friends until he can arrange for her."
"I won't go back to Uncle Joe," said Kittie, sitting up suddenly. "Do
you think I could go to them and explain that I had--had _killed_
anybody? Why, they would think I was crazy. They would look at me so.
I won't go to anybody that knows me."
Lyon looked distressed. Miss Wolcott looked annoyed and perplexed.
Mrs. Broughton looked at her husband,--a long glance, at least three
sentences long,--and then she said quietly,
"Would you like to come to New York and stay with me for the rest of
the winter, Kittie?"
"Would I?" gasped Kittie.
"Do you think your uncle and aunt would consent to your coming to pay
me a visit?"
"They'd have to," said Kittie, calmly.
Mrs. Broughton laughed.
"We'll see what we can do by way of persuasion first. We'll go by way
of Columbus when we go on, and explain our plans. I can't spare my
little nurse yet. In fact, I think I must have you come with me for a
while to the Metropole, while we have to stay in Waynscott. That may
be--" she glanced inquiringly at Lyon--"a few days? Or a week?"
"Probably."
"Then is that all settled?"
Kittie threw her arms around her. "Oh, I'd do anything in the world
for you."
"Then come over to Miss Elliott's at once, and I will explain
everything to her while you pack your trunk."
Kittie looked dismayed. "Oh, I can't,--"
"Yes, you can,--with me there. Come, we'll go at once. You'd better
come, too. Woods. Miss Elliott has a tremendous respect for your
name!"
Broughton, who looked curiously like a lion being petted and enjoying
the process, turned to Lyon with benign ferocity.
"You will have to come to New York, too, Mr. Lyon. I need you in my
business."
Lyon unconsciously looked at Kittie before answering.
"I am ready to consider any proposition you may make, sir."
"All right. We'll talk it over later. But I warn you I shall leave you
no possible room for refusing. Yes, Grace, I'm ready."
The Broughtons took Kittie off, bent on smoothing the path for her,
and Miss Wolcott turned to Lyon with a sigh of relief.
"What a wild, unmanageable child! I should think that after all the
trouble that has come from her act she would at least be a little
subdued."
"Oh, it isn't all trouble," said Lyon, assuming as a matter of course
his life-long privilege of being Kittie's defender. "Mr. Broughton
came out to Waynscott fully determined to shoot Lawrence at sight.
Being in jail probably saved his life,--so you ought to count that to
Kittie's credit. And would you ever have known the measure of
Lawrence's devotion if he had not had this chance of proving how far
he could carry it? Then those letters of yours,--if there hadn't been
a mystery about Fullerton's death, I should never have been spurred on
to run things down, and if I hadn't those letters might have fallen
into who knows whose hands! And Mrs. Broughton's unhappiness,--think
of all the trouble and wretchedness those two people are saved through
the accident of my being drawn into this Hemlock Avenue mystery! Even
Fullerton's death alone would not have cleared the cloud from their
lives. It needed the knowledge no one could give them but I,--and I
should never have known how much the fact in my possession was needed
if I had not met Mrs. Broughton in this curiously intimate way.
Indeed, I should probably never have met Mrs. Broughton! Or you! Or
Kittie! Or had the friendship of Lawrence. And when you think of each
one of us, and how, through this strange tangle, we have all won what
we wanted most, don't you think we can say, with Tiny Tim, that all is
for the best in this best of all possible worlds?"
He glanced at her, smiling, for confirmation. Her face was so radiant
that he thought he had for once in his life succeeded in being
eloquent. Then his glance followed her eye to the window, and he
realized that she had probably heard nothing of what he had been
saying. Lawrence was swinging up Hemlock Avenue at a pace that
devoured the distance.
"I--er--really, I must go," murmured Lyon, reaching for his hat.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Hemlock Avenue Mystery, by Roman Doubleday