An Astonishing Request
I sat down again and examined my find more closely. I am no connoisseur
of lace, yet even I could appreciate the handkerchief's exquisite
beauty. But how came it here, crushed into a corner of this chair? Whose
was it? Some instinct--or was it merely a delusive hope?--told me that
it belonged to Marcia Lawrence--that it was she who had left it
here--that the tears which dampened it were her tears, tears of bitter,
bitter sorrow for dead hopes and a future which had changed from gold to
grey. She had stolen into the library for a moment's peace, that she
might face her sorrow and decide what she must do. She had left it----
But I shook myself together impatiently. All this was merely theorising;
I must lay my foundation first, get my facts; then perhaps it might be
possible to build a theory which would prove the right one. Thus far in
the investigation, I felt that I had been met with evasion rather than
with frankness; I suspected that an attempt was being made to puzzle and
bewilder me; I could see that my presence in the house was unwelcome to
Mrs. Lawrence. Well, my stay would be a short one; I dropped the
handkerchief into my pocket, opened the door, and stepped out into the
hall.
The front door was open and two men were tugging an immense palm through
it. Another was engaged in taking down the wreaths of smilax. By the
tenderness with which he handled them I recognised the decorator. He
stopped and looked at me inquiringly as I went toward him.
"I've come down from New York," I explained, "at the request of Mr.
Curtiss to assist him in finding Miss Lawrence. You, I believe, are the
last person who is known to have seen her. I'd like to ask you a few
questions."
"Go ahead," he said, beaming with self-importance. "I'll be glad to tell
you anything I know, sir."
"Do you remember what time it was when you called Miss Lawrence down to
have a last look at the decorations?"
"It must have been nearly half-past eleven, sir. I remember hearing a
clock strike eleven and thinking it'd take me about half an hour to get
through."
"Did you notice anything peculiar in her behaviour?"
"Peculiar? No, sir. She was very kind and said some nice things about my
work."
"She did not seem sad nor depressed?"
"Oh, no, sir; quite the contrary."
"When she left you, did she return upstairs?"
"I think so, sir. At least, she started for the stairs. I stepped into
the dining-room for a moment to make sure everything was all right, and
when I came out again she was gone."
"Was there any one else in the hall?"
"No, sir; I think not; not just at that moment, though of course people
were passing back and forth through it all the time."
"Did you notice a man loitering about--a stranger--middle-aged,
dark-complexioned, with a dark beard or moustache--rather striking in
appearance--perhaps a little dissolute?"
"No, sir," he answered, with a stare of surprise. "I didn't see any
stranger about the whole morning--nobody I didn't know."
I confess I was rather disappointed; I had hoped that my shot would
tell.
"And you heard no unusual noise--no scream, nor anything of that sort."
"No, sir; though I was so busy and worried I dare say I wouldn't have
heard a cannon-shot."
"When did you learn that something was wrong?"
"I heard Mrs. Lawrence asking if any one had seen her daughter. Then she
sent some of the servants to look for her."
"What time was that?"
"About ten minutes after I had spoken to her."
"Yes--what then?"
"Well, I didn't pay much attention, at first; but when the bridesmaids
came, they raised such a hullabaloo that I couldn't help but take
notice."
"What did Mrs. Lawrence do?"
"Why, she tried to quiet them--I must say she was the coolest one in the
house--except one."
"Who was that?"
"Miss Lawrence's maid. She just sat there on the stairs and glowered and
grinned and chewed her nails and never said a word. She gave me the
creeps. I could swear she knew all about it and was glad of it."
I repressed a chuckle of satisfaction. Here was better luck than I had
expected.
"How was Miss Lawrence dressed when you saw her?" I asked.
"All in rustly white. I judged it was her wedding-dress."
"And you say she seemed quite as usual?"
"Yes, sir; only, of course, excited, as any woman would be--though calm,
too, and with a sort of deep glow in her eyes when she looked at you. I
can't describe it, sir; but I remember thinking that the man who was to
get her was a mighty lucky fellow. Did you know her, sir?"
"No," I said; "I've never seen her."
"Ah," he added, closing his eyes for an instant, "if you'd seen her
then, you'd never forget it. I never will. I never saw another woman to
touch her!" and he turned away to his work, with the vision he had
conjured up evidently still before him.
As I started along the hall, I saw through the open front door a
mail-carrier coming up the walk. I hastened to meet him--this was
another fortunate chance.
"How many deliveries do you make a day out here?" I asked, as he came up
the steps with a bundle of letters in his hand--I could guess the
belated congratulations which were among them!
"Only two--morning and afternoon," he answered.
"What time in the morning?"
"About nine o'clock, usually."
"It was about that time this morning?"
"Yes, sir; maybe ten minutes after nine."
"Who took the mail?"
"I put it in the box here in the vestibule, as I always do," he said,
and suited the action to the word.
I watched him as he walked away. So it had not been a letter which had
caused Miss Lawrence's sudden panic. That reduced the possibilities to
two. Either she had received a visitor or a telegram. I must endeavour
to----
A voice at my elbow aroused me.
"Mrs. Lawrence wishes to see you, sir," it said.
I turned, to find standing beside me the woman who had brought the note
to Mrs. Lawrence in the library--the woman whose attitude of malignant
triumph had so startled me. I blessed the chance which made it possible
for me to question her alone.
"Very well," I said. "Are you Mrs. Lawrence's maid?"
"No, sir; I'm Miss Marcia's maid."
"Ah!" I said, and permitted myself to look at her more closely. She was
a woman apparently somewhat over thirty. She had very black hair and
eyes, and her face, while not actually repellent, had in it a certain
fierceness and hardness far from attractive. A fiery and emotional
nature was evident in every line of it--a sinister nature, too, it
seemed to me--and I remembered her as I had seen her standing in the
library door, exulting in another's misery. I pictured her as the
decorator had described her, sitting on the stair, grinning and biting
her nails in a kind of infernal triumph. Why should Miss Lawrence have
chosen such a woman to attend her? As I looked at her, I saw the folly
of attempting to win her confidence--the whip was the only weapon that
could touch her--and it must be wielded mercilessly.
"Mrs. Lawrence wishes to see you," she said again, and I fancied there
was defiance in the eyes she turned upon me for the merest instant.
"In a moment. Was it you who found the note your mistress left for Mr.
Curtiss?"
"Yes, sir," and she glanced at me again, this time with a quick
suspicion.
"It was on her dressing-table, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did you happen to find it?"
"I just happened to see it, sir."
"It was lying in plain sight?"
"Yes, sir."
"Not concealed in any way--nothing lying over it?"
She hesitated an instant, and shot me another quick glance before she
answered.
"I believe not, sir," she said at last.
"Of course it wouldn't be concealed," I said reassuringly. "Miss
Lawrence probably left it where she thought it would be most quickly
seen, don't you think so?"
"Yes, sir; I suppose so."
"And her dressing-table was a very conspicuous place?"
"Yes, sir; very conspicuous."
"In that case," I said slowly, "it seems most peculiar that the letter
wasn't discovered at once."
She flushed hotly under my gaze and opened her lips to reply, but
thought better of it and started hastily up the stair. I followed her in
silence; but I had much to think about. What connection had she with
Miss Lawrence's disappearance? What connection could she have? Miss
Lawrence would scarcely make a confidante of her maid, more especially
of such a maid as this! At the stairhead I held her back for a final
question.
"When did you see your mistress last?"
"When she left her room to go downstairs to look at the decorations,"
she answered, so docilely that I was inclined to believe her former
defiance wholly my imagination.
"You remained behind in the room?"
"Yes, sir."
"And she did not return?"
"No, sir."
"Then how do you explain the presence of the letter on the dresser?"
She flushed again, more hotly than before; she realised that I had
caught her in a lie.
"I--I can't explain it, sir," she stammered. "I didn't consider it any
of my business," she added fiercely.
"I think you'll find it difficult to explain," I said, with irony; "even
more difficult than how it came to lie there unperceived for nearly
three hours. You'll pardon me if I find the story hard to believe."
"It's nothing to me whether or not you believe it!" she retorted and
made a motion to go on again.
"No," I said; "wait a moment. Which is her room?"
"This one here," and she pointed to a half-open door just beside us.
Ignoring her gesture of protest, I pushed the door back and stepped
inside.
The room was a large and pleasant one, well lighted and looking out upon
the grove at the east side of the house. There was some little disorder
apparent, and over a chair at the farther side of the room I saw a veil
lying--no doubt the bridal veil. For the moment I did not seek to see
more, but turned back into the hall.
"Nothing there," I said, as though my inspection of the room was ended.
"I suppose you helped Miss Lawrence to dress?"
"Yes, sir."
"And she had on her wedding-gown when she went downstairs?"
"Yes, sir, all but the veil."
"What was the colour of the gown?"
"White, sir," she answered, with evident contempt. "White satin made
very plain."
"With a train?"
"Yes, sir, with a train."
"Thank you," I said. Plainly, a woman garbed in that fashion must be a
marked object, wherever she went. Then, seeing that the maid waited for
further questions, I added, "That is all, I believe."
She opened a door just across the hall and motioned me to precede her. I
found myself in a pleasant sitting-room, and looked about for Mrs.
Lawrence, but she was not there. The maid went to an inner door which
stood half-open, and knocked.
"In a moment," called a low voice, and I heard a rustle of draperies.
Instinctively I knew that Mrs. Lawrence had been upon her knees.
But I was not prepared for the deep distress which I saw in her
countenance the instant she appeared upon the threshold. So worn and
drawn was it, so changed even in the brief time since I had seen her
last, that I scarcely knew her. What had happened? Was her self-control
giving way under the strain, or had there been some new shock, some more
poignant blow which she had been unable to withstand?
She came straight to me where I stood staring, perhaps a little
brutally, and lifted tear-dimmed eyes to mine.
"Mr. Lester," she said, in a choked voice, "I must ask that this search
for Marcia cease."