Recalled to the Front
Never were slippers and easy-chair more welcome to me than they were
that night. I was thoroughly weary in mind as well as body, and as I
dropped into the chair and donned the slippers, I determined to go early
to bed, and to forget all about the Lawrence enigma. I was heartily glad
that I was rid of it; it had proved so baffling, so discouraging that I
rejoiced at the chance which had taken it out of my hands. Burr Curtiss
must puzzle it out for himself.
I fancied I could see him, pacing up and down the deck of the _Oceanic_,
staring ahead into the starlit night, bracing himself for that meeting
which would mean so much to him. I wondered what Marcia Lawrence's
thoughts were. Did she regret that she had fled? Did she already see the
fatal error of that step? Ah, if her lover were only beside her, there
on the deck, as he might have been but for that cruel irony of fate
which had swept her from him! She could not know that he was pursuing
her--that he would be the first to meet her as she stepped ashore at
Liverpool. How would she bear the shock of that meeting?
I had bought a copy of the last edition of the _Record_ as I came up
from dinner, and I shook it out and glanced over it. Apparently Godfrey
had discovered nothing new in the affair at Elizabeth, for the paper
made absolutely no reference to it, so far as I could discover. No doubt
he had returned to New York immediately after bidding me good-bye; by
this time he was probably deep in the untangling of some other mystery
for the benefit of the _Record's_ readers. Sensations of to-day eclipsed
those of yesterday, and I realised how quickly Burr Curtiss and his
affairs would drop from the public mind.
But as I laid the paper aside, and filled my pipe for a final smoke
before turning in, I told myself that I could scarcely hope that they
would drop so easily from my mind, however much I might wish it;
besides, I had left it unsolved and seemingly unsolvable, and a mystery
of that sort is not easily forgotten. It is like an unfinished book, an
unsettled case--it lives to oppress the mind and pique the imagination.
I knocked out my pipe impatiently. The place for me was in bed. I was
becoming obsessed by this affair. If I did not shake it off, it would
end by getting such a grip of me that I could not sleep at all, or I
would fall asleep only to be startled awake again as I had been the
night before. That was truly a terrifying prospect!
I started for my bedroom, when a tap at my door stopped me. I opened it
to find Mrs. Fitch, my landlady, on the threshold.
"A telegram for you, Mr. Lester," she said, and held it out to me. "I
told the boy to wait."
"Thank you," I said, and tore open the envelope. "There'll be no
answer," I added, a moment later, and shut the door somewhat hastily I
fear, but Mrs. Fitch's eyes are sharp ones, and I did not wish her to
see my face just then.
I dropped into my chair and read the message again:--
"I advise you to return to Elizabeth at once. New developments
in which you will be interested.
"GODFREY."
"New developments!" Ah, Godfrey knew me well! For already my fatigue was
forgotten in the ardour of the chase, and a moment later I found myself
changing from slippers to shoes as fast as my fingers could handle the
laces.
Mrs. Fitch met me on the stair.
"Not going out again, Mr. Lester!" she protested. "Why, you'll kill
yourself."
"I can't help it, Mrs. Fitch," I said. "I've got to go."
"Not bad news, I hope?"
"No."
"And you'll be back soon?"
"Not to-night, I'm afraid."
"Oh, nonsense, Mr. Lester----"
But I left her protesting on the step, and hurried down the street. Mrs.
Fitch meant well, but she was sometimes a little in the way.
I took the elevated to Cortlandt Street, and hurried down to the ferry,
expecting every instant to hear the gong which announced the departure
of the boat. But I found that I had ten minutes to wait before there was
a train, and I spent them walking feverishly up and down the narrow
waiting-room, where the road's patrons are herded like cattle behind the
slatted gates.
At last the gates opened; there was the usual rush to the boat; the slow
crossing of the wide river, with the cool salt breeze coming in from the
ocean; the stampede to the coaches through the great Jersey City
station; and finally I found myself in a seat, with the train rumbling
out from under the long shed.
I stared out into the night, wondering what the new developments could
be. They must have been unusual and unexpected ones, to stir Godfrey to
sending me that telegram! But what _could_ they be? For the present, the
case was closed. Curtiss and Miss Lawrence were both in mid-ocean, and
any further developments must await their meeting. Besides, it was only
a few hours since I myself had left Elizabeth, and there had seemed no
prospect then of anything further happening there. Godfrey had announced
his own intention of leaving the place at once--he had said that the
case wasn't worth wasting any more time over. What, then, had detained
him?
Was it possible, I asked myself, that Marcia Lawrence had not sailed on
the _Umbria_, that the message had been merely a blind, that she had
foreseen that we would trace it to the West Street office, that she had
written it on a sheet of the steamer's paper for the purpose of
deceiving us? Yes, that was clearly possible. She may have returned
home, and Godfrey, discovering the return, had summoned me to be present
at her unmasking! I had really only half-believed that it was she whom
Curtiss had descried upon the _Umbria's_ forward deck. But if she had,
indeed, done all this, she must be far more deeply versed in deception
than I had supposed. I should hardly have given her credit for laying a
plan so adroit as that; but one can never judge a woman's capabilities.
Suddenly conscious again of my fatigue, I laid my head back against the
seat, and dozed away until the sharp call of the brakeman aroused me.
Not until I had left the train did I remember that Godfrey had appointed
no rendezvous. He might, perhaps, be awaiting me at the hotel, or, at
least, he had certainly left a message there for me, and I started up
the street.
But an inquiry of the clerk developed the fact that, while Godfrey was
still stopping there, he had gone out immediately after dinner, and had
left no message of any kind. For a moment I was fairly taken aback, so
confident had I been; but perhaps Godfrey had deemed a message
superfluous after the hint given in the telegram--I knew how he detested
the obvious. He had no doubt thought that hint sufficient--and it was.
Eleven o'clock was striking as I gained the street again, and turned my
steps toward the Lawrence place. If there were indeed any new
developments, it must be either there or at the cottage that they had
come to light. That was self-evident; that could be the only rendezvous;
it was there Godfrey was awaiting me. So I walked on rapidly, and in a
very few minutes reached my destination.
The house was dark and gloomy, as it had been the night before. I
entered the grounds and made a careful circuit of the place, but not a
glimmer of light could I detect at any of the windows. There was nothing
to indicate that any one was stirring, nor did I come upon any trace of
Godfrey, though I half expected to collide with him at any moment.
Plainly there was nothing to be discovered here, and at last I turned my
steps toward the path which led to the cottage.
Then suddenly I stopped, for it seemed to me that I had caught sight of
a dim figure flitting among the trees. I was facing the street, and the
glow from the arc lights there made a grey background against which I
fancied I saw a shadow moving. I strained my eyes--yes--there it was
again, approaching the house along the path.
I am no more superstitious than most men, yet, for an instant, the
notion seized me like an electric shock, that this was no earthly
visitant. But I shook myself together, and leaned forward watching it
from behind a sheltering tree. It went directly to the balcony steps,
and mounted them with a swiftness which showed how familiar it was with
the place. Had I been right in my conjecture, then? Had Marcia Lawrence
really come home again?
The question flashed through my brain like lightning. I had already
delayed too much; it was time that I did something!
In an instant I had gained the path and mounted the steps. One of the
windows was open. I passed through it into the library.
There was a sharp click and, in the sudden flare of light, I found
myself looking down the barrel of a revolver, behind which glared the
sinister face of Lucy Kingdon.