"GREAT GOD, IT IS A GHOST--THE GHOST OF FAYNIE!"
We must now return to Faynie, and the thrilling position in which we so
reluctantly left her.
As the bright blaze of light illumined the corridor Faynie beheld the
dark form of a man creeping toward her.
"Great Scott! Some one must have touched an electric button
somewhere--the wrong button!" he cried, instantly springing behind a
marble Flora--but not before Faynie had distinctly beheld him, being
herself unseen, because she was standing in the dense shadow.
"It is he! It is Lester Armstrong!" was the cry that sprang from her
terrified heart to her lips, but no sound issued from them as they
parted.
She leaned back faint and dizzy against the wall, unable to utter even
the faintest sound. "So this is Claire's lover--the Lester she told me
about--whom she is soon to marry! The dastardly wretch who wrecked my
life and left me for dead under the cold, drifting snow heap," was the
thought that flashed through her dazed brain as she watched him, with
bated breath and dilated eyes.
"It was only a false alarm; nobody would be roaming through the
corridor of this place at this ghostly hour!" he muttered, sallying
forth. "It seems that I was more scared than hurt on this occasion.
Now for the library, to find that sum of money which my foolish
mamma-in-law-that-is-to-be mentioned having placed there. It's a daring
risk, stealing into the house like a thief in the night to search for
it, but there's no other way to get it, and money I must have without
delay.
"It's mighty dangerous going through this corridor in this bright light.
I wish I knew where to turn it off; the chandelier is too high or I'd do
it in that way. I'm liable to be seen at any moment, if any one should
take it into their head to come down through the house for any reason
whatsoever."
The next moment he had disappeared within the library, closing the door
neatly to after him. The next moment he had lighted the shaded night
lamp that stood on the table.
Turning out the gas in the corridor, Faynie glided forward like a
shadow, and, reaching the library, noiselessly pushed open the door,
which he had left slightly ajar.
"What was he doing here?" she wondered vaguely, her eyes blazing with
fierce indignation as she stood there considering what her next action
should be. He decided, the question by exclaiming:
"Ha! This is the little iron safe she mentioned: of course the money is
here, and the will is probably here, too, for that matter, which states
that all of the Fairfax fortune goes to the old lady--which means the
pretty Claire ultimately. Well, the more money the better; there is no
one more competent to make it fly at a gay pace than myself. A prince of
the royal blood couldn't go at a faster pace than I have been going
during these last three weeks! Ha, ha, ha!"
In a moment he was kneeling before the safe. To his intense satisfaction
the knob yielded to his deft touch.
"I shall have less trouble than I anticipated," he muttered, with a
little chuckle.
Faynie stood motionless, scarcely three feet behind him, watching him
intently, with horror-stricken eyes and glued tongue.
She saw him take a roll of bills, and after carefully counting them,
transfer them to his pocket.
Heirlooms, too, in the way of a costly diamond stud, sleeve links, and
massive watch and chain, which had been her father's, went the same way.
Faynie seemed incapable of interfering.
"Now we will soon determine what else there is here of importance--my
time cannot be more profitably spent than by informing myself."
Paper after paper he carefully unfolded, glancing quickly through their
contents, and as quickly tossing them back into the safe.
Evidently he had not yet found that for which he was searching so
intently.
Suddenly he came across a large square envelope, the words on which
seemed to arrest his attention at once. And in a whispered, yet
distinctly audible voice, he read the words:
"Horace Fairfax, last message to his wife--dated March 22, 18--."
"Why that is the very date upon which he died," muttered Kendale. "This
must have been written just before he committed suicide. Well, we will
see what he had to say."
And slowly he read, half aloud, as follows:
"MY DEAR WIFE: When you read the words here penned I shall be no
more. I know your heart will be most bitter against me for what I
have just done, but, realizing that my end was near, I have done it
for the best.
"I refer to the making of my will.
"When a man sees death before him, he naturally wishes to see those
nearest and dearest to him provided for, so far as he is able to do
so.
"You will remember distinctly the conversation we had at the time I
proposed marriage to you. I reminded you that I was a widower,
with a daughter whom I loved far better than the apple of my eye.
"I told you that this daughter would succeed to all my wealth, if
she lived, when time was no more with me; that no being on earth
could ever change my views in this regard--ay, in fulfilling my
duty.
"I asked you to marry me, knowing fully my intention in this
matter, stating at the time that I would give you in cash an ample
sum of money, which, if used frugally and judiciously, should last
you the remainder of your natural life, providing you outlived me.
"You accepted me under those conditions; you married me, and I, as
agreed, gave to you in a lump sum the money stipulated.
"It is needless to recall to you the fact that our wedded life has
been a failure. You have made my life miserable--ay, and that of my
sweet, motherless, tender little Faynie, until, in sheer
desperation, she has fled from her home on the night I write this,
and my grief is more poignant than I can well endure.
"You must feign neither surprise nor indignation when it is learned
that my will gives all my fortune to Faynie, save the amount set
aside for you.
"HORACE FAIRFAX."
"Well! By all that's wonderful, if this isn't a pretty how-do-you-do.
Mrs. Fairfax and her girl are penniless, and I came so near marrying
Claire. I have found this thing out quite in the nick of time. The girl
is clever enough, but it takes money, and plenty of it, to make me put
my head into the yoke of matrimony.
"I must find this will he speaks of. It will be here unless the woman
has been shrewd enough to destroy it, and women never are clever enough
to burn their telltale bridges which lie behind them, and that's how
they get found out--at last.
"I see through the whole thing now. Mrs. Fairfax trumped up a will in
favor of herself, a brilliant scheme. I admire her grit immensely. Ah,
yes, here is the real will, in the same handwriting as the letter. Yes,
it gives all to his daughter Faynie. And here is the spurious one, a
good imitation, I admit, still an expert could easily detect the
handwriting of Mrs. Fairfax from beginning to end--signature and all.
"I think I will take charge of this one giving all the Fairfax wealth to
Faynie."
But he did not succeed in transferring it to his pocket, for like a
flash it was snatched from his hand.
With a horrible oath, Kendale wheeled about.
One glance, and his eyes fairly bulged from their sockets, his face grew
ashen white, his teeth chattered, and the blood in his veins seemed
suddenly to turn to ice.
"Great Heaven! It is a ghost!" he yelled at the top of his voice; "the
ghost of Faynie!"