CHECKMATE!
Henry Blaine was allowed scant opportunity for reflection, in the hour
which intervened between his telephone message to Anita and the time
of his appointment with her. Scarcely had he hung up the receiver once
more when his secretary announced the arrival of Fifine Dechaussee.
Had not Blaine been already aware of her success with Paddington, as
the scene in the park an evening or two previously denoted, he would
have been instantly apprised by her manner that something of vital
import had occurred. There was an indefinable change, a subtle
metamorphosis, which was conveyed even in her appearance. Her
delicate, Madonna-like face had lost its wax-like pallor and was
flushed with a faint, exquisite rose; the wooden, slightly vacant
expression was gone; she walked with a lissome, conscious grace which
he had not before observed, and the slow, enigmatic smile with which
she greeted him held much that was significant behind it.
"You did not keep your appointment with me yesterday--why, mademoiselle?"
asked Blaine, quietly.
"Because it was impossible, m'sieu," she returned. "I could not get
away. Madame--the wife of M'sieu Franklin--would not allow me to leave
the children. This is the first opportunity I have had to come."
"And what have you to report?" he asked, watching her narrowly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Very little, M'sieu Blaine. Yesterday the president of the Street
Railways, M'sieu Mallowe, called on the minister, and remained for
more than an hour. I could not hear their conversation--they were in
the library; but just as M'sieu Mallowe was taking his departure I
passed through the hall, and heard him say:
"'You must try to persuade her, Mr. Franklin; you have more influence
over her than anyone else, even I. Miss Lawton must really go away for
a time. It is the only thing that will save her health, her reason!
She can do nothing here to aid in the search for young Hamilton, and
the suspense is killing her. Try to get her to take our advice and go
away, if only for a few days.'"
"What did Dr. Franklin reply?"
"I did not hear it all. I could not linger in the hall without
arousing suspicion. Dr. Franklin agreed that Miss Lawton was ill and
should go away, and he said he would try to induce her to go--that
M'sieu Mallowe was undoubtedly right, and he was delighted that he
took such an interest in Miss Lawton."
She paused, and after a moment Blaine asked:
"And that is all?"
"Yes, m'sieu." The French girl half turned as if to take her
departure, but he stayed her by a gesture.
"You have nothing else to report? How about Paddington?" He shot the
question at her tersely, his eyes never leaving her face, but she did
not flinch.
"M'sieu Paddington?" she repeated demurely. "I have nothing to tell
you of him."
"You didn't try, then, to lead him on, as I suggested--to get him to
talk about Miss Lawton, or the people who were employing him? You have
not seen him?"
"M'sieu Blaine, I could not do that!" she cried, ignoring his last
question. "I would do much, anything that I could for Miss Lawton, but
she would be the last to ask of me that I should lead a man on to--to
make love to me, in order to betray him! I will do anything that is
possible to find out for Miss Lawton and for you, m'sieu, all that I
can by keeping my ears open in the house of the minister, but as to
M'sieu Paddington--I will not play such a role with any man, even to
please Miss Lawton."
"Yet you have been meeting him in the park." The detective leaned
forward in his chair and spoke gently, as if merely reminding the girl
of some insignificant fact which she had presumably forgotten, yet
there was that in his tone which made her stiffen, and she replied
impulsively, with a warning flash of her eyes:
"What do you mean, m'sieu? How do you know? I--I told you I had
nothing to report concerning M'sieu Paddington, nothing which could be
of service to Miss Lawton, and it is quite true. I--I did meet M'sieu
Paddington in the park, but it was simply an accident."
"And was the locket and chain an accident, too? That locket which you
are wearing at the present moment, mademoiselle?"
"The locket--" Her hand strayed to her neck and convulsively clasped
the bauble of cheap, bright gold hanging there. "What do you know of
my locket, M'sieu Blaine?"
"I know that Paddington purchased it for you two or three days
ago--that he gave it to you that night in the park, and you allowed
him to take you in his arms and kiss you!"
"Stop! How can you know that!" she stormed at him, stepping forward
slightly, a deep flush dyeing her face. "He did not tell you! You have
had me watched, followed, spied upon! It is intolerable! To think that
I should be treated as if I were unworthy of trust. I have been
faithful, loyal to Miss Lawton, but this is too much! I have not
questioned M'sieu Paddington; I know nothing of his affairs, but I
like him, I--I admire him very much, and if I desire to meet him, to
receive his attentions, I shall do so. I am not harming Miss Lawton,
who has been my _patronne_, my one friend in this strange, big
country. M'sieu Paddington does not know that I am working at Dr.
Franklin's under your instructions, and I shall never betray to him
the confidence Miss Lawton has reposed in me. But I shall do no more;
it is finished. That I should be suspected--"
"But you are not, my dear young woman!" interposed Blaine, mildly. "It
was not you who was followed, spied upon, as you call it. For Miss
Lawton's sake, because she is in trouble, we are interested just now
in Paddington's movements, and naturally my operative was not aware
that it was to meet you he went to the park."
"_N'importe!_" Fifine exclaimed. The color had receded from her face,
and a deathly white pallor had superseded it. She retreated a step or
two, and continued defiantly: "This afternoon I resign from the
service of Dr. Franklin! I do not believe that M'sieu Paddington is an
enemy of Miss Lawton; nothing shall make me believe that he, who is
the soul of honor, of chivalry, would harm her, or cause her any
trouble, and I do not like this work, this spying and treachery and
deceit! That is your profession, m'sieu, not mine; I only consented
because Miss Lawton had been kind to me, and I desired to aid her in
her trouble, if I could. But that he--that I--should be suspected and
watched, and treated like criminals, oh, it is insufferable. To-day,
also, I leave the Anita Lawton Club. You shall find some one else to
play detective for you--you and Miss Lawton!"
With an indignant swirl of her skirts, she turned and made for the
door, in a tempest of rage; but on the threshold his voice stayed
her.
"Wait! Miss Lawton has befriended you, and now, because of a man of
whom you know nothing, you desert her cause. Is that loyalty,
mademoiselle? We shall not ask you to remain at Dr. Franklin's any
longer; Miss Lawton does not wish unwilling service from anyone. But
for your own sake, go back to the club, and remain there until a
position is open to you which is to your liking. You are a young girl
in a strange country, as you say, and at least you know the club to be
a safe place for you. Do not trust this man Paddington, or anyone
else; it is not wise."
"I shall not listen to you!" she cried, her voice rising shrill and
high-pitched in her excitement. "You shall not say such things of
M'sieu Paddington! He is brave and good, while you--you are a spy, an
eavesdropper, a delver into the private affairs of others. I do not
know what this trouble may be, which Miss Lawton is in, and I am sorry
for her, that she should suffer, but I shall have nothing more to do
with the case, nor with you, m'sieu! _Au revoir!_"
"Whew!" breathed Blaine to himself, as the door closed after her with
a slam. "What a firebrand! She may not have actually betrayed us to
Paddington in so many words, but it isn't necessary to look far for
the one who warned him that he was being watched, and put him on his
guard, all unknowingly, that the whole scheme in which he is so deeply
involved, was in jeopardy. Oh, these women! Let them once lose their
heads over a man, and they upset all one's plans!"
Blaine arrived promptly within the hour at the house on Belleair
Avenue. Anita Lawton received him as before in the library. He
observed with deep concern that she was a mere shadow of her former
self. The slenderness which had been one of her girlish charms had
become almost emaciation; her eyes were glassily bright, and in the
waxen pallor of her cheeks a feverish red spot burned.
She smiled wanly as he pressed her hand, and her pale lips trembled,
but no words came.
"My poor child!" the great detective found himself saying from the
depths of his fatherly heart. "You are positively ill! This will never
do. You are not keeping your promise to me."
"I am trying hard to, Mr. Blaine." Anita motioned toward a chair and
sank into another with a little gasp of sheer exhaustion. "You have
never failed yet, and you have given me your word that you would bring
Ramon back to me. I try to have faith, but with every hour that
passes, hope dies within me, and I can feel that my strength, my will
to believe, is dying, too. I know that you must be doing your utmost,
exerting every effort, and yet I cannot resist the longing to urge you
on, to try to express to you the torture of uncertainty and dread
which consumes me unceasingly. That my father's fortune is gone means
nothing to me now. Only give me back Ramon alive and well, and I shall
ask no more!"
"I hope to be able to do that speedily," Blaine returned. "As I told
you over the telephone, I have positive proof that he is alive, and a
definite clue as to his whereabouts. You must ask me nothing further
now--only try to find faith in your heart for just a few days, perhaps
hours, longer. You 'phoned to Mrs. Hamilton, as I suggested?"
"Yes. She demurred at first, dreading the notoriety, and not--not
appearing to believe in your ability as I do, but I simply refused to
listen to her objections. Mr. Carlis called me up shortly afterward,
and wanted to know if I would be able to receive him this afternoon,
on a matter connected with my finances, but I told him I had retained
you to search for Ramon, and was expecting you at any moment. He
seemed greatly astonished, and warned me of the--he called it
'useless'--expense. He begged me not to be impatient, to wait until I
had time to think the matter over and consult himself and Mr. Mallowe,
saying that they were both doing all that could be done to locate
Ramon, and Mr. Rockamore was, also, but I told him it was too late,
that you were on your way here."
"That was right. I am glad you told him. The fact that you have
retained me to search for Mr. Hamilton will appear as a scoop in every
evening paper which he controls, now, and the more publicity given to
it, the better. You told me over the 'phone that Mr. Rockamore calls
upon you every day?"
"Yes. I try to be cordial to him, but for some reason which I can't
explain I dislike him more than either of the others. I don't know why
he comes so often, for he says very little, only sits and stares at
that chair--the chair in which my father died--until I feel that I
should like to scream. It seems to exert the same strange, uncanny
influence over him as it does over me--that chair. More than once,
when he has been announced, I have entered to find him standing close
beside it, looking down at it as if my father were seated there once
more and he was talking to him, I don't in the least know why, but the
thought seems to prey on my mind--perhaps because the chair fascinates
me, too, in a queer way that is half repulsion."
"You are morbid, Miss Lawton--you must not allow such fancies to grow,
or they will soon take possession of you, in your weakened state, and
become an obsession. Tell me, have you heard anything from the club
girls we established in your guardian's offices?"
"Oh, yes! I had forgotten completely in my excitement and joy over
your news of Ramon, vague though it is, that there was something
important which I wanted to tell you. Since Margaret Hefferman's
dismissal, all my girls have been sent away from the positions I
obtained for them--all except Fifine Dechaussee."
"And she resigned not an hour ago," remarked the detective rather
grimly, supplementing the fact, with as many details as he thought
necessary.
Anita listened in silence until he had finished.
"Poor girl! Poor Fifine! What a pity that she should fancy herself in
love with such a man as you describe this Paddington to be! She must
be persuaded to remain in the club, of course; we cannot allow her to
leave us now. I feel responsible for her, and especially so since it
was indirectly because of me, or while she was in my service, at any
rate, that she met this man. If she is all that you say, she could
never be happy if she married him."
"There's small chance of that. He has a wife already. She left him
years ago, and runs a boarding-house somewhere on Hill Street, I
believe," Blaine replied. "I don't fancy he'll add bigamy to the rest
of his nefarious acts. But tell me of the other girls. They did not
report to me."
"Poor little Agnes Olson was dismissed yesterday. She is a spineless
sort of creature, you know, without much self-assurance, or
initiative, and I believe she had quite a scene with Mr. Carlis
before she left. She was on the switchboard, if you remember, and
as well as I was able to understand from her, he caught her listening
in on his private connection. She reached the club in an hysterical
condition, and I told them to put her to bed and care for her. I
ought to be there myself now, at work, for I have lost my best helper,
but I am too distraught over Ramon to think of anything else. My
secretary--the girl you saw there at the club and asked me about, do
you remember?--did not appear yesterday, but telephoned her
resignation, saying she was leaving town. I cannot understand it,
for I would have counted on her faithfulness before any of the
rest, but so many things have happened lately which I can't
comprehend, so many mysteries and disappointments and anxieties, that
I can scarcely think or feel any more. It seems as if I were really
dead, as if my emotions were all used up. I can't cry, even when I
think of Ramon--I can only suffer."
"I know. I can imagine what you must be trying to endure just now,
Miss Lawton, but please believe that it will not last much longer. And
don't worry about your secretary; Emily Brunell will be with you again
soon, I think."
"Emily Brunell!" repeated Anita, in surprise. "You know, then?"
"Yes. And, strange as it may seem, she is indirectly concerned in the
conspiracy against you, but innocently so. You will understand
everything some day. What about the Irish girl, Loretta Murfree?"
"President Mallowe's filing clerk? He dismissed her only this morning,
on a trumped-up charge of incompetence. He has been systematically
finding fault with her for several days, as if trying to discover a
pretext for discharging her, so she wasn't unprepared. She's here now,
having some lunch, up in my dressing-room. Would you like to talk with
her?"
"I would, indeed," he assented, nodding as Anita pressed the bell.
"She seemed the brightest and most wide-awake young woman of the lot.
If anyone could have obtained information of value to us, I fancy she
could. Did she have anything to say to you about Mr. Mallowe?"
"I would rather she told you herself," Anita replied, hesitatingly,
with the ghost of a smile. "Whatever she said about him was strictly
personal, and of a distinctly uncomplimentary nature. There is nothing
spineless about Loretta!"
When the young Irish girl appeared in response to Anita's summons, her
eyes and mouth opened wide in amazement at sight of the detective.
"Oh, sir, it's you!" she exclaimed. "I was going down to your office
this afternoon, to tell you that I had been discharged. Mr. Mallowe
himself turned me off this morning. I'm not saying this to excuse
myself, but it was honestly through no fault of mine. The old
man--gentleman--has been trying for days to get rid of me. I knew it,
so I've been especially careful in my work, and cheerful and smiling
whenever he appeared on the scene--like this!"
She favored them with a grimace which was more like the impishly
derisive grin of a street urchin than a respectful smile, and
continued:
"This morning I caught him mixing up the letters in the files with his
own hands, and when he blamed me for it later, I saw that it was no
use. He was bound to get rid of me in some way or another, so I didn't
tell him what I thought of him, but came away peaceably--which is a
lot to ask of anybody with a drop of Irish blood in their veins, in a
case like that! However, I learned enough while I was in that office,
of his manipulations of the street railway stock, to make me glad I've
got a profession and am not sitting around waiting for dividends to be
paid. If the people ever wake up, and the District Attorney indicts
him, I hope to goodness they put me on the stand, that's all."
"Why has he tried to get rid of you? Do you think he suspected the
motive for your being in his employ?" asked Blaine, when she paused
for breath.
"No, he couldn't, for I never gave him a chance," she responded. "He's
a sly one, too, padding around the offices like a cat, in his soft
slippers; and he looks for all the world like a cat, with the sleek
white whiskers of him! Excuse me, Miss Lawton, I don't mean to be
disrespectful, but he's trying, the old gentleman is! I think he got
suspicious of me when Margaret Hefferman made such a botch of her job
with Mr. Rockamore, and yesterday afternoon when Mr. Carlis caught
Agnes Olson listening in--oh, I know all about that, too!--he got
desperate. That's why he mixed up the files this morning, for an
excuse to discharge me."
"How did you know about Agnes Olson?" asked Blaine quickly. "Did she
tell you?"
"No, I heard it from Mr. Carlis himself!" returned Loretta, with a
reminiscent grin. "He came right straight around to Mr. Mallowe and
told him all about it, and a towering rage he was in, too! 'Do you
think the little devil's sold us?' he asked. Meaning no disrespect to
you, Miss Lawton, it was you he was talking about, for he added: 'She
gets her girls into our offices on a whining plea of charity, and they
all turn out crooked, spying and listening in, and taking notes.
Remember Rockamore's experience with the one he took? Do you suppose
that innocent, big-eyed, mealy-mouthed brat of Pennington Lawton's
suspects us?'
"'Hold your tongue, for God's sake!' old Mr. Mallowe growled at him.
'I've got one of them in there, a filing clerk.'"
"'Then you'd better get rid of her before she tries any tricks,'
Mr. Carlis said. 'I believe that girl is deeper than she looks, for
all her trusting way. I always did think she took the news of her
father's bankruptcy too d--n' calmly to be natural, even under the
circumstances. Kick her protegee out, Mallowe, unless you're
looking for more trouble. I'm not.'"
"What did Mr. Mallowe reply?" Blaine asked.
"I don't know. His private secretary came into the office where I was
just then, and I had to pretend to be busy to head off any suspicion
from him. Mr. Carlis left soon after, and I could feel his eyes boring
into the back of my neck as he passed through the room. Mr. Mallowe
sent for me almost immediately, to find an old letter for him, from
one of the files of two years ago, and it was funny, the suspicious,
worried way he kept watching me!"
"There is nothing else you can tell us?" the detective inquired.
"Nothing out of the usual run happened while you were there?"
"Nothing, except that a couple of days ago, he had an awful row with a
man who called on him. It was about money matters, I think, and the
old gentleman got very much excited. 'Not a cent!' he kept repeating,
louder and louder, until he fairly shouted. 'Not one more cent will
you get from me. This systematic extortion of yours must come to an
end here and now! I've done all I'm going to, and you'd better
understand that clearly.' Then the other man, the visitor, got angry,
too, and they went at it hammer and tongs. At last, Mr. Mallowe must
have lost his head completely, for he accused the other man of robbing
his safe. At that, the visitor got calm and cool as a cucumber, all of
a sudden, and began to question Mr. Mallowe. It seems from what I
heard--I can't recall the exact words--that not very long ago, the
night watchman in the offices was chloroformed and the safe ransacked,
but nothing was taken except a letter.
"'You're mad!' the strange man said. 'Why in h--l should anybody take
a letter, and leave packets of gilt-edged bonds and other securities
lying about untouched?'
"'Because the letter happens to be one you would very much like to
have in your possession, Paddington,' the old gentleman said. Oh, I
forgot to tell you that the visitor's name was Paddington, but that
doesn't matter, does it? 'Do you know what it was?' Mr. Mallowe went
on. 'It was a certain letter which Pennington Lawton wrote to me from
Long Bay two years ago. Now do you understand?'"
"'You fool!' said Paddington. 'You fool, to keep it! You gave your
word that you would destroy it! Why didn't you?'
"'Because, I thought it might come in useful some day, just as it has
now,' the old gentleman fairly whined. 'It was good circumstantial
evidence.'
"'Yes--fine!' Paddington said, with a bitter kind of a laugh. 'Fine
evidence, for whoever's got it now!'
"'You know very well who's got it!' cried Mr. Mallowe. 'You don't pull
the wool over my eyes! And I don't mean to buy it back from you,
either, if that's your game. You can keep it, for all I care; it's
served its purpose now, and you won't get another penny from me!'
"Well, I wish you could have heard them, then!" Loretta continued,
with gusto. "They carried on terribly; the whole office could hear
them. It was as good as a play--the strange man, Paddington denying
right up to the last that he knew anything about the robbery, and Mr.
Mallowe accusing him, and threatening and bluffing it out for all he
was worth! But in the end, he paid the man some money, for I remember
he insisted on having the check certified, and the secretary himself
took it over to the bank. I don't know for what amount it was drawn."
"Why didn't you tell me that before, Loretta?" asked Anita,
reproachfully. "I mean, about the--the names Mr. Carlis called me, and
his suspicions. I wish I'd known it half an hour ago, when he
telephoned to me!"
"That's just why I didn't tell you, Miss Lawton!" responded Loretta,
with a flash of her white teeth.
"Mr. Blaine told me to report to him this afternoon, and I meant to,
but he didn't tell me to talk to anyone else, even you. When you asked
me to undertake this for you, you said I was to do just what Mr.
Blaine directed, and I've tried to. It was on the tip of my tongue to
tell you, but I thought I'd better not, at least until I had seen Mr.
Blaine. I was sure that if I said anything to you about it, you would
let Mr. Carlis see your resentment the next time he called, and then
he and Old Mr. Mallowe would get their heads together, and find out
that their suspicions of all of us girls were correct. You wouldn't
want that."
"Miss Murfree is quite right," Blaine interposed. "You must be very
careful, Miss Lawton, not to allow Mr. Carlis to discover that you
know anything whatever of that conversation--at least just yet."
"I'll try, but it will be difficult, I am afraid," Anita murmured. "I
am not accustomed to--to accepting insults. Ah! if Ramon were only
here!"
Wilkes, the butler, appeared at the door just then, with a card, and
Anita read it aloud.
"Mr. Mallowe."
"Oh, gracious, let me go, Miss Lawton!" exclaimed Loretta. "I've told
you everything that I can think of, and if he sees me, it will spoil
Mr. Blaine's plans, maybe?"
"Yes, he must not find you here!" the detective agreed hurriedly.
"I'll communicate with you at the club if I need you again, Miss
Murfree. You have been of great service to both Miss Lawton and
myself."
When they were alone for the moment before the street-railway
president appeared, Blaine turned to Anita.
"You will try to be very courageous, and follow whatever lead I give
you?" he asked. "This interview may prove trying for you."
Anita had only time to nod before Mr. Mallowe stood before them. He
paused for a moment, glanced inquiringly at Blaine and then advanced
to Anita with outstretched hand. If he had ever seen the detective
before, he gave no sign.
"My dear child!" he murmured, unctuously. "I trust you are feeling a
little stronger this afternoon--a little brighter and more hopeful?"
"Very much more hopeful, thank you, Mr. Mallowe," returned the young
girl, steadily. "I have enlisted in my cause the greatest of all
investigators. Allow me to present Mr. Henry Blaine."
"Mr. Blaine," Mallowe repeated, bowing with supercilious urbanity. "Do
I understand that this is the private detective of whom I have heard
so much?"
Blaine returned his salutation coolly, but did not speak, and Anita
replied for him.
"Yes, Mr. Mallowe, Mr. Blaine is going to find Ramon for me!"
Mallowe shook his head slowly, with a mournful smile.
"Ah! my dear!" he sighed. "I do not want to dampen your hopes, heaven
knows, but I very much fear that that will be an impossible task, even
for one of Mr. Blaine's unquestioned renown."
"Still, it is always possible to try," the detective returned, looking
levelly into Mallowe's eyes. "Personally, I am very sanguine of
success."
"Everything is being done that can be of any use now," the other man
observed hurriedly. "Do I understand, Mr. Blaine, that Miss Lawton has
definitely retained you on this case?"
Blaine nodded, and Mallowe turned to Anita.
"Really, my dear, you should have consulted me, or some other of your
father's old friends, before taking such a step!" he expostulated. "It
will only bring added notoriety and trouble to you. I do not mean to
underestimate Mr. Blaine's marvelous ability, which is recognized
everywhere, but even he can scarcely succeed in locating Mr. Hamilton
where we, with all the resources at our command, have failed. Mark my
words, my dear Anita; if Ramon Hamilton returns, it will be
voluntarily, of his own free will. Until--unless he so decides, you
will never see him. It is too bad to have summoned Mr. Blaine here on
a useless errand, but I am sure he quite understands the situation
now."
"I do," responded the detective quietly. "I have accepted the case."
"But surely you will withdraw?" The older man's voice rose cholerically.
"Miss Lawton is a mere girl, a minor, in fact--"
"I am over eighteen, Mr. Mallowe," interposed Anita quietly.
"Until your proper guardian is appointed by the courts," Mallowe
cried, "you are nominally under my care, mine and others of your
father's closest associates. This is a delicate matter to discuss now,
Mr. Blaine," he added, in calmer tones, turning to the detective, "but
since this seems to be a business interview, we must touch upon the
question of finances. I know that the fee you naturally require must
be a large one, and I am in duty bound to tell you that Miss Lawton
has absolutely no funds at her disposal to reimburse you for your time
and trouble. Whatever fortune she may be possessed of, she cannot
touch now."
"Miss Lawton has already fully reimbursed me--in advance," returned
Henry Blaine calmly. "That question need cause you no further concern,
Mr. Mallowe, nor need you have any doubt as to my position in this
matter. I'm on this case, and I'm on it to stay! I'm going to find
Ramon Hamilton!"