As Diane entered, Mrs. Wappinger, dishevelled and distraught, was
standing in the hail, a slip of yellow paper in her hand.
"Oh, my dear, I'm so glad you've come! I'm just about crazy! Read this!"
Diane took the paper and read:
"D. and I are to be married to-night. Be ready to receive us
to-morrow.
CARLI."
"When did this come?" Diane asked, quickly.
"About half an hour ago. I sent for you at once."
"I see it's dated from Lakefield. Where's that?"
Mrs. Wappinger explained that Lakefield was a small winter health resort
some two hours by train from New York. She and Carli had stayed there,
more than once, at the Bay Tree Inn. He would naturally go to the same
hotel, only, when she had telephoned to it, a few minutes ago, she could
find no one of the name in residence. Under the circumstances, Diane
suggested, he would probably not give his name at all. There followed a
few minutes of silent reflection, during which Mrs. Wappinger gazed at
Diane, in the half-tearful helplessness of one not used to coping with
unusual situations.
"Won't you come in and sit down?" she asked, with a sudden realization
that they were still standing beneath the light in the hail.
"No," Diane answered, with decision; "it isn't worth while. May I have
the motor for an hour or so?"
"Why, certainly. But where are you going?"
"I'm going first to Mr. Pruyn's, and afterward to Lakefield."
"To Lakefield? Then I'll go with you. We could go in the car."
Diane negatived both suggestions. The motor might break down, or the
chauffeur might lose his way; the train would be safer. If any one went
with her, it would have to be Mr. Pruyn.
"But don't go to bed," she added, "or at least have some one to answer
the telephone, for I'll ring you up as soon as I have news for you."
"God bless you, dear," Mrs. Wappinger murmured. "I know you'll do your
best for me, and them. Keep the auto as long as you like; and if you
decide to go down in it, just say so to Laporte."
But Diane seemed to hesitate before going. A flush came into her cheek,
and she twisted her fingers in embarrassment.
"I wonder", she faltered, "if--if--you could let me have a little money?
I shall need some, and--and I haven't--any."
"Oh, my dear! my poor dear!"
Mrs. Wappinger bustled away, crumpling the notes she found in her desk
into a little ball, which she forced into Diane's hand. To forestall
thanks she thrust her toward the door, accompanying her down the steps,
and kissing her as she entered the automobile.
"Why, bless my 'eart, if it ain't the madam!"
This outburst was a professional solecism on the part of Fulton, the
English butler, at Derek Pruyn's, but it was wrung from him in sheer joy
at Diane's unexpected appearance.
"You'll excuse me, ma'am", he continued, recapturing his air of decorum,
"but I fair couldn't help it. We'll be awful pleased to see you, ma'am,
if I may make so bold as to say it--right down to the cat. It hasn't
been the same 'ouse since you went away, ma'am; and me and Mr. Simmons
has said so time and time again. You'll excuse me, ma'am, but--"
"You're very kind, Fulton, and so is Simmons, but I'm in a great hurry
now. Is Mr. Pruyn at home?"
"Why, no, he ain't, ma'am, and that's a fact. He's to dine out."
"Where?"
"I couldn't tell you that, ma'am; but perhaps Mr. Simmons would know. He
took Mr. Pruyn's evening clothes to the bank, and he was to change
there. If you'll wait a minute, ma'am, I'll ask him."
But when Simmons came he could only give the information that his master
was going to a "sort o' business banquet" at one of the great
restaurants or hotels. Moreover, Miss Dorothea had gone out, saying that
she would not be home to dinner.
"Then I must write a note," Diane said, with that air of natural
authority which had seemed almost lost from her manner. "Will you,
Fulton, be good enough to bring me a glass of wine and a few biscuits
while I write? I must ask you, Simmons, for a railway guide."
In Derek's own room she sat down at the desk where, six months ago, she
had arranged his letters on the night when he had returned from South
America. She had no time to indulge in memories, but a tremor shot
through her frame as she took up the pen and wrote on a sheet of paper
which he had already headed with a date:
"I have bad news for you, but I hope I may be in time to keep it from
being worse. I have reason to think that Dorothea has gone to
Lakefield to be married there to Carli Wappinger. Should there be any
mistake you will forgive me for disturbing you; but I think it well to
be prepared for extreme possibilities. I am, therefore, going to
Lakefield now--at once. A train at seven-fifteen will get there a
little after nine. There are other trains through the evening, the
latest being at five minutes after ten. Should this reach you in time
to enable you to take one of them, you will be wise to do so; but in
case it may be too late, you may count on me to do all that can be
done. Let some one be ready to answer the telephone all night. I shall
communicate with the house from the Bay Tree Inn. I must ask you again
to forgive me if I am interfering rashly in your affairs, but you can
understand that I have no time to take counsel or reflect.
"DIANE EVELETH."
[Illustration: DRAWN BY FRANK CRAIG
HAVING MADE A COPY OF THIS LETTER, SHE CALLED SIMMONS AND FULTON AND
GAVE THEM THEIR INSTRUCTIONS]
Having made a copy of this letter, she called Simmons and Fulton and
gave them their instructions. There had been an accident, she said, of
which she had been able to get only imperfect information, but it seemed
possible that Miss Dorothea was involved in it. She herself was hurrying
to Lakefield, and it would be Simmons' task to find Mr. Pruyn in time
for him to catch the ten-five train, at latest. He was to pack two
valises with all that Mr. Pruyn could require for a change. He was to
take one of the two letters, and one of the two valises, and go from
place to place, until he tracked his master down. Fulton was to say
nothing to alarm the other servants, merely informing Miss Dorothea's
maid that the young lady was absent for the night and that Mrs. Eveleth
was with her. He would take charge of the second letter and the second
valise, in case Mr. Pruyn should return to the house before Simmons
could find him. The important charge of the telephone was also to be in
Fulton's trust, and he was to answer all calls through the night. In
concluding her directions Diane acknowledged her relief in having two
lieutenants on whose silence, energy, and tact she could so thoroughly
depend. She committed the matter to their hands not merely as to Mr.
Pruyn's butler and valet, but as to his trusted friends, and in that
capacity she was sure they would do their duty and hold their tongues.
In a similar spirit, when she arrived, about half-past nine, at the Bay
Tree Inn, she asked for the manager, and took him into her confidence. A
runaway marriage, she informed him, had been planned to take place that
very night at Lakefield, and she had come there as the companion and
friend of a motherless girl, her object being to postpone the ceremony.
The manager listened with sympathy, and promised his help. As a matter
of fact, a gentleman had arrived, driving his own motor, that very
afternoon. He had put the machine in the garage, and taken a room, but
had not registered. Their season having scarcely begun, and the hotel
being empty, they were somewhat careless about such formalities. He
could only say that the young man was tall, fair, and slender, and
seemed to be a person of means. He believed, too, that at this very
minute he was smoking on the terrace before the door. If Diane had not
come up by another way she must have met him. She could step out on the
terrace and see for herself whether it was the person she was looking
for or not.
Being tolerably sure of that already, Diane preferred to complete her
arrangements first. She would ask for a room as near as possible to the
main door of the hotel, so that when the young lady arrived she could be
ushered directly into it. Fortunately the establishment was able to
offer her exactly what she required, one of the invalids' suites which
were a special feature of the house--a little sitting-room and bedroom
for the use of persons whose infirmities made a long walk between their
own apartments and the sun-parlor inadvisable. Having inspected and
accepted it, Diane bathed her face and smoothed her hair, after which
she stepped out to confront Mr. Wappinger.