LESLIE'S STORY.
"I shall not weary you with a long story," began Leslie Warburton; "this
is not the time for it, and I am not in the mood. My husband lies above
us, hopelessly ill. My little step-daughter is lost, and in Heaven only
knows what danger. My brother-in-law is a hunted man, accused of the
most atrocious of crimes. And I feel that I am the unhappy cause of all
these calamities. If I have erred, I am doubly punished. Let me give you
the bare facts, Mr. Stanhope; such details as you may wish can be
supplied hereafter.
"I am, as you have been told, the adopted child of Thomas Uliman, of the
late firm of Uliman & French. Until his death, I had supposed myself to
be his own child. During the last year of my adopted father's life, it
was his dearest wish that I should marry his friend, Archibald
Warburton, and we became affianced. After the death of my adopted
father, Mr. Warburton urged a speedy marriage, and we fixed a day for
the ceremony.
"Less than a week later, it became necessary to overlook my father's
papers, in the search for some missing document. After looking through
his secretary, and examining a great many papers without finding the one
for which I searched, I remembered that my mother's desk contained many
papers. As the missing document referred to some property held by them
jointly, I made a search there. She had been dead for more than a year,
and all her keys were in my possession, but until that day I had never
had the courage to approach her desk.
"Searching among her papers, I found one which had never been intended
for my eyes. It was folded tightly, and crowded into a tiny space behind
a little drawer. My mother's death was quite sudden; had she died of a
lingering sickness, the paper would doubtless have been destroyed, for
it furnished proof that I was not the child of Thomas Uliman and his
wife, Mathilde, but an adopted daughter, while I was represented in the
will as their only child. The paper I found was in my father's writing,
and by it, Franz Francoise and his wife, Martha--"
"What!" The exclamation fell involuntarily from Stanhope's lips. Then
checking himself, he said quietly: "I beg your pardon; proceed."
"Franz Francoise and his wife, Martha, by this paper resigned all claim
to the child, Leschen, for a pecuniary consideration. The child was to
be rechristened Leslie Uliman, and legally adopted by the Ulimans, the
two Francoises agreeing never to approach or claim her.
"Imagine my consternation and grief! With this paper in my hand, I went
straight to Mr. Follingsbee. He had known the truth from the first, but
assured me that the Ulimans had never intended that I should learn it. I
had been legally adopted, and the little fortune they had left me was
lawfully mine.
"Then I told the story to my intended husband, and, knowing his pride,
offered him a release. He only laughed at my Quixotism, and hastened the
marriage preparations, bidding me never, under any circumstances, allude
to the subject again. Soon after that, I was approached by the
Francoises--you have seen them?" lifting her eyes to his face.
"Yes."
"Then I need not tell you the miseries of my various interviews with
them. They had learned that I was alone in the world, and they came to
claim me; I was their child. Holding, as I did, the proofs of adoption,
many women would have accepted their claim; I could not. My soul arose
in revolt; every throb of my heart beat against them. If nature's voice
ever speaks, it spoke in me against their claim. Not against their age,
their poverty, or their ignorance; but against the greed, the
selfishness, the vileness that was too much a part of them to remain
hidden. Sooner than acknowledge their claim, I would have died by my own
hand. They wanted money, and with that I purchased a respite. Then my
great temptation came.
"Archibald Warburton had bidden me never to speak again on the subject
of my parentage--why not take him at his word? If I broke off my
marriage with him, I must give a reason; and the true reason I would
never give. Not even to Mr. Follingsbee would I tell the truth. I kept
my secret; and after much hesitation, the Francoises accepted the larger
share of my little fortune, and swore never to approach me again,--to
leave the city forever. I believed myself safe then, and married Mr.
Warburton.
"The rest you can guess. Finding that I had married a wealthy man,
disregarding their oaths, the Francoises came back, and renewed their
persecutions. And I was more than ever in their power. They forced me to
visit them when they would. Their demands for money increased. I grew
desperate at last, and on the night of the masquerade, I went in
obedience to an imperative summons, resolved that it should be the last
time."
She paused here and looked, for the first time since the beginning of
her recital, straight into the face of the detective, who, sitting with
his body bent forward and his eyes fixed upon her, seemed yet to be
listening after her words had ceased, so intent was his gaze, so
absorbed his manner.
Thus a moment of silence passed. Then Stanhope, withdrawing his eyes,
and leaning back in his seat, asked suddenly:
"Is that all?"
"It is not all, Mr. Stanhope. On the night of the masquerade, while I
was absent from the house no doubt, my little step-daughter
disappeared."
"I know."
"You have heard it, of course. I believe that I know why, and by whom,
she was abducted."
"Ah!"
"I suspect the Francoises."
"Why?"
"I love the child, and they know it. She will be another weapon in their
hands. Besides, if I cannot, or will not reclaim her, there is the
reward."
Richard Stanhope leaned forward, and slightly lifted his right hand.
"Is there any one else who would be benefited by the death or
disappearance of the child?" he asked.
Leslie started, and the hot blood rushed to her face.
"I--I don't understand," she faltered.
"Do you know the purport of your husband's will."
"Yes."
"How does he dispose of his large property?"
"One third to me; the rest to little Daisy."
"And his brother?"
"Alan possesses an independent fortune."
"Are there no contingencies?"
"In case of my death, all comes to Daisy, Alan becoming her guardian. In
case of Daisy's death, Alan and I share equally."
"Then by the loss of this child, both you and the young man become
richer."
"Ah!" she gasped, "I had never thought of _that_!"
"Mrs. Warburton, beginning at the moment when you left this house to
visit the Francoises, will you tell me all that transpired, up to the
time of your escape from their house?"
With cheeks flushing and paling, and voice tremulous with the excitement
of some new, strange thought, she described to him the scene in the
Francoises' house.
"So," thought Stanhope, when all was told, "Mr. Alan Warburton's
presence at that special moment was strangely opportune. Why was he
there? What does he know of the Francoises? The plot thickens, and I
would not be in Alan Warburton's shoes for all the Warburton wealth."
But, aloud, he only said:
"Thanks, Mrs. Warburton. If you are correct in your suspicions, and the
Francoises have stolen the child, they will approach you sooner or
later. Should they do so, make no terms with them, but communicate with
me at once."
"By letter?"
"No; through the morning papers. Use this form."
Taking from his pocket a note-book, he wrote upon a leaf a few words,
tore it from the book, and put it into her hand.
"That is safer than a letter," he said, rising. "One word more, madam.
Tell Alan Warburton to be doubly guarded against Van Vernet. His danger
increases at every step. Now we will call Mr. Follingsbee."
"One moment, Mr. Stanhope. Alan has employed detectives to search for
Daisy, but none of them know what you know. Will _you_ find her for me?"
She held out her hands appealingly.
The detective looked at her in silence for a moment, then, striding
forward, he took the outstretched hands in both his own, and gazing down
into her face said, gently:
"I will serve you to the extent of my power, dear lady. I will find the
little one, if I can."
Mr. Follingsbee had passed his hour of waiting in the most comfortable
manner possible, fast asleep in a big lounging-chair. Being aroused, he
departed with Stanhope, manifesting no curiosity concerning the outcome
of the detective's visit.
While their footsteps yet lingered on the outer threshold, Winnie French
came flying down the stairway.
"Come quick!" she cried to Leslie. "Archibald is worse; he is dying!"
* * * * *
"I will serve you to the extent of my power," Richard Stanhope had said,
holding Leslie Warburton's hands in his, and looking straight into her
appealing eyes. "I will find the little one, if I can."
Nevertheless he went straight to the Agency, and, standing before his
Chief, said:
"I am ready to begin work for Mr. Parks, sir. I shall quit the Agency
to-day. Give Vernet my compliments, and tell him I wish him success. It
may be a matter of days, weeks, or months, but you will not see me here
again until I can tell you _who killed Arthur Pearson_."