VERNET ON THE TRAIL.
The discovery made by Van Vernet, on the day of his visit to the
Warburton mansion, aroused him to wonderful activity, and made him more
than ever eager to ferret out the hiding-place of Papa Francoise, who,
he felt assured, could throw much light upon the mystery surrounding the
midnight murder.
He set a constant watch upon the deserted Francoise house, and kept the
dwelling of the Warburtons under surveillance, while he, in person,
gravitated between these two points of interest, during the time when he
was not employed in collecting items of information concerning the
Warburton family. Little by little he gathered his bits of family
history, and was now familiar with many facts concerning the invalid
master of the house and his second marriage, and the travelled and
aristocratic brother, who, so rumor said, was proud as a crown-prince,
and blameless as Sir Galahad.
"These immaculate fellows are not to my taste," muttered Van Vernet, on
the morning following the day when Stanhope held his last interview with
Leslie, as he took his station at a convenient point of observation,
prepared to pass the forenoon in watching the Warburton mansion.
His first glance toward the massive street-door caused him to start and
mutter an imprecation. The bell was muffled, and the door-plate hidden
beneath heavy folds of crape.
Archibald Warburton was dead. The hand that stole his little one had
struck his death-blow, as surely as if by a dagger thrust. His feeble
frame, unable to endure those long days of suspense, had given his soul
back to its origin, his body back to nature.
Within was a household doubly stricken; without, a two-fold danger
menaced.
"So," muttered Van Vernet, as he gazed upon this insignia of death; "so
my patron is dead; that stately, haughty aristocrat has lost all
interest in his wife's secrets. Well, so have I--but I have transferred
my interest to his brother, Alan Warburton. Death caused by shock
following loss of his little daughter, no doubt. That tall, straight
seigneur looked like a man able to outlive a shock, too."
He was not at all ruffled by the sudden taking-off of the man he
supposed to be his patron. He had not made a single step toward the
clearing-up of the mystery surrounding the goings and comings of Mrs.
Archibald Warburton. His discovery of Stanhope at the masked ball, and
his machinations consequent upon that discovery, together with the
fiasco of the Raid and all its after-results, had made it impossible
that he could interest himself in what he considered "merely a bit of
domestic intrigue."
He was not sorry that Archibald Warburton was dead, and he resolved to
profit by that death.
Since the discovery of Alan Warburton's picture, Van Vernet's mind had
been drifting toward dangerous conclusions.
Suppose this wealthy aristocrat and the Sailor assassin should prove
the same, what would follow? Might he not naturally conclude that a
secret existed between Alan Warburton and the Francoises, and, if so,
what was the nature of that secret? Why was Alan Warburton, if it were
he, absent from his house on a night of festivity, a night when he
should have been making merry with his brother's guests?
If he were in league with those outlaws of the slums, it was not for
plunder; surely the Warburtons were rich enough. What, then, was the
secret which that stately mansion concealed?
"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush," quoted Vernet, grimly.
"That Sailor assassin first--the Warburton skeleton first. They are
almost under my hand, and once I grasp them, my clutch is upon the
Warburton millions, too."
The morning was yet early, there was quiet in the street and Van Vernet,
wearing for convenience sake the uniform of a policeman, paced slowly
down toward the house of mourning. As he neared the street-corner, two
women, beggars evidently, came hurrying around the corner straight
toward him.
At sight of his uniform the larger and elder of the two, a stout woman
with a vicious face, a sharp eye, and head closely muffled in a ragged
shawl, started slightly. Then with a furtive glance and a fawning
obeisance, she hurried her companion past him, and down the street.
This companion, a younger woman, her face covered with bruises and red
with dissipation, walked with a painful limp, and the hesitating air of
the blind, her eyes tightly shut and the lids quivering.
"Playing blind," muttered Vernet, as they hastened past him. "If I were
the regular officer here, I'd have them out of this; as it is--"
He gave a shrug of indifference and glanced back over his shoulder.
The two women had halted before the Warburton mansion, and the elder one
was looking up at the crape-adorned door.
Then she glanced backward toward the officer, who seemed busy
contemplating the antics of a pair of restive horses that were coming
down the street. Seeing him thus employed, she darted down the
basement-stairs, dragging her stumbling companion after her.
Suddenly losing his interest in the prancing horses, Van Vernet turned
and hastily approached the mansion, screened from the view of the two
women by the massive stone steps.
Even a beggar, of the ordinary type, respects the house of mourning. And
as he drew near them, Vernet mentally assured himself that these were no
ordinary mendicants.
They were standing close to the basement-entrance. And as he stealthily
approached, he saw that the elder woman put into the hand of the
servant, who had opened the door, a folded paper which she took
reluctantly, glanced down at, and with a sullen nod put into the pocket
of her apron. Then, without a word to the two beggars, she closed and
locked the door, while they, seeming not in the least disconcerted,
turned and moved leisurely up the basement-stairs.
They would have passed Vernet hurriedly, but he put out his hand and
said:
"Look here, my good souls, don't you know that this is no place for
beggars? You can't be very old in the business or you'd never trouble a
house where you see _that_ on the door." And pointing to the badge of
mourning, he concluded his oration: "Be off, now, and thank fortune that
I'm a good-natured fellow."
The woman muttered something after the usual mendicant fashion, and
hastened away down the street.
At the same moment the prancing horses, held to a walk by the firm hand
of their stout driver, came opposite the mansion, and a face muffled in
folds of crape looked out from the carriage.
But Van Vernet had now no eyes for the horses, the carriage, or its
occupant.
Noting, with a hasty glance, the direction taken by the two women, he
sprang down the basement-steps and rang the bell.
The servant who had opened to the women, again appeared at the door.
"What do _you_ want?" she asked, crossly; for being an honest servant
she had no fear of the blue coat and brass buttons of the law.
The bogus policeman touched his hat and greeted her with an affable
smile.
"I beg your pardon," he said; "I thought you might be annoyed by those
beggars. I can remove them if you enter a complaint. I saw that they
gave you some kind of a paper; a begging letter, probably. Just give it
to me, and I will see that they don't intrude again upon people who are
in trouble enough."
He extended his hand for the letter; but the servant drew back, and
answered hastily:
"Don't bother yourself. I've had my orders, and I guess when I don't
want beggars around, I know how to send them to the right-about."
And without waiting to note the effect of her speech, she shut the door
in his face, leaving him to retreat as the two beggars had done.
[Illustration: "Be off, now, and thank fortune that I am a good-natured
fellow."--page 181.]
Hastening up the steps he looked after the women, who were already
nearly two blocks away. Then, with one backward glance, he started off
in the same direction, keeping at a safe distance, but always in sight
of them.
"So," he mused, as he walked along, "the Warburton servant has had her
orders. That was precisely the information I wanted. These women were
not beggars, but messengers, and they brought no message of the ordinary
kind."
Suddenly he uttered a sharp ejaculation, and quickened his pace.
"That old woman--why, she answers perfectly the description given of
Mother Francoise! And if it _is_ Mother Francoise, she has undoubtedly
brought a message to Alan Warburton. If it is that old woman, I will
soon know it, for I shall not take my two eyes off her until I have
tracked her home."