It was eight o'clock and a crisp, clear morning. A stewardess was
offering tea and toast to Mrs. Patterson, the frail little lady whom
Anne had observed in a wheel-chair the afternoon before. Seen closely,
her face had a pathetic prettiness. With the delicate color in her soft
cheeks, she looked like a fading tea rose. Yet one knew at a glance that
she and bird-like Miss Sarah Drayton were sisters. There was the same
oval face--this hollowed and that plump; the same soft brown hair--this
wavy and that sleek; the same wide-open hazel eyes--these soft and
sombre, those bright as beads.
"If you drink a few spoonfuls, dear, you may feel more like eating,"
Miss Drayton's cheery voice was saying. "And do taste the toast. If
it's as good as it looks, you'll devour the last morsel."
Mrs. Patterson sipped the tea and nibbled a piece of toast. "It lacks
only one thing--an appetite," she announced, smiling at her sister as
she pushed aside the tray. "Did you hear that? I thought I heard--is it
a child crying?"
The stewardess started. "Gracious! I forgot her! A little girl's just
across from you, ma'am--an orphant, I guess. She's travelling alone with
her uncle. And he charged me express when he came on board to look after
her. Of course I forgot. My hands are that full my head won't hold it.
It's 'Vaughan here' and it's 'Vaughan there,' regular as clockwork. Why
ain't he called on me again?"
She trotted out and tapped on the door of the stateroom opposite. There
was a brief silence. Vaughan was about to knock again when the door
opened slowly. There stood a slim little girl struggling for
self-control, but her fright and misery were too much for her, and in
spite of herself tears trickled down her cheeks.
"She's an ugly little lady," thought Vaughan to herself.
Vaughan was wrong. The child had a piquant face, full of charm, and her
head and chin had the poise of a princess. She had fair straight hair,
almond-shaped hazel eyes under pencilled brows, and a nose "tip-tilted
like a flower." Peggy Callahan, whose acquaintance you will make later,
said she guessed it was because Anne's nose was so cute and darling that
her eyebrows and her eyes and her mouth all pointed at it. But now the
little face was dismal and splotched with tears, the tawny hair was
tousled, and the white frock and white hair-ribbons were crumpled.
"Were you knocking at my door?" Anne asked in a voice made steady with
difficulty.
"Yes, miss. I thought you might be sick. We heard you crying."
"Oh!" The pale face reddened. "I didn't know any one could hear. The
walls of these rooms aren't very thick, are they?"
"No, miss." In spite of herself, Vaughan smiled at the quaint dignity of
the child. "Don't you want me to change your frock? Dear me! I ought not
to have forgot you last night! And breakfast? You haven't had breakfast,
have you?"
"No. Are you the--the--" Anne drew her brows together, in an earnest
search for a forgotten word.
"I'm the stewardess, miss."
"Oh, yes!--the stewardess. Uncle said you'd take care of me. Where is
he? I want Uncle Carey."
"Have you seen him this morning, miss?" asked Vaughan.
"No. Not since a long time ago. Yesterday just before the boat sailed.
When Roger was handing him a piece of yellow paper. I waited on deck for
him hours and hours. Where is he now?"
"In his stateroom, maybe--or the smoking-room--or on deck. Maybe he's
waiting this minute for you to go to breakfast. We'll have you ready in
a jiffy."
Anne's face brightened. "I can bathe myself--almost. You may scrub the
corners of my ears, if you please. And I can't quite part my hair
straight. Will you find Uncle Carey? and see if he is ready for me?"
"Oh, yes, miss. If you'll tell me his name."
"Uncle Carey? He's Mr. Mayo. Mr. Carey Mayo of New York."
"Yes, miss. I'll find him. Just you wait a minute. I forget your name,
miss."
"Anne. Anne Lewis."
The good-natured stewardess bustled about in a vain effort to find Mr.
Carey Mayo. He was not in his stateroom, nor in the saloon, nor in the
smoking-room, nor on deck. In her perplexity, she addressed the captain
whom she met at the dining-room door.
"Beg pardon, sir; I'm looking for a Mr. Mayo, sir, and I can't find him
anywheres."
"Well?" Captain Wards was gnawing the ends of his mustache.
"It's for his niece, sir, a little girl. She ain't seen him since
yesterday, sir. Been crying till she's 'most sick."
"My word!" exclaimed Captain Wards. "I had forgotten there was a child.
She's not the only one that wants him. I've had a wireless from New
York--the chief of police," the captain explained to a gentleman at his
elbow. "This Mayo is one of the bunch down in that Stuyvesant Trust
Company. They've been examining the books, but his tracks were so
cleverly covered that he was not even suspected at first. Yesterday they
found out. But their bird had flown. He's on our register all
right,--self and niece,--but we can't find him anywhere else."
They looked again and again in the tidy, empty little stateroom, as if
it must give some sign, some clew to the missing man. There were his
travelling bags strapped and piled where the porter had dumped them. The
steward who had shown Mr. Mayo his stateroom remembered that he had come
on board early, more than an hour before sailing time. Oh, yes, the man
had taken good notice of Mr. Mayo. Could tell just how he looked.
Slender youngish gentleman. Good clothes, light gray, well put on. Clean
shaven. Face not round, not long. Blue eyes--or gray--perhaps brown.
Darkish hair--it might be some gray. Nothing remarkable about his nose.
Nor his complexion--not fair--not dark. Anyway, the steward would know
him easy, and was sure he wasn't aboard.
A deck steward said he had looked for Mr. Mayo not long before the
vessel sailed. A boy had brought a telegram for him. But a first-cabin
lady had called the steward to move her chair.
The chap said he was Mr. Mayo's office boy and could find him if he
were on the _Caronia_.
No one had seen Mr. Mayo after the boy brought this telegram. Evidently,
some one had warned him that his guilt was discovered and he had hurried
away to avoid arrest. Where was he now? And what was to become of his
little niece?