That afternoon Pat went sight-seeing with a new-made friend, Darrell
Connor, and his father. While Anne was hesitating to ask permission to
go out, fearing to be refused or questioned, the matter was settled in
the simplest possible way. Miss Drayton coaxed her sister to lie down on
the couch in the pleasant sitting-room.
"I will draw the curtains," she said; "perhaps if it be dark and quiet,
you will fall asleep. Anne, you may sit in your bedroom or take your
doll for a walk."
"Honey-Sweet and her little mother look as if they needed fresh air,"
said Mrs. Patterson, smiling faintly.
Excited and vaguely troubled, but walking straight with head erect, Anne
went to the bridge. Against the railing leaned a familiar figure in
blue overalls and slouch hat. No one else was near. The man turned.
"Nancy pet--" it was her uncle's name for her and it was her uncle's
voice that spoke. "Those people are good to you? They will take care of
you till--while you are alone?"
"Uncle Carey, Uncle Carey! It _is_ you!"
"Yes, it is I. Don't come nearer, dear. Stand by the railing with
your doll. Don't speak till those people pass. Now listen, little
Anne. I am hiding from men who want to put me in prison. I can't
tell you about it. Some day you will know. Oh, Lord! some day you must
know all. Think of Uncle Carey sometimes, dear, and keep on loving him.
Remember how we used to sit in the sleepy-hollow chair and tell fairy
tales. My Nancy pet! Poor little orphan baby! It is hard to leave you
alone--dependent--among strangers. Here! This little package is for you.
Lucky I forgot and left it in my pocket after I took it out of the
safety deposit box. Everything else is gone. What will you do with it?
No, no! you can't carry it in your hand. Here!" He tore a strip from his
handkerchief, knotted it around the little package, and tied it under
her doll's skirts. "Be careful of it, dear. They're not of great value,
but they were your mother's."
While he was speaking, Anne stood dazed. The world seemed upside down.
Could that rough-bearded man in shabby clothes be handsome, fastidious
Uncle Carey? Ah! there was the dear loving voice, there were the dear
loving eyes. She threw her arms around her uncle and he pressed her
close while she kissed him again and again.
"Uncle Carey," she cried, "I've wanted you so bad. But why do you look
so--so different? What makes all that hair on your face? It--it isn't
pretty and it scratches my cheek." She rubbed the reddened skin with her
forefinger.
"You must not tell any one that you have seen me. Not any one. Do you
understand?" her uncle spoke hurriedly. "If people find out that I am
here, they will hunt me up and put me in prison."
"Not Mrs. Patterson, uncle, nor Pat, nor Miss Drayton. They are too
good. Mayn't I tell them?"
"No, no!"
"Uncle! they wouldn't hurt you. And it's such hard work to keep a
secret."
"Ah, poor child! And it may be a long, long time," considered Mr. Mayo.
Then he asked suddenly, "Where are you going from here? Do you know
these ladies' plans?"
"To spend the winter in France. The name of the place is like mine.
Nan--Nan--No! not Nancy."
"Nantes?"
"Yes, uncle. Nantes. That's it."
"When you get to Nantes, then, you may tell your friends about seeing
me."
Through the fog a policeman loomed in view, coming leisurely down the
quiet street.
"I must go," Mr. Mayo said hurriedly. "Good-by, Nancy pet."
Anne caught his hand in both of hers. "Oh, uncle!" she cried. "Don't go.
I want you. I want to go with you."
"Dear little one! What a fool I was! oh, what a fool! Good-by!"
He kissed her and was gone. Anne stood motionless, silent, looking after
him as he hurried down a by-street.
"Did 'ee beg off you, my little leddy?" asked the friendly policeman, as
he came up. "'As that dirty fellow frighted you?"
"Oh, no. He didn't beg. I am not frightened," Anne answered quickly.
"I'm going home now."
"If so be folks worrit you on the streets, a'lays holler for a cop,"
said the guardian of the peace. "We'll take care of you. That's what
we're here for. And I've chillen of me own and a'lays look out
partic'lar for the little ones."
"Thank you, thank you! Good-by."
Anne's disturbed looks would have excited comment, had her friends not
been occupied with troubles of their own. The doctor in his visit that
afternoon had urged Miss Drayton to go to Paris as soon as possible and
put Mrs. Patterson under charge of the physician whom he had before
recommended.
"If any one can help her, he is the man," said Dr. Foster.
"'If!' Is it so serious?" faltered Miss Drayton.
The doctor hesitated. Then he said: "We must hope for the best. Your
sister may get on nicely."
"Is her throat worse?" asked Miss Drayton.
"I--er-r--I prefer to have you consult Dr. La Farge," replied the
doctor.
It was resolved, then, to go to Paris at once. While Miss Drayton was
packing, the American mail came in, and brought a letter from New York
police headquarters. The officer, whose interest in the case had led him
to push his inquiries as far as possible, wrote at length. In the
investigation of the Stuyvesant Trust Company, accused of violating the
Anti-Trust Law, certain business papers had been secured which proved
that Mr. Carey Mayo had taken trust funds, speculated in cotton futures,
lost heavily during a panic, and covered his misuse of the company's
funds by falsifying his accounts. Evidently it had been a mere
speculation not a deliberate theft. Mr. Mayo had been refunding larger
or smaller sums month by month for a year. Had it not been for this
investigation of the company's affairs, he might and probably would have
replaced the whole amount and his guilt would never have been known.
When the investigation began, he made hasty plans to escape to Europe
with his niece. Being informed that he was about to be arrested, he
left the child on the steamer, as we know, and escaped--to Canada, the
police thought.
A number of his acquaintances in the city had been interviewed. They had
known Mr. Mayo for years, but only in the way of business and knew
nothing of his family; one or two had heard him mention a sister and a
niece.
The servants in his Cathedral Parkway apartment had been found and
questioned. The cook had been with Mr. Mayo two years. He was "an
easy-going gentleman, good pay, and no interferer." The year before, she
said, he had gone to Virginia, summoned by a telegram announcing his
sister's death, and had brought back his orphan niece, Anne Lewis. The
cook had never seen nor heard of any other member of his family.
The police officer suggested that the child should be put in an
institution for the care of destitute children. He gave information as
to the steps necessary in such a case and professed his willingness to
give any further help desired.
Miss Drayton and Mrs. Patterson read and reread the letter.
"Well?" asked Miss Drayton.
"We'll not send her to an asylum, you know," said Mrs. Patterson,
decidedly. "Unless her own people claim her, we will keep her. Anne
shall be my little daughter."
So it was settled, and the family party went on to Paris. The great
physician made a careful examination of Mrs. Patterson. He, too, was
unwilling to express an opinion about her condition. He would prefer, he
said, to have madame under treatment awhile at his private hospital, a
quiet place in the suburbs.
It was promptly decided to accept Dr. La Farge's suggestion. Mrs.
Patterson's health being the object of their journey, there was no
reason why they should winter in Nantes if in Paris she could secure
more helpful treatment. It was resolved, therefore, to send Pat and Anne
to boarding-schools while Mrs. Patterson and Miss Drayton put themselves
under the doctor's orders.
"Oh! Aren't we going to Nantes?" asked Anne, when Miss Drayton informed
her of the changed plans.
"No, Anne. I've just told you, we are all going to stay in or near
Paris."
"Not going there at all? ever?" the child persisted.
"I don't know; probably not." Miss Drayton was worried and this made her
tone crisp and impatient.
"O--oh!" wailed Anne, her self-control giving way before the sudden
disappointment. "I want to go. I want to go to Nantes."
Miss Drayton was amazed. What ailed the child? Why this passionate
desire to go to Nantes, a city of which, as she owned, she had never
even heard until she was told that it was their destination?
"Anne, Anne! For pity's sake!" said Miss Drayton. "Why are you so
anxious to go to Nantes?"
But Anne only rocked back and forth, sobbing, "I want to go to Nantes! I
want to go to Nantes!"
She had been counting the days till, according to her uncle's
permission, she might tell her friends about seeing him. She felt sure
they would explain the puzzling change in his appearance, and tell when
she would see him again. Now, after all, they were not going to Nantes,
and she must keep her secret alone, forever and forever. It was too
dreadful!