THE MOTH AND THE FLAME
Douglas brought the powerful roadster to a standstill under the
_porte-cochère_ of the Carew mansion, and disentangling himself from
among the levers and wheel, ran up the few steps. Before he could ring
the bell the door was opened by Colonel Thornton.
"Come in," he exclaimed heartily. "I saw you from the drawing-room
window, and, as Joshua has gone to ask Mrs. Winthrop if she can see me,
I thought I would let you in and not keep you standing outside."
"Thanks, Colonel." Douglas followed the older man into the
drawing-room. "Have you seen Miss Eleanor?"
"No. Here, don't sit on that gilt-edged insecurity," as Douglas pulled
forward a parlor chair. "This sofa is big enough to hold us both. Tell
me, are there any new developments in the Carew case?"
"Only that Brett is convinced Captain Lane is guilty, and, from what
he said this morning, I should not be at all surprised to hear of the
latter's arrest."
"Good Lord! you don't say so. Poor, poor Cynthia. I greatly fear
another shock will prove most dangerous in her present nervous
condition."
"Has Mrs. Winthrop consented to Miss Carew's spending to-morrow at your
house?"
"I don't know yet----" Colonel Thornton stopped abruptly as the
portières parted and a woman stepped into the room. Thinking it was
Mrs. Winthrop, he started to rise, but it proved to be Annette, and he
sank back in his seat.
"_Bon jour, Messieurs_," Annette readjusted the portières with care,
then walked with catlike quickness over to where the men were sitting.
"Mistaire Hunter, you are investigating ze death of Senator Carew,
_n'est-ce pas_, and you, Monsieur," turning to Colonel Thornton, "are
Madame Winthrop's man of affairs?"
"Well, what then?" asked Douglas quickly.
"Only that I may be of help."
"Indeed?"
"Oui, Messieurs," calmly. "I know--_much_."
"Good," Thornton's tone betrayed his satisfaction. "Go ahead and tell
us."
"Ah, _non, non, Monsieur_," Annette shook her head violently. "First,
I must have some monie."
"What, a bribe?" Douglas spoke with rising indignation.
"_Non, Monsieur_; a reward."
"You must first tell us what you know," explained Thornton patiently.
"Then, if your information leads to the arrest and _conviction_ of the
murderer, you will be paid the one thousand dollars offered by Mrs.
Winthrop."
"One thousand dollars, did you say, _Monsieur_? _Non_, I will not sell
my news for that."
"It is the amount offered by Mrs. Winthrop."
"But Madame Winthrop is willing to give five thousand." Annette glanced
eagerly at the two men. "My news is worth that."
Thornton shook his head. "Mrs. Winthrop has reconsidered, and will not
give more than one thousand," he declared with finality.
An obstinate frown marred Annette's pretty face. "I will not take less
than five thousand," she announced with emphasis.
"You go too fast," broke in Douglas quietly. "First, the reward will
not be paid until after the murderer is convicted; secondly, your
information may be of no value whatever."
"Zo?" Annette's smile was not pleasant. "Zen I keep my news to
myself," and she started for the door.
"Wait," commanded Thornton. "Come back here." Then, as she obeyed, he
added in a more kindly tone: "If your information is really valuable,
Annette, I am willing to advance you some money. But first you must
tell us what you know and suspect."
"How much?"
"Say fifty dollars," drawing out his leather wallet and extracting
several yellow backs which he held temptingly in his hand.
"Not enough, Monsieur."
Thornton lost all patience. "I shan't offer you another damn cent," and
he thrust the money back into the wallet.
Annette's eyes flashed. "Very well, Monsieur le Colonel; I go. But
when I come back you will have to pay me more--but yes--more than that
beggarly five thousand!" and with a stamp of her foot, she turned and
hastened out of the room.
"A nice she-devil!" remarked Thornton, gazing blankly at Douglas.
"I think----" Douglas stopped speaking as the portières were again
thrust aside and Eleanor walked in.
"Uncle Dana, Mrs. Winthrop is waiting to see you in the library. Oh,
Mr. Hunter, good morning"--her slender hand was almost lost in his firm
clasp--"I did not know you were here."
"I called hoping that you might care to take a motor ride," said
Douglas quickly.
"Why, yes, with pleasure." She sank down on the sofa and motioned
Douglas to draw up a chair.
"Eleanor," broke in Thornton, returning from the hall door, "did you
tell that precious maid of yours that Mrs. Winthrop would give five
thousand dollars reward for information leading to the conviction of
the murderer of Senator Carew?"
"Annette!" in profound astonishment. "No, certainly not; I've never
spoken to her on the subject. Where did you get such an idea?" Her
voice rose to a higher key.
"She has just been here and insists that we pay her five thousand for
some information which she declares will solve the puzzle of poor
Carew's death."
Eleanor smiled incredulously. "Nonsense, I don't believe she knows a
thing about it." Her bright color had faded and she gazed anywhere but
at the two men.
"It may be," suggested Douglas thoughtfully, "that while in this house
she has found a certain paper for which Brett is searching."
"That's possible," agreed Thornton. "It was announced in yesterday's
papers that a reward of one thousand dollars had been offered. But
what gets me is how Annette knew Mrs. Winthrop might raise the amount
to five thousand--the very sum, in fact, which she first thought of
offering."
"I'm sure I don't know." Eleanor frowned in perplexity.
"Is she a good servant?" inquired Douglas.
"I have always found her honest and reliable. She brought me excellent
recommendations when she came to me in Paris, where I engaged her,"
replied Eleanor.
"It may be that the mystery has gone to her head," suggested Thornton,
"and she is inspired to play detective."
"Personally, I think she is taking advantage of the present situation
to extort money," objected Douglas.
"I believe you've hit it," exclaimed the older man. "Tell Brett,
Douglas, he may be able to induce Annette to tell what she knows. I
must go now and see Mrs. Winthrop."
"Let me know what she decides about Sunday," called Eleanor, as
Thornton, for the second time, hurried out of the room.
"You are looking tired, Miss Thornton," said Douglas, glancing at her
attentively.
"I didn't get much sleep last night. Cynthia was miserable, and I sat
up with her until five o'clock this morning."
"No wonder you are worn out." Douglas looked his concern. "I really
think a motor ride would do you lots of good. Do keep your promise and
come for a spin."
Eleanor glanced doubtfully down at her pretty house gown. "If you don't
mind waiting while I change----"
"Why, certainly."
"I won't be long"--and Eleanor disappeared.
Douglas did not resume his seat; but instead paced the room with
long, nervous strides. Eleanor was not the only one who had passed a
sleepless night. He had sat up and wracked his brain trying to find the
key to the solution of the mystery surrounding the Senator's death.
Annette must be made to tell what she knew. Perhaps Brett's authority
as an officer of the law might intimidate her. It was worth trying.
Walking down to the folding doors, which led from the drawing-room to
the dining room, he opened them and found Joshua busy polishing the
mahogany table.
"Is there a branch telephone in the house?" he asked, "besides the one
in the library? Mrs. Winthrop is in there and I don't want to disturb
her."
"Suttenly, suh; dar's one right in de pantry, suh," and Joshua,
dropping his work, piloted him to the instrument.
It took him but a few minutes to get police headquarters on the wire,
only to find that Brett was out. Whistling softly, he hung up the
receiver and went back into the drawing-room. Eleanor had not appeared,
and he sat down at the inlaid desk, which was supplied with pen, ink,
and paper, and wrote a short note while he waited for her return.
"Where's Eleanor?" asked Thornton, coming into the room and picking up
his hat, which he had left on one of the chairs.
"Here," and his niece, who had entered just behind him, joined them.
"I am sorry to have kept you so long, Mr. Hunter, but I found Annette
had gone out on an errand for Cynthia, and I had to do without her
assistance."
"You were very successful." Thornton made her a courtly bow, as he
gazed at his beautiful niece. Her fashionable light-gray suit and smart
hat were extremely becoming. Eleanor colored faintly as she read the
admiration in Douglas' eyes.
"What luck did you have with Mrs. Winthrop, Uncle Dana?" she asked.
"The best. She said she thought it an excellent plan. So I shall expect
you both this afternoon, Eleanor, and you had better stop and pick up
your Cousin Kate Truxton on your way out."
"Very well, I will; but, Uncle Dana, we won't get over to you until
just before dinner."
"That will do." The two men followed Eleanor out into the square hall.
"Don't forget, Douglas, that I expect you, too."
"That's very good of you, sir," Douglas hesitated, "but don't you think
I might be in the way in a family party?"
"A family party is exactly what I wish to avoid," exclaimed Thornton.
"Cynthia needs to be taken out of herself. And, therefore, I want you
to spend Sunday with us, as if it were a regular house party."
"Then I'll come with pleasure." Douglas helped Eleanor into the low
seat of the motor, and clambered in behind the wheel. "I'm awfully
sorry there isn't a third seat, Colonel, and that I can't take you
where you wish to go."
"I left my car down by the curb; thanks all the same, Douglas," and
Thornton waved a friendly good-bye to Eleanor as the motor started
slowly down the driveway.
"If you have no objection, I will stop at the Municipal Building for a
moment, Miss Thornton," said Douglas, turning the car into Thirteenth
Street.
"I don't mind in the least. What a magnificent motor!"
"Isn't it?" with enthusiasm, as he steered safely between another
machine and a delivery wagon. "My chief in Tokio has one just like
this, and I learned to run his car."
As they crossed K Street he put on the emergency brakes hard and the
motor stopped just in time, as a touring car shot in front of them and
disappeared down the street. When the car was again under way, Douglas
turned to the silent girl by his side.
"That was the Japanese Ambassador, was it not?"
"Yes."
"He seemed to be in the devil of a hurry; it was a near smash."
"A little too near for comfort." Eleanor drew a long breath. "I noticed
some luggage in his car--oh, take care!" as the motor skidded toward
the gutter.
"I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to frighten you," said Douglas, as
he applied the brake going down Thirteenth Street hill to Pennsylvania
Avenue. "That chap got on my nerves; I don't care if he is an
ambassador, and exempt from arrest, he has no business to be breaking
our rules and regulations."
"Come, now, didn't you break some rules when in Japan?" asked Eleanor,
her lovely face dimpling into a smile. Douglas started slightly, but
she apparently did not notice his discomfiture. "Judging from the
luggage in the car, and the rate at which they were going, I imagine
the Ambassador was trying to catch a train."
"It does look that way." Douglas brought the car to a standstill before
one of the entrances to the Municipal Building. "I won't be a minute,
Miss Thornton."
"Don't hurry on my account," called Eleanor after him.
Brett was still out, so Douglas gave the note he had written when
waiting for Eleanor at the Carews' to the attendant, first adding a
postscript and enclosing it in a large envelope, with instructions that
it was to be delivered to the detective immediately on his return.
Then, with a lighter heart, he hastened out of the building and
rejoined Eleanor.
"Where do you wish to go, Miss Thornton?" he asked, as they started
slowly up Pennsylvania Avenue.
Eleanor considered a moment before answering. "Suppose we go out the
Conduit Road," she said finally.
Douglas swung the machine across the broad avenue and through the short
street behind the Treasury Department into the drive which circles
around the White House grounds. "It's some years since I've been out in
this direction, Miss Thornton, so, if I go astray, please put me back
on the straight and narrow path."
"Straight out Pennsylvania Avenue and through Georgetown," directed
Eleanor, as the big car swung back again into that avenue. "The narrow
path only comes after you reach the Conduit."
"Then it should be spelled 'Conduct.' You have been going out a great
deal this winter, have you not?"
"Yes; Washington has been extremely gay, and I have enjoyed it so much."
Douglas smiled down at her. "And I bet a thousand to one that
Washington enjoyed you. I asked about your going out, because I am
wondering if, among all the men you've met this winter, you have come
across a middle-aged man with black hair and beard and very blue eyes?"
Not receiving a reply, Douglas turned and scanned his companion. She
sat silent, gazing straight before her. The car sped on for several
squares before she roused herself.
"That is a very vague description, Mr. Hunter. Do you remember the
man's name?"
Douglas shook his head. "I have never heard it. I only asked because I
was under the impression that I saw him with you at the Navy Department
on Thursday morning."
"_With me--at the Navy Department_," gasped Eleanor, sitting bolt
upright. She was white to the lips.
"Yes, I thought I saw him talking to you in an elevator. I just caught
a glimpse of you as the cage descended past the floor on which I was."
"You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Hunter." Eleanor's eyes did not waver
before his questioning look. "I was alone, though I do recollect there
was another passenger in the elevator who got out on the first floor,
while I continued on down to the basement."
"Then I was mistaken." Douglas slowed the car down to the limit
prescribed by law as he crossed the M Street bridge over Rock Creek,
then increased the speed as they progressed through Georgetown.
"You have aroused my curiosity." Eleanor settled herself more
comfortably in the low seat. "Why do you take an interest in a man with
blue eyes and black hair?"
"Because I thought he was with you."
"Upon my word!" Eleanor's laugh held a shade of annoyance. "That's a
very silly reason."
"I don't think it is," replied Douglas, steadily. "I _am interested_ in
everything that concerns you."
Eleanor surveyed him keenly. She studied the fine profile, the broad
shoulders, and the powerful hands holding the steering wheel. The quiet
figure seemed instinct with the vital personality of the man, a living
part of the pulsing machine which he was guiding through the narrow,
congested street with such skill. They crossed Thirty-seventh Street,
and in a few minutes the car leaped ahead up the hill leading to the
Conduit.
Eleanor said nothing, and Douglas was equally silent. They had the
narrow road to themselves, and he increased the speed. The wheels
raced like velvet on the finished macadam. On they sped. Soon Eleanor
caught a glimpse of the Potomac below them, and the bright sunlight
sparkled on the water and on the green foliage of the wooded banks of
the Maryland and Virginia shores. They passed the Three Sisters, then
the reservoirs, and Douglas saw a straight stretch of road ahead and
no vehicle in sight. The next moment the powerful machine, gathering
speed, shot down the road, which seemed a narrowing white strip as the
revolving wheels devoured the distance.
Douglas turned his eyes a moment from the flying landscape to Eleanor,
who sat, tense, fearless, her pulses leaping as the rushing wind stung
her cheeks. She caught his look. "Faster, faster," she called. And
obediently Douglas threw wide open the throttle. On, on they flew. A
wild exhilaration engulfed Eleanor; her spirit seemed to soar, detached
from things earthly. She cast a glance of resentment at Douglas who,
seeing the road curved in the distance, slackened speed. By the time
the big car reached the turning, he had brought it to a standstill near
the side of the road.
Eleanor drew a long breath. "Oh, why did you stop?" Her eyes shone like
stars. "It was glorious."
"I stopped"--Douglas turned squarely in his seat, and faced
Eleanor--"because I want to ask you to confide in me."
"To do _what_?" Eleanor's deep blue eyes opened to their widest extent.
"To tell me"--Douglas hesitated over his choice of words--"your mission
in life."
Eye to eye they gazed at each other. Eleanor was the first to speak.
"I am at a loss to understand your singular request," she said,
freezingly.
"Miss Thornton, do me the justice to think that I am not asking from
idle curiosity--it is because I have your welfare so deeply at heart."
"If I did not know you to be a sane person, I would think you had
suddenly lost your mind. As you take the matter so seriously, I must
repeat that I am _concerned in nothing_."
Douglas held her gaze, as if in the limpid depths of her blue eyes he
would fathom the secret of her soul. Eleanor's breath came and went,
she colored painfully, but her eyes never dropped before his. Nearer he
bent and nearer. The virile strength of the man drew her, and his arms
closed about her slender waist.
"Eleanor, I love you." The very repression of his tone added to its
intensity.
Fearlessly she raised her lips to his--in surrender.
Some time later Douglas backed the car a yard or two, then turned it
toward Washington, but their return trip was made with due attention to
the speed law.
"Will you please tell me--Douglas"--she hesitated adorably over his
name--"Indeed, you must not kiss me again"--drawing back as far as the
seat would permit. "Why did you avoid me in Paris?"
A shadow passed over Douglas' radiant face, and was gone before Eleanor
observed it.
"I suppose you would call it false pride," he said. "I had no
money--you had much--and so I worshiped from a distance. Now that my
inheritance has made me well-to-do, I felt that I had a right to ask
you to marry me. In Paris I thought you would take me for a fortune
hunter."
"Which only goes to show what fools men are," exclaimed Eleanor
roguishly. "Bend down nearer me"--she placed her mouth close to his
ear. "You could have had me for the asking then, dear heart"--his left
arm stole about her--"for I know a man when I see one."
* * * * *
"Not a word, remember."
"Madame has my promise." Annette tucked the small roll of bills inside
the bosom of her gown, as Mrs. Winthrop replaced her pocketbook in her
leather handbag.
"Where is Miss Eleanor?"
"Joshua tells me that in my absence Mademoiselle left ze house to motor
wiz Monsieur Hunter."
"If she asks for me on her return tell her that I will be back in time
to lunch with her and Miss Cynthia."
"_Oui, madame._" Annette assisted Mrs. Winthrop into her coat, then
left the bedroom. From a safe distance down the hall she watched Mrs.
Winthrop descend the staircase, and waited until she heard Joshua close
the front door after her and retreat into his own domain. She then
slipped noiselessly down the hall and into Mrs. Winthrop's bedroom.
Half an hour passed before she again appeared, wearing a satisfied
smile. The hall was empty. "I have seen what I have seen," she muttered
under her breath exultingly, as she proceeded downstairs. "And I think
I will haf more monie by to-morrow. _Mon Dieu!_"
The peal of the front bell had startled her from her reverie. As Joshua
did not appear to answer it, she crossed the square hall and opened the
door. A tall man, wearing nondescript clothes, confronted her in the
vestibule.
"Miss Thornton, is she in?" he questioned. The contrast of his deep
blue eyes against his tanned skin and black beard held her attention.
Receiving no reply, he repeated his question with emphasis.
"_Non_, Mademoiselle is out in ze motor," she answered, none too
civilly.
Without a word he turned on his heel and hastened down the steps.
Annette stared up the street after him; then closed the door softly,
her pretty forehead puckered in a frown. Where had she seen those eyes
before?