Lake Merritt, a small sheet of water near the little town of Oakland,
was surrounded by handsome houses whose lawns sloped down to its rim.
Most them were closed in summer, but a few of the owners, like the
Harold Abbotts, lived there the year round. At all times, however, the
lawns and gardens were carefully tended, for this was one of Fashion's
chosen spots, and there must be no criticism from outsiders in Oakland.
The statues on the lawns were rubbed down after the heavy rains and
dusted as carefully in summer. There were grape-vine arbors and wild
rose hedges, and the wide verandas were embowered. In summer there were
many rowboats on the lake, and they lingered more often in the deep
shade of the weeping willows fringing the banks. The only blot on the
aristocratic landscape was a low brown restaurant kept by a Frenchman,
known as "Old Blazes." It was a resort for gay parties that were quite
respectable and for others that were not. Behind the public rooms was a
row of cubicles patronized by men when on a quiet spree (women, too, it
was whispered). There were no cabinet particuliers. Old Blazes had his
own ideas of propriety; and no mind to be ousted from Lake Merritt.
Madeleine had found Sally Abbott's society far more endurable, when she
paid her round of visits after Masters' departure, than that of the
older women with their watchful or anxious eyes, and she had no
suspicion that Sally had guessed her secret long since. If love had
been her only affliction she would have been grateful for her society
and amusing chatter, for they had much in common. But in the
circumstances it was unthinkable. Not only was she terrified once more
by the prospect of being "cured," but her shattered nerves demanded far
more stimulation and tranquilizing than these small daily doses of
brandy afforded.
Her will was in no way affected. She controlled even her nerves in
Sally's presence, escaped from it twice a day under pretext of taking a
nap, and went upstairs immediately after dinner. She had a large room
at the back of the house where she could pace up and down unheard.
She pretended to be amiable and resigned, played battledoor and
shuttlecock in the hall, or on the lawn when the weather permitted,
sang in the evenings with Sally and Harold, and affected not to notice
that she was locked in at night. She refused to drive, as she would
have found sitting for any length of time unendurable, but she was glad
to take long walks even in the rain--and was piloted away from the town
and the railroad.
Sally wrote jubilant letters to Dr. Talbot, who thought it best to stay
away. The servants were told that Mrs. Talbot was recovering from an
illness and suspected nothing.
It lasted two weeks. Sally had inexorably diminished the doses after
the seventh day. Madeleine's mind, tormented by her nerves, never
ceased for a moment revolving plans for escape.
As they returned from a walk one afternoon they met callers at the door
and it was impossible to deny them admittance. Madeleine excused
herself and went up to her room wearing her coat and hat instead of
handing them to Sally as usual. She put them in her wardrobe and locked
the door and hid the key. At dinner it was apparent, however, that
Sally had not noticed the omission of this detail in her daily
espionage, for the visitors had told her much interesting gossip and
she was interested in imparting it. Moreover, her mind was almost at
rest regarding her captive.
Madeleine, some time since, had found that the key of another door
unlocked her own, and secreted it. She had no money, but she had worn a
heavy gold bracelet when her husband and Sally dressed her and they had
pinned her collar with a pearl brooch. Sally followed her to her room
after she had had time to undress and gave her the nightly draught, but
did not linger; she had no mind that her husband should feel neglected
and resent this interruption of an extended honeymoon.
Madeleine waited until the house was quiet. Then she went down the
heavily carpeted stairs and let herself out by one of the long French
windows. She had made her plans and walked swiftly to the restaurant.
She knew "Old Blazes," for she had dined at his famous hostelry more
than once with her husband or friends.
There was a party in the private restaurant. She walked directly to one
of the cubicles and rang for a waiter and told him to send M'sieu to
her at once.
"Old Blazes" came immediately, and if she expected him to look
astonished she was agreeably disappointed. Nothing astonished him.
She held out her bracelet and brooch. "I want you to lend me some money
on these," she said. "My husband will redeem them."
"Very well, madame." (He was far too discreet to recognize her.) "I
will bring you the money at once."
"And I wish to buy a quart of Bourbon, which I shall take with me. You
may also bring me a glass."
"Very well, madame."
He left the room and returned in a moment with a bottle of Bourbon,
from which he had drawn the cork, a glass, and a bottle of Napa Soda.
He also handed her two gold pieces. He had been a generous friend to
many patrons and had reaped his reward.
"I should advise you to leave by the back entrance," he said. "Shall I
have a hack there--in--"
"Send for it at once and I will take it when I am ready. Tell the man
to drive on to the boat and to the Occidental Hotel."
"Yes, Madame. Good-night, Madame."
He closed the door. Madeleine left the restaurant three quarters of an
hour later.