Madeline went directly from the train to Printing House Square and had
a long talk with "Tom" Lacey. He had been advised of her coming and her
quest and had already made a search for Masters, but without result.
This he had no intention of imparting, however, but told her a
carefully prepared story.
Masters had been writing regularly for some time and it was generally
believed among his friends that he had pulled up in a measure, but
where he was hiding himself no one knew. Cheques and suggestions were
sent to the Post Office, but he had no box, nor did he call for his
mail in person.
He appeared no more at the restaurants in Nassau or Fulton Streets, or
in Park Row, and it would be idle to look for him up town. It was
apparent that he wished to avoid his friends, and to do this
effectually he had probably hidden himself in one of the rabbit warrens
of Nassau Street, where the King of England or the Czar of all the
Russias might hide for a lifetime and never be found. But Masters could
be "located," no doubt of that. "It only needs patience and alertness,"
said Lacey, looking straight into Madeleine's vigilant eyes. "I have a
friend on the police force down there who will spot him before long and
send for me hot-foot."
It was Lacey's intention to sublet a small office in one of the
swarming buildings, put a cot in it and a cooking stove, and transfer
Masters to it as soon as he was found. He knew what some of Masters'
haunts were and had no intention that this delicate proud woman should
see him in any of them.
When she told him that she should never leave Masters again after his
whereabouts had been discovered, he warned her not to take rooms in a
hotel. There would be unpleasant espionage, possibly newspaper scandal.
There was nothing for it but Bleecker Street. It was outwardly quiet,
the rooms were large and comfortable in many of those once-fashionable
houses, and it was the one street in New York where no questions were
asked and no curiosity felt. It was no place for her, of course--but
under the circumstances--if she persisted in her idea of keeping
Masters with her until his complete recovery--
"My neighbors will not worry me," she said, smiling for the first time.
"It seems to be just the place. I already feel bewildered in this great
rushing noisy city. I have lived in a small city for so long that I had
almost forgotten there were great ones; and I should not know what to
do without your advice. I am very grateful."
"Glad to do anything I can. When Holt wrote me you were coming and
there was a chance to pull Masters out of the--put him on his legs
again, I went right up in the air. You may count on me. Always glad to
do anything I can for a lady, too. I used to see you at the theatre and
driving, Mrs. Talbot, and wished I were one of the bloods. Seems like a
fairy tale to be able to help you now."
He had red hair and slate-colored eyes, a snub nose and many freckles,
but she thought him quite beautiful; he was her only friend in this
terrifying city, and there was no doubt she could count on him.
"How shall I go about finding a lodging in Bleecker Street?" she asked.
"I stayed at the Fifth Avenue Hotel when I visited New York with my
mother, and as I know nothing of the other hotels, I left my luggage at
the depot until I should have seen you. I didn't dare go where I might
run into any one. Californians are beginning to visit New York.
Moreover, my brother and his family live here and I particularly wish
to avoid them."
"A theatrical troupe is just leaving town--so there should be several
empty rooms. A good many of them hang out there when in New York. There
is one thing in your favor. Your--pardon me--beauty won't be so
conspicuous in Bleecker Street as it would be in hotels. It isn't only
actresses that lodge there, but--well--those ladies so richly dowered
by nature they command the longest pocketbooks, and the owners thereof
sometimes have a pew in Trinity Church and a seat on the Stock
Exchange. The great world averts its eyes from Bleecker Street, and you
will be as safe in there as the most respectable sinner. Nor will you
be annoyed by rowdyism in the street, although you may hear echoes of
high old times going on in some of the houses patronized by artists and
students--it's a sort of Latin Quarter, too. Little of everything, in
fact. Now, come along. We'll take a hack, get your luggage, and fix you
up."
"And you'll vow--"
"To send for you the moment Masters is located? Just rely on Tom Lacey."