happened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feel
that she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to be
worshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her,
too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her.
When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, the
child's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee upon
the form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply that
she was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for this
Irish girl.
As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverley
about herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the story
of her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was less
than three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only the
photograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby in
her arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovely
colouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes more
brown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clo
had to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisters
who looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that the
child had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except that
mother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came from
America." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs.
Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family."
The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into their
care, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of the
orphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bank
for the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but the
orphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service.
Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when she
was sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady.
Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailed
for the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty pounds
which was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearly
starving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton and
Payntor.
"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in her
soft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and made
creamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. I
was so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates I
used to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anything
left gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs,
too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's true
I did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollar
bill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to find
who was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearly
off my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When the
time came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to a
restaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so I
couldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, next
day was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, and
the girls knowing it, too--though there was no proof--I thought the best
thing for a lost child was to die!"
Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton and
Payntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had become
quite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverley
told the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but could
stop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse from
the shock of joy.
By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when she
was up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in the
renovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from the
battered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"
cloth and silk.
It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet her
Angel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. The
Angel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any old
husband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have known
poverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly man
because--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be like
an Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see a
grumpy graybeard.
Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a young
woman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.
What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was a
strong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interesting
enough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure she
was going to like him.
What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, to
think of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointed
chin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. An
obstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had never
seen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,
so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,
that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. But
though the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheek
bones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,
in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He might
have known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as he
was to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interesting
personality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl had
the air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, which
piqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someone
he knew?
He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley."
When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's first
drive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye,
fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam.
"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she told
herself. "I know I must have spoilt it--got it all messed up with blood.
Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, the
dollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since!
No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how,
only I shall--I shall!"
Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator.
"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected.
A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Without
seeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in white
cloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny white
shoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughed
aloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He was
contrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in.
Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with the
statuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sick
pang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushed
into the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought she
breathed like a prayer.
As the two crossed the pavement--tall, beautiful Beverley and quaint
little Clo--a man who must have been loitering close by started toward
them with a limping step, and took off his hat.
"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked.
Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful,
softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from the
man to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel looked
frightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't a
creature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if he
had been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like a
prison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame,
too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newly
mended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking him
down.
"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "I
don't--but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?"
"In a way, yes, that's it," said the man. "I had a message for you. I'm
the man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year."
VI
THE PARCEL WITH THE GOLD SEALS
There was a second of suspense for Clo, and then Beverley spoke quietly:
"Oh, I see! That's very interesting," she said. "I hope--the news is
good?"
"It's a long message," the man answered. "I was told to let you have it
in person. I thought you'd be goin' out sooner or later. If your husban'
'ad bin along, I'd have left a line, but----"
"Never mind what you would have done, please," Beverley cut him short.
"The best thing I can think of now, is this" (she hurried on in a low
tone, and Clo who had stepped aside, nearer to the car, did not catch
the words), "Take a taxi, and follow my automobile. We're going into the
Park. When you see us stop, you must stop too, at a distance.
"I shall get out and let the motor, with my friend in it, go on without
me for a while. Then we can talk. Do you understand?"
"I'll be there," said the man.
He touched his hat and moved away, as if his errand were done.
"Drive slowly through the Park," Beverley instructed Robbins, and gently
made Clo get into the car before her. "I'm so sorry to have kept you
standing, dear," she said. "I hope you don't feel weak or 'tottery'?"
Clo did feel very weak, not from fatigue, but from excitement. She
replied that she felt "grand." And Mrs. Sands forgot to say that she was
glad.
The girl glanced at the older woman, and saw that she was staring
straight ahead, with a withdrawn look in her eyes, which told that she
saw nothing. Clo's heart beat fast. This drive was to have been a
glorious experience. She had seen Central Park more than once, and had
walked there, miserable in her loneliness. Now, though she looked out of
the window, it was to let Beverley feel that she was not being stared
at. The girl saw only a blur of colour, as if a kaleidoscope turned
before her eyes.
At last Beverley spoke.
"Dear child," she said, "I'm sure you understand that the man who was
waiting for me brought a message I'm anxious to hear. And--I'm sure of
another thing--that I can trust you!"
"I'd die any minute for you, sure I would!" she cried.
"I believe you would! But I don't want you to die. All I want is for you
to listen while I explain----"
"As if you needed to explain to me!" the girl broke out.
"I don't need to, perhaps, yet I wish to say just this: I love Roger
dearly. I've told you so often enough! I'd give anything on earth not to
have a secret from him. But to save a life--not my own--there is a
secret I must keep. This man and his message are part of it. Now, that's
all I'm going to explain, except that--that nothing must be said."
"I'd bite my tongue out sooner!" Clo protested.
"Thank you, dear! Now we've had this talk, it's a comfort, not a worry,
having you with me. You won't mind if I send you on while I get down and
walk in the Park?"
"I'd love it!" said Clo.
At once Beverley took the speaking tube and ordered the chauffeur to
stop. He drew up at the side of the road. They were in the midst of the
Park now, an exquisite green and gold world of peace and beauty.
"I feel like taking a little exercise," Beverley said to Robbins, as she
stepped out of the car. "Miss Riley isn't strong enough to walk. Go as
far along Riverside Drive as Grant's Tomb, and then come back, but
slowly, so she can see everything. You'll find me waiting here."
It seemed that Robbins carried out his instructions too laboriously. Clo
didn't like the ferret-man, and she didn't believe that Beverley liked
meeting him.
When at last Robbins brought the car back to the rendezvous there was
the tall graceful figure in gray, standing alone.
"Oh, have we kept you?" the girl cried, throwing open the door before
the automobile stopped.
Beverley did not answer, or seem to hear. She did not even look at Clo.
"Home!" she said to Robbins. "As fast as you can!"
Clo was shocked into silence, and hardly breathed when Beverley had sunk
on to the seat, covering her face with her hands. The car had nearly
reached the Sands' corner of Park Avenue before the elder girl spoke.
Then she said abruptly, as if waking from a dream:
"Forgive me! I couldn't talk! I'm in dreadful trouble! I must ask you to
help me. Are you strong enough to take a longer drive, and to walk a few
steps alone?"
"Rather!" said Clo.
"Well, when we stop in front of our house, sit still in the car. I don't
want Sister Lake or Roger to know we're back. I'll run in, get a parcel
which must be taken to a certain place, and give it to you. Then Robbins
will drive (I'll tell him) to a hotel on Broadway, called the
Westmorland. I never heard of it before, but it seems that it's near 33d
Street, and quiet and respectable. Go into the restaurant and order tea.
While you're there, that man you saw will come into the room, and you'll
hand him the packet. That's all."
"It sounds too easy," Clo said.
"I hope it will be easy. I'll bring you a latch-key when I come down
with the parcel. Let yourself in when you get home, and go straight to
your room. I don't want you to fib, but try to make it seem to Sister as
if we'd just come back. She'll think it strange if she knows I've sent
you out on an errand by yourself."
"She shan't know," the girl promised.
"You _are_ a comfort! You see, I told Roger I'd be at home by four, and
I couldn't be, till long after if I took the parcel myself. I shall only
just be in time as it is. Here we are at the door! Now I'll rush. In
five minutes I hope to be with you again. Oh, if only Sister Lake isn't
at the window!"
The five minutes passed, and Beverley didn't return. Clo watched the
silver-gilt clock under the vase of violets. Ten minutes; fifteen
minutes; no Mrs. Sands! The girl was wondering whether she ought to wait
indefinitely, or seek her friend to see what had happened when Beverley
appeared. She was breathless with haste.
"Here, take this, and do just as I told you to do," she said, thrusting
into Clo's hands a bag, not a parcel. "Inside you'll find what I spoke
of, and money to pay for your tea. I had to hide the parcel. I can't
stop to explain more now." She turned to the chauffeur, and hastily
ordered him to drive to the Westmorland Hotel. Miss Riley had to meet a
friend there; Robbins must wait till she was ready to come home.
Only as the car slowed down in front of the third-rate hotel did Clo
touch the hasp of the gray suede bag. It was not locked, and save for a
crumpled dollar bill, its sole contents was a large, unaddressed
envelope fastened with three gold seals. On each of these seals was the
same elaborate monogram, which Clo did not try to make out; but it was
not composed of Beverley Sands' initials. Evidently the parcel had been
crammed into the first handy receptacle, for it was all but too big to
go in, and Clo found it difficult to extract without damaging the seals.
Leaving the bag on the seat, she hid the envelope under the smart, white
cloth cape which went with her new frock.
The restaurant of the hotel opened off the hall. At that hour, a little
after four o'clock, there was no one in the room but a waiter. Afternoon
tea was evidently not a daily custom of the Westmorland's guests, but
when it was brought at length, the ferret-man had not yet arrived.
"Oh, dear, what shall I do if he doesn't come?" Clodagh asked herself,
thinking fearfully about the chauffeur--and about Sister Lake.
Just then the face of the ferret man appeared at the door. He glanced
about, fixed the girl with his red-rimmed eyes, slouched into the room,
and limped briskly to the table.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, with a familiar grin, and pulled out a chair to
sit opposite Clo. He kept on his hat. His breath reeked spirits, and the
girl was disgusted, but she was the faithful servant of Mrs. Sands, and
the waiter was staring.
"Here's the parcel Mrs. Sands sent. She particularly wanted me to get
back as soon as possible."
The long envelope, with the gold seals uppermost, was lying on the
table. Clo removed a napkin she had laid over it, and pushed the parcel
across the table. As she did this she rose.
"Looks right enough!" remarked the ferret man, sitting still. "This
is what she told me to expect: long white envelope, three gold
seals----" He picked the parcel up, holding it to his sharp nose and
near-sighted eyes. "Yeh, munergram, or what yuh call it, right, too."
"Then that's all," said Clo, Beverley's dollar bill in her hand. "I'll
call the waiter----"
"Don't be too previous, cutie, _if_ you please!" and a not immaculate
hand helped itself to a fold of her dress. "Yuh an' me ain't workin'
this show on our own. You're for Mrs. Sands, I'm fur--well, I'm fur
someone I guess is even more particular than her. It's as much as my
job's worth to let yuh make your get-away till I've had a squint inside
this yere envelup."
"Mrs. Sands didn't tell me there was anything to wait for after I'd put
it in your hands," Clo objected. "I don't see----"
"It's me that's got to see. Now yuh keep yer hair on, gurlie, while I
lamp this thing. No good tryin' the sneak game, because I'd be on to yuh
like a thousand o' brick before yuh'd took a step----"
"I've no intention of running away," Clo assured him, with a dignity
copied from her idol. "Mrs. Sands has nothing to hide."
The man chuckled, as with a knife taken from the table he opened the
envelope without breaking the seals. He did this slowly. Clo sat down
again.
The ugly hands drew out from the envelope another smaller envelope.
There were no seals on it, but the flap was stuck with gum. The man
swore under his breath as he used the knife again. Clo was deeply
interested. Her idea was that the fellow would pull out a quantity of
greenbacks; but in an instant she saw that she had guessed wrong. There
were many sheets of paper folded together, at least a dozen, and this
seemed to astound the man. With a jerk he opened out the sheaf of
papers, and having stared an instant, slammed them on to the table.
"Curse her, she thought she'd do us, did she?" The words tumbled out
between his brown, broken teeth, as he dashed his fist on to the papers.
"So this is why she sent you--you catspaw!"
Clo was far from being a coward. Her hot, defiant temper rose at the
least alarm, but she was so amazed at the result of her errand that she
was struck dumb. Mechanically her eyes had turned to the papers. She saw
that the upper sheets consisted of blank stationery taken from a train,
the Santa Fé Limited.
"If you're trying to scare me, you can't," she said. "You're acting like
a fool. If something's gone wrong in your business, it isn't my fault,
and I'm sure it isn't Mrs. Sands. If there's a trick, she's tricked,
too. Try to have common sense."
The girl's fearless gaze and quickly spoken words calmed the man.
"It's darned rot to say my lady who stayed at home ain't in the trick.
Why, dumbhead, this paper shows! She was on board the Limited. Gee!
Don't I have cause to know that? It's easy as slidin' off a log to see
what she done. She helped herself to what was in this yere envelope, an'
filled it with train stationery. Then she sealed it up with the same
kind o' seals. Stole the stamp and wax on purpose. Thought she could get
away with it. I take off my hat to her."
"I know nothing except that I agreed to bring the parcel," said Clo.
"You go back to her ladyship as fast as you can scamper, and tell her I
wasn't soft enough to bow myself off the stage without peepin' at what
Santa Claus had put in my stockin'. Tell her 'twould only o' bin a
matter o' time if I hadn't peeped. As it is, it's a matter o' less time.
Tell her a life will pay for this, and she jolly well knows whose!"
The man had ceased to bluster, and now that he had got himself in hand
again his fierce eyes and his low, hissing voice thrilled the girl as
his threats had not thrilled her. This time he allowed her to rise,
which she did, tottering slightly. She had forgotten about paying for
her tea, but the dollar bill lay in a crumpled wad on the table. The man
placed one of his oddly repulsive hands over it.
"I'll see to the waiter," he said. "I'm stayin' in this hotel. You cut
along and tell your lady friend she's got till ten o'clock to-night to
explain herself, not a minute more. Good day to you, Miss Baby Doll!"
Without answering, Clo walked out of the room, ashamed that her knees
were weak, and hoping that she could get safely to the car without
making a fool of herself. Physically, it was a great relief to lie back
against the soft cushions of robin's egg blue, and shut her eyes. What
would Angel do when she heard how dreadfully the errand had failed?
Clo had forgotten the difficulty of making Sister Lake believe, without
a fib, that she and Mrs. Sands had only just come in from their drive
together. But she remembered as she went up in the elevator. It was very
late now--long after five. Sister was sure to be cross; but if she were
cross only with Clo, and not Mrs. Sands, that wouldn't matter.
Few things work out according to expectations. Sister Lake had been at
the window, it seemed, when the car brought back Mrs. Sands and Clo
before four o'clock, and had been alarmed when the former descended to
hurry alone into the house.
"I was afraid you'd fainted," she said when Clo arrived at last. "I flew
out of this room to go down in the elevator, and bumped into Mr. Sands
in the hall, and while I was apologizing and making him understand she
appeared on the scene."
"My goodness, the fat _is_ in the fire!" Clo thought desperately. Aloud
she said: "Well?"
"She said you wanted to go to tea with someone, and she was hurrying to
her room to get money for you, so that you could stand treat. I
objected, as I had a right to do," went on Sister Lake. "You're still my
patient, if my time is up to-morrow. And if you have a relapse I shall
be in a nice fix, as I'm due at Mrs. Jardine's Tuesday morning! Mrs.
Sands really acted very queer, she was so determined you should go. Even
when her husband backed me up, she was as obstinate as--as--if she
wasn't such a sweet woman, I should say a pig!"
"It was my fault," pleaded Clo. "I'm not tired a bit." Yet as she
argued, a voice was saying inside her head: "No wonder the poor darling
was a long time coming down with the parcel!"
But this, though exciting enough, was as naught beside the great
question: "What would Beverley say, what would she feel, when Clo had to
confess all that had happened at the Hotel Westmorland?"
VII
THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo to
be gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four)
and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone.
"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreign
conception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver.
"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safely
off. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter of
confirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you.
My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye."
Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyes
was ushered into Roger's study.
"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked.
"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco.
"And the letter from the Queen?"
"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere it
is." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and a
monogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter opened
it, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape,
about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a gold
crown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seen
this box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold key
fitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing Count
Lovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope of
pearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country.