MISS EDYTH VALE STATES HER CASE
It was exactly three minutes later when the continuous tooting of a
horn told of the approach of another motor car along the crowded
street. Then the door-bell rang.
Ashton-Kirk arose and touched one of a series of buttons in the wall.
Almost instantly a buzzer made sharp reply. He lifted a tube.
"If it is Miss Edyth Vale," spoke he, "show her up."
A little later a knock came upon the door. The grave faced German
opened it, ushering in an astonishingly lovely girl; tall, most
fashionably attired and with a manner of eager anxiety. Both men
arose.
"Considering that you are under twenty-five," said Pendleton, "you are
remarkably prompt in keeping your engagements, Edyth."
But the girl did not answer his smile. There was a troubled look in
her brown eyes; she tugged nervously at her gloves to get them off.
"This is Mr. Ashton-Kirk?" she asked.
"It is," answered Pendleton. "Kirk, this is my cousin, Edyth Vale."
Ashton-Kirk gave the girl a chair; she sat down, regarding him all
the time with much interest. The gloves were removed by now; but she
continued plucking at the empty fingers and drawing them through her
hands.
"I have heard of you quite frequently," said she to Ashton-Kirk, "but
did not dream that I would ever be forced to benefit by your talents.
Mr. Pendleton has been kind enough to arrange this interview at my
request; and I desire to consult you upon a most important matter--a
very private matter."
Pendleton caught the hesitating glance which she threw at him and
reached for his hat.
"Edyth," said he, "after all I have done for you, this is very
distressing. I had not expected to be bundled out in this manner."
She smiled faintly, and nodded.
"Thank you, Jimmie," she said. "You are a nice boy."
After Pendleton had gone, Miss Vale sat for some moments in silence;
and all the time her eyes went from one part of the room to another,
curiously; she seemed to be trying to estimate the man whom she came
to consult by his surroundings.
At one side, rank on rank of books ran from floor to ceiling; others
were scattered about in chairs, on stands and on the floor. At one
spot the wall was racked with glittering, and to her, strange looking
instruments. An open door gave a glimpse of a second apartment with
bare, plastered wall, fitted with tables covered with sheet lead and
cluttered with tanks, grotesquely swelling retorts, burners, jars and
other things that make up a complete laboratory.
But these told her nothing, except that the man was a student; and
this she had heard before.
So she gave her attention to Ashton-Kirk himself. He stood by the open
window, the morning light beating strongly upon his dark, keen face,
apparently watching the uncouth surging in the street below.
"He's very handsome and very wealthy," her friend Connie Bayless had
informed her only that morning. "Comes of a very old family; has the
entrée into the most exclusive houses, but practically ignores
society."
"Oh, yes, I know him," her uncle, an eminent attorney, had told her.
"A very unusual young man. I might call him acutely intellectual, and
he is an adept in many out of the way branches of knowledge. He would
make a wonderful lawyer, but has too much imagination. Thinks more of
visionary probabilities than of tangible facts."
"As an amateur actor," Pendleton had confided to her, "Kirk is without
an equal. If he adopted the stage, he'd make a sensation. At college
he was a most tremendous athlete too--football, cross-country running,
wrestling, boxing. And I'm told that he still keeps in training.
Clever chap."
"I never saw a more splendid natural equipment for languages," said
Professor Hutchinson. "The most sprawling dialect seemed a simple
matter to him; Greek and the oriental tongues were no more trouble in
his case than the 'first reader' is to an intelligent child."
She had spoken with Mrs. Stokes-Corbin over the telephone. Mrs.
Stokes-Corbin was related to Ashton-Kirk, and her information was
kindly but emphatic.
"My dear," said the lady, "I do hope you haven't fallen in love with
him. No? Well, that's fortunate. He's one of the dearest fellows in
the world, but one of the most extraordinary. I can't fancy his
marrying at all. His ways and moods and really preposterous habits
would drive a wife mad. You can't imagine the extent of them. He
spends days and nights in positively uncanny chemical experiments.
Without a word to anyone he plunges off on some mysterious errand, to
be gone for weeks. They do tell me that he is to all intents and
purposes a policeman. But I really can't quite credit that, you know.
He loves to do things that others have tried and failed. Even as a boy
he was that way. It was quite discouraging to have a child straighten
out little happenings that we had all given up in despair. Sometimes
it was quite convenient, but I'm not sure that I ever liked it. A
charming talker, my dear; he knows so much to talk about. But he's
eccentric; and an eccentric young man is a frightful burden to those
connected with him."
All these things passed through the mind of Edyth Vale, as she sat
regarding the young man at the window. Finally he lifted his eyes and
turned them upon her--beautiful eyes--remarkable, full of perception,
compelling. As he caught her intent, inquiring look, he smiled; she
colored slightly, but met his glance bravely.
"Last night I heard you spoken of," she said, "and it occurred to me
that you could aid me."
"I should be glad to," said he. "It sometimes happens that I can be of
service to persons extraordinarily circumstanced. If you will let me
hear your story--for," with a smile, "all who come to see me as you
have done _have_ a story--I shall be able to definitely say whether
your case comes within my province."
She hesitated a moment, her hands nervously engaged with the gloves.
Then she said, frankly.
"I suppose it is only sensible to speak quite candidly with you, Mr.
Ashton-Kirk, as one does with a lawyer or a physician."
He nodded.
"Of course," said he.
For another moment she seemed to be turning her thoughts over and
seeking the best means of making a beginning.
"It is very silly of me, I know," she said; "but I feel quite like the
working girl who writes to the correspondence editor of an evening
paper for advice in smoothing out her love affairs." She bent toward
him, the laugh vanishing from her face, a troubled look taking its
place, and continued. "I am to be married--some day--and it is about
that that I wish to speak to you."
"I realize the difficulties of the subject," spoke Ashton-Kirk
quietly.
"What I am going to tell you, I have never mentioned to anyone before.
It has been three years ago--four years at Christmas time--since I
first met Allan Morris," she said. "Our engagement so quickly followed
that my friends said it was a very clear case of love at first sight.
Perhaps it was!
"However that might be, we were very happy for a time. But trouble was
in store for us. I had always disbelieved in long engagements, had
always been very outspoken against them, in fact. This is perhaps what
made me so quickly notice an absence of haste on Mr. Morris' part as
to the wedding. When the subject came up, as it naturally would, he
seemed to avoid it. At first I was surprised; but finally I grew
annoyed, and spoke my mind very frankly.
"You see, he is not at all well off, and I am--well I have a great
deal. I thought this might have something to do with his apparent
reluctance. But no, it was something else. As I just said, I spoke
frankly; and he was equally candid, after a fashion. He said it was
quite impossible for us to be married for some time. There was a
something--he did not say what--which must first be settled. Naturally
I grew curious. I desired to know what it was that so stood in the way
of our happiness. He replied that it was something that must not be
spoken of, and was so very earnest in the matter that I did not
mention it again--for a long time.
"You may think, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, that my fiancé was no very ardent
lover. But I was assured, and I do not lack perception, that he was
passionately fond of me. And I still think so. But as time went by,
things did not alter; our wedding was a vague expectation; even more
than before Mr. Morris avoided mention of anything definite.
"I am not naturally patient; and my rearing as the only child of an
enormously rich man has perhaps added to my impetuousness. In a burst
of temper one day, I broke the engagement, gave him back his ring and
did a number of other rather silly things. But he was so tragic in
his despair--so utterly broken hearted and white--that I immediately
relented and we patched the matter up once more. That he loved me was
plain; but that he could not marry me--for some mysterious reason--was
even plainer.
"After this I began to notice a change in him. He was rather silent
and given to reverie; he seldom laughed. Sometimes he was haggard and
so wrought up, apparently, that he could scarcely contain himself. He
would pace the floor, evidently with little realization as to what he
was doing. Once he was really dreadfully agitated. I calmed him as
well as I could, and he sat for a long time, thinking deeply. As I
watched him, he sprang to his feet and dashing his fist upon a table,
cried out, passionately:
"'The black-hearted rascal! He's mocking me!'
"Then like a flash he realized the strangeness of his conduct, and
with anxious, alarmed face, asked my pardon. I felt that this was an
opportunity to put an end to a situation that was growing intolerable.
My persistent questioning gained me something, but, on the whole, not
a great deal.
"The thing that was troubling him was a business matter. In some way
he was in the hands of some one--these are the indefinite threads that
I gathered--a mocking, jeering, smiling someone whom he hated, but
from whom he could not free himself.
"I began to tell him that there could be nothing strong enough in
itself to prevent our happiness; but he stopped me in such a way that
I did not feel inclined to continue. In an outburst, filled with
denunciations of his enemy and protestations of devotion to myself, I
caught the name of Hume. He had dropped this inadvertently. I knew it
instantly because of the swift look that he gave me. But I allowed no
hint of what I thought to show in my face. He was more subdued during
the remainder of his stay; the mentioning of the name had startled
him, and he was doubtless afraid that his state of mind would lead him
into further indiscretions.
"As you may suppose, the name--the first tangible thing that I had
learned--was of much interest to me. If I could but find out who this
person was, I could probably get to the bottom of the matter."
At this point Miss Vale paused; and Ashton-Kirk noted her head lift
proudly.
"Perhaps," she continued, "it might be thought that I had no right to
make such an effort in a matter which Mr. Morris saw fit to keep from
me. Were you thinking that? But I am not a silent sufferer. I usually
make an end of annoying things without delay. And I would have done
so in this case long before, but I was in love; and I could not bear
to see Allan suffer by my insistence.
"However, here was an opportunity to perhaps aid him; and I set to
work. In a few hours next day I had located every person of the name
of Hume in the city. Mr. Morris is a consulting engineer. Anyone named
Hume who, from his occupation, would be likely to have dealings with
him especially attracted my attention. There were only a few, and long
before the day was over I had satisfied myself by personal visits at
their places of business that they did not even know him."
Ashton-Kirk smiled. One of his well-kept hands patted applause upon
the arm of his chair.
"You are strong," said he. "I recognized your type when you came
in. It is a pleasure to have one's judgment so thoroughly and
satisfactorily proven."
Miss Vale looked pleased.
"I am glad that you approve of what I did," she said. "I confess I had
some hesitancy, but not enough to prevent my carrying out the design.
But when the first effort proved without result, I set about making a
study of all the Humes in the directory. I had my secretary make me a
typed list of them, with their addresses and occupations, and I pored
over this for hours at a time.
"There was one that caught my eye after a while; probably this was
because of the unusualness of his business. The directory gave him as
a numismatist; but I drove by his shop in my car, and the sign over
the window said that he was also a dealer in curiosities of art.
"This gave me an idea. Mr. Morris is an ardent collector; his hobby is
engraved gems, and for a man of his means his possessions in this line
are quite remarkable. It was easily within the range of possibility
that he had had transactions with this particular Hume--at least that
he was acquainted with him. The more I thought of this, the more
curious I grew; and one afternoon I paid the place a visit. It is on
the second floor, the entrance is through a side door and up a narrow,
dusty stairway. Then I had to make my way along a dark windowless
passage to the office, or shop in the front.
"This shop was well lighted, and literally stuffed with what were well
termed 'curiosities of art.' I never before saw such queer carvings,
such freakish pottery, such weird and utterly impossible bric-a-brac.
At a table sat a flabby looking man with a short sandy beard. One
glance told me that he was an habitual drunkard, for he had the
sodden look that is unmistakable. But when he arose and bid me good
evening his manner struck me like a blow in the face. Allan Morris had
spoken of a mocking person who jeered and smiled. And that described
this man exactly. There was mockery in every glance of his dull eyes;
every twitch of his mouth was a fleer; with each gesture he seemed
making game of one; sneering incredulity was stamped all over him."
Ashton-Kirk leaned forward with keen interest.
"My manner must have betrayed me," the girl went on, "for I saw an
inquiring crease come into his forehead. When he asked the nature of
my business his voice was sharp and insolent.
"I had not thought as to what I should say, what excuse I should give
in this case. But almost instantly my mind was made up. About the most
conspicuous thing in the room was a squat Japanese idol--a fat,
grinning, hideous thing which sat upon a sort of pedestal near the
door. So I laid my hand in it.
"'I was told of this,' said I, examining the idol minutely, 'and came
in to see it.'
"'Ah, yes,' said he. But it was plain enough that he did not believe
me.
"I inquired the price of the figure. He named a high one; and I
believe I astonished him by purchasing it without another word. The
idol was delivered late that afternoon. I had it unpacked at once and
placed where Mr. Morris could not fail to see it when he called."
"A clever plan," commented Ashton-Kirk, admiringly.
"He saw it when he entered the room and greeted me. He was smiling;
and the smile froze on his lips, his face went pale, and he turned a
look upon me that filled me with fear, it was so wan and startled.
"I had intended telling him the full truth if my ruse succeeded. But
after that look I could not. I convinced him by a nonchalant manner
and story, that I had come by the idol accidentally. At least I
_think_ I convinced him, though I noticed his watching me steadily
from under very level brows more than once during the evening. But if
he had any suspicions that I was deceiving him, he did not put them
into words."
Here Miss Vale paused for a moment. Then she resumed:
"I tried, in various ways, to gain a knowledge of the relationship
between my fiancé and this sneering shopkeeper; but they were all
ineffectual. Mr. Ashton-Kirk, this occurred fully three months ago,
and the situation remains the same as it was upon that night."
Then with a suddenness that startled the young man she lifted two
trembling hands to her face and began to sob gaspingly. When she took
the hands away there were no signs of tears, but her beautiful face
was drawn with pain and her voice shook as she said:
"I don't think I can stand it much longer. I beg of you not to think
lightly of my story; for the thing that stands between Allan Morris
and myself is deadly. As I watch him I can see that his heart is
breaking; his health is failing, there is a look of fear in his eyes."
She reached forward and her hand rested upon the sleeve of
Ashton-Kirk. "He is at the mercy of this mocking monster that I have
described to you. It is killing him, and through him it is killing me.
Help me, please."
Ashton-Kirk smiled reassuringly.
"As far as I can see," said he, "the case is a simple one. However, it
may turn out the reverse. But in either event I can promise you a
swift and energetic attempt to set the matter right."
"Thank you!" She stood up. "And you will begin to-day?"
"At once!"
"You are kind." She held out her hand; he took it. "Thank you, again."
Stumph appeared, in answer to the bell. She turned to go.
"There is nothing more that you can tell me?" he inquired.
"Nothing."
"I had supposed that. Your recital sounded pretty complete."
When the door closed upon her, he stood for a few moments in the
middle of the floor, his head bent forward, his hands behind him. Then
he turned and touched another of the system of bells.
Immediately a brisk, boyish looking young man presented himself.
"Fuller," spoke Ashton-Kirk, "I want instant and complete information
upon one Hume, a local numismatist, and Allan Morris, consulting
engineer."
"Very well, sir." And Fuller turned at once, and left the room.