'THERE IS DANGER--NEAR!'
Women are strange. This has been said before, I know, but it is
doubtful if it is ever said twice with just the same meaning; and it
is always true.
When Miss Jenrys learned that our guard was quite beyond the danger
line, and that he might leave the hospital in a week, she promptly
declared her second visit, in company with her aunt, her last,
assuring him that, while one might disregard Mrs. Grundy when a friend
was so ill as to be upon debatable ground, it would never do to risk
her favour for a rapidly recovering convalescent. 'Besides,' she said
with a smile that was kinder than her words, 'in a few days you will
begin to pay some of the visits you now owe to Aunt Ann and to me.'
And this he did.
When he left the hospital his physician forbade him to attempt
anything more severe than a very short promenade once a day, and a
little sight-seeing, if he choose to do it in a wheeled chair; for the
rest, quiet and much sleep. As to his duties as guard, even the
lightest of these were forbidden him for at least a fortnight.
It is hardly likely that the originators of the Fair City planned to
do just that, or realized at first what they had done, but intentional
or not, the White City was a paradise for lovers.
Those cosy nooks all about Wooded Island, those quiet corners about
the lagoons, with seats invitingly placed; and what snug recesses,
'too small for numbers, roomy for two,' in the great buildings, among
the pagodas, temples, pavilions and lofty inclosures, hospitably
furnished by generous exhibitors; then there were half a hundred and
more buildings, model dwellings, cottages, castles, villas, mansions,
palaces, edifices, State and national, each with open doors, and many
with cosy parlours, reception-rooms, assembly-rooms, where one or two
could find quiet and seclusion in the midst of multitude; and last and
best, there were the beautiful lake, the lake shore, the lagoons, the
skiffs, launches, and the gondolas.
On the first day of his freedom from the hospital our guard tried his
strength moderately, and took counsel with Miss Ross.
On the second day June came 'half-way,' as she expressed it, joining
him upon the Plaza and leaving Miss Ross to my tender mercies, for he
had unblushingly begged an hour of my time--which he stretched to two
hours--that I might 'help him entertain the ladies.'
Even now I am not certain that Miss Ross was not a party to the plot
by which we first found ourselves alone upon the Plaza; and a moment
later saw our guard and Miss Jenrys afloat upon the Grand Basin,
luxuriously established, because of the invalid, of course, in a
canopied gondola, and looking as innocent as if they did not perfectly
well know that their picturesque gondolier could not understand the
least word of English.
We watched them until they passed under the bridge of the bears at the
south end of the north canal, and when they came out into the lagoon
and turned westward as if to skirt the island, I turned to my
companion.
'Does she speak Italian?'
'June? No; she is a good German scholar, and loves the language. She
speaks French also, and reads Spanish well; but Italian, no, I am sure
not.'
'Then he does!' I declared, 'and he has set those fellows to paddling
around the island. Miss Ross, let us go and see the cliff dwellers,'
and we went.
When our two lovers were gliding slowly along the shores of the
island, in the shadows of its western side, our guard turned toward
June, and after a long look into the eyes which she dropped, at last
said, softly and slowly:
'June--you did not rebuke me when I called you so at the hospital when
I was ill; may I call you June now?'
'Yes, because now you are an invalid.' There was a little smile
lurking at the corners of her mouth, but he went on gravely:
'Thank you, June; and now may I begin where I should have begun that
evening when you sent me from you----'
'Stop, please! I could not speak of that miserable time until you--I
mean since you have approached the matter, let me ask your pardon for
the insult I then offered you. I have felt all the time since those
first hours that there was somehow a hideous blunder, and now my
reason has been enlightened. I should not have doubted. Forgive me!'
'June, don't! How could I blame you, knowing as I now do how you were
deceived? It is noble of you, but don't ask my pardon when----'
'But I want your pardon! Do you think it humiliates me to ask pardon
for a wrong I have done? I am too proud not to do it, Mr. Lossing.'
And so gliding along that fair water-way, isolated, yet with all the
world around them, those two settled the question of questions; and
then, with minds and hearts at ease, and beauty all about them, their
thoughts became less serious, and she began to criticise the uniform
of a guard standing at a boat-landing, with shoulders erect and a
military air.
'And you, Mr. Lossing, are really one of those superb personages! and
to think that I have never seen you in your panoply of war.'
'Shall I resume it to-morrow?' he asked earnestly.
'For duty? You are not able.'
'But when I am able? When I donned that uniform I was in search of a
new experience; something to take the staleness out of life. I thought
it would give me a view of this great enterprise not to be had by the
cash-paying outsider. But, June, I am willing to dispense with my
panoply of war, and to be a common citizen once more; shall I?'
'Do you wish to?'
'Your will in this matter is my law.'
She laughed musically. '"In this matter?" I am so glad you qualified
that speech. But now, seriously, let me say to you that if you choose
to retain the place you have taken I shall honour you for it. What can
you or any man, in time of peace, do more or better than the work of
these young men? Their work can only be well done by gentlemen.
Courtesy, watchfulness, care for others; help to the old, the weak,
the children; guiding, informing, protecting; making this great
beautiful labyrinth of wonders, that might be so puzzling, so
wearisome, so dangerous, a place of comfort, of safety, of delight. My
friend, when I think what a Babel this place would be without the
Columbian Guard, I am proud of--your uniform.'
'Then you do believe that "a man's a man for a' that?" Thank you,
June.'
'I do, assuredly.'
'And if I tell you that I am a poor man, with only a little money and
just a newly fledged literary knack to stand between me and the sunny
side of life--what then, Princess June?'
'Don't expect to extract one grain of sympathy from me because of any
tale of poverty you may tell, sir. You don't impress me as a young man
who has been ill-used by the world. But that literary knack--do let me
hear more about that;' and her smile changed to a look of eager
interest.
'It's a short tale. About a year ago I made my first attempt as a
journalist--newspaper hack would sound more modest--and I am
succeeding fairly.'
'Then I congratulate you. Anyone can be a millionaire, but a
journalist who succeeds--he wields a power beyond price.'
* * * * *
There was one thing that bade fair to grow troublesome, as I found
myself giving some small portion of almost every day to the two
ladies; for Miss Ross as well as her niece had made me feel that my
duty as well as my pleasure lay in those daily reports or interviews,
held sometimes in the dainty rooms upon the avenue, and now and then
in some convenient spot within the Fair City.
At our first meeting, at the north end of the grounds, I did not
consider the encounter with the Turks in her behalf a meeting, for I
scarcely had a full look at her face, while she did not so much as
glance at mine; but at the other I had appeared before her in _propriâ
personâ_, and my subsequent calls at the house upon the avenue had
been the same. On the other hand, whenever I went about the Exposition
grounds or beyond them in my capacity of 'sleuth,' I went in some
manner of disguise.
During the first week of my acquaintance with Miss Jenrys I had
encountered Monsieur Voisin twice; first upon the occasion of our
introduction, and afterward at Miss Jenrys' door; and during the first
week of our guard's confinement in the hospital I had narrowly escaped
him twice, going to or coming from the same place. As the days went on
I found that Monsieur Voisin's attentions were growing more marked,
and his visits on the avenue almost constant.
I did not wish to become too well known to Monsieur Voisin, who was a
keen observer, for I was posing for him as a 'New York newspaper man,'
and so at last I was forced to tell the two ladies that some, if not
all, of my calls, for a time at least, must be made at unconventional
hours, and often in disguise.
And now the days, while quite uneventful, were growing more and more
busy for Brainerd and myself.
The matter of the diamond robbery, after considerable discussion and
some reluctance, had been turned over to a clever Chicago expert, and
to help him on, and at the same time free our hands for other matters,
we gave him all the information in our possession; told him our
theories and suspicions, and gave him a description of the brunette,
together, of course, with an account of her transactions with the
emerald, which, by the way, had been restored to Monsieur Lausch, not
freely and not willingly, but because the dealer in precious stones
was not daring enough to risk a threatened exposure in the newspapers.
To make the expert's way quite clear with reference to the brunette,
we told him also of her pursuit of Miss Jenrys and her connection with
the attack upon our guard, adding that we were fully convinced she was
one of a clique, working always, whether together or separately, in
unison. But we entered into no details where Delbras and his other
confederates were concerned. In fact, we did not name them.
'We cannot let the Lausch business go out of our hands without letting
the other party into the matter as deep as we ourselves have gone,'
said Dave, 'and the brunette has put her finger into the pie. But
there's no proof of any sort pointing toward the rest of the gang; and
so, old man, before we put another fellow on the track of Delbras,
Bob, Smug and Company, we will satisfy ourselves that we are not smart
enough to run them down alone.'
These sentiments I echoed in full; and although they were proving
themselves adepts in the art of vanishing and leaving no trace behind,
I felt--for reasons which I had not as yet confided even to
Brainerd--more and more certain every day that we should sooner or
later entrap Delbras, and through him the others.
But while we could describe the brunette to the satisfaction of the
keen young fellow in whom we felt a brotherly interest and any amount
of faith, we could do little more. I sent him my 'shadow,' Billy, and
the boy went with him to the café where she had been seen to come and
go, and to the places in the Plaisance where she had more than once
disappeared; and having done this we could do no more, save to wish
him success and to wash our hands, for a time, of the Lausch diamond
robbery and the little brunette--or so we thought.
But now I had upon my mind a new case. Our guard, or Lossing, as, in
imitation of Miss Jenrys and her aunt, I was learning to call him, was
now becoming convalescent, and while he had not yet returned to his
duties as Columbian Guard, which he had assured me he meant soon to
do, he was beginning to go about by night and by day, as his strength
increased, quite regardless, seemingly, of the fact that he had been
attacked once, and had every reason to think the act might be repeated
in some new fashion.
I had warned him of the risk he might run by going about alone at
night, for I saw that when he was not in the presence of June
Jenrys--as he was now sure to be, for a little time at least, every
day--he was unnaturally restless.
I had learned to know him too well to suggest a companion for his
evening strolls, but I kept an eye upon him, and, so long as he did
not venture from the grounds, felt tolerably secure of his safety.
Much of the great inclosure was as light and as safe by night as by
day, but Lossing, while recovering in the hospital, had fallen in love
with the lake, so near at hand, and his first stroll by day was in
this direction, as well as his first evening venture.
Out across the Government Plaza, along the shore to the brick gunboat,
and on northward where the lights were faint and the risk greatest, or
so it seemed to me, he went that night, and the next, and the next.
But not alone, when he took his second promenade lake-ward. The boy
Billy was at his heels unseen but watchful, and well knowing how to
act should danger threaten.
* * * * *
In the meantime, since the night of the attack upon Lossing, the
brunette, Bob, Delbras, Smug--all had vanished utterly. Neither in
Midway nor elsewhere, as Turks or gentlemen of leisure, were they seen
by Dave, myself, or the boy Billy.
'But they're here all right!' Dave declared, 'and if we don't find a
new gap in the fence somewhere soon, I don't know the gentry!'
During Lossing's confinement in the hospital, after he had begun to
mend, I had brought Dave to see him, and after that he had several
times looked in upon the invalid; sometimes at my request, and later
for his own pleasure as well.
Dave's bluff ways had made for him a friend in our guard, and so one
day, the day following that of Lossing's third lakeside promenade, I
asked Dave, who had declared himself off duty for the night, to go and
see him.
I had just received a letter from Boston which made me anxious to see
Miss Jenrys; and as I had not called upon nor met her during the day,
I decided to go to Washington Avenue that evening.
'Go early, Dave,' I said, when he had assured me of his readiness to
go, 'and ask him to put in the evening with you. I don't like these
lakeshore prowls. The fellow's a good one with his fists, but he don't
seem to realize that it's treachery, a blow in the back, that he must
guard against.'
Dave went his way, and it being rather early for my call, I sat down
to re-read Mr. Trent's letter.
It was brief and evidently penned under excitement. He had received an
anonymous letter from Chicago, proposing to open negotiations for the
ransom of his son, who, it declared, was at that moment a prisoner in
the hands of desperate men.
'In short,' Trent's letter ended, 'it's an alarming letter.
I write this in haste that it may reach you at once, and can
only say that my daughter and Miss O'Neil, in my absence,
opened and read the letter, and have written to Miss Jenrys
in full. I am very anxious to know what they have written.
See Miss J---- at once; it is important. I have no time for
more.
'Yours hastily,
'TRENT.'
As I was turning the key in the lock and about to set out at once for
Washington Avenue, Brainerd came puffing up the stairs.
'He's gone!' he panted, 'and I was afraid you'd be!'
'Do you mean Lossing?'
'Of course! He laid off his regimentals, one of the guards told me,
and put on a swell evening suit, and away he went. Want me to follow
him?'
'Yes,' I answered promptly. 'I can't come home with him, I fear; I
must somehow see the ladies alone. You know the place, Dave, do you
not? He won't stay late, you know.'
I was not greatly surprised to hear of Lossing in Washington Avenue,
for we knew well enough that his first evening's visit would be to
Miss Jenrys. He had been three or four times taken to the gate in a
rolling chair, and had walked from there to the house for a morning
call; but this was his first evening outside the grounds since his
recovery.
As I approached the house I saw that someone was before me, already at
the threshold, and ringing the bell. I could not identify the figure,
because of the two trees which stood one on each side of the stone
steps before the door, the one half concealing his figure, the other
the light at the corner below.
The door opened so promptly that he was admitted before I had left the
pavement, and the visitor, Lossing as I supposed, passed in.
'Poor fellow,' I said to myself, 'I won't come upon his very heels.
I'll give him a few moments, at least, alone with the lady of his
choice,' and I turned away and walked at a moderate pace around the
block. But I could spare him no further grace, and so upon again
reaching the house I ran up the steps and rang hastily.
The rooms occupied by the ladies as parlour and reception rooms were
small and cosy, and thrown together by an arch, beneath which a
_portière_ was draped, and Miss Ross came forward to greet me at the
doorway of the first of these.
I could hear a murmur of conversation from the farther room, but it
was not until I was standing beneath the curtained archway that I saw,
to my amazement, Lossing and Monsieur Voisin at the farther side of
the room, talking amiable nothings, as men of the world will when they
meet. Both were in evening dress, and the Frenchman held in his hand a
splendid bunch of American Beauty roses.
Voisin greeted me with _empressement_, and Lossing carelessly
acknowledged 'having met me before.'
Miss Jenrys, her aunt informed me, as she had before informed the
others, was engaged upon a letter of some importance, which must be
sent in the early mail. She would join us soon; and then I learned
from our desultory talk that it was Voisin for whose accommodation I
had been pacing the block, and that Lossing had been the first
arrival.
These two were still seated at the rear of the inner room, with Miss
Ross at a little table near its centre and myself opposite her, and
with my back to the archway, when there came a sudden sound at the
outer door. It opened and closed quickly, and Miss Jenrys' voice
exclaimed:
'Oh, Mr. Masters! I have had such a letter! One of those wretches has
written that he will ransom poor lost Gerald Trent for----'
'June, my dear, come and receive thy visitors before thee tells thy
news.'
There was just a second of embarrassed silence, and then Miss Jenrys
came forward and greeted her guests, with precisely the same courteous
welcome extended to us each and all.
But she only referred to her exclamatory first words in reply to
Monsieur Voisin's question:
'You greeted us with some rather startling words, Miss Jenrys. Pardon
me, but is it true that you have a friend lost in this wonderful
city?'
But Miss Jenrys was not to be made to commit herself a second time.
'Not at all; it is simply some news just given me by a correspondent,
who has told me in a former letter about the disappearance of a young
man whom I do not know.'
'A disappearance! Is it possible? I am interested.' He turned quickly
toward me. 'May I ask from you the details?'
'You can learn from the daily papers as much as I can tell you,' I
replied, with my most candid smile. 'I read some time since of such a
disappearance, and speaking of it casually to Miss Jenrys, learned
from her that she had the news direct from a young lady correspondent
who chanced to know the young man and his family. Is that reported
correctly, Miss Jenrys?'
She nodded.
'And he has been ransomed, you say? That is well indeed,' persisted
Voisin.
There was a brief moment of silence, during which I knew that her eyes
were fixed upon my face; but other eyes were also keenly watching, and
I did not return her gaze.
'Not ransomed,' Miss Jenrys said, 'not yet; there has been an offer of
some sort, a proposition, I understand;' and she turned to Lossing and
began to question him about his health, and then, before the Frenchman
could renew his queries, began telling them both of a recent letter
from her New York aunt, full, it would seem, of bits of society news,
and mention of persons known to herself, Lossing, and Voisin; and she
was so well aided by her aunt and Lossing, not to mention myself, that
there was no renewal of the former subject, and after a very short
call Monsieur Voisin made his adieus, expressed 'the keenest pleasure'
at having encountered Mr. Lossing in Chicago, and his determination to
see more of him.
When the door had closed behind him I arose, and without a word of
explanation crossed the two rooms, and, peering out through the little
bay-window overlooking the street, saw Monsieur Voisin standing upon
the pavement outside, and casting slow glances, first up and then down
the street; after which he walked briskly southward.
There was no need of an explanation where those three were concerned,
and I made none. No one referred to Monsieur Voisin, his visit, or his
interest in the Trent disappearance, and nothing was said for a time
concerning the letter which was foremost in Miss Jenrys' mind and in
mine.
For half an hour I conversed with Miss Ross and left the lovers to an
uninterrupted chat; at the end of that time Lossing took his leave. As
yet he had heard but the briefest outlines of the Trent affair; but in
spite of my own request that he would remain and make one at our
councils, he withdrew, declaring himself under orders to keep early
hours.
I let him go without uneasiness, for was not Dave Brainerd lurking
somewhere very near, and very much to be relied upon?
He had said good-bye to the little Quakeress in the back parlour, and
then Miss Jenrys and myself had walked with him the length of the two
small rooms, bidding him goodnight at the door.
As the street-door was heard to close behind him, Miss Jenrys turned
to me, caught my arm, and said quickly, beseechingly:
'Mr. Masters, won't you follow him home? I--I have a strange feeling
that he is not safe. It is not far, and it is early. Can you not come
back--please?
There was no hesitation, no blushes; she spoke like a woman forgetful
of self in her anxiety for another; and when I told her that my friend
was doubtless awaiting him, she only wrung her hands.
'He may not be now. It is so early, and I shall not feel at ease until
I know. Mr. Masters, I am sure there is danger very near us; I feel
it. Won't you go--and come back when all is safe?'