DANGER AND MORE EXPOSURE.
The revelation filled Carlos with utter dismay. It fell upon him like a
thunderbolt.
Not that the idea then dawned upon him for the first time; he had
surmised the truth before. Kate Heath’s demeanor had often suggested
the secret of her love for him, although it had always been modest,
and had never even verged upon impropriety. But he had scouted the idea
in scorn, as evincing vanity and presumption on his part. He had not
allowed himself to cherish it for an instant, much less to accept it as
an actual fact. And he had treated her uniformly with all the coldness
possible that was consistent with common courtesy.
But here she was, confessing her secret.
He was thrown completely off his guard, and was so filled with
consternation and annoyance that he betrayed no surprise at being
addressed by his true name.
“Miss Heath,” he said, “this is pure madness.”
“I know it,” she said, still keeping her face concealed.
“I am surprised, shocked, overwhelmed by what you have said.”
“I do not wonder at it,” she murmured. “You have a right to be shocked
at my boldness; but it is true――oh, so true!”
“This is fearful!” muttered Carlos, moved to compassion. “I am very
sorry, unutterably sorry. Let me tell you at once――――”
“Do not tell me,” she moaned. “You are disgusted with my presumption;
you need not say the words.”
“I must say them,” said Carlos, firmly, yet gently. “Your wild dream
must be dispelled at once. It is preposterous; it is unaccountable to
me.”
“Oh, Carlos Conrad――――”
At this second mention of his true name he recoiled, and realized the
fact that his secret was known.
“Why do you call me by that name?” he demanded.
“Do not feign surprise,” she said, turning toward him. “I have known
you for weeks. I said I could never forget your face, and I never have.
I tried to contrive ways of meeting you, but failed. At last I hit
on the experiment of the music-lessons, and you know the result. You
cannot deny your name. Yes, I know you, and love you.”
There were desperation and defiance in her air and tone.
“Well,” said Carlos, who saw that it would be useless to try to deceive
her, “why did you do such a rash thing? Why did you disguise yourself
as the detective, and effect my escape?”
“You have the reason in my confession,” she replied; “in my confession
which you regard with such abhorrence. Ah, do not deny it. You despise
me; you would send me away if you could. But did you not know that the
aid must have come from some one who loved you?”
The last two words she uttered in a tone of dogged determination.
“I thought it came from my cousin,” he replied.
“Your cousin!” she repeated, scornfully. “But you were ready to accept
it. You took advantage of the means offered, and escaped. You were
grateful then to one whom you would spurn now. Yes, say it――say you
hate me; kill me.”
“My dear girl――――”
“His dear girl!” she echoed, but whether in irony or pleasure he was
unable to determine.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I recall the words. Miss Heath, for
all that you have done for me you have my sincere gratitude. For your
friendly acts I am thankful; but as for the motive that prompted them,
I deeply regret its existence.”
“And yet I took pleasure in what I did: The risk I incurred was nothing.
I only thought of you.”
Her tone was tender and pleading.
“It pains me to talk to you as I have to,” said Carlos. “Believe me, it
pains me unspeakably. I admire your courage. I wonder at your ingenuity
in disguising yourself as the New York detective. How could you carry
the part so successfully?”
“I told you once that I had had some experience on the stage.”
“True; and how did you come to abandon the profession?”
“My father got into trouble, and was helped out by Geoffrey Haywood.
How they happened to meet I do not know. I think it was purely
accidental. At all events, Haywood persuaded him to leave New York and
live on a farm just out of Dalton. He did well by him, for father has
made money unaccountably fast. We were very poor when in New York.”
“And what do you think is the secret of your father’s good fortune?”
A thought which had struck Carlos impelled him to ask this question.
“I cannot tell. He is associated with Haywood in some business that
is kept in the dark. There is much that goes on in the dead of night.
Strange-looking men come, father goes off, and I don’t know what all.”
“Do they ever go in the direction of Rocky Beach?”
The girl glanced at him sharply.
“I am doing wrong in talking about my father’s private affairs,” she
said, coldly; “and I have made a fool of myself before you; I realize
it perfectly. I am nothing to you. I served you well once, and for that
you are _grateful_. How I hate the word!” She spoke now with suppressed
vehemence. “You have seen what a friend Kate Heath can be. But remember
one thing――_I know you_, and you may realize what it is to have me for
a foe.”
Her eyes dilated and shot forth the wrath of disappointment and
desperation.
Carlos was alarmed. He saw that he was in her power. She might, in her
chagrin and anger, expose him.
“Kate,” he said, “do not be hasty in your words or your conclusions.
You must know that your revelations have come very suddenly upon
me――that my mind is in a whirl of confusion. And I believe I am not
quite well to-night, as you said when you first entered.”
She looked up, as if a faint hope dawned upon her.
“Won’t you leave me now?” he entreated. “I must have time to think
before I can talk any more; and it is late――almost six o’clock. I will
go to my room in the hotel and call a doctor, I believe, for my head
feels strangely. Go home now, and come again at your next lesson-time.”
Illustration: “I MUST HAVE TIME TO THINK BEFORE I CAN TALK ANY
MORE; AND IT IS LATE――ALMOST SIX O’CLOCK.”
“Remember――” she began.
“Ah, there is no need to enjoin remembrance on me. I shall not forget
anything.”
He took his hat in his hand and moved toward the door.
“Well, I will go,” she said. “Good-by.”
“Good-day.”
He took the hand she offered, and then watched her as she descended the
stairs.
But, instead of following her, he paused on the landing, and presently
returned to his room.
“Shall I take advantage of this declaration she has made,” he thought,
“and pretend to humor it? In that way I might lead her on and find
out something about Haywood, for she says he has secret dealings with
her father. And, besides, if I spurn her she will expose me. There
was danger in her eyes when she made the threat, and she is just of
that passionate nature to carry it out. But what a mean, contemptible
deception it would be to profess love for her. No, I will not be
guilty of it. Let the worst come before I so degrade myself. Oh,
what a situation! It _compels_ immediate action, and strengthens my
determination to begin investigations without delay. I’ll no longer be
a lay-figure; I’ll ACT!”
He quitted his teaching-room, and went across the street to his
hotel. But he could eat no supper, the feeling of languor, pain, and
feverishness increased.
In some concern he went up stairs, threw off his coat and boots, and
laid himself on the bed. In two hours he felt decidedly worse, and sent
a messenger for Doctor Davison. It will be remembered that this was the
physician that had offered him the timely advice on the morning of his
arrest, and had subsequently attended him in the jail. Carlos naturally
sent for him, having had previous evidence of his skill, as well as a
kindly feeling toward him.
Doctor Davison shortly arrived and examined the patient. His manner was
cheerful, but an unmistakably graver look quickly came upon his face.
“You must undress and go to bed, young man,” he said.
“Vat for?” asked Carlos, resuming the German accent.
“Because you are going to be sick.”
At a look of distress and alarm from Carlos, the physician quickly
added:
“Oh, you will come out right, but you must take the right means to do
it. It won’t do to ignore the fact that there can be no trifling with
your case.”
“Vell, I do as you say.”
After some further conversation and directions Doctor Davison departed.
Early the next morning he called and found his patient in a raging
fever.
Giving vent to a low whistle, and casting on him a sharp look of
concern, he quickly prepared some new medicines. Calling one of the
attendants of the hotel, he said:
“Give these powders every half hour, without fail. I will call again at
noon.”
At noon he was again by the side of Carlos. The paroxysm had subsided,
and the patient looked at him with intelligent eyes.
“_Wie geht’s?_” said Doctor Davison. “That’s all the German I know. How
do you feel?”
“Better, I think,” said Carlos.
“Yes, we’ve checked the fever for the present, but you have had a
severe turn, and are weak.”
“Vat ails me?” asked Carlos.
“I can scarcely tell yet. The fever has taken an intermittent form, and
will probably come on again to-night. If it isn’t attended to, it may
run into typhoid.”
“I cannot afford to be sick,” muttered Carlos.
“No? Well, all of us feel that way. By the way!” exclaimed the doctor,
starting as if something had suddenly caught his attention, “_what has
become of that scar_?”
“Vat scar?”
“The scar on your forehead. It was very plain last night, but can
scarcely be seen now.”
Here was another disaster. Carlos had neglected, in his sickness,
to put on the bandage which he was accustomed to wear nightly for
the purpose of leaving the imprint of a scar. It was part of the
routine imposed upon him by Mr. Stark, and was a most important aid
in concealing his identity.
A sense of what was likely to follow rushed upon him.
“It comes and goes,” he replied.
“Oh! It’s a very singular scar, to come and go! What caused it?”
“The point of a sword in a duel.”
Doctor Davison was running his hand over his patient’s forehead and
inspecting the scar.
“Yes,” continued the doctor, “it’s a _very_ singular scar. In fact,
it’s no scar at all. What does this mean?”
“Doctor,” said Carlos, partly rising and resting on his elbow, and
speaking solemnly, “I am about to put great trust in you. I must make
a confession. You are right――it is not a scar. I never received a sword
wound.”
“Then what in the world is your object――――”
“Wait. I will tell you. I have been practicing a great deception. Don’t
you know who I am?”
“No, I can’t say that I do, unless you are Carl Zikoff, music-teacher.
But you are talking pretty good English now, I must say.”
“Yes, there is no use in trying to play my part before you. Look at me
well. Have you no suspicion?”
“Your face does not look entirely unfamiliar, but upon my word I cannot
place you. However, Mr. Zikoff, or whoever you are, you are talking
too much. I am a fool to sit here and allow you to do it. You must be
quiet.”
“No, not until I have told you all. It will be better that way, than
for the whole town to find it out, and have everybody after me.”
“Wait, young man. It will be better for you to keep still. I have no
curiosity on the subject. I don’t want you to excite yourself.”
“If you do not allow me to speak I shall die of excitement.”
“Well, go on, then.”
“You did me a kindness once. You attended me in a brief illness. Don’t
you recollect?”
“No.”
“It was in August last.”
“August last! Let me see――that was the time Colonel Conrad was
murdered.”
“Yes, but not by me! not by me! You spoke to me when a rabble was
hounding me, and you came to see me in jail.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed the doctor, springing to his feet. “You are
Carlos Conrad!”
“Yes.”
“And you have been here these several months past under the name of
Karl Zikoff.”
“I have. You will not betray me? At least not as long as I am lying
here sick?”
“Betray you? No. That’s not my trade. My business is to cure you.”
“Thank you, thank you,” said Carlos, in a weak whisper, as he sank back
on his pillow.
With the coolness which physicians must at all times be prepared to
simulate, Dr. Davison said:
“Now, my dear sir, don’t let this worry you another minute. You can
trust me to keep your secret, and see you through all right. But it is
absolutely necessary――――Hallo!”
The doctor’s words had fallen upon unheeding ears, for his patient had
fainted.
Doctor Davison set about restoring him, muttering the while:
“Strange! mighty strange! What on earth could have tempted the fellow
to be so rash? Confound him! he doesn’t look like a murderer. I shall
not expose him, at all ♦events. But he will be apt to rave, and betray
himself. This should be guarded against, for I want to talk to him more
when he is able to endure it. Let me see! I have it! I’ll telegraph
for my brother, who is studying medicine at Skimmerton College. He’s
an excellent nurse, and the experience will be a good one for him.”