_Box A-46._
On the morning after Mrs. Atterbury's dinner party, Betty awoke from
a deep sleep of mental and physical exhaustion to find that a fresh
snowstorm was raging. The fine, hard-driven flakes swirled past her
windows like a heavy meshed veil, obscuring even the cedars just
outside and piling in soft drifts between the iron bars of the balcony.
The terrified scream which had aroused her from her reverie at midnight
still rang in her ears. She was sure that it had been the voice of Mrs.
Dana, and she dared not allow her thoughts to dwell on what it might
portend.
Her own position in the household, now clearly defined by her discovery
that she was indeed under surveillance, left her no alternative but to
disarm the suspicion directed against her at all costs. An instant off
guard would be fatal and she summoned all her self-command to her aid.
Nevertheless, it was with a sinking heart that she dragged herself
downstairs in response to the breakfast gong, dreading lest she come
upon evidences of a second tragedy. The sedate, seemingly tranquil
house had become for her an abode of horror, and with each reluctant
step fear gripped her more tenaciously by the throat.
To her unspeakable relief, however, she heard Mrs. Dana's high, nasal
tones issuing from the dining-room and entered to find the lady herself
already seated opposite her hostess. She was attired in a teagown
belonging to the latter, beneath which her ample figure sagged, and her
face in the cold light was ghastly and drawn.
"Sit down, my dear." Mrs. Atterbury nodded her good-morning from behind
the coffee urn. "You slept well?"
"Yes, thank you. My headache has quite disappeared," Betty murmured,
adding deliberately: "It was kind of you to have Caroline at hand, but
I did not need her services."
For a moment they looked squarely into each other's eyes; Mrs.
Atterbury's were the first to fall.
"I kept Mrs. Dana with me as you see, because of the storm. Mr. Dana
stayed over night, too, of course, but he left for his office half an
hour ago. We played bridge until very late."
"I'm a wreck this morning," Mrs. Dana remarked fretfully, but there was
a curious quiver in her voice. "Mortie says I am the original daylight
saver; I only make use of the night hours."
"The moon was ever so bright when I went to bed," ventured Betty. "The
storm must have come very quickly."
"Quickly enough to give me quite a house party," Mrs. Atterbury
replied. "Madame Cimmino remained also, and Professor Stolz, but they
have not risen yet. I hope you will have an opportunity to talk with
the Professor, Betty, you would find him most interesting. He is an
eminent scientist and justly celebrated in his own country."
Betty would have liked to ask what branch of science had claimed him,
but she discreetly remained silent, with a mental reservation to find
out for herself, if possible.
Madame Cimmino appeared shortly, looking more sallow and shrunken than
ever, and while her hostess greeted her, Betty slipped away to the
library to sort the morning's mail.
The room had not yet been put in order for the day, and the girl's
attention was caught by a heap of torn papers, half charred, on the
cold hearth. The writing upon the scraps seemed oddly familiar, and she
stopped hastily and examined them. They were the letters she herself
had painstakingly copied from the originals which Mrs. Atterbury
had taken from the safe and given to her on the previous day. Like
the rearrangement of the bookcases, the letters had been merely a
subterfuge to keep her employed and under watchful eyes.
Nevertheless, she doggedly assailed her uncongenial task and was midway
through the morning's mail, when a heavy foot sounded in the hall, and
Professor Stolz stuck his shaggy head in the door.
"Pardon. I a book would wish to have and Mrs. Atterbury says it here
is," he translated idiomatically from his native tongue. "I disturb
you, no?"
"Not at all." Betty rose. "Perhaps I can help you, Professor. What sort
of book are you looking for?"
"It is Egyptian--a history of the twelfth dynasty."
"Egyptian!"
The professor had been peering along the bookshelves, but at her
exclamation he turned.
"Yes. Professor of Egyptology I have been for fifteen years already, in
the University of Leipzig. The book you have perhaps seen, Fräulein.
Very old and rare it is, with the cover much stained--"
"Is this it?" Betty held out a quaint, time-worn volume, which he
seized with avidity.
"In here an inscription is, from the tomb of Ameni-emhat, at
Beni-Hasan, for which long looking have I been." He turned the pages
eagerly, then paused with a snort of satisfaction, and read in a
mumbling undertone: "'_Renpit XLIII Xer hen en Horu anx mest suten net
xeper-ka-Ra anx Petta--_'"
"Year forty-three, under the Majesty of Horus, living one of births,
king of the North, Kheper-ka-Ra, living forever--" Betty translated
softly, in utter self-forgetfulness.
"Himmel! What is this?" The professor stared at her over his
huge-rimmed glasses. "You know Egyptian!"
Betty flushed.
"I--I knew a young man in my home town who had studied it abroad, and
he taught me a little," she stammered hastily.
"A little? Donnerwetter! For my assistant I should like you, so
fluently you translate!" His eyes shone with the fire of an enthusiast.
"After my own heart you are, Fräulein, and to teach you more, proud I
should be!"
"Thank you, Professor, but I--I have no time at present." Betty turned
back to her desk with a determined air and after futile efforts to
engage her further in conversation he departed, shaking his head in
stupefaction.
For several days thereafter no untoward incident disturbed the surface
monotony of the household routine, and only the unobtrusive but
persistent surveillance to which she was subjected remained to keep the
tragic mystery uppermost in Betty's thoughts.
Of her knowledge of the espionage she gave no sign, but went about her
daily tasks with winning docility and an outward serenity of bearing
which brought the hoped-for reward. After the third night, Caroline
was no longer installed on guard outside her door, and before the week
was out the girl felt that she had at last lulled all suspicion. Mrs.
Atterbury had not suggested that she walk again in the grounds of the
estate, however, and although the confinement was telling upon her,
Betty feared to risk a direct refusal by seeking permission.
However, from the hour that Caroline's vigil ceased, Betty had pursued
her secret exploration of the home. As on the first night after her
arrival, and the second, when she made her gruesome discovery, she had
continued her mysterious quest throughout the sleeping house and every
spare moment during the day, when she could escape detection, found
her delving in odd nooks and corners. She managed in time to visit
each of the sleeping apartments and even penetrated to the attic, but
her efforts continued to be fruitless. The object of her clandestine
activities seemed still to elude her.
She attended to the correspondence each morning and completed the
rearrangement of the books in the library. Miss Pope appeared on two
subsequent occasions, but made no further effort to communicate by
stealth with the girl even upon the day she delivered the finished
gowns. Whatever her motive had been, her courage was not equal to a
second attempt.
The Danas made no reappearance, nor did the pale, foppish youth, Jordan
Ide, but Mme. Cimmino and the ubiquitous Wolvert were constant visitors
and on more than one occasion Betty heard Dr. Bayard's measured tones
issuing from the drawing-room. By tacit arrangement, she now retired to
her own room immediately after dinner on such evenings as there were
guests present and the silent hours of readjustment and utter mental
relaxation gave her renewed strength to play her daily part.
By the end of the week a thaw set in which swept the cedars bare of
frost and turned the unbroken expanse of white into a veritable sea of
mud. Mrs. Atterbury herself had not left the house since she acquired
her new companion, but early one morning she entered the library where
Betty sat wearily anticipating her secretarial duties, with a proposal
which made the girl's eyes dance.
"My dear, I wonder if you will undertake an errand for me? The walking
is atrocious, I know, but you have been cooped up indoors quite long
enough and the fresh air will do you good."
"Oh, I shall be glad to go!" Betty cried warmly, adding in haste, "Of
course, I don't know my way about, but if you will direct me I am sure
I shall not make any mistake."
"I don't think there is a likelihood of your getting lost," Mrs.
Atterbury smiled. "But if you do, you can always reach a telephone, you
know, and I will send the car to conduct you home. I want you to go
to Madame Cimmino's and bring back a package which she will give you
for me. She lives in the Lorilton Apartments on Falmouth Avenue; walk
three blocks across town from the corner here, and take a southbound
red 'bus. Tell the conductor your destination and he will see that you
reach it safely."
"That seems quite clear, Mrs. Atterbury." Betty rose with alacrity. "Do
you wish me to go at once?"
"If you will, please. The mail can wait until later, but this is rather
important."
The air was as mild as on a spring day and Betty's heart leaped as she
passed out of the gateway to the broad, untrammeled avenue. She glanced
back sharply at the house, but no one was visible, and its windows
stared blankly at her.
Rounding the corner, she set out across town at a brisk pace, her blood
tingling in her veins and the soft wind bringing a flush to her pale
cheeks. Her gaze was introspective rather than curious and she boarded
the southbound omnibus almost mechanically, although she scrutinized
her fellow passengers with grave intentness.
A ride of some twenty minutes brought her to the doors of the Lorilton,
which proved to be a huge, ornately constructed apartment house in a
somewhat less exclusive locality than the North Drive.
A gaudily upholstered elevator deposited Betty on the tenth floor and
in response to her ring, the apartment door was opened by a smug-faced
Japanese butler who ushered her silently into the drawing-room.
She took a swift mental inventory of her surroundings as she waited.
The room presented an odd mixture of real artistic treasures, and the
basest of imitations; rare tapestries hung upon the walls between
wretched copies of masterpieces, a hideous terra cotta statuette
overshadowing a Ming vase, and an exquisite Buhl cabinet was filled
with the most trumpery of knickknacks.
Madame Cimmino made her appearance in a gorgeous but somewhat soiled
kimona. Her sallow cheeks were highly rouged and the jeweled hoops
which tugged at her ears seemed oddly garish in the light of day.
"The packet? Ah, yes, I have it," she murmured in response to Betty's
request. "You came alone? You are learning, then, to find your way in
this strange city; that is well."
She clapped her hands, and when the butler appeared, jabbered rapidly
to him in his native tongue, while Betty sat with her face averted. The
functionary disappeared, to return almost immediately bearing a small
package which Madame Cimmino placed in the girl's hands.
"Be careful that you do not lose it, my dear," she warned her at the
door, adding with a flash of her white teeth, "Some day when you have
leisure, little mouse, you shall come and have tea with me, if Mrs.
Atterbury permits. I like American young girls."
Betty thanked her and departed. She thrust the precious package in her
muff without a second glance, and a peculiar, hard light glowered in
her eyes until she reached once more the house in the cedars.
Mrs. Atterbury accepted the package without comment, and thereafter
Betty roamed the grounds at will. Her position save for the morning's
correspondence had become a sinecure, but she felt a presentiment of
impending change, and awaited developments with keen expectancy.
They ensued more quickly than she had anticipated. She was summoned
to Mrs. Atterbury's room late one afternoon, to find her employer
critically examining a gown which had just arrived; an exquisite affair
of filmy tulle and creamy lace.
Betty could not suppress a little cry of admiration, and Mrs. Atterbury
smilingly held it out to her.
"I wish you to try this on, my dear. If it fits you, it is yours."
Wondering, Betty placed herself in Caroline's hands and when the
change had been effected Mrs. Atterbury herself gasped. In the simple
blouse and skirt Betty had been winsomely attractive in spite of the
disfiguring birthmark, but the delicate beauty of the gown transformed
her as if some fairy godmother had touched her with a magic wand.
"Really, you are quite wonderful!" There was amazement mingled with the
unfeigned admiration in Mrs. Atterbury's tones. "I had no idea that
you would develop such possibilities, Betty. I did well to select this
model for you."
"It is really mine?" The girl turned her flushed face from the mirror.
"I--I don't know how to thank you, Mrs. Atterbury, but when shall I
have an occasion to wear it?"
"Tonight." The reply came with startling brevity and promptitude. "You
are going to hear 'Aida'. Have you ever been to the opera?"
"Aida!" gasped Betty. There was a pause, and then she added with a
change of tone, "No, I--I have never heard any opera except on a
phonograph. It will be like a dream come true."
And as if in a dream she completed her toilet for the evening. She
had schooled herself to accept without visible surprise anything
which might eventuate, but to appear at the opera in company with
Mrs. Atterbury and her probable guests, was a move she had not in her
wildest fancy anticipated.
A fresh surprise awaited her when she descended to the dining-room.
Only Mrs. Atterbury was present, and she was still attired in the
somber gray gown she had worn throughout the day.
"Perhaps I should have waited to dress later, also," Betty murmured,
glancing down at her own shimmering elegance. "I did not know we would
have sufficient time after dinner."
"I am not going with you," Mrs. Atterbury replied to the implied
question with calm directness. "I am sending you quite alone, Betty.
The car will take you, and wait to bring you home when you have
accomplished your errand."
"'My--errand?'" faltered Betty, off guard in her amazement.
"You will occupy Box A-48, in the grand tier," the older woman
continued as if she had not heard the interjection. "In A-46, on your
left, there will be seated a party of ladies and gentlemen. You will
take no apparent notice of them--I can depend upon your breeding to
prohibit your staring--but be sure to take a chair close to the rail
which separates the two boxes and allow your arm to rest upon it. At
some time during the singing of the opera, one of the gentlemen in
the next box will place an envelope in your hand. Do not betray any
surprise, whatever you do, but remain quietly for a few minutes longer,
then slip away as unobtrusively as possible and descend immediately
to the carriage entrance, where the car will be awaiting you. This is
a confidential matter, but you are discreet and I am sure that I can
trust you, my dear. It is really quite simple; do you think you will be
able to carry it through successfully?"
"I--I think so," responded Betty, faintly. She was dazed, but a new
light had broken over her consciousness and much that had puzzled her
was made clear. She shrank from the task before her, yet no thought of
a refusal entered her mind. She had voluntarily placed herself in this
woman's hands, and whatever commands were given her, she was prepared
to obey.
"You do not seem very confident." Mrs. Atterbury's level tone had
become suddenly stern. "If you follow my directions carefully you can
make no mistake. I do not find it convenient to go myself, but if you
object--"
"Oh, it isn't that!" cried Betty in haste to cover her momentary
hesitation. "I'm sure I shall not have any difficulty in merely
accepting the envelope and bringing it to you, but I never went to the
opera before or sat in a box, and I shall feel as if everyone were
looking at me. I am afraid that I am a trifle self-conscious, after
all, about the birthmark on my face."
The lines about Mrs. Atterbury's mouth relaxed, and she smiled
tolerantly.
"So that is all! You need not think of it, my dear, for I assure you
it is rather attractive than otherwise. It serves to render you
distinctive, at all events, and that is what everyone is striving for,
nowadays. The car will be brought around to the door for you at ten,
when you will be in time for the last act. You will have only one thing
to remember; be sure that you seat yourself on the extreme _left_ of
the box, and that your hand is within reach."
"If you will describe the gentleman to me--" Betty began, but the other
interrupted quickly.
"That is quite unnecessary, as you are to make no advances, nor indeed
appear cognizant of his existence. Permit him to place the envelope
in your hand, but do not even glance in his direction. That is quite
clear?"
"Oh, yes!" laughed Betty ingenuously. "I should be an adept at
that sort of thing; I have had practice enough at school, passing
surreptitious notes."
Mrs. Atterbury permitted herself to laugh softly.
"Then I shall take your success for granted. Come to me before you
start, my dear. I have some flowers for you to wear, and I am going to
lend you a string of my pearls."
When Betty, wrapped in an ermine cloak the value of which she dared not
attempt to compute, drew up before the opera house she was tingling
with excitement, but her brain was clear, and her nerves steady. She
had realized in a swift flash of comprehension that she was assuming
the first of her real tasks. Whatever was written in the mysterious
letter which was to be entrusted to her, and whoever the stranger might
be from whose hand she would receive it, she was convinced it was for
this and no other purpose that she had been engaged. The secretarial
work, the companionship, were mere subterfuges to conceal her true
mission, although she could not fathom its meaning.
The third act was drawing to a close as she entered her box and Aida's
exquisite pleading cry: "_Ah no! ti calma--ascoltami_," thrilled her
very soul. A daring idea came to her. She had been directed to return
as soon as she received the letter, but why could she not delay its
delivery until the very end of the opera? She longed to hear the final
aria, and it would be a simple matter to keep out of arm's reach.
The box on her left was occupied, for although she did not glance
toward it, a rustling and soft murmur reached her ears as if her
entrance had occasioned comment, unobtrusive though it had been.
For a moment she hesitated, then obeying the swift impulse she dropped
her cloak and seated herself in a chair well to the right, her face
averted. Scarcely had she composed herself when the curtain fell.
Betty sat motionless in the sudden blaze of light, her eyes idly
sweeping the glittering horseshoe which extended at her right, her
heart beating wildly. She was conscious only of one pair of eyes upon
her and she fought down an almost irresistible impulse to turn and meet
them. Someone was staring at her from the box at her left, staring as
if mutely compelling her gaze and she flushed darkly beneath the scar
upon her cheek.
Whoever they were, it was evident that this man and his companions were
well known, for from the fall of the curtain until its rise again, a
constant stream of visitors eddied about their box and scraps of gay
chatter and soft tinkling laughter came to her ears. One chance phrase,
in a vivacious feminine voice made her breath catch in her throat:
"Oh, don't mind Toddie! He is fuming inwardly, although he won't tell
why. Anyway, it's a positive comfort to know that there's something on
his mind beside his hat. How were the ducks in North Carolina?"
Betty stirred uneasily in her chair. If "Toddie" were the man who had
come to deliver the letter into her hands she could well understand
the reason for his ill humor. What must he think of her presence yet
deliberate evasion of him? Her determination did not falter, however.
Come what might, she meant to drain to its dregs this cup of unalloyed
happiness which so unexpectedly had been held to her lips.
Just as the lights were lowered, and the first soft strains of Amneris'
lamentation swelled from the orchestra, she ventured a swift glance at
the box on her left.
A portly, gray-haired dowager was directly beside Betty with two
younger women on her left, and all three were glittering with jewels
like miniature constellations. Behind them an obese elderly gentleman
dropped his lowest chin upon his broad expanse of shirt bosom in
well-calculated repose, a younger one bent forward to whisper into
the ear of the girl in front of him, and a third, a round-faced man
with a downy blond mustache turned squarely and met Betty's eyes, with
exasperation glowering in his own.
She permitted her gaze to rest on him impersonally for a moment then
slowly shifted it to the stage as the curtain rose.
The scene held her, and the beauty of the music so enthralled her
senses that she forgot herself and the strange errand which had brought
her there until a chair rasped against the box rail in unmistakable
signal. With a start she threw off the spell which had entranced her,
and just as the divine notes of Aida's "_Vedi? di morte l'angelo--_"
rose winging through the vast house, she moved silently to the chair at
her left and rested her arm upon the barrier.
There was a sound very like a sigh from the next box, and an envelope
was thrust almost roughly beneath her fingers.
For a space of interminable minutes she sat as motionless as if carved
from stone, save that the hand holding the letter was clenched to her
breast, crushing the cluster of white roses which she wore, and feeling
like a pulseless lump of ice. The perfume of the flowers, cloyingly
sweet, all but suffocated her, and the band of pearls seemed to tighten
about her throat.
The strains of "_O Terra Adio_" were dying away in haunting sadness as
she rose, and snatching up the ermine cloak, slipped from the box and
down the promenade like a wraith.