_The Fangs of the Wolf._
"Misfortune seems to be treading upon the heels of our friends more
relentlessly this season than before." Doctor Bayard looked up from
his salad with a sympathetic sigh. "Our poor dear Professor dying in
Chicago, Mortimer dangerously ill, and yet another gone down under the
strain of financial worries and cares."
Betty glanced quickly at his grave ascetic face crowned with its wealth
of snowy hair and then her eyes wandered to her employer.
Mrs. Atterbury was sitting very straight in her chair, her expression
as immobile as ever, but the girl fancied that a shade of weariness
had clouded the glitter of the keen, black eyes and the fine lines had
deepened about the firm, chiselled lips.
"Professor Blythe will recover." There was a finality in her tone which
brooked no argument. "He has been in a far more critical condition than
this and regained his health almost miraculously."
"But consider the attendant circumstances, my dear Marcia." Wolvert's
voice, coolly ironical, intervened. "The previous illnesses must have
weakened his constitution, and--er--complications may set in at any
time."
"As a diagnostician, Jack, let me remind you that your conclusions have
been erroneous more than once." Mrs. Atterbury raised her eyebrows
significantly. "As for Mortie Dana, we have every reason to believe
that he will pull through. The doctor's report is highly satisfactory,
although of course he is likely to be quarantined for some time to
come."
"That would seem to be a foregone conclusion." Wolvert was in no wise
abashed by the snubbing he had received. "Louise is in no danger of
contagion, however, and the change of air will do her good."
Betty could not repress a little gleam of interest. She had wondered
why Mrs. Dana did not come again to the house, but had not previously
heard of her departure from town.
"Personally, I shall be pleased if she remains away indefinitely."
Madame Cimmino shrugged. "She gets upon one's nerves, with her
hysterics. One never knows when she may make a scene."
"To say nothing of the possibility of contagion--" Wolvert caught his
hostess' eye and turned in obvious haste to Doctor Bayard. "But of whom
were you speaking just now, Doctor, who has gone to pieces?"
The doctor held his wineglass up to the light and gazed into its amber
depths reflectively as he replies.
"My old friend--Cote. I had heard depressing reports of his mental
condition, but I would not believe them until I had investigated
personally." He shook his venerable head. "I returned only a few days
ago from a visit to him and I seriously fear that his usefulness is
passed. He is unable to handle his financial affairs and his permanent
retirement is all that can be looked for."
"But surely the others in his firm will assume his obligations!"
Wolvert's bantering tone had sharpened. "It is almost as vital to them
that his affairs should be straightened out as it was to him. They must
be made to understand the situation."
"You talk like a child!" exclaimed Madame Cimmino. "What is to
prevent them from going into voluntary bankruptcy, now that he is
incapacitated? Others have done that before, when driven to the wall."
Betty sat with downcast eyes and a politely detached air but her hands
were clenched tightly in her lap and her breath came quickly. If those
about her at the luncheon table remembered her presence they must have
believed their conversation unintelligible to her, yet every word was
fraught with meaning, and she waited with leaping pulses for the next
disclosure.
"That would scarcely be possible in this instance." There was an
implacable note in the old Doctor's measured tones. "His is not a
corporation, you know; he has one silent partner who without doubt
will carry out the contract entered into by my friend when he learns of
it. Unfortunately, it will be necessary to locate this partner first
and I have not the address."
"That can be arranged." Mrs. Atterbury rose. "Jack, come and play the
new concerto for Doctor Bayard."
Betty had been granted permission to go out for an hour but her heart
was heavy as she dressed. The discovery of the previous day that the
supposed museum director was shadowing her had come with a shock which
had benumbed her brain, but the reaction aroused all her faculties to
the alert against this new threatened danger. Through the long hours of
the night she lay in silent combat between the dictates of common sense
and a strange, incomprehensible influence which sought to undermine her
surer judgment and defy the evidence of her reason.
Herbert Ross a spy! It was unthinkable! His merry, candid eyes, his
grave sympathetic manner, the latent boyishness and straightforward
simplicity--all belied the possibility of such a role, and yet her
coolly analytical mind forced her to the contemplation of hitherto
unconsidered trifles which, viewed in the light of her discovery,
assumed new and alarming proportions.
His confessed ignorance of Egyptiana in contradistinction to his avowed
position of museum official; the readiness with which he had assigned
the work of translation to her with no assurance of her qualifications,
seeking only to learn her address; the personal questions he had later
plied her with and his discovery that she no longer resided at the
boarding house she had claimed as her home, all puzzled her and seemed
to point at some ulterior motive in his conduct.
Could the advertisement itself have been a bait to draw her into
his net? If so, from whom could he have learned of her penchant for
Egyptology?
The grim, old woman whose unexpected presence in the neighborhood
had so disconcerted her flashed across Betty's thoughts. Was Ross in
her employ or was he in turn making a tool of the woman, using her
knowledge to aid in snaring his prey for other and more desperate
opponents?
Reason won in the unequal contest with the emotion which she could not
name, and instinct warned her that no alternative remained but to sever
all relations with the young man who had occupied her thoughts more
than she realized until the decisive moment came.
With the completed translation secreted in her muff, she let herself
out of the side door and proceeded to the gates from whence she chose
a widely deviating course to the museum. In the maze of suspicion
and distrust through which she walked she must guard herself on all
sides and the knowledge that she might be trailed from the house at
Wolvert's instigation or perhaps by the man on his own initiative led
her to exercise all precaution.
Mr. Ross was absent when she reached the museum and to her inward
dismay she was ushered into the study of Professor Carmody. The
shrivelled little man greeted her with flattering warmth and reviewed
the inscription from the Stele of Abu in glowing terms, but she felt
his nearsighted eyes upon her in recurring perplexity and doubt and she
longed to bring the interview to an end.
The tinkle of a telephone in an adjoining office interrupted her
tentative move of departure and Professor Carmody returned from it
rubbing his withered hands in obvious relief.
"That was our young friend, Ross," he announced in high feather. "He
will be here directly and he begs that you will wait. In the meantime,
I have here a genuine papyrus of rare antiquity, presented to me by
Professor Mallory himself. It dates from the pre-dynastic period and
some of the symbols, as you see, are Sammarian in form."
"But it has been restored!" Betty cried protestingly, resentment of
the sacrilege overruling her caution. "What a pity! The word 'suten'
or king, has been inserted here where the text would clearly indicate
'priest' and the whole tenor of the theme is changed. Surely Professor
Mallory did not sanction such a desecration!"
"Then you have seen the papyrus before?" Professor Carmody spoke in
quiet satisfaction as if a mooted question had been settled in his own
mind. "I was under the impression that I had met you in Cairo, but your
name had escaped me. You know the great man himself?"
"No. I studied with an associate of his, in this country," Betty
stammered desperately. "I have never been in Cairo and I do not know
Professor Mallory, but I have seen a copy of the papyrus before this
attempt was made to restore it."
"I myself presented it to the museum here, and the restoration was
done at another's suggestion, overruling my objection." The professor
returned the ancient scroll to its glass case as he added, dryly: "I
was not aware that a copy was in existence."
Betty writhed, but resolutely turned the conversation to some
newly-discovered monoliths which had created a mild sensation in
archeological circles, and the arrival of Ross on the heels of his
message shortly brought the disquieting interview to a close.
The young man ushered Betty into his private office, but she declined
the chair he indicated and stood before him with her grave eyes
fastened upon his in cold disdain.
"There really was no need of my waiting to see you, Mr. Ross," she
observed. "The translation is finished and approved by Professor
Carmody and the matter is closed."
"I don't understand!" he exclaimed in haste, adding lamely: "I have
other work for you, you know. There is more translating to be done--"
Betty shook her head decisively.
"I shall undertake no more at present." There was finality in her tone,
and her expression had hardened. "As I have explained, my time is not
at my own disposal and I am late now for an engagement. If you will
permit me--"
"But surely you will not relinquish the work without a reason! If your
other duties interfere, perhaps some arrangement can be made--"
"My other duties concern no one but myself!" Betty retorted, in a flash
of temper which instantly subsided. "I do not wish, for reasons of my
own, to continue with this work and nothing further remains to be said.
Good afternoon, Mr. Ross."
"Wait, please." His tone was quiet, but there was a compelling quality
in it which halted Betty against her will. "Something has occurred to
annoy you and make the work distasteful. Won't you tell me what it is
that I may take steps to remedy it? Surely you owe me an explanation."
"The work is not distasteful; it has merely ceased to interest me. In
undertaking it I assumed no obligations to continue it indefinitely,
Mr. Ross, and I do not feel that any explanation is due from me."
"Is it that meddling old fool Carmody?" Ross demanded. "Has he offended
you in any way?"
"By no means. I am not offended in the least, I have simply changed my
mind. My secretarial work is sufficient occupation."
"But you were so absorbed, so enthusiastic about the translation." His
eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. "I cannot believe that it has
ceased to interest you; it must be more suitable for a young woman of
your attainments, more congenial than the task to which you have been
assigned."
There was no mistaking the deliberate intent in his tone and Betty
countered swiftly.
"Mr. Ross, may I ask why you are so solicitous in this matter? On
my last interview with you, you asked me many irrelevant and highly
personal questions. I responded to your advertisement, I came in good
faith to accept the work if it were offered me. I did not anticipate a
cross-examination, or interference with my private affairs." Resentment
was fast getting the better of her discretion and she spoke with all
the bitterness of a lost illusion. "I might ask you in turn how long
you have been officially connected with this museum, and whether that
advertisement was really inserted in good faith or with an ulterior
motive. I would demand also to know why you have been following me
about the streets, but the motive for your annoyance does not interest
me. I decline absolutely to have anything further to do with this
work, and I must request that you let me go at once."
Herbert Ross sprang from his chair and placed himself between her and
the door.
"Miss Shaw, you shall not leave until one thing is plain to you. I
have tried to be your friend. You have repelled every overture from
me, but believe it or not as you please, my only desire is to protect
you. If I have followed you in the street, it was from a motive far
removed from any intention to annoy you." The young man, too, seemed in
danger of losing his self-control. His face flushed and his voice grew
hoarse. "Suppose I were to tell you that I have followed you because
I could not help myself, because in spite of appearances, in spite of
my certain knowledge, I believe in you, I want your friendship, your
confidence, your--your liking--"
"I cannot suppose you would venture such an assertion, Mr. Ross; you
are far too shrewd to insult my intelligence." Betty made as if to pass
him but he suddenly laid his hands upon her shoulders and looked deep
into her eyes.
"Will you at least try to believe this? I mean to be your friend
whether you desire it or not. If the time ever comes when you need the
help of a man, call me up here. Professor Carmody can reach me, and you
will find me at your side."
His hands fell and he walked swiftly to the window where he stood with
his shoulders turned to her and his head bowed.
Betty regarded him thoughtfully, a little soft gleam of compunction
appearing unbidden in her eyes. She opened her lips to speak, but
paused uncertainly and in another moment she had slipped silently from
the room.
She stumbled down the steps of the museum and entered the park,
her feet mechanically seeking the right path. The naked trees and
clustering skeletons of shrubbery upon the brown patches of lawn were
blurred and shapeless before her and she seemed to see again the face
of Herbert Ross as he wistfully proffered his friendship, the stab of
pain in his clear eyes when she refused it.
Once she hesitated and turned as if to go back, but the vague impulse
died and she pressed resolutely on. He had found her by a trick, a
mere subterfuge; perhaps his offer of friendship was another trap to
gain her confidence now. He had sought her out, followed her, spied
upon her, and for what purpose than to serve those who were working
against her, who might even now be planning a coup which would mean the
demolition of her own hopes and drag her down into the ruins?
Matters were in a state of armed truce now between them. When they met
again--if they met--it must be open war.
Betty had taken no note of distance or direction and she came to a
realization of her surroundings only when the roar of traffic sounded
in her ears, and she found that she had traversed the park and was
within a few blocks of the North Drive. As she hurried homeward she
forced her thoughts resolutely to the future and the work which still
lay to her hand, but the long hours of early evening loomed before
her, robbed of the absorbing study which had proved such a stimulating
relief from the continuous mental strain; and the days to come would
be empty indeed with the budding friendship, which had come to mean so
much to her, brought so swiftly to an end.
She was dispirited, tired in mind and body as she entered the gates
of home, and her feet lagged wearily along the path. The house looked
blank and forbidding, and the wind soughed dismally in the sagging
branches of the trees.
Faintly the high-strung wailing note of a dog's whine reached her and
she remembered her encounter with Demon when first she walked in the
snowy garden. Would the dog know her again, if chance should deliver
her to his mercy?
Memory returned to her also of that other encounter in the same hour
when, unconscious of her presence, Wolvert had passed her place of
concealment as if racing with the very fiends of darkness, cowardly
fear stamped upon every lineament of his dark face. Why had he avoided
her since their mutual surprise meeting in the library? Was he
deliberately evading the issue or delaying it for some sinister purpose
of his own?
She had reached the clump of trees through which the path wound, and
even as her thoughts were centered on Wolvert the man himself stepped
from the tangle of evergreens which had screened her on the former
occasion, and confronted her. It was evident from his smile and air
of easy assurance that he had lain in wait for her, and Betty's first
feeling of dismay was superseded by a sensation of relief that the
long anticipated moment had arrived and the contest between them at
immediate issue.
"You have been long upon your foraging expedition, Little Mouse, and
you have strayed far from your hiding place." He laid his hand upon
her arm in an insolent assumption of familiarity. "Not so fast, my
dear. The mistress you serve so conscientiously is not in need of your
presence and the time has come for an understanding between us."
"I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Wolvert." She met his sneering smile
with one of calm defiance. "I think we understand each other fairly
well."
"Perhaps, but the knowledge has not yet accrued to our mutual
advantage. We have been working at cross purposes and that means
disaster. I warned you once that a friend at court is not to be
despised, but as an enemy you would not find it advisable to cross
swords with me. I do not underestimate your pluck and resourcefulness;
sheer admiration for your audacity has stayed my hand against you
so far. Your move in carrying the war into my camp by going to Mrs.
Atterbury with your naïve little story was a bold one. Gad, you even
explained away the evidence against you, the electric torch, better
than I did later, I don't mind confessing; but do you suppose I could
not have smashed your transparent subterfuge to atoms if I had wished?"
"Why did you not, in that case?" Betty asked coolly. "I am not in the
least afraid of you or what you can do. Come now to Mrs. Atterbury
if you care to; I will go with you to face her and she shall choose
between us."
His grip upon her arm tightened.
"Do you think that I am imbecile enough to call your bluff?" he
demanded. "When I find you seriously in my way I shall crush you like
this! Until then, my dear, you will prove mildly amusing. You interest
me as I never thought to be interested again in a woman. Your eyes,
your smile are branded upon my brain even as that brand is upon your
cheek like a hand reaching out for the unattainable. You might set a
man's blood on fire, sear his very soul and drive him to madness, but
you would never bore him. Little, quiet, inscrutable mouse, with you
beside him there is nothing that a man who gambles with life might not
win!"
"You talk in riddles, Mr. Wolvert." Betty disengaged her arm and
stepped back from the savage light in his empassioned eyes. "Your
opinion of me is flattering, but if you are detaining me for further
expression of it, I must beg leave to continue on my way to the house."
"You may go when you have answered one question: what is your game? I
knew from the moment I saw you that you were superior to the position
you chose to occupy, but not until I encountered you in the library did
I guess the truth. How much do you know? Are you a free lance or in
someone's pay?"
"If I had an ulterior motive in entering Mrs. Atterbury's service, is
it likely that I would make a confident of you whether you are her ally
or a traitor?" Betty shrugged. "Your attitude is a matter of absolute
indifference to me; why should I reply to your questions?"
"Because you may find me useful." He came close to her once more. "What
is it you desire within those walls that you court danger to obtain?
Perhaps I can get it for you. What is your purpose? It may be that I
can aid in its accomplishment. Traitor or not, I am at your service!"
"But why?" A swift thrill of fear darted through her, and she glanced
about, but the tall bushes ringed them on all sides and they seemed
as isolated as in a wilderness. "Suppose that another purpose actuated
me than to fulfill the duties for which I was engaged--and I do not
for a moment admit that there is any truth in your wild assertion--why
should you offer me your aid? Why should you, Mrs. Atterbury's guest
and friend, conspire with one you profess to regard as a deceitful and
dishonest servant?"
"Because you have driven me mad!" He seized her, dragging her into a
half-savage embrace. "Because I want you as I've never wanted any other
woman!"
"Let me go!" Betty panted struggling with all her strength, but her
heart sank within her for no help could reach her from the house and
her efforts to free herself were unavailing against the man's brute
grasp.
He laughed exultantly and drew her closer.
"'Little Mouse,' I called you; Little Wild-Cat! But I'll tame you, or
break you with my hands! What I want I take, and you're mine, do you
understand; you're mine!"
All at once a new sound broke upon Betty's ears. The dog's continuous
whine, of which she had been dimly aware like an undercurrent in the
swift torrent of Wolvert's words, had changed suddenly to a deep,
full-throated cry which seemed to her excited fancy to be drawing
nearer and nearer. A swift thought like a prayer mounted in her brain
and by a supreme effort she extricated her head from the stifling folds
of her captor's coat where he had crushed her to his breast.
The cry came again and with it the soft rush of padded feet on moist
yielding ground. Betty drew a deep breath and screamed with all the
power of her pent-up fear.
"Demon! Here! Come here!"
With an oath, Wolvert's arms dropped from about her and he sprang
backward as a huge, dark shape lunged through the undergrowth and
sprang full at his throat. The force of the impact hurled Betty aside
and when she had picked herself up she turned to find Wolvert stretched
upon the ground, the great dog standing over him, with every hair
a-bristle and yellow fangs bared in a snarl, as he hesitated at the
sound of her voice.
"Demon!"
He turned his shaggy head obediently to glance up into her eyes, but
one great paw remained planted upon Wolvert's breast.
"Guard him, Demon! If he moves, take him by the throat!" An
inarticulate murmur issued from the lips of the prostrate man and the
snarl changed to a growl of menace.
"Don't let him get away! Until your master comes. Demon, on guard!"
The dog's eyes answered her and he dropped his out-thrust jaw upon his
paws, within an inch of Wolvert's throat.
Betty turned swiftly and walked off among the trees. As she neared the
house a man came running from the direction of the garage and paused
beside her, touching his cap.
"Excuse me, Miss, but did you see anything of a dog? He's broke loose,
and he's that savage that he may hurt somebody."
Betty smiled and extracted a bill from her purse.
"You will find him in that knoll by the drive. He is standing over Mr.
Wolvert, but he has not hurt him in the least. Understand, no matter
what orders Mr. Wolvert gives, the dog is not to be ill-treated or
punished. Demon and I are old friends and he was protecting me from
annoyance. I called him to my aid. You understand, don't you? I do not
wish to worry Mrs. Atterbury, but if Mr. Wolvert makes any trouble, I
will tell the truth. I can rely on you to see that no harm comes to
Demon?"
"That you can, Miss." The man pocketed his fee with added respect.
"He's no gentleman, that Mr. Wolvert, if you'll excuse me for saying
so, and I'm glad the dog was loose. I'll see that he don't get hurt."
As she let herself in at the side door and mounted the stairs to her
room a heavy sense of foreboding descended upon Betty's spirit. She
had made two powerful enemies in one day, for Herbert Ross, in spite
of his protestations, she felt to be a potential antagonist. Would she
alone be able to stand against them, or would she go down to defeat
with that for which she had entered the lists almost within her grasp?