Lord John in New York, Page 2

  EPISODE II

  THE GREY SISTERHOOD

  LORD JOHN'S FIRST ADVENTURE IN LOVE

  When applause forced the curtain up again and again on the last sceneof our play--Carr Price's and mine--I wasn't looking at the stage, butat a girl in the opposite box. The box was Roger Odell's, and I wassure that the girl must be his adopted sister Madeleine. But becauseof the insult she had suffered through my brother, I might not visitthe box uninvited.

  If Grace had been with her husband and sister-in-law there might havebeen hope. But the wedding had been private, because of Miss MarianCallender's death, and it was not to be supposed that the bride wouldshow herself at the theatre, even as a proof of gratitude to me. I wasin Governor Estabrook's box, with him and Carr Price, and the girlwhose engagement to Price depended, perhaps, on the success of thisnight; but I thanked my lucky stars--that I was invited by Grace todine after the theatre, _en famille_.

  "Surely I shall meet _Her_," I tried to persuade myself. "She's herewith Roger, to show that she bears no grudge against my family. Shecan't stop away from supper when I'm to be the only guest."

  This hopeful thought repeated itself in my head whenever I was thwartedby finding my eyes avoided by the girl--the wonderful girl who, withher lily face, and parted blonde hair rippling gold-and-silver lightswas like a shining saint. She was so like a saint that I would havestaked my life on her being one, which made me more furious than everwith Haslemere. I felt if she would give me one of her white roseslying on the red velvet of the box-rail, it would be worth more to methan the Victoria Cross I was wearing for the first time that night.

  "Author! Author!" everybody shouted, as the curtain went down for thetenth time. I heard the call in a half-dream, for at that instantMadeleine Odell dropped the opera-glasses through which she had beentaking a look at the audience. They fell on the boxrail among theroses, and pushed off one white beauty, which landed on the stage closeto the footlights; but I had no time to yearn for that rose just then.I had thought only for the girl, who shrank back in her chair as if tohide herself. Startled, Roger bent down with a solicitous question.Thus he screened his sister from me, as a black cloud may screen themoon; and my impulse was to search the house for the cause of her alarm.

  The audience as a whole had not yet risen, therefore the few on theirfeet were conspicuous, and I picked out the man who had seeminglyannoyed Miss Odell. Just a glimpse I had of his face before he turned,to push past the people in his row of orchestra chairs. It was astrange face.

  "That man has some connection with the mystery of Madeleine Odell'slife!" was my thought. I knew I had to follow the fellow, and therewasn't a second to lose, because, though he was perhaps twice my age, Ihad to get about with a crutch and he had the full use of his long,active legs. Before I'd stopped to define my impulse I was on my feet,stammering excuses to Governor Estabrook and his daughter.

  "You mustn't leave now. We're wanted on the stage!" Carr Price caughtmy arm; but a muttered, "For God's sake, don't stop me," told him thathere was some matter of life or death for me, and he stood back. Afterthat, I must have made the cripple's record; and I reached the streetin time to see the quarry step into a private car. I knew him by theback of his head, prominent behind the ears and thatched with sleekpepper-and-salt hair; but as he bent forward to shut the door, hestared for half a second straight into my eyes. His were black andlong--Egyptian eyes, and the whole personality of the man suggestedEgypt; not the Arabianised Egypt of to-day, but rather the Egypt whichleft its tall, broad-shouldered types sculptured on walls of tombs. Hemade me think of a magnificent mummy "come alive," and dressed inmodern evening clothes.

  After the meeting of our eyes the man turned to his chauffeur for someword, and the theatre lights seemed to point a pale finger at a scar onthe brown throat. The length of that thin throat was another Egyptiancharacteristic, and though the collar was higher than fashion decreed,it wasn't high enough to cover the mark when his neck stretchedforward. It was the queerest scar I ever saw, the exact size and shapeof a human eye. And on the white neck of Miss Odell I had noticed ablack opal with a crystal centre, representing the eye of the Egyptiangod Horus. This fetish was the only jewel she wore; and if I hadn'talready been sure of some association between her and the man nowescaping, that eye would have convinced me.

  Roger Odell had forced on me the gift of an automobile, and Price and Ihad motored Governor Estabrook and his daughter to the theatre; but asit was waiting in the procession which had just begun to move, my onlyhope of following the man was to hail a passing taxi. I was about totry my luck, when a hand jerked me back.

  "Good heavens, Lord John, are you going to leave us in the lurch? Theaudience are yelling their heads off!" panted Julius Felborn.

  I would have thrown him off, but the second's delay was a second toomuch. The dark car was spinning away with its secret--which might be adouble secret, for I caught a glimpse of a grey-clad woman. Somebodygrabbed the taxi I'd hoped to hail, and it was too late to do anythingexcept note the licence number. Since my war-experience and wounds,I've lost--temporarily, the doctors say--my memory for figures. It isone form which nerve-shock takes; and fearing to forget, I made a notewith a pocket pencil, on my shirt cuff.

  "A man like that is no needle in a haystack," I consoled myself. "Ican't fail to lay my hand on him if he's wanted." Then, making thebest of the business, I allowed Felborn to work his will. He draggedme back into the theatre, and on to the stage, where I bowed andsmirked at the side of Price. Queer, how indifferent the vision of agirl made me to this vision of success! But I'd never fallen in loveat first sight before, or, indeed, fallen in love at all in a way worththe name.

  The vision was still there when I looked up, though it would soon begone, for Roger had put on his sister's cloak, and both were standing.The girl shrank into the background; but as I raised my eyes perhapsthe S.O.S. call my heart sent out compelled some faint answer. MissOdell leaned forward and it seemed that she threw me a glance withsomething faintly resembling interest in it. Perhaps it was onlycuriosity; or maybe she was looking for a rosebud she had lost. Icouldn't let the flower perish, or be collected by some Philistine; soI bent and picked it up. I trusted that she would not be angry, butwhen I raised my head the vision and the vision's brother had bothdisappeared.

  This was the happiest night of Carr Price's life, because GovernorEstabrook had journeyed from his own state with his daughter to see theplay. If he could, he would have kept me to supper in order that Imight talk to the Governor while he talked to the fascinating Nora; butI had yet to learn whether there was a chance of its being the happiestnight of my life, and I flashed off in my new car at the earliestmoment, to find out. Down plumped my heart, however, when only Graceand Roger appeared to welcome me.

  As soon as I dared, I invented an excuse to ask for the absent one; orrather, I blurted out what was in my mind. "I hoped," I stammered, "tosee Miss Odell again--if only for a few minutes. I felt sure it wasshe at the theatre. And I wanted to beg--that she'd let me try toatone--to compel Haslemere to atone."

  "Oh, she's sorry not to meet you," Roger broke in, "But she's notstrong. And she--er--was rather upset in the theatre. She doesn't goout often; and she never takes late supper. She's probably in bed bythis time----"

  "Oh, Roger, do let me tell him the truth!" exclaimed Grace. "Think howhe helped us in our trouble? What if he could help Maida? You mustadmit he has a mind for mysteries, and if he could put an end to thepersecution which has spoiled her life, Maida wouldn't join theSisterhood."

  "She's going to join a Sisterhood?" I broke out, feeling as if a handhad squeezed my heart like a bath sponge.

  "Yes," said Grace, glancing at Roger. "You see, Rod, it slipped out!"

  "I suppose there's no harm done," he answered. "Only, it's for Maidato talk of her affairs. Lord John's a stranger to her."

  "But," I said on a strong impulse, "I've taken the liberty of fallingin love with Miss O
dell, without being introduced, and in spite of thefact that she has a right to despise my family. This is the mostserious thing that's ever happened to me. And if she goes into aSisterhood the world won't be worth living in. Give me a chance tomeet her--to offer myself----"

  "Great Scott!" cried Roger. "And the British are called a slow race!"

  "Offer myself as her knight," I finished. "Do you think I'd askanything in return? Why, after what Haslemere did----"

  "Oh, but who knows what might happen some day?" suggested Grace. "Rod,I _shall_ make Maida come down."

  Without waiting to argue, she ran out of the room. She was gone sometime, and the secret being out, Roger talked with comparative freedomof his adopted sister's intentions. The Sisterhood she meant to joinwas not a religious order, but a club of women banded together for goodwork. At one time the Grey Sisters, as they called themselves, hadbeen a thriving organisation for the rescue of unfortunate girls, thereformation of criminals, and the saving of neglected children; but theHead Sister--there was no "Mother Superior"--had died without a will, apromised fortune had gone back to her family, and had not a lady ofwealth and force of character volunteered for the empty place, theSisterhood might have had to disband. The new Head Sister hadpersuaded Madeleine Odell to join the depleted ranks. They had met incharity work, which was Maida's one pleasure, and the mysterysurrounding the woman had fired the interest of the girl whose youthwas wrecked by mystery. The New York home of the Sisterhood had beengiven up, owing to lack of money, but the new Head Sister, whose lifeand fortune seemed dedicated to good works, had taken and restored anold place on Long Island. More recruits were expected, and variouscharities were on the programme.

  "It's a gloomy den," said Roger, "and stood empty for years because ofsome ghost story. But this friend of Maida's has a mind above ghosts.They're going to teach women thieves to make jam, and child pickpocketsto be angels! No arguments of mine have had the slightest effect onMaida since she met this foreign woman.

  "The child has vowed herself to live with the Sisterhood--I believe itconsists at present of no more than five or six women--for a year.After that she can be free if she chooses. But I know her so well thatmy fear is, she _won't_ choose. I'm afraid after all she's sufferedshe won't care to come back to the world. And the sword hanging overour heads is the knowledge that Maida's pledged herself to go wheneverthe summons comes."

  If Roger's talk had been on any subject less engrossing, I should nothave heard a word. As it was, I drank in every one. Yet the soulseemed to have walked out of my body and followed Grace upstairs. Itwas as if I could see her pleading with my white-rose vision of thetheatre; but I was far enough from picturing the scene as it reallywas. Afterward, when I heard Maida Odell's story, I knew what strangesurroundings she had given herself in the rich commonplaceness of thatold home which had been hers since childhood.

  "The shrine" adjoined her bedroom, I know now, and for some girls wouldhave been a boudoir. But the objects it contained put it out of the"boudoir" category. There were two life-size portraits, facing eachother on the undecorated walls, on either side the only door; there wasalso a portrait of Roger's father; and opposite the door stood on end amagnificent painted mummy-case such as a museum would give a smallfortune to possess. Even without its contents the case would have beenof value; but behind a thick pane of glass showed the face of aperfectly preserved mummy, a middle-aged man no doubt of high birth,and of a dynasty when Greek influence had scarcely begun to degrade themethods of embalming. When I saw these treasures of Madeleine's andlearned what they meant in her life, I said that no frame could havebeen more inappropriate for such a girl than such a "shrine."

  Grace told me afterwards that she induced Maida to put on her dressagain and come downstairs, only by assuring her that "Poor Lord Johnwas dreadfully hurt." That plea touched the soft heart; and my fifteenminutes of suspense ended with a vision of the White Rose Girl comingdown the Odells' rather spectacular stairway, with Grace's arm girdlingher waist.

  We were introduced, and Maida gave me a kind, sweet smile which was themost beautiful present I ever had. How it made me burn to know whather smile of love might be!

  Supper was announced; indeed, it had been waiting, and we went into theoak-panelled dining-room where the girl was more than ever like a whiteflower seen in rosy dusk. At the table I could hardly take my eyes offher face. She was more lovely and lovable than I had thought in thetheatre. Each minute that passed, while I talked of indifferentthings, I spent in mentally "working up" to the Great Request--that shewould show her forgiveness by accepting my help. At last, after butlerand footman had been sent out, and words came to my lips--some sort ofinspiration they seemed--a servant returned with a letter.

  "For Miss Odell, by district messenger," he announced, offering theenvelope on a silver tray.

  "Is there an answer?" Maida asked, her face flushing.

  The footman replied that the messenger had gone; and with fingers thattrembled, Maida opened the envelope. Quite a common envelope it was,such as one might buy at a cheap stationer's; and the handwriting,which was in pencil, looked hurried. "I have to go to-morrow morning,"the girl said simply. She spoke to Roger, but for an instant her eyesturned to me.

  "Oh, darling," cried Grace, springing up as Maida rose, "it's notfair--such short notice! Send word that you can't."

  "The only thing I _can't_ do, dear, is to break my promise," the girlcut in. "I must go, and she asks me to travel alone to Salthaven.That's the nearest station for the Sisterhood House. She gives me thetime of the train I'm to take--seven o'clock. After all, why isn't oneday the same as another? Only, it's hard to say good-bye."

  To leave my love thus, and without even the chance to win her, whichinstinct whispered I might have had, seemed unbearable. But there wasno other course. She gave me her hand. "Could it be that she wassorry?" I dared ask myself. But before I had time to realise howirrevocable it all was, I stood outside Odell's closed door. I staredat the barrier for a minute before getting into my car, and tried tomake the oak panels transparent. "I won't let her go out of my lifelike this," I said. "I'll fight."

  Before I'd reached my hotel I had thought out the first move in a planof action. But maybe there is another thing I ought to mention, beforeI speak of that plan. Roger gave me, when I left him, an interestingdescription of an electrical contrivance by which he protected thechief treasure of his sister's shrine from burglars. He insisted ongiving me the secret in writing, also, because he would have to go awayshortly, and wanted someone to know what to do "in case anything wentwrong." The servants, though trustworthy, were aware only that such aprotection existed and was dangerous to meddlers.

  Consulting with West, the chauffeur, I learned that to reach Salthaven,Long Island (the nearest village to Pine Cliff), passengers must changeat Jamaica. I told him to get to that junction in the morning withoutfail, before the seven o'clock train was due, and we arranged to starteven earlier than necessary, to allow for delay. In the hotel office Iasked to be waked at five, in the unlikely event that I shouldoversleep, and was going to the lift when the clerk at the informationdesk called after me, "I believe, Lord John, a big box arrived for you.It was before I came on duty, but you'll find it in your suite."

  Nothing seemed less important in that mood of mine, than the arrival ofa box. I had ordered nothing, expected nothing, wanted nothing--excepta thing it seemed unlikely I could ever have; so when I found no box inmy bedroom or small sitting-room, I supposed that it--whatever it mightbe--would be sent next morning. Then I forgot the matter.

  I wished to sleep, for I needed clearness of brain for my task. Butsleep wouldn't come. After I had courted it in the dark for a fewminutes, I switched on the electric light over my bed, smoked acigarette or two; and when my nerves were calmer, began studyingRoger's electrical invention as described in two documents, a sketch ofMiss Odell's famous mummy-case, with the wiring attached, and aseparate paper of directions how
to set and detach the mechanism.

  Suddenly, in the midst, a wave of sleep poured over me, sweeping me todreamland. I have a vague recollection of slipping one paper under thepillow, and I must have dropped off with the other in my hand. I wasseeing Maida again, asking her permission to keep the white rose, andreceiving it, when some sound brought me back to realities. I sat upin bed and looked around the room, my impression being that someone hadbeen there. Nothing was disarranged, however. All seemed as I hadleft it--except--yes, there was one change! My eyes fastened upon theshirt cuff on which I had written the licence number of the automobile.I had flung the shirt over a low screen, and had forgotten, in the rushof crowding thoughts, to copy the number in my journal. There hung theshirt as I had left it, but the number, which I had written clearly anddistinctly, had become a black blur on the glazed linen.

  I sprang out of bed, and switched on more lights. Surely I had notsmudged the number by any clumsy accident. The noise I had heard--thatsound like the "click" of a lock? One swift look at the shirt cuffcame near to convincing me that a bit of rubber eraser had been used,and then I remembered Roger's documents. The one I had slipped undermy pillow was gone. Fortunately it was useless to the uninitiatedwithout the other!

  I got to the door almost as quickly as if I'd never been wounded, butfound the key still turned in the lock. To have slipped out and lockedthe door on the _inside_, meant a clever thief, a skilled _ratd'hotel_, provided with a special instrument; but that the trick couldbe done I knew from hearsay. I threw open the door and looked into thedimly lit corridor. No one was visible, except the flitting figure ofa very small child, in a sort of red-riding-hood, cloak, with a hood.The little creature seemed startled at the noise I made, and ran to adoor which it had nearly reached. Someone must have been waiting forits return, for it was let in and the door closed.

  "If anyone's been in my rooms, he's probably there still," I said, andbegan to search in the obvious way--looking under the bed. What Ifound sent me to the door again; for a curious, collapsible box, justbig enough to hold a small child, turned the innocent, flitting figureI'd seen into something sinister. Quicker than light, thoughts shotthrough my head; the arrival of a "big box," my failure to find it inmy room, the click of the lock, some knowledge of me by the man withthe scar, and a fear of my vaunted "detective skill." Slipping on adressing-gown as I went, I stalked down the corridor to the door whichopened to admit the child; and the knob was in my grasp when a voicespoke sharply at my back. "Haven't you mistaken the room, sir?" thenight watchman warned me.

  I had met the man before, when coming in late, and he knew my number.He was a big Irishman, twice my size. I foresaw trouble, but went tomeet it. "I've reason to believe a thief's been in my rooms, and takenrefuge here," I explained. "I want this door opened." With that Irattled the knob and knocked threateningly. Almost at once the doorwas unlocked, and the sweet face of a young woman in a neat, plaindressing-gown peeped out. "Oh, what's the matter?" she faltered. "Isit fire? We have a child here."

  "I _thought_ yuh was mistaken, sir!" cut in the watchman. "Two ladiesand a little midget came in late. I saw 'em. No, madam, there's nofire. This gentleman thought a thief had slipped into one of yourrooms."

  "Indeed, he is mistaken," the young woman assured us. "We haven'tfinished undressing yet. I'm the child's nurse. If necessary, I cancall my mistress, but she's very nervous." As she glanced back intothe room I caught a glimpse of a woman in grey who hadn't taken off herhat. A sort of motor bonnet it seemed to be, with a long veilattached. I got no sight of her face, for the nurse hastily shut thedoor, all but a crack which scarcely showed her rather piquant nose.

  "That's enough, I guess, sir?" suggested the watchman. "These ladiesmustn't be disturbed. All the rooms along here are occupied by oldclients. You go back to your suite and if there's any thief we'll findhim. But maybe you was dreamin'?"

  I heard the key turn again in the lock; but I realised that unless Iwanted to risk a row and perhaps arrest for "disorderly conduct," Imust bow to circumstances. For a moment I was tempted to persist, butI thought how much more important than anything it was to be free fromentanglements, and able to reach Jamaica before seven o'clock. "Spiltmilk," I said to myself, and took the watchman's advice. But outsidethe forbidden door, I picked up a tiny rosetted slipper.

  In my own rooms, I searched again for traces of a hostile presence.The collapsible box was a strange thing to find under a bed, but Icouldn't prove that Little Red Riding Hood had been in it. Neithercould I prove that a small pile of silver that I had poured out of mypockets on to the dressing-table had diminished, or that two letterswhich I had received--one from my brother Haslemere, one from GraceOdell--had been stolen. Nevertheless, while putting off my principalresearches, I did telephone down to inquire who occupied rooms 212,214. The man who answered from the office had "come on" since thepeople arrived, but, the name in the hotel register was "Mrs. W. Smith,nurse and child, Sayville, Long Island." Nothing could sound lessoffensive; but next morning when I descended at an unearthly hour itseemed that "the party" had already gone, by motor; and the man at thedoor "hadn't noticed no child." All I could do then was to reservethose rooms for myself, for two days, with orders that they should notbe touched until investigated by me.

  It lacked twenty minutes of train time when my chauffeur got me toJamaica. This made me feel almost cheerful, but my heart sank as Ireached the arrival platform. There were not many passengers, and evenif there had been a crowd one figure would have stood outconspicuously--that of a tall woman in a grey dress, a long grey cloak,and a close-fitting grey bonnet with a thick grey veil falling over theface and breast. There was not a doubt in my mind but this was theformidable directress of the Grey Sisterhood, come in person to meet--Ihad almost said "her victim." If the woman had known of my plan shecould hardly have found a better way of thwarting it.

  As I glowered at the figure stalking up and down, I hated it. And Iwondered if there were more than a coincidence in the fact that thiswas the third grey-veiled woman I had seen since last night. In thecar at the theatre there had been too brief a glimpse to be sure of aresemblance, and the woman in 212 had left on my mind an impression ofcomparative shortness. But then, it is easy to stoop and disguiseone's height, I told myself viciously, eager to find a connectionbetween this woman and the others.

  I could see nothing of her face, as we passed and repassed on theplatform; but she was hovering not far off when I learned that thetrain from New York would be late. It was "hung up," a few miles away,owing to the breakdown of a "freighter." Instead of regret at thisnews, I felt joy. It gave me--with luck--a way out of my difficulty.Here was the Head Sister, waiting for Maida Odell; but if my car couldget me to the delayed train before it was restarted only Maida herselfcould keep me from saying what I had come to say.

  There wasn't a moment to waste, and I didn't waste one. Thinking I hadwon the first point in the game, I hurried to my car without glancingback at the veiled woman. I gave directions to West and was about toget into the auto, when a look in the chauffeur's eye made me turn.Close behind stood the grey lady. There was no doubt that her purposewas to speak to me. I took off my hat and faced her; but it was liketrying to look at the moon through a thick London fog.

  "You are Lord John Hasle, I believe?" she said, in a resonant contraltovoice, with a slight suggestion of foreign accent. "I have heard ofyou," she went on. "You have been pointed out to me, and I know ofyour acquaintance with the Odells. You are going to motor back alongthe line. Your inquiries told me that. I would thank you, and sowould Miss Odell, for taking me to her in your car."

  Here was a situation! Rudely to refuse a favour asked by a lady,or--to lose, for ever, perhaps, my one hope? I chose to be rude. Istammered that I meant to go at such a pace it would be risking herlife to grant the request. Very sorry; more lifting of the hat; asheepish look of feigned regret; and then West, thoroughly ashamed ofme, started the car.
The next moment we had shot away, but not withouta startling impression.

  "The worst turn you can possibly do Miss Odell will be to prevent hercoming into the Sisterhood House. It is the one place where she can besafe." Those were the words I heard over the noise of the startingmotor; and as we left the tall statue of a woman, the high wind blewher thick veil partly aside. Instantly she pulled it into place; but Ihad time to see that the face underneath was covered with a grey mask.The effect on my mind of this revelation was of something so sinisterthat I felt physically sick. What could be the motive for such doubleprecautions of concealment? Was it merely to hide a disfigurement, Iwondered, or was there a more powerful reason? I determined to tellMiss Odell what I had seen.

  Fortunately there was little traffic on the country road at that hour,and we did the eight miles in about eight minutes. I thanked my luckystars that the hold-up train had not moved; and my heart bounded when Isaw Maida among a number of passengers who had descended to wanderabout during the delay. She in a grey travelling dress and smallwinged toque, walked alone at a distance from the others. Here backwas turned to me, but she was unmistakable, with the morning sunringing her hair with a saint's halo. I tried not to frighten her byappearing too abruptly, but she gave a start, and there was pain ratherthan pleasure in her eyes.

  "Do forgive me!" I pleaded. "I _had_ to finish what I couldn't saylast night. I wouldn't intrude by travelling in your train from NewYork without permission, but I thought if I came to Jamaica, maybeyou'd grant me a few minutes. Won't you let me atone--won't you let mehelp? I feel that I can. Roger has hinted of trouble. If you wouldtrust me, I'd put my whole soul into the fight to save you from it."

  So I ran on, with a torrent of arguments and all the force of lovebehind them. Something of that force the girl must have felt, forslowly she yielded and told me this strange story.

  Roger Odell's father--Roger senior--had fallen in love with a girl whoafterwards became Maida's mother. He was a widower, and young Rogerwas a boy of eight or nine at the time. Old Roger--he was not oldthen--had acted as the girl's guardian, and she had promised to marryhim, when suddenly she disappeared, leaving behind a letter saying thatshe was going with the only man she could ever love.

  Five years passed, and then one day she came back bringing a littledaughter four years old. Both the Rogers were away when she called atthe house in Fifth Avenue; one at his office, the other at school. Ahousekeeper received the pair, realising that the mother wasdesperately ill. She would say nothing of herself, except that theyhad come from England; could not even tell her married name. She hadlived through the voyage, she said, to put her daughter under theprotection of her only friend. Some strange luggage she had brought,on which were London labels. She forbade the servant to telephone themaster of the house. She would write a letter, and then she would go.The letter was begun, but before it could be finished the writer fellinto unconsciousness. For a few days she lingered, but never spokeagain, and died in the arms of the man she had jilted.

  "If you ever loved me, keep my child as if she were your own," beganthe written appeal. "She is Madeleine, named after me. Don't try tofind out her other name. Give her yours, which might have been mine.Make no inquiries. If you do, the same fate may fall on her which hasfallen on her father and others of his family. It is killing me now.Save my little Maida. The one legacy I can leave her is a jewel whichI want her to keep; a miniature of myself taken for someone I loved,and an Egyptian relic which, for a reason I don't know, is immenselyimportant. I promised her father that this child should never partwith it. The one reward I can offer you is my grat----"

  There the letter broke off.

  Roger Odell, Senior, had obeyed every one of his dead love's requests.The "Egyptian relic" was a mummy case, with the human contentsmarvellously preserved; the jewel, an opal and crystal eye of Horus.In taking out the miniature from its frame, to be copied in a largeportrait, Maida found the miniature of a man she supposed to be herfather, and had ordered that enlarged also, to hang in her shrine. Hermemories of the past before coming to America were vague; but herchildhood, happy as it had been in other ways, was cursed by the dreamof a terrible, dark face--a face appearing as a mere brown spot in thedistance, then growing large as it drew nearer, coming close to hereyes at last in giant size, shutting out all the rest of the world.Whether she had ever seen this face in reality, before it obsessed herdreams, she could not be sure; but the impression was that she had. Asshe grew older, the dream came less frequently; but once or twice shehad seen a face in a crowd which reminded her--perhaps morbidly--of thedream. Such a face had looked up from the audience last night.

  This mystery was one of two which had clouded Maida's life. From thesecond had come her great trouble; and she did not see that between thetwo could exist any connection. When I heard the rest of the history,however, I differed from her. Some link there might be, I thought; andif I were to help, it must be my business to find it.

  One day, on leaving school for the holidays, when she was seventeen,Maida, and a woman servant sent to fetch her from Milbrook to New York,had met with a slight railway accident, much like that of to-day. Itwas this coincidence, maybe, which inclined her to confide in me, forshe had been thinking of it, she said, when I came. A young man hadbeen "kind" to Miss Odell and her maid; had brought them water andfood. Later he had introduced himself. He was Lieutenant Granville,of the Navy. Also he was an inventor, who believed he could make afortune for himself and his mother, if he could patent and get taken upby some great firm an idea of his, in which he had vainly tried tointerest the heads of the Navy. This concerned a secret means ofthrowing a powerful light under water, for the protection of warshipsor others threatened by submerged submarines. Granville believed thatexperiments would demonstrate immense usefulness for his invention andso interested was Maida that she tried to induce Roger to finance it.He refused, and did not like Granville when the girl brought themtogether.

  This seeming injustice roused Maida's sympathy. She met Granvilleoccasionally at his mother's house, without Roger's knowledge. It wasthe child's first adventure, and appealed to her love of romance. Thenatural consequences followed. Granville proposed. She asked toremain his friend. Then to give her "friend" a glorious surprise, sheworked to interest a great financier, a friend of the Odell family, inGranville's undersea light.

  Unfortunately for her unselfish plan, millionaire Orrin Adriance had ason, Jim, who had been in love with Maida since she was in the"flapper" stage. This fact complicated matters. When Granville'schemical formula, in a sealed envelope, was stolen from a safe in theAdriance house, before business was completed between financier andinventor, George Granville--already jealous of Jim Adriance--was madenough to believe that Maida had joined in a plot to trick him. Heaccused the Adriances of wishing to get his secret without paying forit, prophesying that a tool of theirs would presently "invent"something of the kind, after they had refused to take up hisproposition. Pretending illness, he had induced his mother to send forMaida, and she, only too anxious to defend herself, had gone to theGranville house. After a cruel scene between her and the sailor, hehad locked the door, put the key in his pocket, and shot himselfthrough the heart. Mrs. Granville, who had heard a scream from thegirl, before the shot, swore to the belief that Maida had killed theyoung man to defend herself against his love-making.

  Roger, learning of the tragedy, had stifled the lie as he would havecrushed a snake. How he had done this, Maida was not sure. He hadrefused to tell. But her name had not been connected with Granville'sat the inquest. Mrs. Granville, who had been poor and lived poorly,migrated to France and was reported to have "come into money through alegacy." In any case she seemed to have been silenced. No word ofscandal could be traced to her, though detectives had been employed byRoger. Nevertheless, the story had risen from time to time like thephoenix from its own ashes. Maida's fellow school-mates had whispered;her debut in society had been bligh
ted by a paragraph in a notoriouspaper, afterwards gagged by Roger. Then, last and worse, had come thecancelling of the girl's presentation to the King and Queen of England.

  "You see now," she said, "why I shall be happier out of the world, in aSisterhood where I can try to help others even sadder than I have been."

  "But," I threw out the bold suggestion, "what if there's a plot to getyou into the Sisterhood--into this old house!"

  "Oh, but that's impossible!" she cried. "You wouldn't dream of such athing if you could meet the Head Sister and see what a splendid womanshe is!"

  There was my opportunity to tell about the mask, and I took it. But itavailed me nothing. The mask, Miss Odell said, was no secret. Sheunderstood that the Head Sister, in saving a child from fire, had soinjured her face that for the sake of others she kept it hidden.Another version had it that the motive for wearing the mask was some"sacred vow." In any case, Maida assured me, it was an honour to thegood and charitable woman; and no arguments would break her resolutionto give the next year to work with the Sisterhood. After that year--ifI could solve the mystery of the stolen formula, and put an end forever to scandal--she would come back and face the world again. But howcould I, a stranger, do what Roger had failed to do?

  That was the question. Yet I made up my mind that it must be answeredin _one way_, or my life would be a failure. Not only would I solvethat mystery, I told myself--though I dared not boast to the girl--butI would link together the old one with the new. The way to do this, Itold myself, was to learn whether an enemy of Maida Odell's father hadfound her under her borrowed name, and had made the Granvilles andAdriances his conscious or unconscious tools.

  This talk we had while the train stood still. We were sitting on a logtogether, out of earshot from the other passengers, when--with the nameof the Grey Sisterhood on our lips--we looked up to see its veileddirectress. She had, she said, been put to much trouble in securing anautomobile to come for Madeleine, and see that she was not persuaded tobreak a promise. Maida, embarrassed and protesting, assured her friendthat there was no thought of such disloyalty. Lord John--timidly thegirl introduced us--had come only to try and help her throw off an oldsorrow, as I had helped Roger and Grace. So she tried to "explain" me;and the Head Sister, having triumphed, could afford to heap coals offire on my head by being coldly civil. Her one open revenge she tookby requesting me not to follow them to their automobile. The chauffeurwould fetch Miss Odell's hand luggage out of the train, and my"kindness would no longer be needed." I was dismissed by theconqueror; and left by the wayside with but one consolation: Maida hadsaid "au revoir," not good-bye.

  For a moment I stood crushed. Then a thought jumped into my mind:"What if this woman is the one I saw in the auto outside the theatre?"

  I felt that I had been a fool to obey Maida, and took steps to retrievemy mistake. But the veiled lady had been too clever for me. The carwas gone past recall. If it hadn't been for that viper-thought--andthe thought of what had happened in my rooms last night--I might nothave had the "cheek" to make my next move in the game. But thingsbeing as they were I couldn't stand still and take a rebuff.

  Instead of motoring back to New York, I went to Salthaven, andbreakfasted at a small inn there. Of the Sisterhood I could learnnothing, for it had but lately taken up its quarters near by. Of thosequarters, however, I was able to pick up some queer stories. The placehad been bought, it seemed, for a song, because of its ghostlyreputation, which had frightened tenant after tenant away.

  "What a good pitch to choose if any 'accident' were planned, and lay itto the ghosts!" I thought. And I knew that I couldn't go withoutlearning more about the Sisterhood House than the landlord at Salthavencould tell me. I must see for myself if it were the sort of placewhere "anything could happen."

  I meant to wait until late, when all the Grey Sisters and theirprotegees were safely asleep. Then, with a present of meat for apossible watch dog, I would try a prowl of inspection. I made a vagueexcuse of fancying the inn, and of wanting to rest till time to meet afriend who would motor back with me to New York. I engaged a room inorder to take the alleged rest; but spent long hours in striving topiece together bits of the most intricate puzzle my wits had everworked upon.

  "In an hour more now I can start," I said at ten, and composed myselfto forget the slow ticking of my watch. But suddenly it was as ifMaida called. Actually I seemed to hear her voice. I sprang up, andin five minutes had paid the bill and was off in my car for Pine Cliff.

  I left West sitting in the auto at a little distance from the highwall, which shut the old garden in from the rocks above the Sound.Then I struck my crutch into a patch of rain-sodden earth, and used itto help me vault over the wall. Just as I bestrode the top, a dog gaveout a bell-toned note. I saw his dark shape, and threw the meat I hadbrought from the inn. He was greedily silent, and I descended, to pathis head as he ate. Luckily he was an English bull, and perhapsrecognised me as a fellow-countryman. At all events, he gave hissanction to my presence.

  The neglected garden, which I could dimly see, was mysterious in thenight hush. There was no sound except the whisper of water on theshore outside. The substantial building with its rows of closed blindslooked common place and comfortable enough. Lights showed faintly intwo or three windows. Not all the household had gone to bed. As Istood staring at a low balcony not far above the ground, which somehowattracted and called my eyes, the blinds of a long French windowlooking out upon it were opened. I saw Maida herself, and a tall womanin grey, wearing a short veil. They stood together, talking. Thenwith an affectionate touch on the girl's shoulder, the Head Sister--Iknew it must be she--bade her newest recruit good night.

  The window was left open, but dark curtains were drawn across, no doubtby Maida. Presently the long strip of golden light between thesedraperies vanished. No scene could be more peaceful than the quietgarden and the sleeping house. Still, something held me bound. Howlong I stood there, I don't know: an hour, maybe; perhaps less, perhapsmore. But suddenly a white figure flashed out upon the balcony. Sodim was it in the darkness, I might have taken it for one of the famousghosts, but Maida's voice cried out: "_The face--the face_! God sendme help!"

  "He has sent help. I've come, to take you away," I called, and held upmy arms.

  Five minutes later she was with me in my car, rushing towards New Yorkand her brother's house.

  * * * * *

  "A gilded amateur detective," Roger Odell once called me in a joke.But I knew he would listen to theories I'd formed concerning thismystery which, like an evil spirit, had haunted his sister sincechildhood. All night I spent in elaborating these theories anddove-tailing them together. The girl had had a fright in the theatre.I had seen a man with strange eyes and a scar, looking at her; andthrough certain happenings at my hotel, I believed that a link betweenhim and Maida's "Head Sister" might be found. That, of course, wouldfree the girl from the promise she thought sacred.

  By eight-thirty in the morning I was in touch with Pemberton's PrivateDetective Agency, and I had just been assured that a good man, PaulTeano, would be with me in ten minutes, when my telephone bell rangshrilly. It was the voice of Grace Odell which answered my "Hello!"

  "Oh, Lord John," she called distressfully, "isn't it dreadful? Maida'sgoing back to the Sisterhood House! The Head Sister has written her aletter. Maida's answering it. She doesn't blame the woman for_anything_. She thinks she herself was a coward to take fright at abad dream. Do come and argue with her. The child wants to start thismorning. That woman seems to have her hypnotised."

  My answer goes without saying. I determined to put off the detective,but he arrived as I finished talking to Grace, and as his looksappealed to me I spared him a quarter of an hour. His eyes were asItalian as his name--with the shadow of tragedy in them."Temperamental looking fellow," I said to myself.

  My business with Teano had nothing to do directly with Maida. What Ihad to tell him was
the invasion of my rooms two nights before, but outit came that I had been helping a woman, and that success in this casemight mean her safety.

  "I, too, work for a woman, my lord," the detective said. Though he hadspent years in America, I noticed how little slang of the country he'dchosen to pick up. He spoke, perhaps in the wish to impress me, withsingular correctness. "Now you have told me this, I shall be the moreanxious to serve you. I turned detective to find her. I've been fiveyears trying. But every morning I think, 'Perhaps it will be to-day.'"

  There was no time then to draw him out as he would have liked to bedrawn out. I showed him what there was to work upon, in my rooms aswell as the two others, and then dashed off to Maida.

  As my car stopped in front of Roger Odell's home, out of the housebounced a small boy--a very small boy indeed, with the eyes of an imp,and the clothes of a Sunday-school scholar. He looked at me as heflashed past, and it was as if he said, "So it's _you_, is it?"

  I had never seen the boy before, but I thought of the collapsible box;and leaving a flabbergasted footman at the door, my crutch and I wentafter the small legs that twinkled around the corner. The elf was tooquick, however. By the time I had got where he ought to have been, hehad made himself invisible. Whether a taxi had swallowed him, or adoor had opened to receive him, it was useless to wonder. All I coulddo was to question the footman. The child had brought a letter to MissOdell, and had taken one away. "Meanwhile," the servant added, seeingmy interest, "he has entertained below stairs, making faces and turninghandsprings. Quite a acrobat, your lordship," remarked the man, whohailed from my country; "and that _sharp_, though dumb as a fish! Wegave 'im cake and jam, but money seemed to please 'im most, an' hispockets was full of it already. 'E's got enough to go on a mostglorious bust, beggin' your lordship's pardon."

  I gave it--and something else as well. Then I asked him for the platefrom which the child had eaten. It was to be wrapped in paper, and putinto my car--for Teano. (It has never mattered that a footman shouldthink his master, or his master's friends, insane!)

  If the child messenger from the Sisterhood, and the child-thief in thecollapsible box were one, the dumbness was an obstacle. NeverthelessTeano might catch him, I thought, little dreaming how my desire andhis, working into one, were to be brought about.

  I was shown into Roger's den, and confessed the theft of the documenthe had given me--luckily useless, without the plan. I told him alsothe history of the night. "Two and two generally make four," I said,"and though this affair is irritating, it may help eventually. The manwho frightened Miss Odell had the look of an Egyptian. Now, isn't itmore likely that a mummy should be wanted by an Egyptian than another?Miss Odell's treasure is a mummy, in a painted mummy-case. You knowthat several attempts have been made to break into the 'shrine,' asMiss Odell calls it. With what other object than to get the mummy?You've had its case protected with an ingenious system of electricwiring. Now, you are going away with your wife. You give me thesecret of the mechanism. The same night somebody tries to steal it;also he rubs off my shirt-cuff the number of the Egyptian-lookingfellow's car. Then, there's the directress of the Sisterhood. Shefascinates Miss Odell. She revives the glory of a dying order. Shetakes an old ghost-ridden house by the seashore--where anything mighthappen. And something _does_ happen. A dream--so vivid, that Iventure to believe it wasn't a dream but a trick. The woman tries toinduce a girl to bring all her possessions with her into seclusion.'_All_ her possessions,' mind! That would have included themummy-case, if you hadn't put your foot down. Have I your leave torepeat these ramblings to her?"

  "She has heard them, Lord John!" I turned, and sprang to my feet.Maida was at the door, with Grace.

  "You were talking so fast, we didn't interrupt. And I _wanted_ tohear. I thought you'd wish me to. You have a wonderful theory, butit's _all_ a mistake so far as the Sisterhood is concerned. The HeadSister is the _best_ woman I ever knew. I'm breaking my heart withshame because I deserted my post. Oh, don't think I blame _you_ forbringing me away, Lord John. I blame only myself. You were splendid.And I'm grateful for everything. To convince you of that, I promise ifyou can prove anything against the Sisterhood, I'll consider myselffree from my bond--even before the twelve months are up. That's a_safe_ promise. You can't think what a beautiful letter the HeadSister has sent me this morning. I'm eager to go back and earn herforgiveness by helping in the work she'll give me to do. In justice toher I _must_ tell you a secret. That mask you saw--which prejudicedyou--is to hide burns she got in saving a slum-child from death in agreat fife. The Sister wears it to spare others pain. As for the_dream_--I have it everywhere, and often. Don't be anxious. I'llwrite, and--_you_ can write if you will. Dear Roger, is the car ready?"

  "No," said Roger bluntly. "I hoped John would make you see reason."

  "I do see it," the girl answered. "I didn't last night."

  "How I wish you weren't over twenty-one!" her adopted brother growled.

  Maida laughed, almost gaily. "As it is, I'm an old maid, and must beallowed to go my own way."

  "May I motor you and Roger to Pine Cliff, if you must go?" I begged.

  She gave me a long look before answering. Then she said, "Yes."

  I shall never forget that run from New York to Long Island. I made themost of every moment; but my heart turned to ice whenever a voiceseemed to mutter in my ear, "You're going to lose her. You've failed,John Hasle, in the big crisis of her life and yours."

  But I wouldn't believe the voice. So far as my own story wasconcerned, I thought this chapter of it had come to a close with theclosing of the gate at the Sisterhood House between me and Maida Odell.Yet after all it hadn't, quite. There was more to come.

  A little veiled woman had opened the gate at the sound of themotor-horn, evidently expecting Miss Odell. And the same little womanshut us out when the new sister had gone in. I noticed herparticularly, because she shrank from our eyes, though her face wascovered with the conventional mist of gauze. And it seemed that shewas glad to get rid of us. Not rudely, but with eagerness, she pushedthe gate to; and as she did so I noticed her hand. The left hand itwas--small, daintily shaped, with delicate, tapering fingers; but thethird finger was missing.

  Teano was not in my rooms when I arrived once more at my hotel; butopening the door of 212 I found him at the telephone. So absorbed washe that he did not hear me enter, and I stood still in order not todisturb him. I supposed that he had called up the Agency, and wastalking of my business.

  "If I could get out of the job, I would," he almost groaned. "Butthey'd put another man on, and that would be worse for Jenny. Everyoneheard of 'Three-Fingered Jenny' at the time of the gang's getaway. Theonly thing I can do is to keep her out of the business at any cost, andgo along on other lines. I'll call you up again, Nella, if I getanything on my _own_, about Jenny."

  "Who, pray, are Nella and Jenny, Mr. Teano?" I asked, realising that hemeant to play me false.

  He jumped as if I had shot him, and dropped the receiver. "I--thoughtI'd locked the door," he stammered.

  "It's a good thing you didn't," I said. "I've heard enough to guessyou came on some clue you didn't expect. That's why you forgot to lockthe door, before you called up 'Nella.'"

  "Nella's my sister," Teano blurted out. "She's employed in thePriscilla Alden, the hotel where only ladies stay. She's the telephonegirl on the thirteenth floor."

  "Thanks for the explanation," I replied with more coolness than I felt."As for 'Jenny'--well, before I ask more questions I'll tell you what Ithink. 'Jenny' is the woman for whose sake you took up yourprofession. You'd lost, and wanted to find her. Now, you have foundher--or rather, her fingerprints--unmistakable, because they happen tobe those of her left hand. Rather than get her into trouble, you'dsacrifice my interests."

  Teano remained dumb as the impish child, when I finished and waited forhim to speak; so I went on. "I don't want to hurt a woman; yet you seeI know so much I can ca
rry on this case without you. Suppose we worktogether? I'll begin by laying my cards on the table. I can save youthe trouble of a search if I choose. I know where 'Jenny' is, and cantake you to her."

  "You--you're bluffing!" Teano stammered.

  "I swear I'm not. Luckily you're a _private_ detective. The policeneedn't get an inkling of this case, unless you fail me, and I turn tothem. All I want is to find out who instigated the affair of nightbefore last. Who carried it out isn't so important to me, though itmay be to you. And by the by, has 'Jenny' any personal interest in alittle boy of four or five who is dumb?"

  "My God!" broke out the detective.

  "Don't you think I can be as useful to you as you can to me?" Iinsinuated. "Why not be frank about 'Jenny'? I promise to hold everyword in confidence. Hang up that receiver. You'd better sit down oryou'll fall! Now, let's have this out."

  The man was at my mercy; yet I knew he was no traitor. "Probably," Ireflected, "I'd have done the same in his place."

  We sat facing each other, across the bare little table; and Teano beganthe story of Jenny. There was drama in it, and tragedy, though as yetthe story had no end. The sad music was broken; but I began to see, ashe went on, that he and I might find a way of ending it, on a differentkey.

  Paul Teano and his sister had come to relatives in New York when he wasnineteen and she twelve. That was ten years ago. Paul was now anaturalised American citizen, but at the time of the Italian war inTripoli he hadn't taken out his papers. There had been other things tothink of--such as falling in love. In those days Paul was a buddingnewspaper reporter. He had gone to "get" a fire, and incidentally hadsaved a girl's life. Her name was Jenny Trent. It was a case of loveat first sight with both. The mother took lodgers, and Teano becameone. In a fortnight, Jenny and he were engaged in spite of a rivalwith money and "position"--that of a bank clerk.

  Mrs. Trent wanted Jenny to marry Richard Mayne, and Jenny had vaguelyentertained the idea before she met Teano. There was somethingmysterious and different from the men she had known, about Mayne, whichpiqued her interest. But the mystery ceased to attract her after theItalian's appearance. Teano, afraid of Mrs. Trent's weakness forMayne--or his presents, would have married Jenny at once, and trustedto luck for a living; but the girl's mother fell ill, and while Jennywas nursing her, Italy's war broke out. Paul was called to thecolours, and sailed for "home" with thousands of other reservists. Itwas hard luck, and harder still to be wounded and taken prisoner in hisfirst battle. Teano's adventures with his Arab captors would make aseparate story, as exciting as Slatin's though not so long, for hesuffered only a year and six months' imprisonment. At the end of thattime he escaped, made his way to Sicily, and thence back to America asstoker in an Italian ship. His first thought was to see Jenny; but atMrs. Trent's he found himself taken for a ghost. The report had comethat he was dead; and Mrs. Trent had "thought it best" for Jenny toaccept Dick Mayne. "For Heaven's sake, keep away," pleaded her mother."She's not happy with Dick. There was trouble at the bank, and he losthis job. Jenny's wretched. But she's got a baby boy to live for--apoor little thing, born dumb. The sight of you will make thingsharder."

  Perhaps Teano might have had strength to remain in the background if anold fellow-lodger had not whispered what "people were saying about DickMayne." It was asserted that for years he had led a "double life."Nothing had been actually proved against him, except, that he was adope fiend. But gossip had it that he was a dope-seller as well, areceiver of stolen goods, and a friend of thieves and gunmen. Therewas likely to be an awful "bust-up" and then--Heaven help Jenny!

  Naturally Teano went to the address given him--that of a tenement housea long way east of Fifth Avenue. There, Fate stage-managed him intothe midst of a scene destined to change the course of two lives and putan end to one. His knock was unanswered; but something was happeningin the kitchen of the wretched flat. The door was not locked; it hadbeen forgotten. Teano burst in, to find Jenny fighting for her lifewith a madman. Mayne had snatched a bread-knife from the table, andJenny's hand dripped blood. Without a word Teano sprang to herdefence; but Mayne slipped out of his grasp. Darting to an adjoiningroom, he rushed back with a Colt revolver. To save Teano, Jenny flungherself between the two men; but Paul caught and put her behind him,leaping on Mayne with a spring of a tiger. Then came a life and deathtussle. The revolver went off as both fought to get it, and Maynefell, shot through the heart.

  "You'd have thought things couldn't have been worse with us than theywere," the detective groaned. "But you'd have thought wrong. We wereup against it, Jenny and me. If I stayed and gave evidence, she wasafraid of a scandal. If I made a getaway, she argued, she would be allright, on a plea of self-defence; because it was known by theneighbours what her husband was. I thought the same myself; and shepersuaded me for her sake to disappear. That was the mistake of mylife. What happened after I went, I don't know. I can only guess.But something caused Jenny to change her mind. I got off without beingseen, and lay low to watch the papers. But if you believe me, forthree days there was nothing! Then came out a paragraph about Mayne'sbody being discovered by some friend, who pounded in vain on the door,and at last broke it in, to find the man dead. Doctors testified thathe'd been a corpse for forty-eight hours. The revolver lay beside him.The verdict was suicide. He was known for his habits, you see; andjust by pulling the catch down, Jenny could get out, leaving the doorlocked on the _inside_. Folks thought she'd deserted him--and that andother troubles, brought on by himself, had preyed upon his mind. Sheand I hadn't been cool enough to plan a stunt like that, in the minutesbefore she forced me out of the place. But _somebody'd_ helped her;and things that happened later put me on to guessing who.

  "Never a word or a line has Jenny sent me from that day to this. Doyou know why? Because a pack of thieves got hold of her and the child.One of Mayne's secret pals must have come along and offered to save herand the boy. I don't believe she knew what she was letting herself infor, till she was in. But--well, a girl called 'Three-Fingered Jenny'travelled with a gang of international thieves last year in France, andI bounced over there like a bomb when I heard. You see, when I foundher struggling with Mayne, he'd been trying to cut off her finger,because she _would_ stick to an old ring of mine; refused to give itup. She'd just time to tell me that and show me what he'd done. I sawthe poor finger would have to come off. My poor little Jenny! She'dloved her pretty hands! The European war broke out just as I wasgetting on her track--or thought I was--and I lost her again. I'dstake my life she never stole a red cent's worth. But they may haveforced her to act as a decoy--using the child to bring her up to time.I've always felt the gang's game would be to train the boy for a dip.It was a frame-up on Jenny from the first. Why, the little chap woulddo star turns, and never spill. He's dumb. Made for the job. I'veseen babies in the business, sharp as traps! Now you see, my lord,what a knockout I had, finding those finger-marks on thewindow-sill:--three, of a small left hand, the third finger missing;and traces that a child had been let out of the window by a rope. Thefootprints are below in the court. 'Jenny and her boy,' I said tomyself. I've prayed God I might find them; but it's the devil has sentthem to me at last."

  "I'm not so sure of that," I said, and told Teano where and how I hadseen a slender little woman with big, scared eyes and a left hand withits third finger missing.

  When I had explained my rapidly developed theory, we discussed themeans of proving it. We might as well batter at the gates of Paradiseas those of the Grey Sisterhood. We would be turned away, as with aflaming sword. Trust the Head Sister for that! But we were not at theend of our resources.

  That evening towards dusk, two ruddy-faced coastguards left a somewhatdilapidated car in charge of a local youth. They walked for a shortdistance, where a group of pines on a promontory had suggested the name"Pine Cliff." They rang a gate bell, although aware that tradesmenwere the only males of the human species allowed to cross thethreshol
d. When their summons remained unanswered, they tugged againwith violence, until a _grille_ opened like a shutter. "Who is there?"questioned a timid voice.

  The elder of the coastguards, seeing his companion start at the soundof her voice, answered, to give his comrade breathing space. They hadcome, he announced, by order, to search the garden for a suspectedhiding hole of smuggled opium. Not that the Sisterhood was implicated!This was an old place, and had been used by dope smugglers. The coastpolice had received the "tip" that this had happened again.

  The veiled eyes behind the _grille_ vanished; and a moment lateranother voice took up the argument. As Teano had recognised Jenny'svoice, I knew the Head Sister's. The idea was _absurd_, said thelatter. We could not be admitted. I stepped aside, not trusting mydisguise, and Teano held out a folded document to which we had given anofficial semblance.

  "I don't want to make trouble for you, ladies, but----" he hinted. Thepaper and a glimpse of a red seal said the rest. Bolts slid backindignantly, and the gate was flung open. I beheld the Head Sister,tall and formidable. Behind her I glimpsed a group of other forms lessimposing, among them Maida, flowers in her hands, and surrounded withchildren. As for Teano, no doubt he saw only the shy figure retiringfrom the gate.

  "This is preposterous!" exclaimed the Head Sister. "But search thegarden if you must. You will find _nothing_." She moved away to joinher satellites, motioning to the door-keeper that the gate might beclosed. Before the gesture could be obeyed, however, Teano put himselfbetween the tall woman and the little one.

  "Beg pardon, madam. I admit we've got in on false pretences," he saidsharply; "but we're detectives sent to arrest Three-Fingered Jenny, andhere's our warrant."

  He flourished the faked document. Before the mistress of infiniteresource had time to collect her forces--we had swept Jenny outside thegate, and slammed it. We raced with her to Teano's waiting car,and--cruel to be kind--stopped to explain nothing till Pine Cliff wasmore than a mile away.

  I took the wheel and gave Paul a place by Jenny. I heard him plead,"Don't you _know_ me, Jen?" But not once did I turn my head untilTeano spoke my name.

  "She's my Jenny," he said, "and she _cares_, but she doesn't _want_ tobe rescued! It's a question of her boy. She won't give him up."

  "Quite right," I agreed. "Why should she give him up? Has she lefthim in the Sisterhood House?"

  "No, he's lost," Jenny answered. "I don't know where he is--since thismorning. But the House has been our home for weeks. The Head Sistertook us in, and promised to save Nicky from bad people and bad ways.He'll go back there, and----"

  "But where is he now?" I cut in, having slowed down the car. "Can't wehead him off? The child has money, I know. Where would he go andspend his earnings?"

  "I--can't tell," she stammered. "He's always wanted me to take him toConey Island--to some amusement park. But----"

  "To Coney Island we'll go," I exclaimed.

  * * * * *

  What followed was a wild adventure. I had never been to Coney Island.But I seemed to have been born knowing that it was a place dedicated tothe people's pleasure. No doubt it was a toss-up which amusementground to choose. By hazard, we began with Constellation Park; andalmost at once came upon traces of Nicky. "A little dumb boy withblack eyes, all alone, with plenty of money, and a grin when asked ifhe were lost?" Oh, yes, he was doing every stunt. We tracked himthrough peanuts and ice cream, lions' dens and upside-down houses, tothe Maze of Mystery.

  The name was no misnomer. Hampton Court, and the Labyrinth of Creteitself could have "nothing on it." In a bewildered procession Teano,Jenny and I wandered through streets of mirrors, complicated groves,walled concentric alley ways, with unexpected and disappointing outletsuntil at last a pair of elf-eyes stared at me from a distant andunreachable surface of glass. I cried out; so did Jenny and Teano, forall of us had had the same glimpse and quickly lost it.

  "_Nicky_," gasped Jenny, just behind my back. "And, oh, _Red Joe's gothold of him_! It's all up--if we can't get between them. It's Red JoeI stole him back from when we went into the Sisterhood."

  I looked back to console her--and she was gone. Teano, too, hadsuddenly separated from us, whether accidentally or for a purpose, Icould not tell. But the maze would have put any rabbit warren toshame. When you thought you were in one place, you found to yourastonishment that you were in another, with no visible way of gettingout.

  Then again, eyes looked at me from a mirror which might be far off orwithin ten yards. There were mirrors within mirrors, dazzling andendless vistas of mirrors. Child's eyes, mischievous as a squirrel's,met mine, peering from between crowding forms of grown-ups. The manJenny had spoken of as "Red Joe" (I picked him out by a ferret face andrust-red hair) was trying to push past a fat father of a family, toreach the child in grey. Whether Nicky knew that he was a pawn in agame of chess, who could tell? There was but one thing certain. Hewas having "the time of his life."

  "If I could get him for Jenny, what would Jenny do for me in return?" Iasked myself. It might turn out that she could unlock the door thathad shut between me and Maida Odell.

  A desperate, a selfish desire to beat Red Joe, seized me; but now themirrors told, if they did not deceive, that glassy depths of distancebetween us were increasing in space and mystery. Suddenly I reached aturning-point. Nicky was straight ahead. He paused, looked, madeready to dart away like a trout from the hook. But--inspiration ranwith my blood.

  I pulled a wad of greenbacks from my pocket and smiled. Red Joe hadflattened pater familias unmercifully, and was squeezing past. A hand,a thief's hand if I ever saw one, caught at Nicky's collar. But hedipped from under, slipped between a surprised German's legs, and--Igrabbed him in my arms.