The Riddle and the Ring; or, Won by Nerve, Page 3

  The tailor welcomed him heartily, gave the suit of evening clothes afinal fitting, and promised to have it completed and delivered at theSt. Albans by evening.

  Presently Lawrence crossed the avenue, and purchased a handsome stick.A little farther on he remembered the need of cuff links and studs. Afirm of famed goldsmiths was near at hand, and without hesitation Barryentered.

  As the tray of cuff links was lifted out and set on the glass case,Lawrence naturally stripped off his gloves to examine the articles moreclosely. He gave no thought to the fact that the serpent ring was stillon his finger, where he had placed it for safe-keeping, but he wasspeedily reminded of its presence there by the behavior of the salesman.

  The man could scarcely keep his eyes off it. He stared and stared,fidgeted about, and stared again. Finally, unable to contain himselflonger, he spoke.

  "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, in a quick, nervous manner, "but youhave a wonderful ring there."

  Lawrence did not lift his eyes from the tray.

  "I think it rather good myself," he admitted.

  His tone was intended to quell this unwelcome display of interest, butit quite failed of its effect.

  "I have never seen anything like it before," the salesman went onrapidly. "Would you mind if I--looked at it more closely?"

  Barry glanced up with a faint frown, alert for the hidden meaning in theman's words. What he saw reassured him. The wide brow, the vibrant,tapering fingers--above all, the soft brown eyes, shining withenthusiastic interest--all pointed toward an expert in his line, to whoma thing of beauty was a source of joy, no matter where he found it.

  Without a word, Lawrence extended his hand, and the salesman bent overit, his eyes devouring the ring.

  "Extraordinary!" he murmured, half to himself. "The stone is perfect,and worth a small fortune, but the workmanship is even more unusual."He sighed a little, and went on in a rapt tone: "Eastern, of course.Probably Indian, but not the stuff they make there now. I should placeit in the reign of Shah Jahan, the golden age of Delhi--over threehundred years ago. But of course you know all this. I must beg yourpardon for letting my interest get the better of me."

  "You needn't," Barry returned. "I am very glad to know what you havetold me. The former owner of the ring gave me little or no informationof its history."

  Having, concluded his purchases, to which he added a silver cigarettecase, he continued his walk up the avenue in a rather thoughtful mood.

  So the ring had come from India! Still, that proved nothing. He couldnot picture the little man in black having anything to do with thatcountry, and it did not really follow that he had. No doubt the emeraldhad passed through numberless hands since leaving the loving fingers ofits creator.

  It was foolish to waste time puzzling over a problem the solution ofwhich was beyond his reach. Besides, Lawrence had a curious feeling ofirresponsibility, a conviction that he was in the hands of fate. Whatwas to be, would be. There was nothing left for him to do but float withthe current. Since that current promised at the moment to take him intopleasant places, he made no effort to struggle out of it, or swim away.

  *CHAPTER VII.*

  *NEW GRACE AND DIGNITY.*

  It was half past six, and Lawrence stood in the bedroom of hisattractive suite, taking a last critical look at his reflection in thelong mirror.

  Mrs. Kerr would scarcely have recognized in that tall, distinguishedfigure in evening dress her former lodger. Somehow, it was not theclothes alone which made the difference, though they had, of course,much to do with it. Few men there are who do not feel the influence ofwell-cut, perfectly fitting evening clothes.

  With Barry, however, the transformation was something deeper and farmore encompassing. His face seemed actually fuller, and it glowed withcolor. His eyes sparkled with excitement. He carried himself with a newgrace and dignity. His whole expression was that of a man in love withlife, and determined to extract from it the last drop of enjoyment.

  Naturally he was quite unconscious of all this as he stared into theglass. He was occupied in noting the fit of the coat about his broadshoulders, and the effect of the barber's shears upon his wavy blondcrop. Both seemed satisfactory.

  "Tyson never did a better piece of work in his life," he said aloud,with satisfaction.

  Turning from the glass, he reached for his fur-lined coat, and slippedit on. The room was cluttered with parcels and boxes, opened andunopened. Clothes were strewn over bed and chairs. It was too late nowto put them away. He could do that later.

  Taking up the pigskin wallet from the dressing table, he extracted ahundred dollars, and slipped the bills into an inner pocket. Downstairshe handed the wallet to the clerk, asking him to put it into the safe,and sallied forth to where a taxi waited by the curb.

  The corridors of the Waldorf were agleam with lights, and resounded witha buzz of talk, the swish of skirts and gay laughter of pretty women,not a few of whom turned for a second glance at Lawrence as he made hisway slowly to the dining room.

  Here the head waiter met him, and ushered him deferentially to the tablewhich had been reserved by telephone. Another man, deft andsilent-footed, took his order.

  Barry leaned back with a barely perceptible sigh of pleasure. It wasgood to be back in his own world again; good to watch the many faces,with their swiftly varying expressions, to hear the chance remarks thatfiltered to his ears through the soft music from the orchestra.

  Resolutely he thrust all thought of the future from his mind. Therewere to be six more nights like this, and when the last one had passedit would be quite time to turn to serious things.

  The oysters had passed, and the soup. Barry was just finishing hisentree when, happening to glance around at a table standing somewhatback of him and on his right, he experienced a shock.

  Two men were dining there alone. The one who faced him, and whoseexpression was almost ludicrous in its mixture of startled surprise andoutraged anger, was short and stout and rather pompous. He was RobertTappin, president of the Beekman Trust Company. His companion,black-haired and ruddy-cheeked, with full lips, and the blue tinge of aheavy beard showing on his clean-shaven face, was Julian Farr, thecashier.

  Lawrence disliked them both with the intensity which only a man can feelfor those who have wronged him deeply. A little over four months beforehe had been one of the tellers in that institution. A defalcation wasdiscovered. Several thousand dollars was missing from the cash, andBarry was accused of theft. There was no real proof against him, butthe money had been in his charge; and, though Lawrence vehementlyprotested his innocence, he was summarily discharged.

  Not only that, but for weeks he had been followed by detectives set onby Tappin for the purpose apparently of finding out what he had donewith the loot. Day and night they dogged his footsteps. Half a dozentimes Barry had landed a position, only to lose it the next day, certainthat these men had gone to his new employers with their lying tale.

  Now these two who had nearly wrecked his life must turn up here to spoilhis new-found pleasure. With sudden fierce determination, Lawrenceresolved that they should not. Pulling himself together, he metTappin's amazed look with a cool stare of utter blankness whichstaggered the man. Then he turned back and went on composedly with hisdinner.

  It was impossible to forget them, however. Though he did not turn again,he felt that their eyes were fixed upon him, and he knew as surely as ifhe had heard the whispered words that they were talking about him.

  Nevertheless, he finished his meal leisurely. When the check had beenpaid, he arose and made his way slowly toward the door, without abackward glance.

  His preoccupation prevented his noticing a rather odd incident whichhappened on his way out. Near the door, sitting alone at a small table,was a short, thickset man of forty odd, with a rather full, round face,helped out to some degree by a pointed Vandyke beard, tinged with gray.

  During the progress of the me
al he had been not a little interested inLawrence, if one could judge by the frequent keen glances he shot acrossthe room. But now, as Barry came toward him, he swiftly dropped hishead, seemingly absorbed in the menu which lay before him. Not untilthe younger man had disappeared did he raise his eyes, and then a closeobserver might have noticed in them a curious, enigmatic expression.

  Within three minutes the table by the door was empty.

  *CHAPTER VIII.*

  *THE GATES OF CHANCE.*

  At the Fifth Avenue corner Lawrence paused, leaning on his stick, andglancing up and down the brilliant thoroughfare. Though it was too latefor the theater, the night was still young, and he was wondering justhow he would put in the hours before bedtime.

  In the old days, before his disgrace, he would have headed straight forthe Harvard Club, on Forty-fourth Street, and been sure of a pleasant,lazy evening; but now the thought did not appeal to him. In some waysBarry was unusually sensitive, and it had happened that the fewacquaintances he encountered shortly after leaving the bank seemed cooland offish in their manner.

  Whether that was really so, and chance had thrown the caddishly inclinedin his way, or whether he had simply imagined it all, did not matternow. The result had been to embitter the young man, and make himdetermined to take no further chances of snubbing from those he hadsupposed his friends.

  The club was, therefore, impossible. It was equally out of the questionto look up any one else he had known in his prosperous days. As forrelatives--well, Barry was singularly deficient in that respect. Savesome cousins in Boston, and an aunt living in Providence, he was quitealone in the world.

  In spite of this, the pause at the corner was not a long one. Lawrencewanted to walk. The fascination of the great city still held him in avise. The novelty of seeing it in this wonderful new light had not evenbegun to wear off. He wanted to watch the people, look into the shopwindows, smoke his cigar, secure in the knowledge that he was safeagainst cold and hunger and distress.

  Wondering which way to turn, Barry's eyes fell upon an approachingThirty-fourth Street car, and whimsically he determined to take theopposite direction to that of the first alighting passenger. With afaint smile curving his sensitive mouth, and lurking in the pleasantgray eyes, he saw a man bustle off the front platform, dart across thetracks, and hurry on up the avenue. Then, without hesitation, Lawrencewheeled about, and walked briskly downtown.

  There was a certain fascination in walking thus at random, having nofixed plan, no definite destination. He had done exactly the same thingin the weary weeks which now seemed so dim and nebulous and far away;but this was quite different. He was well fed and immaculately garbed.There was money in his pockets, and a fine cigar between his teeth.When he tired of rambling he had simply to hail a taxi or step on a carand be whirled back to the luxurious apartment which belonged tohim--for a week, at least.

  And so it pleased him to feel again that he was in the hands of fate;that the gates of chance had opened to his touch, admitting him to astrange, fantastic city where anything might happen, and nothing wasbeyond the bounds of probability.

  As he walked briskly southward, he amused himself for a time by watchingthe passers-by, and inventing stories to fit their appearance. But thissoon palled. They were all so bundled up, and hurried past so swiftlythrough the bitter air, that all Barry could think of was how cold theywere and how anxious to get home.

  Then he took to regulating his course by means of odd devices. If acertain man crossed the avenue at Twenty-eighth Street, he would followthe example. If the next kept on downtown, Lawrence would turn eastwardon Twenty-seventh Street, and the like.

  It happened that the man turned into the side street, and Barrycontinued straight ahead until, high above the icy branches of the nakedtrees, the glittering Metropolitan Tower, ethereal and fairylike, inspite of its colossal bulk, loomed before his eyes.

  He paused an instant, while the silvery chimes rang out the hour ofnine. There were many directions in which he might turn his steps, butat the moment the square seemed singularly deserted. At length hisglance shifted to the bright, open space beyond him, where three streetsjoined, and he smiled.

  "If that Broadway car is a Lexington," he murmured, "I'll cut across thesquare."

  The car approached, swerved off, and turned east on Twenty-third Street;and Lawrence promptly wheeled into the winding walk, and brisklyfollowed the diagonal course.

  The benches, usually so full of loungers, were deserted now. Thefountain in the center was filled with dingy snow, while ice glitteredon the iron railing about it. The wind, whistling across the openspace, penetrated even the thick fur of Barry's coat a little, and madehim half wish that guiding street car had not led him thither. He didnot turn back, however; he was too much interested in this game ofchance to give it up just because it had so far failed to bring himanything out of the ordinary.

  Rounding the desolate fountain, he slipped on a treacherous bit of ice.When he recovered his equilibrium, he saw that a woman was coming towardhim along the cement path. She walked hurriedly, yet there was an oddtouch of indecision in her movements which puzzled Barry.

  As they approached each other, she passed under the glare of an electriclight, and Lawrence noticed for the first time how slim and girlish shewas. She seemed little more than a child. Certainly she ought not to beon the streets at that hour and in such bitter weather.

  As she came nearer he saw that she had no muff or neck-piece, and thather little suit seemed woefully inadequate. Her face was invisibleunder the wide brim of the black hat, but she did not pause or falter oreven glance up at him.

  Then came a sound which turned Barry's sigh into a quick gasp of pain,and made him whirl around to stare after the slight, retreating figure.It was a stifled sob, carried to his ears by the vagrant wind, until itseemed as clear and pitiful as if she had stood close beside him.Another followed, and another still. The girl was crying as if herheart would break.

  *CHAPTER IX.*

  *A WOMAN IN DISTRESS.*

  For a second Lawrence stood rooted to the pavement. His first impulsewas to follow her. She was in trouble, and perhaps he could help her.He took a few quick steps back toward the fountain, and stopped still.How could he speak to her? How could he offer to do her a service? Shewould misconstrue his motives, and be terrified. She would----

  A faint cry, which was little more than a startled exclamation ofterror, cut short Barry's mental reasonings, and in a second he wasrunning forward with long, lithe strides. As he approached the fountainhe saw another figure scurrying away across the snow toward MadisonAvenue. The girl was crouching against the ice-covered railing,steadying herself with one small, gloved hand, and, as Lawrence camestraight toward her, he saw that she was trembling violently.

  "You called me," he said quietly.

  For a second she made no response. Her fingers still clutched the ironrailing; her whole attitude was that of one driven into a corner andstanding at bay. From under the shadowy hat brim Barry could see thather lips were pressed tightly together. Her eyes, wide with a desperatesort of fear, were fixed upon his face.

  "I heard you call out," Barry said gently. "I thought you werefrightened at something."

  Something in his voice, or perhaps his face--the light was very brightaround the snowy fountain--reassured her. Her eyes lost a little ofthat look of terror, and her fingers relaxed their grip on the ironrailing.

  "I was," she answered, in a low, uneven, and charming voice, "terriblyfrightened. That--man----"

  Suddenly she put up both hands to her face, and swiftly turned from him.Scarcely a sound came from her, but the sight of that bowed head and theconvulsively heaving shoulders, showing but too plainly through the thincloth of her short coat, hurt Lawrence desperately, and brought a lumpinto his throat. She seemed so young and frail and girlish, so utterlyunfitted to cope w
ith the world, that a quick impulse came to the man totake her in his arms and comfort her exactly as one does a child. Herealized instantly, of course, that such a thing would be impossible.

  "Please don't," he said softly, after a moment's silence. "It's allright now." He watched her trembling hands searching for ahandkerchief, and then he went on, with deliberately forcedcheerfulness: "I tell you what we'll do. If you'll let me, I'll walkalong with you, so there won't be a chance of anything like thishappening again."

  She ceased dabbing her eyes, and, turning slowly, looked long andsearchingly into his face. "You are very kind," she said at length, andBarry caught again that faint, Southern intonation which he had not beenquite sure of before; "but it is a long distance, and I think I canmanage by myself. I--am used to going about alone."

  "But you really wouldn't be taking me out of my way--if that's what youwere thinking," Lawrence expostulated. "I haven't a thing to do. I'mout for a walk, and one direction is just as good as another for me. Ihate to think of your taking any more chances."

  For a second the girl hesitated. Then her lids drooped a little, andshe swayed the least bit, putting out one hand blindly to steady herselfagainst the railing.

  Barry stepped swiftly forward, and took her arm.

  "Come!" he said, with a whimsical sort of positiveness. "You reallymust! I know it's unconventional, and all that, but we'll probablynever see each other after to-night. I'll leave you wherever you wish,and say good night. You were heading toward Broadway, weren't you?Well, we'll go together."