Chapter XXXIV The Puzzle Grows
It seemed an eternity to Barry Lawrence before the taxi finally swerved in toward the curb and stopped with a grinding jar before the marble-fronted house facing the park. He was on the sidewalk in an instant, and, telling the man to wait, ran up the curving steps to the ornate doorway.
Evidently the footman was on the watch, for the door swung open before Barry had even time to press the bell, and, without a word, the servant took the visitor’s coat and hat and led the way at once toward the elevator.
The long drawing-room was filled with a soft radiance from shaded lamps and ornate electric globes cunningly hidden in the heavy, carved cornice; and the amazing richness of its furnishing showed now to even better advantage than it had that morning.
But Lawrence was not thinking of furnishings. As he stepped through the wide doorway his eyes sought at once the single figure the great room contained—the figure of a woman of middle age, richly dressed and wearing many jewels, who had been pacing back and forth the length of the apartment, but who stopped abruptly as the man entered, and turned swiftly toward him. She was tall, a bit angular, sharp in her movements, and the wildest stretching of the imagination could not have conceived her handsome. But there was something about the way she carried her head, and an expression in the rather rugged face, which gave one an impression of bigness, mental and moral. Such a woman might be brusque and sharp and domineering; she could never be unjust or petty.
Barry took a few quick steps forward, and paused, a little embarrassed by the way those keen, dark eyes were fixed upon his face, as if searching the very depths of his soul. A faint touch of color came into his cheeks; but his eyes never wavered, and he held his head high. Presently, as the odd silence began to seem intolerable, his lips parted, as if he meant to speak, only to close again without a sound issuing. When at last the silence was broken, it was the woman who spoke.
“So you are Barry Lawrence,” she said abruptly, with an oddly puzzled undercurrent in her voice.
He bowed.
“Humph!” she commented. “Read that!”
As she thrust her hand toward him, Barry saw that a letter was crumpled between her fingers. Without a word, he took it eagerly and twitched it open. It was written in a simple, running hand without any special characteristics, and was unsigned:
Dear Madam: This is to let you know that your niece is all right as long as you keep quiet and don’t interfere. Very likely you think that money and position can do everything, but in this case you’re wrong.
Nothing is going to happen to the girl unless you go running to the police; but if you do, you won’t be a bit better off, and there’ll only be a big scandal raised which will do irreparable harm to her and her husband.
This is just a tip to keep quiet and let things run their natural course unless you want to do a lot of harm to all concerned.
Lawrence scarcely took in the meaning of the second paragraph. His brain was reeling. Her husband! He could not believe that he had read aright, and dazedly his eyes sought the paragraph and tried to focus themselves upon the amazing, impossible, dastardly words.
Before he could do so, however, an impatient movement came from the woman beside him, and her voice broke the stillness.
“Well?” she snapped. “Are you her husband?”
Barry flung back his head and stared at her with blazing eyes.
“No!” he replied sharply. “No, I’m not! I’d give anything under heaven if there could ever be a chance for me to be.”
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he realized, with a pang of dismay, that he had been stung into saying something he never meant to say. All day he had been telling himself over and over again that no word concerning his feelings for Shirley Rives should ever pass his lips, yet now he had blurted it out like a blundering fool. The color flamed into his face, and his lids drooped before the curious expression in Mrs. Wilmerding’s eyes.
“Indeed!” she said tersely. “And may I ask why you think there isn’t?”
Lawrence stared at her in astonishment. Then he pulled himself together and glanced again at the crumpled letter.
“If this is true——” he began.
But Mrs. Wilmerding cut him short with a most emphatic snort.
“Fiddlesticks!” she snapped. “You don’t believe that, I hope? Haven’t you any faith at all in Shirley? It’s all a lie from beginning to end.”
“But what——”
“I don’t know,” she broke in, frowning. “I don’t understand it yet, but I know it’s a lie.”
Barry’s spirits began to rise. There was something about her tone of positiveness which heartened him instinctively. He had not really doubted Shirley; but the statement of the unknown writer was so nonchalant and matter-of-fact that it bewildered him.
“Still,” he remarked more calmly, “you asked me——”
“I had my reasons; but it wasn’t because I thought it true.” She stood leaning against the side of a heavy, carved table, both hands resting lightly on the dull, waxed surface, her shrewd, bright eyes holding his in thrall. “What stands between you and Shirley?” she questioned quietly.
Lawrence threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. “Everything!” he exclaimed. “Her money and my lack of it are enough, without wasting time to go into any others.”
“Her money!” Mrs. Wilmerding repeated. Then, with a sudden frown, she went on swiftly: “You’re right. We are wasting time. Let us get down to business at once. Shirley must be found to-night, and yet I don’t feel like putting the matter into the hands of the police.”
“You don’t believe there can be a particle of truth in this letter?” Barry questioned.
“Of course not. I told you it was a lie. At the same time, you must see that if the matter became public it might do my niece an irreparable amount of harm. No. We must work it out ourselves. To be strictly accurate, you must find her. Being a woman, I can’t very well traipse around town without causing all sorts of talk. You won’t fail me, I know.”
“Fail you!” Lawrence cried. “I should say not! I won’t rest or sleep until Miss Rives is found. I’ll rake the city with a fine-tooth comb, and if any harm has come to her——”
He broke off abruptly, his face hard, almost cruel, his eyes narrowed. The momentary silence which followed was more expressive than many words.