CHAPTER XXV.
SOME DAYS OF WAITING.
Doctor Vaughan had written that he could find his way with ease toNurse Hagar's cottage, and he did.
Swinging himself down upon the dark end of the platform, when theevening train puffed into Bellair village, he crossed the track, andwalked rapidly along the path that led in the direction of thecottage. He strode on until the light from the cottage window gleamedout upon the night, and his way led over the field. Half way betweenthe stile and the cottage, a form, evidently that of a woman, appearedbefore him, and coming in his direction.
The figure came nearer, and a voice, that was certainly notMadeline's, said: "Is the gentleman going to old Hagar's cottage?"
"Are you Hagar?" replied Clarence, Yankee fashion.
"I am Hagar; and you are?"
"Doctor Vaughan."
"Then pass on, sir; the one you seek is there."
And the old woman waved her hand toward the light and hobbled on.
Clarence stared after her for a moment; but the darkness had devouredher, and he resumed his way toward the cottage.
In hastening to meet a friend we naturally have, in our mind, apicture. Our friend will look so, or so. Thus with Clarence Vaughan.Expecting to meet a pair of deep, sad, beautiful eyes, lifted to hisown; to behold a fair forehead shadowed by soft, shining curls; judgeof Clarence's surprise when the opened door revealed to him a smallbeing of no shape in particular; a very black head of hair, surmountedby an ugly maid's cap; and a pair of unearthly, staring blue glasses.
Madeline had chosen to appear "in character" at this interview. Sheintended to keep her own personality out of sight, and she felt thatshe needed the aid and concealment that her disguise would afford. Shewould give Claire's schemes no vantage ground.
So Madeline Payne was carefully hidden away under the wig and pigmentand padding; and Celine Leroque courteseyed demurely as she held thedoor open to admit him, and said:
"Good evening, _Monsieur le Docteur_; you perceive I am here beforeyou."
"Rather, I don't perceive it. _You_ are here before me in a doublesense of the word; yes. And I suppose you call yourself--"
"Celine Leroque, at your service; maid-in-waiting to Miss Arthur, ofOakley."
Doctor Vaughan laughed.
"Well, won't you shake hands with an American of no specialimportance, Celine Leroque?"
She placed her hand in his and then drew forward a chair.
"I hope you found no difficulty in getting out to-night?" he said,sitting down and looking at her with a half-amused, half-gravecountenance.
"None whatever; I have been suffering with a sick-headache all day."
"And you can get in again unseen?"
"Easily; in the evening the servants are all below stairs."
"But what an odd disguise! Do they never question your blue glasses?"
"Not half so much as they would question the eyes without them. Theybelieve my eyes were ruined by close application to fine needle-work.And then--" she pushed up the glasses a trifle, and he saw that theeyelid, and a line underneath the eye, were artistically_rouged_--"they all acknowledge that my eyes look very weak."
"I fancy they'll find those eyes have looked too sharply for them, byand by."
She laughed lightly. "I hope so."
Sitting there in her prim disguise, the girl felt glad to gaze uponhim; felt as if, look as much as she would, she was gazing from a safedistance.
Dr. Vaughan came straight to the point of his visit, beginning byrequesting a repetition of such portion of the facts she haddiscovered as related most particularly to the two men, Davlin andPercy. Then he made his suggestion. To his surprise it was a welcomeone to the girl.
"That is just what I have had in mind," she said, thoughtfully. "Afterreflecting, I have changed my plans somewhat, and I don't see my wayquite so clearly as before."
He was looking at her attentively, but asked no questions.
"Since I came from the city," she resumed, with some hesitation, "Ihave thought that I would be glad to talk again with all of you. Butit won't do to incur the risk of more absences, for if I do notmistake the signs, things will be pretty lively up there," nodding inthe direction of Oakley, "before many days. So perhaps we had bettersee what our two heads can develop in the way of counterplot, and youcan make known the result to Olive."
"If your own invention will not serve, I fear mine will be at an utterloss. But you know how glad I shall be to share your confidence."
"My invention must serve," she said, firmly, and quite ignoring thelatter clause of his speech; "and so must yours. You see, my planbefore going to the city was a comparatively simple one. I intended towork my way into the confidence of Mrs. John Arthur. Failing in that,Hagar must have been reinstated, and then the _denouement_ would havebeen easy: to get possession of specimens of the medicine prescribedfor Mr. Arthur; to hunt down this sham doctor they are to introduceinto the house; to show John Arthur the manner of wife he has; to makemy own terms with him, and then expose and turn out the whole pack.But all this must be changed."
"Changed? And how?"
"I can't turn them out of Oakley. I must keep them there, every one ofthem, at any cost."
Dr. Vaughan looked puzzled. "We can't allow them to kill that old man,not even to vindicate poetical justice," he said, gravely.
"No; we can't allow just that. But don't you see, if we turn thesepeople away now, we defeat a chief end and aim--the liberation ofPhilip Girard?"
"True."
"Well, this is why I have changed my plan."
He looked at her with an admiration that was almost homage.
"And you will give up your own vengeance, for the sake of Olive andher happiness?"
She laughed oddly. "Not at all. I only defer it, to make it the morecomplete. Now, listen to what I propose to do, and see if you cansuggest anything safer or better."
And then she unfolded a plan that made Clarence Vaughan start inamazement, but which, after it was fully revealed, he could not amendnor condemn. He could see no other way by which all that they aimed atcould be accomplished.
"Of course, the plan has its risks," concluded the girl. "But we couldtry no other scheme without incurring the same, or greater. And I_believe_ that I shall not fail."
"I wish it were not necessary that you should undergo so much; thinkwhat it will be for you," gently.
"Oh, for me, ..." indifferently; "I shall be less of a spy, and moreof an actress,--that is all."
"Then I shall set the detectives at work?"
"Immediately."
"Have you any further instructions, any clue, to give them?"
"Nothing; it is to be simply a research. Neither must know to what endthe information is desired. It will be better to employ your men fromdifferent Agencies, so that one may not know of the other, or hisbusiness."
"And is there nothing more I can do?"
"Nothing, for the present. When once we get these men together, weshall all have our hands full. Then you can help me, perhaps, as Isuggested."
"Well," sighing, and looking at his watch, "it's a strange business,and a difficult, for a young girl like you. But we are in your hands;you are worth a thousand such as I."
"Nonsense," she said, almost angrily. Then, abruptly, "When doesClaire return to Baltimore?"
He started and flushed under her gaze. "I--I really don't know."
"Then, as my brother, I command you to know all about Claire. She ismy special charge to you. And you are to tell her, from me, that Iwon't have her go away."
"Then I must do all in my power to detain her? Your command will havemore effect than all of my prayers," he said, softly.
"Well, keep on reiterating my commands and your prayers, then; by andby she won't be able to distinguish the one from the other. What timeis it?"
He smiled at the sudden change of tone and subject. "Half-past nine,"he said.
While the words were on his lips, Old Hagar entered.
; Clearly it was time to end the interview. Doctor Vaughan must be readyfor the return train, which flew cityward soon, and Celine Leroquemust not be too long absent. So there were a few words more abouttheir plans, a few courteous sentences addressed to Hagar by DoctorVaughan, and then they separated.
The next day two men were at work,--following like sleuth hounds thetrail on which they were put, unravelling slowly, slowly, the webs ofthe past that had been spun by the two men who were to be hunted down.
And now came a time of comparative dullness at Oakley. Even eventfullives do not always pace onward to the inspiring clang of trumpet anddrum. There is the bivouac and the time of rest, even though sleepingupon their arms, for all the hosts that were ever marshalled tobattle.
"Well, it's a strange business and a difficult."--page261.]
Celine Leroque found life rather more dreary than she had expectedduring these days of inaction. After all, it is easier to be bravethan to be patient. So, in spite of her courage and herself-sacrifice, she was restless and unhappy.
And she was not alone in her restlessness. It is curious to note whatdiverse causes produce the same effects. Cora Arthur was restless,very restless. The fruit of her labor was in her hands, but it wasvapid, tasteless, unsatisfying. What _her_ soul clamored for, was theopera, the contact of kindred spirits, the rush and whirl, the smokeand champagne, and giddiness of the city; the card-won gold, andpainted folly that made the be-all and end-all of life to such as she.
She did not lose sight of the usefulness she trusted to find in CelineLeroque, however. During these days of _ennui_ and quietude, the twocame to a very good understanding; not all at once, and not at alldefinite. Only, by degrees, Cora became convinced that Celine Leroquecherished a very laudable contempt for her would-be-girlish mistress,and that she was becoming rather weary in her service. Once, indeed,the girl had said, as if unable to restrain herself, and whiledressing Mrs. Cora's yellow hair--a task which she professed todelight in:
"Ah! madame, if only it was _you_ who were my mistress! It is apleasure to dress a beautiful mistress, but to be constantly at waragainst nature, to make an old one young--faugh! it is labor."
And Cora had been much amused and had held out a suggestion that, incase of any rupture between mistress and maid, the latter should applyto her.
But if existence was a pain to Celine, and a weariness to Cora, it wasanguish unutterable to Edward Percy. He would have been glad to put along span of miles between his inamorata and himself had he not feltthat, with Cora in the same house as his fair one, it were morediscreet to be on the ground, and watch over his prey pretty closely.But to this man, who made love to every pretty woman as a child eats_bon bons_, the task of wooing where his eye was not pleased, his earwas not soothed, and his vanity not in the least flattered, wasintensely wearisome.
Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter Page 26