by Charles King
CHAPTER XII.
That evening we dined at Moreau's. Things had quieted down in the city,though the troops still remained on duty in the streets; and it was witheager anticipation of meeting Frank Amory that I wended my way to thetidy old restaurant with its sanded floor, its glittering array oflittle tables, and the ever-attentive waiters. Colonel Summers and hisparty had not yet arrived. Would Monsieur step up to the room and waittheir coming? Monsieur would; and, taking the _Evening Picayune_ towhile away the time, Mr. Brandon seated himself on the balconyoverlooking Canal Street,--busy, bustling, thronged as usual; yetbustling in the languid, Latinized sense of the term; bustling in a waytoo unlike our Northern business centres to justify the use of the term.No sign of disorder or turmoil was manifest. The banquettes on bothsides were covered with ladies and children; the street-cars on theesplanade were filled with passengers going in every direction; thebooths, fruit-stands, confectioneries were all doing a thrivingbusiness; the newsboys were scurrying to and fro in their picturesquetatters screaming the headlines of their evening bulletins; carriagesand cabriolets were rattling to and fro; the setting sun shone hot onthe glaring facade of the stone Custom-House down the street; andbeyond, across the crowded and dusty levee, dense volumes of black smokewere rising from the towering chimneys of the boats even now pushingfrom the shore and ploughing huskily up the stream. All spoke ofbusiness activity and lively trade. The mercurial spirit of the populaceseemed to have subsided to the normal level; and the riot of yesterdaywas a thing of the distant past.
Voices on the stairs called me into the cosey room, and Kitty enteredradiant; with her--not Mars but Mr. Turpin; behind her, Colonel Summersand the doctor. Pauline had again decided to remain and take tea withthe landlady, but Vinton was improving, said Harrod, who instantly addedan inquiry for Amory.
"He has not been here, nor have I seen him to-day. Have you, Mr.Turpin?" I asked.
"No, sir. Amory and his troop were sent up to Jeffersonville at noon, soI learned at headquarters, and they have not come back since."
"Then we must go on without him," said Harrod, and dinner was orderedforthwith.
Seated by Kitty's side, Mr. Turpin was soon absorbed in the duty ofmaking himself agreeable. Evidently they had been talking of Amorybefore coming in, and, whether piqued at the latter's conduct in not yethaving been to see her, or worse, at his having been there to inquirefor Vinton and not for her, Kitty was in the very mood to render her newadmirer's attentions acceptable. She was sparkling with animation. Shewas listening with flattering eagerness to everything he said, laughingmerrily at every sally; urging him to tell more of his cadet days andarmy life; paying no heed to any of the rest of us; plainly, only tooplainly, bent on fascinating her infantry friend, and fascination itplainly was. Mr. Turpin was head over heels in love with her beforedinner was half over; and while we oldsters were discussing our cigarsand _pousse cafe_ on the balcony after that repast, they were seated onthe sofa merrily, intently chatting together, as firm friends as thoughthey had known one another from childhood. So intent that my entrancefor a match in nowise disturbed them; so utterly intent that they neversaw what I saw at once,--Frank Amory standing at the door.
To my eager welcome he responded absently. Turpin sprang up and held outhis hand, which was taken in a perfunctory sort of way, but there was noheartiness in his reply to the cordial greeting of his classmate. Hebowed in a constrained manner to Kitty, who had flushed withsurprise--possibly some other emotion--when she caught sight of him; andthen without further notice of either her or her companion, he passed onto where Harrod was standing at the open window, and eagerly inquiredfor Vinton, but his bearing was forced and unnatural. He had alreadydined, he said, and had been unable to get back from Jeffersonville withthe troop until late, too late to accept Colonel Summers's invitation;so he had merely dropped in to inquire after his captain, as he thoughtwe would still be here; and now, he said, he must hasten to thewarehouse on Magazine Street, as there was no telling how soon he andhis men might be needed again. We urged him to stay and make one of aparty to go to the theatre, but Mars was adamant. His refusal was evencurt. "Pray make my excuses and apologies to the ladies. _I'll_ go downthrough the hall," were his parting words. And so, without even havingtouched Kitty's hand or spoken a sentence to her by way of welcome, Mr.Amory took his leave.
Was he "miffed" because he had found Turpin in happy _tete-a-tete_ withher? Had he hoped to reserve that happiness to himself; or was theresome deeper reason to account for his avoidance of her? Kitty evidentlyadopted the first-mentioned explanation of his conduct; ascribed hiscold salutation and sudden departure to jealousy,--absolutejealousy,--and I am bound to say that so far from being depressed orsaddened by his conduct she seemed to derive additional inspiration orstimulant. A burning color had mounted to her cheeks; her eyes had takenan almost defiant sparkle; her coquetry with Turpin became more markedthan before; and, as though elated at the betrayal of Amory's feelings,and excited by the exhibition of his jealousy, she seemed inextraordinary spirits. Turpin promptly accepted the invitation to go tothe theatre, provided he could obtain Major Williams's permission to beabsent from the battalion during the evening, and went off to see aboutit forthwith, agreeing to join us at the Royal Street lodgings infifteen minutes. In less than fifteen minutes we were there. Kitty ranblithely up-stairs to see Pauline, and then Harrod turned to me.
"Brandon, did you notice anything wrong with Amory to-night?" he asked,anxiously.
"He was excited, perhaps upset, at seeing Turpin where he was; but whydo you ask?"
"It was something more than that, I fear. Did you notice his eyes, hiscolor? Did you feel his hand?"
"He was flushed, I noticed, and I thought it due to riding all day inthe sun; but his hand I did not touch."
"It was burning as though with fever. Can he have been seized as Vintonwas?" said the colonel. And for a moment we looked at one another insilence. "You know he has been up and around now for several nights, andexposed all day to the heat of the sun. The extremes are dangerous tothose not accustomed to our Louisiana climate, and if he had contractedany disorder this would bring it out. Here comes Mr. Turpin," continuedthe colonel. "Let us ask him what he observed."
Turpin joined us with his quick, springy step. "The major says I maygo," he spoke blithely; "but is not Amory coming?"
"It was of Amory we wanted to ask you," said Harrod. "He seemed veryunlike himself the few minutes he was at Moreau's. Did you note anythingout of the way?"
Turpin flushed. "Why--yes," said he, hesitatingly. "He seemed a littlequeer--a good deal stiff and formal and----"
"But as to his health. Do you think he is well?"
"Why," said Turpin, with a sudden start, "I had not thought of that. Iascribed his manner to--to--well, he always was a quick, impulsivefellow, and I thought perhaps he regarded me as being in the way; buthis hand _was_ hot,--hot as fire. I'm ashamed I did not think of itbefore."
And then he stopped short, for Kitty re-entered. She walked smilinglyup to Mr. Turpin with extended hand.
"You can go?" she said. "I'm so glad. How soon must we start? Pauline iscoming down a moment." And with Pauline's coming we forgot for the timebeing our talk about Amory.
Very gentle, very lovely, looked Miss Summers as she stood answering ourwarm inquiries about the major. He was so much better; was sleepingquietly and naturally, the nurse said; and the doctor was so delightedwith the improvement, and had let her sit for a while by the bedside andtalk to him, though the major himself was forbidden to talk. She was_so_ glad we were going to the theatre. It must be wearisome stayingaround the house for us, though she could not bear to go. And so we badeher good-night and went on our way.
The Varieties was crowded that night, and an admirable play was on thestage; but my thoughts were incessantly wandering back to Mars, to hisstrange behavior, and to Bella Grayson and her possible connection withhis changed manner. Then, too, I was worried about Harrod'stheory,--that the boy was ill. All thi
ngs considered, I could pay verylittle attention to what was going on, either in the audience or on thestage. Our seats were in the front row of the dress-circle, a little tothe right of the centre of the house; and during the intermissionbetween the first and second acts Kitty and Turpin had been keeping upan incessant chatter, though so low-toned and semi-confidential that Iheard nothing of what was said. The house was very full, as I say, andmany gentlemen were standing in the side aisles over the prosceniumboxes. Others were swarming about the outer row of dress-circle seats.Others still were seated on the steps leading down into the parquet. Thecurtain rose upon the second act, and Kitty, sitting next to me, withTurpin on her other side, drew back and glanced one minute up in myface. All animation, life, sparkle, and saucy triumph she looked; therewas a mischievous challenge in her laughing eyes as they met mine, thenwandered off to the stage. Another moment and I turned to her to whispersome comment upon the costume worn by one of the actresses and--how canI describe the change that had come over her face? Pale, startled, yes,frightened. She was staring across the parquet towards a group of menstanding in the outer aisle. Following her eyes I too looked, and there,glaring at our party, with a strange, wild, uncanny expression on hisface, was Frank Amory.
For an instant nothing was said. Then, involuntarily, I half rose. Hiseyes met mine, and, without a sign of recognition, he dropped back inthe throng and disappeared. "Did you see him?" I exclaimed to Harrod."Watch! See where he goes! It is Amory, and something is wrong."
The colonel looked at me in startled wonderment, but a glance at Kitty'sface seemed to bring him confirmation of my statement. I rose and lookedabout in my excitement and anxiety, but an indignant "Down in front!"from some half-dozen mouths in rear brought me back to seat and senses.Not until the close of the act could I get out. Then, followed byHarrod, I worked my way into the vestibule, searched the corridors, thebar-room, the main stairway, and the broad entrance. No sign of him.Several infantry officers were standing there, but, in answer to myappeal, said they had seen nothing of Lieutenant Amory; but at the gatethe door-keeper remembered a young officer going out in the middle ofthe second act and declining a return check. I determined to go at onceto his lodgings. Harrod would stay and look after Kitty and Turpin.
In half an hour I had reached the warehouse. A sleepy sentinel told methat the lieutenant was not there. He occupied a room "over beyant," ina large frame boarding-house. Ringing the bell, a colored servantanswered. Would he show me to Lieutenant Amory's room? He would, and wewent up the main stairway and out on a back gallery to one of thoselittle ten by six boxes, without which no New Orleans boarding-place iscomplete. No answer to our knock, but the door was unlocked, and Ientered and turned up the light. There stood his trunk, open. Papers andletters were strewn on the bureau, and among them, almost the first tocatch my eye, was a dainty envelope addressed in that graceful,unmistakable hand to Lieutenant Frank Amory at Sandbrook, and forwardedthence to New Orleans. He had had another letter, then, from Bella.
In answer to inquiries, the servant said that Mr. Amory had come in"lookin' mighty tired" late in the afternoon; had taken a bath, dressed,and gone out again without saying a word to anybody, and had not beenback since. Telling him he might go, I decided to await Amory's return.I knew not where to search for him.
It was then late. The bells of the churches over on Camp Street andLafayette Square were chiming ten o'clock. All below was very quiet. Thedistant roar of wheels down towards Canal Street, and the tinkle of themule-cars were the only sounds that struck upon the ear. I feltstrangely worried and depressed, and sought for something with which tooccupy my thoughts and keep me from brooding. Books there were none, forMars had had no time for reading since his arrival; paper, envelopes,some open letters were on the bureau with her envelope, but the letterit had contained was gone. Tossing them over with impatient hand, Icame upon two envelopes addressed in his vigorous hand; one to hismother, the other to Miss Isabel R. Grayson, care of Hon. H. C. Grayson,Syracuse, New York,--further confirmation of my theory. Then there weresome scraps of paper on which he had been scribbling; and on one,written perhaps a dozen times, was the name "Kittie." That was his way,then, of spelling it.
An hour passed by. Eleven o'clock came, and no Amory. I could stand itno longer. Once more I went out on Magazine Street, and over to thewarehouse. This time a corporal of the guard met me and seemed to knowme.
"No, sir. The lieutenant hasn't been in all night, sir, and it isn't hisway at all. He may be over at headquarters. Shall I send, sir?"
No. I decided to go myself.
Late as it was, a broad glare of light shone out from the upper windowsof the handsome brown-stone residence, occupied at the time by thecommanding general as the offices of himself and the staff. The lowerhall was open. I entered and went up-stairs to the first open door. Oneor two officers in undress uniform were lounging about; and, seeing me,Colonel Newhall sprang up and came hastily forward, inviting me toenter. I inquired at once for Amory, and briefly stated that we fearedhe was not well. This brought to his feet the junior aide-de-camp whomwe had seen galloping down Chartres Street the previous night.
"Amory was here early in the evening asking for me," he said, "and heleft this note. I cannot understand. He seems worried about something."
I took the note and read,--
"DEAR PARKER: Both times I've been in to see you to-day, you happened to be out. I _must_ see you. I must get a leave and go North at once. Can you suggest any way of helping me? Some one must take the troop. I'll be in this evening. Do wait for me.
"Yours,
"AMORY."
"It is after eleven now and no sign of him," said the aide. "You say youthought he looked ill?"
"Very ill," I answered, "and I am strangely worried."
"Sit down just a few minutes until I see the general. Then, if possible,I'll go with you and see if we can find him."
Perhaps ten minutes afterwards we were on our way back to his temporaryquarters, when the aide-de-camp called out to a man whom I saw hurryingalong the opposite side of the street under the gas-lamp, and the verycorporal who was on duty at the stables came springing over thecobble-stones.
"I was looking for you, sir," he said, breathlessly. "Did you see thelieutenant?"
"No; where is he?"
"I don't know, sir. Directly after you left he jumped off a street-carand ordered us to saddle up. I routed out the first sergeant and themen, but before they could get their clothes and belts on he had leapedon his horse and galloped off down the street like mad. We don't knowwhat to do, sir."
"Which way did he go?" quickly asked the officer with me.
"Down the street, sir, towards Canal."
"Give me one of your fastest horses. Tell the first sergeant I want tosee him at once, and let the men unsaddle again."
"What do you think it is?" I anxiously asked.
"Fever; and he is twice as delirious as Vinton was. We must find him atonce."