Castle Craneycrow

by George Barr McCutcheon

  VII. THE WOMAN FROM PARIS

  For two weeks Phil Quentin did not allow Dorothy to forget the oldassociation, and then came the day of her departure for Paris. Mrs.Garrison was by no means reluctant to leave London,--not that shedisliked the place or the people, but that one Philip Quentin hadunceremoniously, even gracefully, stepped into the circle of hercontentment, rudely obliterating its symmetrical, well-drawn lines.

  Mr. Quentin had much to overcome if he contemplated an assault uponthe icy reserve with which Dorothy Garrison's mother regarded hisgenial advances. She recalled the days when her daughter and he were"silly, lovesick children," and there was not much comfort to bederived from the knowledge that he had grown older and moreattractive, and that he lost no opportunity to see the girl who onceheld his heart in leash. The mother was too diplomatic to expressopen displeasure or to offer the faintest objection to this renewalof friendship. If it were known that she opposed the visits of thehandsome American, all London would wonder, speculate, and finallyunderstand. Her disapproval could only be construed as anacknowledgment that she feared the consequences of association; itwould not be long before the story would be afloat that all was notsmooth in the love affairs of a certain prince, and that the firesof an old affection were burning brightly and merrily in the face ofa wrathful parent's opposition.

  In secret, Dorothy herself was troubled more than she cared to admitby the reappearance of one who could not but awaken memories ofother days, fondly foolish though they were. He was still the sameold Phil, grown older and handsomer, and he brought with himembarrassing recollections. He was nothing more to her now than anold-time friend, and she was nothing to him. She loved UgoRavorelli, and, until he appeared suddenly before her in London,Philip Quentin was dead to her thoughts. And yet she felt as if shewere playing with a fire that would leave its scar--not on her heartor Quentin's, perhaps, but on that of the man she was to marry.

  It required no great strength of vision to see that Ravorelli wasjealous, and it was just as plain that Quentin saw and enjoyed theuneasiness he was causing. She could not know, of course, that theAmerican had deliberately planned to play havoc with the peace andcomfort of her lover, for she recognized no motive. How could sheknow that Giovanni Pavesi, the tenor, and Prince Ravorelli were oneand the same to Philip Quentin? How could she know that thebeautiful Malban was slain in Rio Janeiro, and that Philip Quentinhad seen a handsome, dark-eyed youth led to and from the murderer'sdock in that far-away Brazilian city? How, then, could sheunderstand the conflict that waged with herself as the battlefield?

  As for Quentin, he was bound by no law or duty to respect theposition of Prince Ravorelli. He was convinced that the sometimeRomeo had the stain of blood on his delicate hands and that in hisheart he concealed the secret of Carmenita Malban's death. In hismind, there was no mistake. Quentin's composure was shaken but oncein the fortnight of pleasure preceding Dorothy's departure forParis. That was when she indignantly, almost tearfully, called hisattention to the squib in a London society journal which ratherdaringly prophesied a "break in the Ravorelli-Garrison match," andreferred plainly to the renewal of an "across-the-Atlanticaffection." When he wrathfully promised to thrash the editor of thepaper, she shocked him by saying that he had created "enough of asensation," and he went home with the dazed feeling of one who hassuffered an unexpected blow.

  On the evening before the Garrisons crossed the channel, Lord andLady Saxondale and Philip Quentin found themselves long aftermidnight in talk about the coming marriage. Quentin was rathersilent. His thoughts seemed far from the room in which he sat, andthere was the shadow of a new line about the corners of his mouth.

  "I am going to Brussels next week," he said, deliberately. Theothers stared at him in amazement.

  "To Brussels? You mean New York," said Lady Frances, faintly.

  "New York won't see me for some time. I'm going to make a tour ofthe continent.

  "This is going too far, old man," cried Lord Bob. "You can't gainanything by following her, and you'll only raise the devil of a rowall round. Dash it! stay in London."

  "Thanks for the invitation, Bob, but I've always had a desire tolearn something about the miniature Paris. I shall spend some timein Paris, and then go up there to compare the places. Besides, therewon't be any row."

  "But there will be, Phil," cried Lady Saxondale. "You must keep outof this affair. Why, all Europe knows of the wedding, and even nowthe continent is quietly nursing the gossip of the past two weeks."She dropped into a chair, perplexed and anxious.

  "Let me tell you something, both of you. The events of the past twoweeks are tame in comparison with those of the next two months,"said Quentin, a new light in his eye. His tall figure straightenedand his nostrils expanded.

  "Wha--what do you mean?" floundered Lord Bob.

  "Just this: I love Dorothy Garrison, and I'm going to marry her."

  "Good heavens!" was the simultaneous gasp of Lord and LadySaxondale. And they could not dissuade him. Not only did he convincethem that he was in earnest, but before he left for Paris he hadmade them allies. Ugo's experience in Rio Janeiro shocked LadyFrances so seriously that she became a champion of the American'scause and agreed with Lord Bob that Dorothy should not be sacrificedif it were in their power to prevent. Of course Dickey Savageapproved of Quentin's campaign and effectually disposed of LadyJane's faint objections by saying:

  "America for the Americans, Brussels for the Americans, England forthe Americans, everything and everybody for the Americans, butnothing at all for these confounded foreigners. Let the Italianmarry anybody he pleases, just so long as he doesn't interfere withan American. Let the American marry anybody he pleases, and toperdition with all interference. I'm for America against the worldin love or in war."

  "Don't forget, Mr. Savage, that you are a foreigner when on Britishsoil," remonstrated the Lady Jane, vigorously.

  "My dear Lady Jane, an American is at home anywhere in this world.If you could see some of the foreigners that land at Castle Gardenyou wouldn't blame an American for absolutely, irrevocably andeternally refusing to be called a foreigner, even on the shores ofMadagascar. We are willing to be most anything, but I'll be hangedif we'll be foreigners."

  A week later Quentin was in Paris. Savage was to join him inBrussels about the middle of August, and Lord and Lady Saxondalepromised faithfully to come to that city at a moment's notice. Hewent blithely away with the firm conviction in his heart that it wasnot to be a fool's errand. But he was reckoning without the woman inthe case.

  "If you do marry her, Quentin, I've got just the place for you tolive in, for a while at least. I bought an old castle in Luxemburg acouple of years ago, just because the man who owned it was a friendand needed a few thousand pounds. Frances calls it CastleCraneycrow. It's a romantic place, and would be a great deal betterthan a cottage for love. You may have it whenever the time comes.Nobody lives there now but the caretaker and a lot of deucedtraditions. We can discharge the caretaker and you can make freshtraditions. Think it over, my boy, while you are dispatching theprince, the mamma and the fair victim's ambition to become a reallive princess."

  "Don't be sarcastic, Bob," exclaimed Quentin. "I'll not need yourcastle. We're going to live in the clouds."

  "Beware of the prince," said Lady Frances. "He is pretty highhimself, you know."

  "Let the prince beware," laughed back the departing guest. "We can'tboth live in the same cloud, you know. I'll push him off."

  On the day Quentin left Paris for Brussels he came face to face withPrince Ugo on one of the Parisian boulevards. The handsome Italianwas driving with Count Sallaconi and two very attractive ladies.That the meeting was unexpected and undesired was made manifest bythe anxious look which the prince shot over his shoulder after thecarriage had passed.

  When Quentin left Paris that night with Turk and his luggage, he wasnot the only passenger bound for Brussels. At the Gare du Nord twomen, one suspiciously like the Duke Laselli, took a compartment inthe coach just ahead of
Quentin. The train was due to reach Brusselsshortly after midnight, and the American had telegraphed forapartments at the Bellevue. There had been a drizzle of rain all theevening, and it was good to be inside the car, even if the seatswere uncomfortable.

  Turk and his master were the only passengers in the compartment. Thewatchful eyes of the former had seen several persons, men and women,pass through the aisle into which the section opened. One womanpaused at the entrance as if about to enter. She was fair to lookupon and Turk gallantly moved, presenting a roomy end of his seat toher. She passed on, however, and the little ex-burglar glancedsharply at his master as if to accuse him of frightening the fairone away. But Quentin was lying back, half-asleep, and there wasnothing repellent about the untroubled expression on his face.

  Before reaching Le Cateau the same lady passed the entrance andagain glanced inside. Turk was now asleep, but his master wasstaring dreamily toward the aperture leading to the aisle. He sawthe woman's face for an instant, and it gradually dawned upon himthat there was something familiar about its beauty. Where had heseen her before? Like the curious American he was, he arose a fewminutes later and deliberately walked into the aisle. He passed twocompartments before he saw the young woman. She was alone and wasleaning back, her eyes closed. Quentin observed that she was youngand beautiful and possessed the marks of fashion and refinement. Ashe stood for a moment looking upon the face of the dozing Frenchwoman, more certain than ever that he had seen her recently, sheopened her eyes with an affrighted start.

  He instantly and in some embarrassment turned to escape the eyeswhich had caught him in a rare bit of impertinence, but wassurprised to hear her call softly:

  "Monsieur!"

  "Mademoiselle," he replied, pausing, "can I be of service to you?"

  "I must speak with you, M. Quentin. Come inside. I shall detain youbut a moment, and it is so very important that you should hear me."She was now sitting upright, visibly excited and confused, but verymuch in earnest.

  "You know my name," he said, entering and dropping to the seatbeside her. "Where have we met? Your face is familiar, but I amashamed to admit--"

  "We have no time to talk of that. You have never met me, and wouldnot know who I am if I told you. Had it not been for that horridlittle man of yours I should have boldly addressed you sooner. Imust leave the train at Le Cateau, for I cannot go on to Quevy orMons. It would not be wise for me to leave France at this time. Youdo not know me, but I wish to befriend you."

  "Befriend me? I am sure one could not ask for a more charmingfriend," said he, smiling gallantly, but now evincing a shade ofinterest.

  "No flattery, Monsieur! It is purely a personal matter with me; thisis by no means a pleasure trip. I am running a great risk, but it isfor my own sake as much as for yours, so do not thank me. I camefrom Paris on this train because I could not speak to you at theGare du Nord. You were watched too closely."

  "Watched? What do you mean?" almost gasped Quentin.

  "I can only say that you are in danger and that you have incurredthe displeasure of a man who brooks no interference."

  He stared at her for a moment, his mind in a whirl. The thought thatshe might be mad grew, but was instantly succeeded by another whichcame like a shock.

  "Is this man of noble blood?"

  "Yes," she almost whispered, turning her eyes away.

  "And he means to do me harm?"

  "I am sure of it."

  "Because?"

  "Because he fears your power."

  "In what direction?"

  "You know without asking, M. Quentin."

  "And why do you take this interest in me? I am nothing to you."

  "It's because you are not to be treated fairly. Listen. On thistrain are two men who do not know that I am here, and who would beconfounded if they were to see me. They are in one of the forwardcoaches, and they are emissaries sent on to watch your everymovement and to report the progress of your--your business inBrussels. If you become too aggressive before the man who employsthem can arrange to come to Brussels, you are to be dealt with in amanner effectual. What is to be done with you, I do not know, but Iam certain you are in great danger unless you--" She paused, and aqueer expression came into her wide eyes.

  "Unless what? You interest me."

  "Unless you withdraw from the contest."

  "You assume that there is a contest of some sort. Well, admittingthere is one, I'll say that you may go back to the prince and tell himhis scheme doesn't work. This story of yours--pardon me, Mademoiselleis a clever one, and you have done your part well, but I am not inthe least alarmed. Kindly return to the man who sent you and ask himto come in your stead if he wants to frighten me. I am not afraid ofwomen, you know."

  "You wrong me, Monsieur; I am not his agent. I am acting purely onmy own responsibility, for myself alone. I have a personal object inwarning you, but that is neither here nor there. Let me add that Iwish you success in the undertaking which now interests you. Youmust believe me, though, when I say that you are in danger.Forewarned is forearmed. I do not know what steps are to be takenagainst you; time will expose them. But I do know that you are notto win what you seek."

  "This is a very strange proceeding," began he, half-convinced of hersincerity.

  "We are nearing Le Cateau, and I must leave you. The men of whom Ispeak are the Duke Laselli and a detective called Courant. I knowthey are sent to watch you, and they mean you no good. Be careful,for God's sake, Monsieur, for I--I--want you to win!" She was standingnow, and with trembling fingers was adjusting a thick veil over herface.

  "Why are you so interested in me?" he asked, sharply. "Why do youwant me to win--to win, well, to win the battle?"

  "Because--" she began, but checked herself. A deep blush spread overher face just as she dropped the veil.

  "The cad!" he said, understanding coming to him like a flash. "Thereis more than one heart at stake."

  "Good-bye and good luck, Monsieur," she whispered. He held her handfor an instant as she passed him, then she was gone.

  Mile after mile from Le Cateau to Quevy found him puzzling over theodd experience of the night. Suddenly he started and muttered, halfaloud:

  "By thunder, I remember now! It was she who sat beside him in thecarriage this morning!"