CHAPTER X.
CORROBORATIVE DETAIL.
Clara had not come sufficiently in contact with the evil sideof human nature to ignore an anonymous letter. She felt all thecontempt for the writer that he or she deserved, and she spurned thesuggestion contained in the letter as utterly unworthy of a moment'sattention. Yet the sting was there. She might ignore the letter toall appearances, and yet not be able to forget it. The cruelty of thewriter was what she felt, not the force of the blow.
"I cannot understand," she said, laying the letter down and taking anewspaper, "how a person can go out of his way for the sole purpose ofdoing an unkind thing."
"What is it, dear?" asked Louise, stopping on her way out of the room.
Clara started to show her the letter, but, overcome by a sense ofrepugnance for it, answered:
"Let it pass until after luncheon. We shall have a great deal to talkof then."
So Clara was left alone with the newspapers, and she read them withamazement and consternation. At the very first there was a littlerelief at finding no flaring headlines on the first page, for she hadno enjoyment in the notoriety that the case thrust upon her. She boreit simply as one of the unavoidable features of the situation. As shesearched the first paper, the relief vanished, and in its place camea growing wonder. The reports of the abandoned wedding had been setforth in complete detail with every expansion that fertile brains couldsuggest, as if every city editor had said to his reporter, "We'll standall you can write." It had been the important news feature of the day,and to Clara it had seemed as if every newspaper in the city hadundertaken to solve the mystery. Where, then, was the long account ofthe second day's developments?
Tucked obscurely away in the middle of a page devoted to amiscellaneous assortment of news, she found at last a few paragraphssetting forth the conclusions of the detective bureau, that there wasno financial irregularity to be attributed to Mr. Strobel, and that themissing man had undoubtedly eloped with Lizzie White. Miss Hilman'shealth was reported to be good, and it was noted that she had taken apersonal hand in the investigation with every appearance of confidencein the loyalty of her betrothed.
Clara found longer reports in the other papers, and the one that hadpublished the first intimation of the elopement, continued to make itthe sensation of the hour, but it was a labored effort, devoted quiteas much to exploiting its own enterprise in beating the other papers asto setting forth the news.
So, then, the community, of which the newspapers were the reflection,had contentedly accepted the first solution that offered, and all herwork had gone for nothing, worse than nothing, for she found herselfpictured as a pitiable victim to her lover's faithlessness. The veryfact that the reporters refrained from bringing out the picture of hermisery in strong colors was evidence of the sincerity with which theywrote. They were satisfied that Ivan had eloped! To tell how loyallyshe had clung to him would be to put her in a ridiculous light beforeall readers.
The tears that came to Clara's eyes were angrily dashed away at first,but they would flow, and after a moment she gave full vent to them. Herexperience was one that comes only to those who have to suffer suchgreat calamities that for the time all life seems to be centered uponthem, and the awaking to the cold fact that all life runs along just asbefore, and the great calamity speedily becomes an event of yesterday,is almost as hard to bear as the original shock. This awakening withClara was coincident to a fresh determination to continue her search.The world might laugh if it chose to be so cruel; she believed in herlover and would yet find him.
The bell had rung for luncheon, and drying her eyes, Clara went intothe dining room. Her uncle was already at the table. His greeting wasconstrained but not lacking in affection and sympathy.
"Don't you think it would be better, Clara," he said gently after theyhad exchanged a few words, "to withdraw for a while from public view? Iam afraid you are doing no good, and I will not conceal from you thatI regard your loyal search as hopeless. I am getting to be an old man,and I have seen a great deal of the world, as we reckon it by the humanbeings who populate it. This blow that has fallen upon you has fallenon others before your time, and it will fall again. This that seems toyou incredible has been no less incredible in the past----"
"Stop, please, uncle," interrupted Clara; "I cannot draw comparisons,and if I could they would be valueless. I must judge my affair by itsown circumstances alone. I believe Ivan has done no wrong, and it isnothing less than my duty to him and myself to right the wrong that hasbeen done to him."
"But tell me, my dear child, is there anything in the situation thatpromises a solution other than that found by the detectives and thereporters?"
"Yes, uncle, there is," replied Clara in a low tone, "and I am glad thereporters have not found the clew, and I am not sorry that Mr. Bowkermissed it, too. I will tell you about it."
"Papa," said Louise, coming into the room at this moment, "Mr. Dexterhas called. I was coming downstairs when the bell rang, and I answeredit. I showed him into the library."
"I wish he would confine his calls to the office," exclaimed Mr.Pembroke, impatiently. "You will have to excuse me, though, for I amobliged to see him."
"I am afraid papa is having a serious time with his business," saidLouise, after he had gone.
"Everything comes at once, doesn't it?" responded Clara; "I am sosorry! He wants me to give up trying to find Ivan, dear. It hurts me todisplease uncle, but what would you do? I think he would like to haveme go away for a time."
"Oh, I don't think that! I am sure he feels toward you as if you werehis own daughter."
"I am sure he does, Lou. A father couldn't be more affectionate andkind; but in this matter, how can I yield to his wishes? He does notknow."
"Do you mean about Mr. Poubalov?"
"Partly, but I had more in mind that no one could know Ivan's characteras well as I do."
Louise thought of her own budding love. If Ralph Harmon were undersuspicion, could she fail to defend him? Could she think of him asother than honorable and faithful?
A servant passed through the room, and left the door in the hallcarelessly ajar. Neither of the young ladies noticed it.
"Clara," said Louise, "I should try to do just as you are doing, but Iknow I could not be so brave. I think if you should tell uncle aboutMr. Poubalov it might make him feel better."
"I intend to do so," replied Clara, "and would have done so lastevening if he had been at home."
They were interrupted by Mr. Pembroke's voice. He had stepped from thelibrary into the hall, and was speaking with ill-suppressed anger.
"I won't listen to anything you have to say on the matter," he said,"and I will ask you to confine your talks to me to business matters;and when you must see me, go to the office."
"Ugh!" grunted old Dexter in reply, "she'll make you as ridiculous asshe makes herself."
"Dexter," exclaimed Mr. Pembroke, "I think you're the worst villainunhung!"
"H'm, h'm, h'm," muttered Dexter, "you're a fool, Mat Pembroke. I thinkyou're a fool!"
The front door closed loudly and Mr. Pembroke strode into thedining-room, where the young ladies were looking at each other withastonished eyes. Mr. Pembroke was flushed, and he bit his lip withadded vexation as he noticed that his daughter and niece had heard thelast words of his conversation with Dexter.
"I am sorry----" he began, his voice still shaking with anger. He didnot complete his remark, but sat down and tried to eat.
After a moment Clara rose and put her arms softly about his neck.
"I am sorry, too, uncle dear," she said, "that you have so much troubleabout me. Of course that vile man was speaking of me."
Mr. Pembroke shuddered violently at her first touch. He released herarms abruptly and stood up.
"No, don't!" he said with an expression of the deepest pain; "youcontinue your search in your own way, child. Don't mind about me oranybody else, least of all that--that meddlesome Dexter."
"I was going to tell you some of the
information I learned yesterday,uncle."
"No, no! no, no! I don't want to hear it--that is, not now. Forgive me,child; I am disturbed by business matters and cannot attend to it now.This evening if you like. Good-by."
He hastened from the room, more agitated than when he had come in.
"It's a shame," said Clara, bitterly, "that any one who is in troublehas to annoy all those who are near to her."
"I wouldn't think of it that way, dear," responded Louise; "papa is assympathetic as can be, and I am sure that when he gets over his angerat this Mr. Dexter's interference, there will be nothing to regret. Hesaid himself, you know, that he would talk with you this evening."
"I hope I shall have something definite to tell him then," said Clara."Will you go downtown with me again this afternoon?"
Of course she would, and in due time, therefore, the young ladies wereagain at police headquarters. Detective Bowker was evidently highlypleased with himself, although he manfully tried to suppress any signsof triumph.
"I called at your house this forenoon, Miss Hilman," he said, "toinform you that the driver of the closed carriage has been found."
"What does he say?" asked Clara eagerly.
"He corroborates what I told you yesterday."
"Does he say that he drove Mr. Strobel to the Park Square Station?"
"Yes, just as I told you."
"Can I see him?"
"I have no doubt you will be able to do so. He is not here now. He hasgone about his work, but I can have him here at any time, or he willcall on you. He suggested that himself when I told him that you wouldbe pretty likely to doubt his story."
"I should like to see him," said Clara, her voice faint and tremulousin spite of herself. "When did you find him, Mr. Bowker?"
"Well, as to that," replied the detective, reluctantly, "Billings camein here early this morning. You know I said that might happen."
"Yes. What stable does he drive for?"
"What stable?" echoed Bowker with his stare of surprise; "why shouldyou ask that, Miss Hilman?"
"Because I have visited every stable in Boston to find whether anyemployee could have been driving a closed carriage along Park Street atthe hour when the wheel of Mr. Strobel's coupe came off."
"Whew! you did mean business, didn't you?" exclaimed Bowker withevident admiration. "It's a pity you had such a time of it. Billingsdrove his own carriage. He wasn't connected with any of the stables."
"I am glad to know that my search did not fail through any lack ofthorough inquiry," said Clara, and she felt her courage reviving. "Willyou send word to this Mr. Billings that I would like to see him?"
"Certainly. When shall I tell him to call?"
"Any time this evening. And, Mr. Bowker, can you not give me the nameof the man who said he saw Mr. Strobel buy a ticket for New York?"
"I cannot do so. The fact is, we haven't the name. I expected to getit, honestly I did, for I heard that Strobel was recognized in thestation by a friend; but that friend hasn't turned up; and, to tell youthe plain truth, we don't think it necessary to inquire for him."
"It seems to me----" began Clara, stopping and reflecting. She wasgoing to protest against the imperfect character of the investigation,but she thought better of it. This detective unquestionably had nointerest to find other than the truth, and with his low conceptions ofcharacter, due doubtless to his frequent contact with criminals, itwould be but natural for him to see no other explanation for Ivan'sdisappearance than the one to substantiate which he had obtained acertain amount of evidence. If even her good uncle were disposed toview the idea of the elopement as a possibility, nay, as a probability,what better could be expected of one to whom Ivan was merely a manlike other men? And the evidence of the "second driver" which wasundoubtedly straightforward---- Perhaps Ivan had gone to New York. Howcould she tell? Not with Lizzie White, of course, but---- She wouldtalk with the driver.
"I shall be greatly obliged," she concluded, "if you will send me wordshould any new development turn up. I don't suppose I can expect you topay any further attention to the case."
"We may hear from New York at any time," replied Bowker; "the policethere are on the lookout for Strobel, and if we hear anything I willlet you know."
Louise tucked her arm affectionately within Clara's, and asked:
"Where now, dear?"
"We will go to Mrs. White's," responded Clara, drearily. Her faithwas yet undisturbed, but the mystery seemed the darker, for if thewily Russian had had to do with Ivan's departure, how much harder itwould be to find him in New York than in Boston! Then, had he gonevoluntarily, might it not be possible that he did not wish her tosearch for him? Surely he would write if he could. With that thought,and a renewed conviction that Ivan was somehow constrained of hisliberty, she arrived at Mrs. White's house.
"I'm so glad to see you," cried the landlady, "with all this talk inthe papers. I have heard from Lizzie. See! Here is the letter."
She handed a sheet of paper to Clara. It was not a long letter, butwhat little there was was rambling in style. It was dated from SecondAvenue, New York, and stated that the writer had found a new home.
"I should be happy," she wrote, "if it wasn't for the way I had to go.But there wasn't any other way. After a while I shall tell you allabout it."
Clara's quick perceptions told her that any person with the elopementexplanation in his head would see a significance in these words thatcould not fail to reflect unfavorably upon Ivan.
"Mrs. White," she said tremulously, "you won't show this letter toreporters, or detectives, or anybody else, will you?"
The Mission of Poubalov Page 10