CHAPTER XX
NOR UNDERSTAND ALL I SEE
For the next few days I think I must have been nearer to a nervousbreakdown than I am ever likely to be again. All the strain and theanxiety of the whole summer seemed to fall upon me in a mass; I had notthe relief of taking arms against my trouble, nor of any better businessthan to brood and to remember, sifting misery by the hour in hopelesssearch after some grain of decision; and the heat and hurry of the citybroke my natural sleep, and went to make a nightmare of my days. Macleanwas with me a good deal, taking me with him into strange corners of thetown, and trying his best to bring me out of myself; but I could nottalk to him of what was on my mind, and the irritation of constantpretense to carelessness vitiated much of the relief he tried to give.Wherever I might be to appearance, the same Spartan Fox was at mybreast--Carucci's story and Sheila's attempted contradiction, and theambiguous trouble that overhung Lady and shut me out from her. I couldnot fathom it; and I dared not take dangerous action in the dark. Reidhad passed through some scandal before his marriage; Sheila had admittedso much; and her denial that Miriam and Lady were the same had beeninvolved in such a maze of surmise and superstition, so evidently andangrily put forward as a defense, that I could not believe what I wouldof it. It might well be that Mrs. Tabor was oppressed even to insanityby the situation. But what was the situation? If the mother's madness ofbereavement were at the root of all, what had the family to conceal? Orwhy should not the remaining daughter marry whom she chose? Sheila'sexplanation of the first was absurdly tenuous; and the last she had notattempted to explain. No, there was one shadow over them all: the causeof the mother's grief was the cause of the daughter's terror, and of theirrational behavior of the sane and practical men of the family. I couldfind no alternative; either Mrs. Tabor was haunted by mediaeval ghosts,or some part of the scandal must be true.
At last, one unbearably humid morning, when I was almost on the point ofgoing blindly out to Stamford on the chance of any happening that mightlet my anxiety escape into action, of any opportunity that might force aclimax, Mr. Tabor called me on the telephone.
"Hello, Mr. Crosby? Mr. Laurence Crosby?--Well, Crosby, this is Mr.Tabor talking. Are you free this morning, so that you can give us a fewhours of your time? You can help us very much if you will."
"Certainly; I'll be out as soon as I can get a train." The idea ofseeing Lady again was a compensation under any circumstances; but thenext words destroyed that hope.
"No, don't do that. What I want of you is right there in New York." Hehesitated a moment. "Hello--that--that same situation which occurred theother day, when you were alone in the house, and we were in town, hasarisen again. You understand me?--We're looking after this neighborhood.The person in question has been gone an hour, leaving no word; may havegone to New York. Now, will you meet all trains until further notice,and keep your eyes open? Call us up about every half hour. In case ofsuccess, use your own judgment--don't excite any one, don't be leftbehind, and telephone as soon as possible. Am I making this explicitenough?"
"Yes, perfectly. I'm to meet trains, let matters take their own courseas far as possible, keep in touch, and let you know."
"That's it exactly. I knew we could count on you."
I was not many minutes in getting to the Grand Central, laying my planof action on the way. To be sure that no one arrived unobserved in thatgreat labyrinth of tracks and exits was no such easy matter, even thoughI knew the point of departure. I began by a thorough search of thewaiting-rooms. Then, finding, as I had expected, no trace of Mrs. Tabor,I learned the times and positions of all the Stamford trains, and setmyself to meet each one as it arrived. I had to make certain of seeingevery passenger, and at the same time to keep out of the expectantthrong that crowded close to the restraining ropes on a similar errand;for if Mrs. Tabor should appear I must not seem to be watching for her.The next hour and a half was divided between studying the clock, runningmy eyes dizzily over streams of hurrying humanity, racing anxiously fromplace to place when a late train crowded close upon its successor, andsnatching a moment at the telephone in the intervals of nervous waiting.Even so, I could not be morally sure that she might not slip by mesomewhere unnoticed. And when at last I recognized her fragile figurefar down the long platform, I was less excited than relieved.
She came on quickly, carrying a little shopping-bag, and stepping with acertain bird-like alertness. It was hard to imagine that this eager,pretty lady, with her spun-glass hair and her bright eyes, could beeither ill or in trouble. I let her pass me, and followed at a littledistance into the waiting-room; then crossed over and met her face toface by the telephone booths on the west side. Her greeting was a freshsurprise.
"Why, Mr. Crosby, this is delightfully fortunate! I was just going tocall you up, and here you spring from the earth as if I had rubbed amagic ring. You must have known that I was thinking about you. You'renot going away, are you? Or meeting any one?"
If she meant anything in particular, I had reason to feel embarrassed;but the big, childish eyes that smiled into my own seemed whollyinnocent of suspicion.
"No," I said. "I've been seeing somebody off, and I'm very gladly atyour service for as long as you like." I was praying Heaven to inspireme with mendacity.
"Well, that's the best that could have happened. I came in town to seesome friends, and I promised myself to see you at the same time. Excuseme just half a minute, while I telephone them."
She slipped into the booth, leaving me hesitating outside. Evidentlyhere was my chance to call up Mr. Tabor, and report; but she keptglancing out at me through the glass doors as she talked, quitecasually, but still with observant interest; and I dared not shut myselfin a booth lest she should either suspect or escape. She was out againbefore I could make up my mind.
"Now take me to lunch," she said gaily, "and after that, if you haven'tgrown tired of such a frivolous old creature, you may take me where I amgoing. I'll set you free by two or three o'clock, at the latest."
I took her to the Waldorf, for no better reason than that it was cooland close at hand; wondering all the way how in the world I was to getword to the family, and keeping up my end rather absently in aconversation, which with a younger woman would have been merrilyflirtatious, and wanted only relief from preoccupied anxiety to be verydelightful fencing. Mrs. Tabor was in that state of fluffy exhilaration,that heightening and brightening of spirit which in a man would havebeen hilarity, and which in a woman may equally well mean the excitementof pleasure or the tension of imprisoned pain. She was a little aboveherself, but there was absolutely nothing to tell me why. And she keptme too busy in finding the next answer to plan what I should do theminute afterward.
"Of course, Mr. Crosby," she began when we were settled at our table,"this is another of my horrible and mysterious disappearances. I'veactually come to the great city, in broad daylight, without a chaperon.Isn't it reckless of me?"
"Desperately," I answered. "And not a soul knows where you are? Won'tthey be shocked and surprised when they miss you?"
She shook out a little laugh. "Let them; it's their own fault. If I'm tobe treated like an European school-girl, I shall at least have thepleasure of acting like one. They need imagination enough to conceive ofmy being able to take care of myself now and then. I'm not in my secondchildhood yet--only in my second girlhood."
"At least let me telephone them that you're with me. I won't say why orwhere, and we can make a mystery of that."
"Not a bit of it." Her voice sharpened just a trifle. "That would spoilthe whole lesson. They needn't worry unless they choose. Then when Icome home, if they make a fuss over me I shall say: 'Now see how sillyyou've been. I've been having luncheon with Mr. Crosby,' You wouldn'ttake the edge off of that disclosure?" She tilted her head on one side.
"But they ought to know merely that you're safe," I ventured.
"Safe? What should I be but safe? No--" She put out an emphatic littlehand. "I'm free from the convent, and I'm not going to be taken to t
askby so young and good-looking a confessor. Besides, I'm ashamed of you.Where's your gallantry? You don't seem to appreciate the honor of oursecret at all."
"Perhaps the trouble is," I said cautiously, "that I don't understandthe secret myself. What did you mean when you said--"
"Oh, _that_!" she laughed. "Why, I meant the hardest thing in the worldfor a man to understand, and that is--just nothing at all. You had allof you been so stupid and serious and uncomfortable that night that Ifelt it would serve you right to make you jump. So I made a littlemystery of my own, and it worked beautifully. It sounded every bit assensible as yours, too."
She was beyond me. Two or three times after that I worked around to thesame subject, but she evaded me so deftly that I could not for the lifeof me be sure whether it was evasion or unconsciousness; and my attemptsto communicate with the family met with no better fortune. At last Itried to leave her for a moment on the plea of calling a taxicab.
"You live on Table Mountain, and your name is Truthful James," was hercomment. "Taxicabs are scarce in Stamford, Mr. Crosby, and it would taketoo long to get one here. Let the waiter call one of those outside."
At that, I gave up with a good grace. I should be free to report as soonas I had left her with her friends, and a few minutes more or less couldnot matter much by now. She gave the chauffeur an address in thesixties and we were presently there: one of these new American basementhouses sandwiched in among the older brownstone fronts of the moreconservative blocks. During the short drive, she had been silent and Ithought a little disturbed; but her farewell was bright with reawakenedgaiety.
"I shall measure your enjoyment by your secrecy, Mr. Confessor," shepurred, with tilted head and raised forefinger. "You may tell my anxiouswarders just as much as you please, and the less you confide in them themore I shall flatter myself of your confidence in me. Now I leave you toyour conscience."
And there he stood on the sidewalk]
She was standing in the doorway, her hand upon the bell, and I hadturned back to the waiting taxicab, when a somber and respectableelectric brougham turned the corner and drew slowly up to the curb. Irecognized with an uncomfortable shock that the driver was no other thanthe Tabors' former chauffeur, the unworthy Thomas who had deserted Ladyand myself at the crisis of our midnight adventure; and I thought thatunder his mask of the impassive servant he recognized me somewhatuncomfortably. I glanced back to see if Mrs. Tabor had seen him also.She was leaning against the door of the house, clutching at the handleas if for support, or in a desperate anxiety to enter; every line ofher face and figure writhing and agonized with unmistakable terror. Thebang of the brougham door behind me and the sound of a shrill precisevoice that I remembered made me turn my eyes to the street--and as I didso the bang of the front door sounded behind me like an echo. Mrs. Taborhad disappeared into the house, the brougham was starting rapidly away,and there on the sidewalk stood the man whom Reid had twice broughtsecretly home.
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