* * *
—
Gideon had just arrived at his office the next morning when Smith announced that Logan Carstens would like to see him if he had a moment.
“Normally, I wouldn’t dream of bothering you, Mr. Bates,” Smith explained, “but Mr. Carstens seems rather upset, and I thought perhaps it was an emergency.”
Thinking Logan might well have heard from Noelle by now, he told Smith to show Logan in.
Logan did look upset, but not in the way Gideon had expected. When Logan had slumped down into one of the client chairs, Gideon said, “Have you heard from Noelle?”
“I . . . I’m not really certain,” he said with a sad smile.
“What does that mean?”
He pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. “Kellogg came to see me yesterday. He’s had another letter from Noelle.”
“Why didn’t she write directly to you this time?”
“Apparently, she hadn’t yet received my letter when she wrote this one.”
“What does she say?”
“I wrote out a translation for you, but what she says is that she’s desperate to escape France because she is carrying my child. Her family has discovered her shame and has thrown her out, and she’s begging me to send for her.”
Just what he had originally feared. Gideon managed not to wince at this news. “She wants you to marry her, I assume.”
“Oddly, she doesn’t seem to think I’ll even consider that. She just wants me to bring her to America and provide for her and the child.”
This wasn’t an unreasonable request, although Gideon could understand why it would upset Logan. Bringing one’s pregnant mistress to town was certain to create all kinds of ugly gossip, no matter how quietly it was done. Then he would have to support both her and his child, who would be forever tainted by his or her illegitimate birth. Logan would also be worried about the embarrassment to his fiancée and her family. Even if Rosemary broke it off with him, she would be humiliated.
“You wouldn’t have to keep her in the city, you know,” Gideon said, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how Logan could handle the very sensitive situation. “You could find a place in a small town, and—”
“Gideon, you don’t understand.”
But he did. “I know you care very much for Miss Fortier, and you’ll want to do the best you can for your child, but—”
“Gideon, stop,” Logan said, shaking his head and smiling.
Smiling? Why would he be smiling? “But—”
Logan raised both hands to silence him. “Gideon, there is no child.”
“What do you mean?” And how could he know that?
“Because Noelle and I never . . . I never took advantage of her. I told you, she was a respectable young woman from a good family. I treated her with the same consideration I would have shown any young woman I fell in love with, and we were never even alone for more than a few minutes. So there couldn’t be a child.”
Gideon sat back in his chair and considered this very interesting piece of information. “And she clearly says that she’s expecting in that letter?” He nodded toward the envelope Logan still held.
“Yes.”
Gideon didn’t want to suggest it, but Logan did need to consider the possibility. “Maybe there is a child and it belongs to some other man.”
Logan nodded. “I did think of that. In fact, I’m ashamed of how quickly I thought of it, but I only thought of it for a moment, because even if she were pregnant, Noelle would know the child couldn’t be mine, and so would I.”
“And she would know that you would know,” Gideon realized a little sheepishly, “which means she’d never bother trying to trick you.”
“Exactly, so why did she write me this letter?”
Wasn’t it obvious? “Because she’s the Spanish Prisoner.”
“Noelle?” Logan asked in confusion.
“No, the person who wrote the letter, who obviously isn’t Noelle.”
“But why would the person make up a baby that couldn’t exist?”
At least Gideon could figure that part out. “Because you and Noelle are the only ones who are sure it couldn’t exist. From what you told me about the French war brides, not all the American soldiers were as honorable as you were, Logan, and it would be reasonable to assume that you did take advantage of Noelle, so it would also be reasonable to assume there could be a child.”
Logan sat straight up in his chair. “You’re right. I know because I was charged with approving marriages for the men in my company.”
“Yes, you told me.”
Logan frowned. “I did? When did I do that?”
“At the club, the night of the welcoming party. You were rather drunk, I’m afraid.”
Logan winced a little at the memory. “So you know I had to sign off on every marriage request for the men in my company. Most of the marriages were of necessity, I’m sorry to say.”
“Which proves my theory about American soldiers.”
“But it doesn’t help me know how to deal with this.” He held up the envelope.
“My instinct is to advise you to simply ignore this latest request, since it is obviously not from Noelle, but I’m not sure that would be the most prudent response. I think we also need to figure out who is behind this and put an end to it once and for all.”
“Do you think you can do that?” Logan asked.
“No, I don’t,” Gideon had to admit. “Not by myself, but would you mind if I consulted an expert in this matter?”
“Elizabeth?” Logan asked with another smile.
“Yes, Elizabeth.”
* * *
—
Elizabeth could hardly wait for Gideon and Logan to arrive. The telephone call from Smith had been formal and businesslike as he asked if it would be convenient for her to receive Mr. Bates and Mr. Carstens this morning. This morning! Which meant they were in a hurry to speak with her. Surely, Logan had heard back from Noelle. But what did they need to discuss with her?
By the time the doorbell rang, Elizabeth was fairly bursting with curiosity.
Gideon greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek, and Logan greeted her with a respectful nod. When she’d taken their hats and coats—Elizabeth couldn’t help noticing that Gideon had finally abandoned his trench coat for something warmer—and offered them coffee to chase away the chill, she seated them in the parlor and looked at Gideon expectantly.
“Logan got another letter.” He nodded at Logan who produced it and handed it to her.
“This one was sent to Sergeant Kellogg, too,” she noted with a frown. Neither man replied, so she proceeded to read the English translation that Logan had obviously prepared.
“Oh dear,” she said when she had finished reading. “She could be lying, you know. About the baby, I mean.”
“She’s definitely lying about the baby,” Gideon said. “Logan assures me that his romance with Miss Fortier could not possibly have produced a child.”
“Not possibly?” Elizabeth asked Logan, who appeared to be blushing.
“Not possibly,” Logan said quite confidently.
Elizabeth sighed with relief. “Then we know for sure that Noelle did not write this letter.”
“That’s what Logan and I had decided, so I’m glad you agree. The question is, what do we do now?”
Elizabeth gazed adoringly at Gideon, thinking how very much more she loved him now than she had even five minutes ago. “You are asking for my advice?”
“Indeed we are,” Gideon said.
“Because you know all about the Spanish Prisoner,” Logan added, in case she was in any doubt.
“This does appear to be a classic example of that, especially because this letter asks for far more money than the first.”
“It does?” Gideon asked.
“Yes. Didn’t Logan mention it? She now wants five thousand dollars, because she has introduced a new complication—the child—which will mean more difficulty.”
“I see, so she would need even more money to support herself and the child,” Gideon said.
“That would definitely raise the stakes,” Logan said. “A baby should make me more anxious to help her, too. But could it also mean Noelle is really asking for my help?” Logan said with a frown.
“Not unless she’s a complete fool,” Elizabeth said, “which she would have to be to lie about having your baby. No, this is definitely someone just trying to get you to send them money.”
“But how can I be sure the woman writing these letters isn’t Noelle?” Logan asked in obvious despair. “Now you’ve got me doubting again. What if Noelle is totally naïve and doesn’t actually know how women”—he gestured helplessly for a moment—“how women get babies? What if she simply observed that many of the French women marrying American soldiers were with child as a result of having an American suitor and in all innocence decided that was a good way to get me to help her?”
“That’s possible, I suppose,” Elizabeth said without much confidence.
“Or suppose she’s in truly desperate straits,” he continued, obviously warming to his subject, “and someone is forcing her to write these letters, someone who might assume our relationship could have produced a child?”
Neither Elizabeth nor Gideon had an answer to that.
“You see, you can’t be sure,” Logan said when they didn’t argue. “If this really is Noelle, I can’t refuse to help her, even though I know there can’t be a child to consider.”
“What would you like to do?” Elizabeth asked, earning a scowl from Gideon, who most likely had intended to advise Logan to forget he’d ever received these letters.
Logan stared back at her in surprise, probably having given no thought at all to what he might like in this situation. “I . . . I would like to bring Noelle to America.”
“But we decided the woman writing these letters is not Noelle,” Gideon reminded him.
“And what if we’re wrong?” Logan asked, his face twisted in anguish. “I can’t just leave her there, not when it’s in my power to help her.”
And, as Elizabeth could clearly see even if Gideon could not, Logan dearly wanted Noelle in this country, in his city, whatever that might mean for the future. He wanted it so much, he was willing to cling to even this slender thread of hope.
“Can you afford to lose a few hundred dollars if this person turns out not to be Noelle?” Elizabeth asked.
“But she asked for five thousand,” Logan reminded her.
“This time she did, but she only wanted a thousand the first time, and she probably only really needs her passage paid, so a few hundred would probably be enough to get her here, and maybe another hundred for bribes. Once she’s here, you can decide what to do from there.”
“That’s still a lot of money to lose,” Gideon reminded him.
“But worth every penny to know for certain,” Logan said. “I wouldn’t even have to ask my father for the money or wait to get funds from my trust.”
“Bear in mind that I’m not advising you to do this,” Gideon said, earning a scowl from Elizabeth to repay him for the one he’d given her. “But if you send the money and it turns out not to be Noelle, at least we may be able to find out who is behind this.”
Elizabeth forgave him everything. “You’re absolutely right, darling, but if that is your other goal, we need to be smart about how we lay the trap.”
Gideon gave her an adoring smile. “Which is why we came to consult you in the first place.”
* * *
—
Oscar Thornton found Leo Vane waiting anxiously for him in the lobby of his hotel at midmorning on Wednesday. He’d just returned from a walk along Fifth Avenue. He’d found the mansions inspirational, and the sight of Vane was comforting after nearly a week of uncertainty. He’d half expected the man to abscond with his five hundred dollars, never to be seen again. The way his luck had been running since he’d met Elizabeth Miles, nothing would have surprised him.
“How was your trip?” Thornton asked when he’d shaken Vane’s hand.
“Grueling. I can never sleep on a train, but I wanted to get back as quickly as possible.” He did look tired.
“Let’s go up to my suite and you can tell me all about it.”
When they were ensconced in his suite with whiskey and cigars, Vane complained some more about the accommodations on trains. He’d apparently had an upper berth on the way home, which had annoyed him. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said at one point. “I only spent about four hundred dollars on the trip, so here is the rest of your money.”
Thornton took the offered bills, mentally condemning Vane as a fool to return money that Thornton had no intention of asking him to account for, but also impressed by the man’s honesty. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Vane cheating him.
Finally, Thornton asked, “Did you at least find your cousin?”
“Oh yes, of course. She’s staying in a rather shabby hotel just across the border in Matamoros. I hated seeing her there, but she assured me it was much better than what she would be enduring in Germany. At least she can eat regularly in Mexico.” He set down his drink and placed his cigar in the ashtray, then reached for the briefcase he had brought with him. “Berta gave me some of her securities, so when I’ve sold them, I’ll have enough money to go back and arrange to have her smuggled into New York.”
He opened the case and pulled out some elaborately printed papers, which Thornton instantly recognized as stock certificates. They didn’t call them gilt-edged securities for nothing. “How much are they worth?”
“Face value, about fifteen thousand.”
Impressive. “Where were you planning to take them?”
“To a bank. I hadn’t really decided which one,” Vane said with a worried frown. “I should probably cash them in quickly. It isn’t safe carrying them around like this. I’ve been scared to death ever since I got them.”
“I do business with a bank that’s nearby. I’m sure they’ll be glad to help you.” And Thornton would be able to trust what the banker told them about the securities.
Vane agreed eagerly, so they finished their drinks and then set out for the bank. The doorman greeted him by name, Thornton was gratified to note. Vane seemed impressed at least. Thornton asked to speak to the president, and the two men were soon escorted into the man’s imposing office.
Thornton introduced Vane to William Diller, who invited them to sit down. He was a distinguished looking man with iron-gray hair and a full beard. His slight paunch gave him a prosperous air.
“What can I do for you gentlemen today?” Diller asked, peering at them from across his shiny desk.
“My friend here has some securities he would like to cash in,” Thornton said.
Vane opened the briefcase and produced the documents, which he passed across the desk to Diller. Diller examined them. Thornton watched his expression and saw no indication that he doubted their authenticity, which was Thornton’s last remaining concern.
“Where did you get these?” Diller asked.
“From my cousin,” Vane said. “She recently emigrated from Europe and asked me to take care of them for her. She needs the money to get a good start in this country.”
“Is there a problem?” Thornton asked uneasily.
“Not with the certificates,” Diller said, “but I can’t cash them for you because they are not endorsed.”
“Endorsed?” Vane echoed uncertainly.
“Yes, your cousin will have to sign them to authenticate them. Once she does that, I’ll be happy to cash them for you.”
“And I can’t do anything with them until she signs them?” Vane asked in
dismay.
“I’m afraid not, but if she’s in the city, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“No, not a problem at all,” Vane said with forced cheer. “I guess we’ve just wasted your time.”
“Not at all,” Diller assured him. “I hope your cousin will choose to deposit her funds with us when she does get these cashed. We would be happy to serve her.”
Thornton and Vane thanked Diller for his help and left the bank.
When they were out on the sidewalk again, Thornton was ready to berate Vane for his stupidity, but Vane muttered a curse, forestalling him. “Now I have to make that trip to Mexico and back again to get Berta’s signature so I can cash the securities, and then I’ll have to return to Mexico a third time to arrange for her transportation to New York.”
That would take weeks, and Thornton didn’t want to stay in New York a moment longer than it took to get his money from Elizabeth Miles. With that payoff and his share of Berta’s fortune, he would be a rich man once more.
And now that he knew Berta’s fortune was real, he didn’t have to wait.
“I already told you that I’ll advance you the money to get your cousin out of Mexico,” Thornton reminded him.
Vane didn’t look as excited as Thornton had expected. “I think . . .” He glanced around. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but they were on a public street. “Maybe we should go back to your hotel to discuss this.”
He was right. Even if Berta hadn’t been trying to get into the United States illegally, talking about that kind of money on the sidewalk wasn’t a good idea. Thornton nodded and they set off back to the hotel. When they were safely back in the suite, Thornton said, “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy that I’m still willing to finance your little adventure.”
“I am, but . . . I didn’t tell you what I found out when I met Berta in Matamoros.”
“What did you find out?”
Vane went over and sank down wearily into one of the chairs. Then he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I was originally planning to bribe a captain to take her aboard a regularly scheduled steamer. That would have been expensive, but also fairly easy. She would have to arrange for false papers, but that’s easily done in Mexico, too.”
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