Part 17

Outside the booth he found Gunther, an afternoon's paper in his hand, scanning it with excitement on every feature.

"I say, Ted, here's news indeed," he cried. "What do you think of that?"

He pointed to the headline on the front page where the engagement of John G. Slade to Mrs. Rita Kildair was announced in large type. The two young men looked at each other in profound astonishment.

"By Jove!" said Beecher, suddenly enlightened. "That's what was at the bottom last night! Now I understand." In a moment he comprehended the full measure of the agony of uncertainty she must have suffered at his side in the returning automobile. "So that was her game after all!"

"Now things'll begin to move," said Gunther eagerly. "If she really knows who's the thief, as McKenna believes, the ring ought to be returned in forty-eight hours."

"Why?"

"Because now that she is publicly engaged to Slade, any one who has been trading on the knowledge of how she got the ring won't have a shred to blackmail her with. You see it now becomes the engagement ring that Slade gave her and she can move openly; and from what I've seen of her, she'll lose no time. Ted, I'll prophesy in forty-eight hours we'll hear something about that ring."

"I believe you're right," said Beecher as they went into luncheon; and, thinking of the curious conjunction of Mrs. Kildair's and Miss Charters' prophecy as to the return of the ring, he said to himself unwillingly: "If the ring is returned, does that mean that Mrs. Bloodgood took it?"

A little after four he went to pay his call on Miss Charters and as he had become accustomed to her perplexing change of moods, he wondered in what temper she would receive him. She was in a Russian blouse of gray corduroy relieved by a broad lace collar and fitted loosely to her straight, lithe body by a belt at the waist, an effect of girlish simplicity, very yielding and artless.

She did not wait for him in the sitting-room but came out into the hall, taking his hat and stick herself and leading the way. Once in the cosy sitting-room she stopped, turning to face him and suddenly taking his hands in hers.

"Let me look at you," she said, drawing off and raising her eyes to his thoughtfully, while her lips twisted a little into a most serious sternness.

"Little imp!" he thought grimly, prepared against her wiles and yet a little startled at this figure of a young girl which so tantalizingly confronted him.

She saw at once, in the amused composure of his face, that she had been mistaken in ascribing his absence to the pique of jealousy. What she had on her lips she did not say, and suddenly alert at the realization that her presence no longer troubled him she drew him toward the fireplace, leading him to a great armchair.

"There," she said, laughing, "you will see how we treat the prodigal son. Sit down." She brought a cushion and insisted upon placing it behind his back. "Don't get up. A scotch and soda? Sit still--I like to mix it."

She went to a table and presently came back with the tumbler, offering it to him with a well simulated attitude of submission. When he took it, she dropped a curtsey and going to the library table, returned with a box of cigars and the matches. Continuing always the same game, determined to force a laugh, she lit the match, holding it to him between her rosy palms.

"Is your lordship satisfied?"

"I am."

She lit a cigarette in turn and camping down on the bear rug, Eastern fashion, puffed a ring of smoke in the direction of the fire. For a moment neither spoke, she studying the embers, he enjoying this new side to her and awaiting the next development.

"I'm very unhappy," she said at last, without looking at him.

"I'm sorry," he answered sympathetically.

"I have had a great disappointment. I read that play of Hargrave's again--there's nothing to it."

"You surprise me."

The fact was that Brockway, Stigler's stage director had torn it to pieces. She continued, repeating what Brockway had said:

"The trouble is, it's not actable. It's like all plays that read well--I should have known it. There's no dramatic action. Then, it has one great fault--all young writers have it--you see, every scene should be a unit in itself, express one dramatic emotion, develop it, and increase it; and Hargrave puts three or four emotions in the same page--five or six," she continued indignantly. "It's all mixed up--topsy-turvy--no actress could make an effect." (This had been its chief merit two days before.) "It's very sad; I shall never find a play."

"You were very enthusiastic a few days ago," he said.

"Was I?" she said resentfully. "You see, the trouble is, in reading you imagine things that aren't there."

"So Hargrave isn't a genius after all?" he asked.

"He is very conceited--insufferably so," she said abruptly. "But you don't understand--it's the disappointment to me--I shall never find a play. Sometimes I feel like giving it all up. It's terrible--breaking your heart day after day. Yes, sometimes I feel like never acting again."

"You are in a blue mood," he said cheerfully.

"Everything has gone wrong," she said, pouting. "Even you have changed!"

She looked at him with a look of a tired child, longing to climb into his lap to be consoled.

"How so?" he said, opening his eyes.

"Teddy, have I offended you?" she asked gently, seeing that she could not unbend him by playing upon his sympathy.

"Not the least."

She would have preferred any answer but this.

"Why wouldn't you go with me tonight?" she said quickly.

"Because I have another engagement," he said, instinctively glancing at the clock.

She saw the look, sprang up from the rug furiously, and leaping toward the mantelpiece seized the offending clock and flung it across the room in a tantrum.

"Go to your Emma Fornez!" she said, stamping her foot. "If you are going to sit here and measure the minutes, you can go!"

He rose, startled at the passion of jealousy he had aroused.

"I told you I had an engagement," he began.

"Nonsense!" she burst out, still the prey of her anger. "You know very well you can keep her waiting half an hour if you wish, and you know very well that you can put off your engagement to-night--or is it with her, always with her?"

"I don't care to discuss my engagements," he said coldly, an emotion which he was far from feeling, for the sudden wild-eyed fury into which he had plunged her awoke in him something that thrilled him, as he had been thrilled the day he had returned Mrs. Bloodgood to her home, at the thought of what a consuming passion might be.

"Why do you tag around with her?" she continued heedlessly. "I should think you'd have more regard for your dignity--for what people think--Emma Fornez--ah!"

She stopped, pressing her handkerchief to her eyes and then, feeling he had perceived it, she exclaimed: "If I cry it's because I am disappointed--disillusionized--angry!"

She turned her back and went quickly to the window where the little Dresden clock lay shattered in a corner. She picked it up and looked at it, swallowing her anger. Then, as he continued to keep the silence, she came back, without looking at him, placed the clock on the mantelpiece again and said coldly:

"Well, it is time for you to go--not to keep her waiting."

"Good-afternoon," he said with a bow, and left the apartment.

When he reached the street, he was overcome with surprise.

"By Jove!" he said, swinging joyfully along. "Is it possible after all that she does care about me? How her eyes blazed--the little fury. That at least wasn't acting!"

And though he remained until late, amused at Emma Fornez, he felt the flame of the other presence about him, obtruding itself at every moment; and he who had seen the play of strong emotions in Mrs. Bloodgood and Mrs. Kildair, avidly began to feel what it would mean to be loved with such intensity.

Emma Fornez questioned him about Miss Charters but for the first time he resolutely concealed from her what had taken place.

That night on his return to his rooms, he found a short note from Bruce Gunther:

DEAR TED,

Be at McKenna's offices to-morrow--ten sharp. Something doing.

B.

P.S. Keep this to yourself--_savez_?

*CHAPTER XX*

DEAR TEDDY,

I am very much ashamed at what happened yesterday. Please forgive my ill-humor and some day, when you have a spare hour, do come to see me.

Very cordially your friend, NAN CHARTERS.

This note was the first which Beecher read on awakening the next morning. He had slept by fits and starts, troubled by the memory of his last interview with the young actress. The sudden unchecked tempest of jealousy and anger which had revealed to him the dramatic intensity of the woman had made a more haunting impression on his imagination than all her premeditated appeals.

"If after all she does love me? How tremendous it would be," he had said to himself a dozen times, turning restlessly, in the half stupor of waking sleep.

He lived over again the scene--only this time it seemed to him that when she had flung the clock from her in a passion, he had laughed joyfully and caught her struggling in his arms, exulting in this rage which burned so close to him. His first impulse on reading her note was to telephone her immediately, but he resisted this movement, saying to himself that that would be surrendering all his advantage.

"I'll call up later," he thought with a smile; "that will be much better."

He went eagerly down to McKenna's office, wondering what surprise was in store. Gunther and McKenna were already in the latter's private office, as he entered, and with the first look he took at the detective's smiling countenance, he perceived that he must be on the track of something significant.

"We were discussing Mrs. Kildair's engagement," said Gunther. "McKenna agrees with me that it will expedite matters wonderfully."

"How did Slade manage it?" said Beecher at once.

The detective, without answering, went to his desk and picked up a square of cardboard on which he had pasted two clippings from the newspapers, one the announcement signed by Gunther, Sr., Marx and Fontaine, giving notice of their support of the Associated Trust, and the other the bare announcement of the prospective marriage of John G. Slade and Mrs. Rita Kildair.

"I am going to preserve this and hang it up over my mantelpiece," he said, looking at it thoughtfully, "and when I have an idle hour, I'll stretch out, smoke up and study it. A couple of million people must have seen that--and that's all they'll ever know."

"And you?"

"I can only--deduce," he said, a twinkle in his eye. He glanced at the clock and said hurriedly: "Now we must get down to business. I am expecting some one in half an hour who ought to particularly interest you."

"You know who took the ring!" said Beecher instantly.

"I know several things," said McKenna briskly; "but everything in place. I promised you gentlemen, as you are interested in those things, a little history of the party that was at Mrs. Kildair's that night. It's nothing as literary style goes--just facts. Here it is. I'll skip the personal descriptions."

He took up a bundle of notes, seated himself on the corner of the flat desk, and began to read:

"Cheever, Stanley: Age 48; married; old New York family; left a fortune estimated at $425,000, at the death of his father, Ganet Cheever, when he was twenty-eight. Lived ten years abroad, principally London; inveterate gambler; lost heavily at Monte Carlo--sum estimated at $125,000; later became involved in a gambling scandal in England, but it was hushed up by his payment of a large sum to cover notes given. Continued to lose heavily at St. Petersburg, Baden and Paris; began borrowing large sums, meeting obligations with difficulty. Declared bankruptcy in Colorado, where he had gone to promote a mine; his statements contested by creditors who brought suit; contest settled out of court by payment by his relatives to avoid a family scandal. Returned to New York and engaged himself as an exploiter of well-known wine merchants. Married three years ago Lydia Borgen, daughter of a large importing grocer, who brought him $100,000. Lives at rate of $20,000 a year. Only known occupation gambling; said to have won fifty-five thousand dollars in three nights' play from Kane Wentworth and Thomas Haggerty, Jr.,--protested but paid. Method of play has occasioned numerous reports to his discredit. Accused operating a system of private signals with his wife, by Mrs. Elmer Jardine after scene at card-table; brought suit for libel against her and received $12,000 damages out of court to compromise it. Is not received in home of father-in-law. Cut off by mother's will. Frequently quarrels with his wife over the attentions of other men. Known to have applied unsuccessfully at several banks within the last month to raise loans. Heavily speculated on long side of recent market, purchasing large block of stocks, margined, on morning after theft of ring, and said to be heavily involved. Sought aid of wife's relatives day before yesterday; refused.

"Cheever, Mrs. Lydia: Born Lydia Borgen, daughter Harris Borgen, German immigrant, who married Lydia Foley, waitress in Pearl Street restaurant. Father made fortune in grocery business, establishing with brother in South America a large importing office dealing in cocoa, coffee, and fruit. At death of uncle, Lydia became heir to $100,000. Father said to be worth three quarters of a million, but estranged from daughter, whose marriage he opposed. As a young girl Lydia, rebellious and wild, constantly involved in escapades, notably with an actor, James Rocker, with whom she attempted to elope and go on the stage. Kept under strict surveillance, but at age of seventeen ran off with Charles Bourgoyne, young English groom at Waltby's riding academy. Pursued and arrested just as about to be married in New Jersey. Bourgoyne arrested for abduction but later paid to leave country. Married at nineteen to Stanley Cheever, through mediation of mother and a Mrs. Dorgan, notorious marriage broker. Has become tool of husband in schemes of raising money while leading a separate existence. Keeps private bank account unknown to husband. Very extravagant in personal expenses which cannot be accounted for on known income. From beginning of married life has been conspicuous for her relations with other men, generally wealthy bachelors, who have subsequently lost money at cards: names best known, Edward Fontaine, Reginald Forrest, Thomas Haggerty, Jr. At present seen frequently with R. G. Mapleson of firm of Sontag & Co.--"

"Mapleson!" said the two young men in a breath.

"I know what you mean," said McKenna, raising his hand. "Wait till I get through"; and he continued to read in his matter-of-fact, unemotional voice these pages of hard, glaring facts that left his hearers straining forward to catch every word:

"At present deeply involved in affair with E. V. Garraboy. Seems to have been introduced to the broker at desire of husband, to obtain through this channel information which his sister, Mrs. Enos Bloodgood, may have acquired from B. L. Majendie of financial affairs in general and particularly Atlantic Trust. Acquaintance developed into violent passion for Garraboy by Mrs. Cheever; has met him frequently of late, twice having been followed to his apartments. Of late, scenes with husband have been increasing in violence, coupled with mutual threats--believe rupture possible.

"_Item_: Bills against Mrs. Cheever known to be outstanding include $13,800 to Sontag & Co., for jewels; $1,200 to Madame Cortin for hats, etc.; $8,300 to Friegel Bros., robes.

"_Item_: The $100,000 she inherited, stands in her own name, but is believed to be now reduced to $75,000. Morning after theft of ring, sold short through Garraboy, her broker, 5,000 shares Union Pacific. For further details, see Garraboy.

"Charming little domestic circle, eh?" said McKenna, laying down the sheet. "Now for another:

"Bloodgood, Enos R.: Owner New York _Daily Star_; large holder of real estate in lower New York; director Metropolitan Opera; brought up, at death of his parents, by his grandfather, Joseph Bloodgood, president of the Northwestern Railroad, as his prospective heir. At age of 20, despite threats of his guardian, left college and married Charlotte Granby, daughter of his tutor. Promptly disinherited. Went to work as a clerk in Brooklyn drygoods store, living on twenty-five dollars a week, refusing all overtures from grandfather, who offered to forgive him on condition of separation from his wife, allowing her $20,000. Refused and lived in that condition for five years until her death, brought on by privations. Reconciled with grandfather and sent abroad for a journey through Europe. Two years later became violently infatuated with a Spanish singer of the Cafe Chantants and went with her on a trip to South America, again defying his guardian. At the end of a year, affair ended by a secret payment made by his grandfather to the woman to procure her desertion. Followed her and engaged in duel with her companion, from whom he received serious wounds. After recovery, returned to Paris, where he again became entangled in violent infatuations. On point of marrying an Austrian countess of doubtful history, fell ill with pneumonia and almost died. Returned to New York and became reconciled with grandfather. Seemed to turn over new leaf; entered journalism and made good record for steadiness and conservatism, leading exemplary life. Grandfather, in his will, however, contrary to expectations, cut him off with $20,000. Two months later, married Mrs. Georgiana Wakeman, fifteen years his senior, fortune estimated at ten millions, widow of former owner of N. Y. _Star_, which then passed under his control. Next ten years remarkable for his strict application to business and the dissoluteness of his private life. Mixed up in several promoting schemes with various success. At death of second wife, received bulk of fortune. Remained widower three years, greatly increasing fortune at period of Trust consolidations. Married third wife, Elise Garraboy, noted Southern beauty, no fortune. Union unhappy after first months; returned to his old habits. Three months ago forced to pay $15,000 to prevent blackmailing suit on part of a Miss Edna Rusk, chorus girl. Plunged heavily on short side of late market in a pool formed to bear market; reputed to have made immense gains.

"_Item_: Has been in confidential relations with Miss Maud Lille for some time. Visited her early morning, after theft of ring."

"That's queer," said Gunther, startled at this final detail. "Did Bloodgood do anything in the market that day?"

"Sold right and left," said McKenna, exchanging papers.

Beecher, more impressionable than his companion, said nothing, overcome by the bare recital of this brutal, materialistic life that once had been young and stirred to unbelievable sacrifice.

"Bloodgood, Mrs. Enos: Born Elise Garraboy; sister of Edward Garraboy; old Southern family, New Orleans; father Colonel Marston Garraboy; died when children were little. Mother married Boyd Hallowel, Englishman, third son Lord Carmody, came to live in New York. Hallowel died ten years later, leaving her with small income but social connections. Elise educated at convent; made debut in society at age of eighteen; great beauty; numerous suitors; engaged in second season to Enos Bloodgood; engagement broken; married a year later. Story current, forced into it to save mother from bankruptcy. Left husband twice in first two years, but persuaded to return by mother. Met Bernard L. Majendie eight months ago at Palm Beach. Infatuation no secret; understood that two weeks before panic had placed her interests in hands of lawyers, who procured evidence for divorce; action halted temporarily. Night of party at Mrs. Kildair's, trunks packed for journey, tickets purchased at Grand Central to Montreal. Day after, made no investments in Wall Street. Following day, left home with trunks and returned shortly after suicide. Violent scenes with husband. Shut herself up in room for hours. That night went to home of Majendie, company with--"

Suddenly McKenna stopped at a violent movement of surprise from Beecher, and said quickly, "--a woman and a young man. Said to be totally without funds; husband reputed to allow her only $120 a month pocket-money. That's all."

Gunther had been quick to see the agitation of his companion but, since he comprehended that whatever the part he had played Beecher wished to keep it in confidence, he pretended to have understood nothing.

"Then there is no trace of Mrs. Bloodgood's having gone into the market?" he said.

"None," replied McKenna. "There are other details, but they come better under head of the brother."

He shuffled the remaining sheets and then, as though divining the unease of Beecher, he said in a matter-of-fact tone:

"Here's the history of Miss Nan Charters; but as it gives us nothing important we don't know, I'll leave it out. Particularly as we're short of time. However, I'll say this--there is no record of any stock transactions except that which we know of already. The next is Miss Maud Lille, a curious character, too."

Beecher drew a long breath and relaxed in his chair, grateful to McKenna for his consideration.

"Lille, Maud," said the detective, reading. "Real name Margaret Case; daughter Rev. Hiram Case and Fanny Saunders, Zanesville, Ohio; left home at age of sixteen; studied one year to be trained nurse; left hospital and studied stenography; later joined traveling circus, business department; became press agent. Stranded in northern Arizona; earned living by writing for local newspapers under name Jane Anderson; went to San Francisco and from there to Honolulu, supporting herself by her writings, occasionally taking regular position as stenographer. In Hawaii met and married an eastern adventurer known under name of Edward Bracken; returned with him to San Francisco, where couple engaged in mining speculations. Husband pursued for fraud and fled; wife arrested but released. Went to Chicago after securing divorce and changed name to Maud Lille. Sent to Cripple Creek by Chicago _World_ and made a hit by her graphic accounts of labor conditions. Married Patrick O'Fallon, wealthy mine owner. Went with him for trip in Europe but apparently dissatisfied with life left him and returned to newspaper work, establishing herself in New York. Not divorced. Under own name author of several successful novels; prefers Bohemian existence of journalist evidently, reporting prize-fights, political conventions, murder trials, etc. Attached to staff of New York _Star_ and apparently much in confidence of owner. Lately much interested in stock market. On morning after theft met E. V. Garraboy at Levere's restaurant, near home, before breakfast; returned to her apartment and saw Enos Bloodgood two hours later. Reported sold short 500 shares Union Pacific."

"By Jove," exclaimed Beecher as Gunther rose excitedly to his feet, "you've got it!"

"Maud Lille took it first and transferred it to Garraboy," said Gunther, then he stopped, puzzled; "but Bloodgood--that's incredible!"

"Hold in your horses," said McKenna, shaking his head with silent laughter, delighted, in fact, that they had fallen into his trap. "There's one more little history to read." He hesitated and then said: "Now, I don't want to play up to a little tin god on wheels, though that's easy enough. I'll say this, that a good deal of the information I am reading you I have had in hand. The gentleman whose bright little history I am going to read you, I have had my eyes on for some time. That'll develop.