CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FORTUNE TELLER.

Mr. Le Moyne was holding an interview with Scott. He had gradually acquired the belief that what Scott Wilmer could not accomplish, could not be done by anyone, and since the desired end had not been brought about he had nearly given up in despair.

"I am about discouraged," he said, "for I can see no possible way out, can you, Mr. Wilmer?"

"Have a little more patience, and as a last resort we will advertise. I have reason for wishing to keep the affair quiet for the present; for I have some very peculiar suspicions, and I may be incorrect, but I think we shall find out presently how the matter stands. I have just had an interview with my former valet, who thinks he can help me out."

"What, that boy?"

"Yes."

"I cannot see what a boy can do."

"That boy is a great calculator, and he is as faithful as Noah's dove."

"He shall be repaid if he accomplishes anything at all."

"He needs it. The boy is ambitious and works very hard."

"Well," said Le Moyne, "I have decided to search as long as there is the least shadow of a hope. There is a mystery about it that must be cleared up."

"I have an idea that Paul has some good ground on which to base his hopes of success, for the boy is never over-sanguine, and he must have at least some foundation."

"I really hope he has," said Le Moyne.

It was a whole year since Paul had left Scott, and he had seen him but twice during that time. He did not know where he was at present, but he believed he would return if he lived.

June entered his room. She was still June Wilmer. Guy had urged her to take the name of Horton, but she told him in a decided way that she was not quite ready, and he was obliged to content himself with a promise. The fact was that June was testing his loyalty, but he would wait a lifetime for her, he said, rather than to marry another.

Guy was conversing with June on this very afternoon that Mr. Le Moyne had been consulting Scott. A servant had called June to come to the kitchen and have her fortune told by an old gypsy woman who was selling bead work. June went down asking Guy and Scott to follow her. Sitting down, they looked at the old dame who was handling her bead work, but did not raise her head, when they entered.

"I think I have seen you before," Scott said.

She shook her head.

"You are going to tell my fortune," he said; "tell me, then, if I shall ever be wealthy."

"You are more wealthy now than you need to be. Oh, you need not question me, I can tell you all."

"Very well, go on."

"Your mother is living, but your father is dead."

"Very true."

"You have been married."

June started.

"You married a beautiful woman, but she is gone."

"Dead?" Scott asked.

"No, she loves another."

"Is she happy?"

"As happy as she knows how to be. She is far from here. You are not happy, and you are trying to work out a great mystery."

"Will I accomplish it?"

"If you let me help you."

"I think I shall get through without help."

"You are afraid of the old gypsy, but let me tell you there is the stain of blood on your hands within another year."

Scott frowned, and June looked serious. It was the same words that the old gypsy had told some years before.

"There are tears for you, too. Do you believe me?"

"Hardly."

"I can tell you something that will make you believe. Away back in the past I can see you lying asleep, and a huge knife drawn over your head. If you will let me I can save you from another scene like that, which would be your death blow."

"How?"

"I can't tell you now."

"Then you cannot help me."

"I can if you will tell me a secret."

"I prefer to keep my own secrets," said Scott; "here is your money."

"Then you will not let me help you?"

"Not at present."

"Some day you will grind your teeth in rage because you did not accept what I offered."

"Very well," said Scott, as he arose to leave the room, "when I want help I will let you know."

"Then I may be far away."

Scott made no reply, but left the room, followed by Guy and June.

"I cannot see how she can tell," said June.

"Why, June," said Scott, smiling, "are you foolish enough to think she knows?"

"Why, Scott, she did tell the truth."

"It is all guess work."

"It is very good guess work, then," she said, thoughtfully.

The old gypsy went her way. It was at least three miles away that she entered a building which stood in a row of worn tenement houses. Up two flights of stairs she went, and through a hall that received but a small amount of light from the outer world. She entered a dingy and scantily furnished room.

"There, Crisp, I have found him at last," she said, to a slovenly dressed man who lay at full length on a shabby, worn out couch.

"You have, do you say? Where?"

"Oh, about three miles away. I found out all I wanted to for the present. I told his fortune and made him believe that I knew all about it. I told him about his wife being gone and his father being dead."

"Did you find out anything about the paper?"

"No."

"Well, I can tell Miss Rene that if she don't furnish the sum she promised to that night, I'll settle her trouble in no time. I know well enough she's got the paper, for I had it in my hand ready to give to her when I got the money, and I believe she was the one who done the shooting or hired some villain to do it for her, 'cause how the devil would anybody else know that I was there?"

"Oh, I've thought for a long time that it was her, and if I ever lay hands on her she will fare hard," said Meg, clinching her fist.

"So she will," said Crisp, with an oath.

"She thinks now she's got the paper that it's all right with her. The old man works it pretty cunning, too."

"I s'pose that lawyer--that man of Rene's, would give us a pretty good sum to tell him where Rene is, and I'll hunt her up and tell him if it takes forty years to find her, if she don't come to time," said Crisp.

"Why don't you start out and look her up? We can't make nothing laying around here."

"Can't we?" said Meg. "Just you wait. I hain't got through with that rich lawyer, yet. Jest remember we can't be all over at once."

"No, but somebody's got to keep a deuced sharp lookout to find just where this business will end. You see why, don't you?" said Crisp.

"Yes, I see why; about the only hold we had is gone unless we come right out and tell all we know, and that would be putting us in a nice pickle, wouldn't it?" said Meg.

"Well, I'm bound to get even with that fiend if it takes my own neck."

"There's no use losing your neck if you work the business right," said Meg.

"She feels mighty fine since Zu is out of the way," said Crisp, "and she don't care whether she died in the asylum or not, so she's gone. It's a devilish good piece o' luck, anyway."

"Yes, we'll never be troubled with her any more, and that's mighty lucky."

"It seems kinder queer, though, that a couple of little threshings like that should make her crazy," said Crisp.

"Well, she never had any too good sense anyhow, but it's a lucky thing for all hands that she's dead. I wonder how it was that she dared go out in such a thunderstorm, when it was so awful dark, but you know if she turned crazy first, then it wasn't any wonder, but there's no tellin' jest when she did get crazy. At any rate she's dead and I'm glad of it."

"And now the next thing is to bring that other jade to time, but, where to find her now is the question. She told me she was going away with that Brunswick, but she didn't tell me when she was going, she said she would let me know, but she's a liar, a liar, but we've got to hunt her up, and make her hand over a good bunch o' money."

"Never mind, she don't make nothin' hangin' off this way," said Meg, lighting her pipe.

She took from her pocket a small amount of change, and, giving it to Crisp, told him to go out and buy some bread and cheese for their supper.

When Scott Wilmer went to his room, he closed the door and turned the key in the lock that no one might enter. Seating himself he took from his pocket several letters.

"Let me see," he said; "it strikes me as being very peculiar, but I more than half believe I am right. I know very well that I have seen her before, and I do not believe that she comes here for nothing, but what can it be? Perhaps a sharp watch will give the desired information. Yes, this letter and the facts that have come before me arouse my suspicion. I'll give her a good price if she will tell my fortune again. Her very actions, when I went in the room, were singular, and the more I think of it, the more I think I am right. At all events I will study up the matter and see what I can make of it. It is quite likely that she is here for no good at least."

He found June, and said to her: "June, if that gypsy woman comes here again do not let her go until she tells my fortune."

"Why, Scott, what is the matter?"

"Nothing, only that I wish to see her. You will not forget, will you?"

"No," June replied, wondering at the time why Scott had suddenly grown so foolish.

Scott was preparing to leave the house one day when June entered his room and startled him with the intelligence that there was a fortune teller below.

"Is it the one who told my fortune before?" he asked, in a voice that caused June to wonder.

"Yes," she answered.

"Send her here, please."

June left him, wondering what could have come over Scott to cause him to be so deeply interested in fortune-telling. She conducted old Meg to Scott's room, then left them alone.

"You have come to tell me more of my fortune, have you?" Scott asked, placing a chair for her.

"More," she repeated. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that you told me a part of it, and now you will tell me the rest."

"I? When?"

"Not many days ago."

Old Meg looked around the room in a sly way. Every article in the room passed under her gaze, and she evidently saw that it was useless to try to carry out the deception, which she had undertaken, for she said:

"Oh, I do remember I was here before."

Scott had closely scrutinized every feature, not losing the slightest expression of the face, nor the light that now and then shot from her eyes when she looked quickly into his own.

"Do you know what you told me before?" Scott asked.

"Yes," she said. "I know it all, and I told you you wanted to work out a mystery."

"What is the mystery?"

"Ah!" she said, with a cunning twinkle in her snake-like eyes, "that is my secret."

"If it is, I wish to know it. I will pay you according to the fortune you reveal, so proceed."

"In the first place you would like to know where your wife is, and I can find her in a hurry, and the man she lives with will some day make her weep. You don't know even why she married you, but I can tell you all about that and the mystery you are working on, too."

Scott had laughed at the idea of fortune-telling, but he was quite sure that this old gypsy possessed the knowledge of some facts he wished to know.

"Did you tell me anything more when you were here?" Scott asked.

"I did tell you something you did not like to hear: that there was the stain of blood on your hands."

"Anything more?"

"Yes, I see you lying asleep, with a long knife above your head in the hand of a man. If you will let me I will help you."

Scott did not for a moment entertain the idea that Meg was wise from any supernatural power. He believed she knew something of his private affairs, and that she had a secret to sell. He had no idea what the secret was, or how she had gained possession of it, but what she had told him, together with some other facts that he possessed, strongly convinced him that she was interested in his affairs in some way. But while Meg thought that Scott's sole object was to find his wife, his ideas lay entirely in another direction.

"I can tell you something that you would like to know, a great secret, but you will have to pay me well."

"Do you know where my wife is?"

"No, but I can find her."

"Is this the secret you wish me to pay a big price for?"

"Oh, no, it is something that would make you wish you had never been born, if you knew it."

"Well, here is your money," said Scott, dropping three silver dollars in her hand. "Leave me your address, and when I want your assistance I will call on you."

"Yes," said Scott, as he was left again to himself, "I am sure she is the same, and she pretends to know all about Irene, and she thinks, no doubt, I will pay her a fabulous price for imparting the knowledge to me, but she is mistaken. It would do me no good to know. Poor, foolish girl," he said, as he stood with folded arms, gazing out upon the street. "How easily she was flattered. God knows I pity her for her vanity. I wish she might have looked ahead, and seen the misery in store for her. She will soon be left alone again, for that villain will go in search of another weak-minded victim."

At that moment a carriage, drawn by a pair of unruly horses, dashed down the street. An infirm old woman, who was at that moment crossing, screamed in affright. A score of hands went up to stay the fractious animals, and in a measure checked their speed, but there was but one who had the courage to do more, and the old woman would have been trampled to death had it not been for the aid of a woman who, springing quickly forward, caught the bridle and held it firmly until stronger hands came to her rescue. Scott, seeing the danger, lost no time in going to offer assistance.

"Are you hurt?" the lady asked of the old woman, who stood trembling in every limb.

"No, but I'm so scared I can't hardly stand," she said.

"Are you unharmed?" Scott asked, addressing the young lady, who he noticed was plainly dressed, but had a very handsome face, surrounded by clustering curls of auburn hair.

"I am not hurt in the least," she said, pulling her veil further over her face, and, turning around, she walked briskly away, though not until Scott had time to notice the graceful carriage of the full and well-developed form.

"Do you know that lady?" asked a gentleman bystander.

"I do not," Scott replied, as he gave the reins into the hands of the driver of the spirited animals.

"That is Miss Elsworth, the authoress."

"Is it possible?"

"Yes, you have, no doubt, read some of her works."

"I do not know, but she possesses a great deal of courage."