i m t _^ \ m P m - EL THE EMPTY HOTEL. OE CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES THE EMPTY HOTEL BY ARCHIBALD CLAVERING GUNTER, AUTHOR OF " MR. BARNES OF NEW YORK," " MR. POTTER OF TEXAS," "THE FIGHTING TROUBADOUR," ETC., ETC. LONDON : WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. THE EMPTY HOTEL. BOOK I. THE EMPTY HOSTELRY. I. THE ONLY GUEST II. THE LOVE OF A POLO MAN III. THE FIRST LADY GUEST , 5 26 33 BOOK II. A STRANGE LAD V. CHAPTER PACK IV. ' THUNDERING DEVIL " .... 51 V. THE CHAUFFEUR CRAZE 62 VI. THE SLEEPING MAN AT SHERRY'S CASINO . 75 VII. THE PEEPHOLE INTO A LADY'S PARLOUR . 85 VIII. WHAT HAPPENED AT POINT JUDITH . . 99 2129928 U. CONTENTS. BOOK III. A FRENCH LA WYER. CHAPTER PAGE IX. THE FALSE TELEPHONE 114 X. THE PARISIAN AGENT OF AMERICAN LADIES 132 XI. " COULD BIRDIE, THE BURGLAR CATCHER, DO THAT?" 147 BOOK IV. THE SURRENDER OF A WOMAN. CHAPTER PAGE XII. I GO IT BLIND ....;.. 166 XIII. I ANNOUNCE APPROACHING BIGAMY . . . 181 XIV. "No ONE WAS EVER JEALOUS OF ME BEFORE " 193 XV. Two OF BENNT'S WIDOWS .... 208 XVI. THE HOP AT THE CASINO 226 XVII. "THE SITUATION is TOO ATROCIOUS" . . 240 BOOK V. AN ELOPEMENT IN A LOCOMOBILE. CHAPTER PACK XVIII. "THEY TOOK HER AWAY ON Thundering Dev il " 247 XIX. THE PURSUIT OF THE LOCOMOBILE . . . . . 259 XX. THE LADY PIRATB . .... . 268 XXI. THE SPECTRE AT My WEDDING FEAST . 283 BOOK I. THE EMPTY HOSTELRY. CHAPTER I. THE ONLY GUEST. I was met at the door of the dining-room by the obsequious Soloman A. Smith, a smiling darkey whose plump flesh threatened to burst through his well worn dress coat. Conducting me with several effusive waves of his hand through the spacious apartment between dozens of unoccupied tables, he showed me to tRe place where I would take my evening meal. As I sat down the unique loneliness of the great room seemed to assault me, the long rows of vacant tables, the mathematical regularity of whose china, napkins and glassware, indicated absolute unuse, cast a chill upon my spirits. "You hab de whole dining-room at yo' command," Smith said effusively, as he arranged my chair for me. " So I see," I replied, adding : " You are the head waiter here?" 6 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Yes, sah, Fse de head waitah of the Hotel Conti- nental, Narragansett Pier. Befoah de season is thor- oughly commenced, Fse also de waitahs. Our crew ain't yet arrived ; dey's resting in Washington." And Mr. Smith had taken my order and brought me a re- markably good meal. " You'll find dis particularly fine, sah," he remarked as the collation progressed. " De chef has been itch- ing for yo' for de last two weeks ; and he has let his- self out on yo' dinner." The meal was so good that I ordered a pint of cham- pagne to accompany it. Then I sat awaiting coming voices and other diners rather eagerly as the solitary, banquet was beginning to effect the buoyancy of my spirits. jl Drawing the cork of a bottle of Mumm's Extra Dry with particular empressment, a great flourish of napkin and a report that resounded through the empty room, Mr. Solomon A. Smith observed: De fust bottle of wine opened in de dinin'-room dis season, sah ! " " It's remarkably cool," I replied abstractedly. " It oughter be, sah ; it's been on de ice for two whole weeks." " This steak is extraordinarily tender." ' " Oughter be, sah ; it's been hangin' up for two whole ." Mr. Solomon Smith champed his teeth together. j A little later I suggested, in stupid vacuity, for the solitary vastness of the apartment was beginning to 'dull my senses : " This ice cream is very cold." " Yas, sah, been froze for two weeks." " The coffee is exceedingly strong." " Yas, sah ; it's been made for ." Here I interrupted Smith by voicing a suspicion THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 7 that had been gradually growing upon me. " You don't mean to hint," I gasped, " that I am the only guest in this big hotel ? " "tYas, sah; yo'se opened de season for us," an- swered the darkey, expanding the whites of his eyes till they were like porcelain balls. " But the season is half over," I jeered, rising from my seat, loneliness making my tone savage and sneer- ing. At this Mr. Smith broke forth, a strange entreaty in his voice. " For de Lawd's sake, don't go! If yo' get out now, yo'll jest smash de Boss's heart. He was nigh done up when you come and gibe him hope. If yo absquatulate, Massa Barclay'll throw up de sponge and do something desperate. Don't yo' go now for de lobe of marcy." Thus adjured I sat down again and finished the meal. Whether the coffee had been made two weeks or not, my demi-tasse was good strong Mocha. "! So after dispelling the gloom of the big unten- anted dining-room by a pony of brandy, also of excel- lent flavor, I stroll out through the empty corridors, catching an imploring glance from the proprietor as he stands in his dimly illuminated office. I can see that the boniface fears that I, his only guest, will fly from the emptiness of his deserted hotel and leave him more lonely than ever. On the great veranda I turn down one of a hun- dred vacant chairs, light my cigar and cogitate on the situation. I recall with almost a shudder the weird effect of the empty "dining-room. " The Hotel Con- tinental, Narragansett Pier, has no guest but me ^within its walls/' I sneer and gaze at the picturesque 8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. shadows the setting sun is placing on the languid At-_ lantic surf as it laves the sea wall in front of me. r Then I run over a little incident that looms up in" my mind and indicates the Hotel Continental may have no other customers but myself throughout the season. 1 This had not impressed me before, now it does.f Some ten years before this time I had spent a sum- mer at Narragansett Pier, and, at that period, the Con- tinental was probably as popular and as fashionable as any of the hotels at this well-known seaside resort. Returning after this long absence, most of the time spent in the Rocky Mountains and on the Pacific Coast, I had gone, as a mater of course, to my old time inn. Alighting from the five-thirty train from New; York, at the pretty railroad station on a bright July day, the pleasant ocean breezes fanning my cheeks, I had thought with a sigh of relief of the hot parched West I had left behind me and expected to forget that thermometers ever registered one hundred and odd, splashing in the cool surf of the Atlantic. Contentedly, I had given the order to a Jehu of one of the little yellow-covered wagons that do duty as general hacks during the summer: J' To the Hotel Continental." The man had looked astonished, but had touched his hat and driven me there. Arriving at my destination he had demanded fifty cents for his trip of a short three hundred yards. Recollecting the usual tariff, I had handed him a quarter of a dollar, taken my valise in my hand and stepped out ; apparently raising myself in cabby's estimation, as I had cut down his fare. " Why did you ask fifty cents ? " I said sternly. "Did you think I had never been in Narragansett before ? " .THE SURPRISES OF AN 'EMPTY HOTEL. g " I was almighty sure ye hadn't," answered the man 'stolidly. ."Why?" " Because ye wouldn't be apt to come to the Con- [tinental if ye had. Haven't had a fare to this here hotel this summer," grinned the hackman, and drove away, leaving me very much astonished. A moment after a stout darkey had rushed down the Hotel stairs, took my hand baggage and mur- mured : " Bless de Lawd, de season's begun ! " " You are one of the bell-boys ? " I asked ; the fel- loy looked too fat to be of that active fraternity. " Yas, sah, I am de bell-boy I mean one of de bell- boys Solomon A. Smith." Passing through some silent and solitary corridors, 1 had stood at the office. Here the proprietor welcomed me effusively and eagerly offered me the register. ; As I placed my signature upon it, I had glanced over the pages of the book, and though nearly the end of July, my name, Francis Trehurn Marchmont, New York City, had seemed very prominent among a meager array of, entries. " You don't seem to be very full ? " I had remarked casually to the proprietor there was no clerk. " No," he said, attempting geniality, " we haven't got thoroughly going yet; but we hope to do a big business from now on to the end of the season. Things ain't started up. We're a late hotel." H "W r hy, ten years ago, when I was here before, you were full long ere this," I suggested. i " Well, yes, I presume they were. This is the first year I've had the cursed place." The man checked himself with a sigh. " But you'll find yourself, Mr. " he glanced at the register " Mr. Marchmont, 10 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. as comfortable 'here and a good deal less crowded than you might at some of the other hotels. Besides, you'll have plenty of attendance until the crowd comes." Then he cried : " Front ! " and rang the bell. Solomon A. Smith appeared. J " Here, boy, show this gentleman to room seven- teen." And the proprietor mentioned a figure per diem in my ear that would be perfectly satisfactory even to a more economical man than myself. A moment after I had found myself in a room that was certainly one of the best in the house, just up one flight, with plenty of sea breeze and an outlook on the Ocean Drive, and that magnificent expanse of water upon which at times float as grand a series of naval panoramas as ever cross the eye of man the cruises and races of the New York Yacht Club. In addition, at times, the North Atlantic Squadron ma- neuvers on its waves. My room had pleased me. A few minutes after my trunks were brought in, and I had arranged my impedi- menta for a permanent stay. Then I had gone down to the dining-room and found that instead of being one of a few guests I was the first, last, and only one in the big summer hotel. As I meditate upon the veranda, my depressing lone- liness is made prominent by the bustle of this lively watering-place; busy Ocean Road emphasizes the ghastly quiet of the spacious, deserted balcony. it A couple of bright parties in automobiles drive up to Kinney's magnificent cottage that is at my right hand, scarce a hundred and fifty yards away. Several pretty girls, in light summer toilets, accompanied by .their swains, pass on the sidewalk seemingly hurrying V .THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. II 'frorrTprotracted flirtations on the Rocks towards late dinners. These are followed by an Italian with his .organ and his monkey, who have apparently finished their day's work, as the monk is asleep on his padrone's shoulder. Looking towards the north there is quite a bustling- throng at the cluster of hotels that ends in the New Mathewson. A number of equipages are bringing ' back parties from their afternoon drives to the Coun- try Club and Point Judith, though the carriages are rather too distant for me to distinguish the details in the coming gloom of night. The electric lights are commencing to show upon the Casino arch and gleam from the distant cottage windows on the Rocks. Turning from the land, I gaze upon the sea. The last sun rays fall upon the lazy swell, and its ripples, which have been silvery, become golden. Through them, heading for Newport, passes a great white steam yacht, gliding over the brilliant water like a phantom ship. Her dimensions indicate she is an ocean trav- eler, big enough to take a gay party round the world in princely magnificence. Her graceful run and trim appearance are aided By the natty rake of three light fore and aft rigged masts and a broad white smoke- stack, banded by two vermilion lines near its top. From this, a filmly veil-like vapor, white as the sea- foam, floats lazily up. Though the vessel is driving through the water at nearly eighteen knots an hour, scarce a ripple is shown at her graceful prow, indi- cating exceedingly fine lines forward and very great power in the engine room below. The whole craft has the appearance of one of those floating palaces that are growing quite common in these waters that are patrolled by the crafts of so 13 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. '> multi-millionaires. As she passes, a fairy ship in a fairy sea, I catch the flutter of the white summer lawns of some yachtswoman pacing her quarter deck. On the great craft the lady seems as much alone as I am in the deserted 'hotel. Upon this evidence of vast wealth 1 gaze, enjoying its beauty, no envy in my heart of its owner, though I cannot help reflecting that had not a most astute and experienced villain been my business partner in the far West, I would now have money enough to own a craft approaching this in magnificence. Though the transaction has been closed two years, I cannot help reflecting that Thomas Cadwallader Bennt, the veteran mining operator, old in the craft of a thousand iniquities in speculation, had swindled me, who had been young in the tactics of the mining business, out of my just portion of the great Yellow- stone copper mine in Montana; that with the expe- rience of seventy years brought against my inexpe- rience of twenty-six and pitting his millions against my puny capital, Mr Bennt had worn me out by pro- tracted litigation, until, to save anything, I have been compelled to compromise ; and for two hundred thou- sand dollars had surrendered a just claim to one- half of that great property which now, placed in one of the copper trusts, has become worth many millions. After deducting my lawyer's fees I had found myself only in possession of enough money to live very mod- estly in this present American world, where the in- terest on a hundred thousand dollars is scarce suffi- cient to give a man cigars and sustenance. (! In the two years that had elapsed since I concluded my copper mine deal with Mr. Thomas Cadwallader Bennt I had, lounged about the Pacific. Coast, the THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 13 Rockies and Northern Mexico, recuperating after the excessive mental and physical strain of a protracted and harassing litigation, where I had had my all at stake and the man who had swindled me had risked but a moiety of his fortune. Remembering this, I wppld perhaps mentally curse Thomas Cadwallader Behnt, but I reflect that almost immediately after his attorney had received my deeds to the Yellowstone copper mine, the old millionaire speculator had passed away from life in Paris. } Notwithstanding his money, Bennt is gone, and I am still young. Two years' rest has restored my strength ; mentally and physically I am good for half a dozen more copper speculations. Perhaps with the experience gained from this one and my knowledge of mining I may some day become rich enough to support a big steam yacht. Even at present I have enough money as a bachelor to enjoy myself and with youth and health I am going to have a pleasant two months at Narragansett. > My meditations are broken in upon by my landlord, who seems lonely himself. As I look at him, though he is plump, and apparently striving for good spirits, I really pity Mr. Henry J. Barclay, whose name is upon its register as the proprietor of the hotel. ('< (Theoretically I know that keeping a continually empty hostelry must be the most heart-breaking busi- ness in the world. A losing theatrical speculation is , 'discouraging enough, but its unfortunate possessor only sees the meagre receipts once in twenty-four hours when he figures the box-office returns; a bad stock investment can be changed by a good trader getting on to the right side of the market into a win- ning venture; but a hotel, vast, empty, untenanted, 14 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. with its rent and expenses going on every minute, and nobody to eat its food in the dining-room nor drink its wines nor smoke its cigars at the bar, nor pay its weekly bills at the office, must be about as distressing a business proposition as was ever invented by the devil for an unfortunate struggler after a fortune or a livelihood. j. Mr. Barclay's remarks indicate this. He says rather entreatingly : ''You won't mind my sitting down and chatting with you ? " " Certainly not." " I'm much obliged to you," he observes. " I haven't had anybody except the colored help to talk to since I opened this infernal shebang. Won't you come into the barroom and take a nip with me in honor of my first guest of the season ? " " Not so early in the evening," I laugh. " I have to take a little something once in a while ; I am so cursed lonely," he remarks apologetically. " I'd give the darned thing up except that I hate to say I am beaten. But now I have hopes. You have broken the ice. Hope you are comfortable?" < " So far, I have been very well pleased," I return. " You can have one or two more rooms if you want and no extra charge. I'll throw them into a suite for you. I have ordered a few more windows opened all around the house to give it the appearance of having quite a lot of new arrivals." " Why," I return, " if I recall rightly I saw about a column of new arrivals at your hotel, published in one of the New York papers only a day or two before I left." \ " Yes, yes," assents Barclay, " they were all the ar- rivals of the last three seasons put into one. I naN THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 15 urally imagined they would all be coming back again and anticipated their names on the register. Thought it might help business." As Barclay has talked I have been turning his un- fortunate situation over in my mind. To him I suggest : " The way my hackman looked at me when I mentioned the Continental might have scared me off if I had not been an old habitant of the hotel. ,\\hy dton't you bribe the hackmen here, to turn in all the custom they can to you. There's a hint for you ! " The boniface cries enthusiastically: " I'll act on it at once ! I'll tell every cabby on the Pier I'll give 'em a dollar for every boarder they bring me. Thank you for your grand idea ! " " Don't mention it," I answer carelessly, having no inkling what an extraordinary change my grand idea will make in my existence. As we smoke our cigars and chat, the Ocean Drive becomes a little more lively, for dinner is now ap- parently over with most people. Among its equipages pass half a dozen automobiles and locomobiles of va- rious sizes, horse-powers and noises. " Those things," says the proprietor, " tend to make things lively here. That screecher coming down the road they call it the Thundering Devil is good for two runaways any time on a crowded afternoon. I think its chauffeur curse him likes to frighten horses. He's a Frenchman. There's another coming along behind that's nearly as effective as a horse fright- ener; people round here have christened it the Fire Boy. Hello, where are you going?" ' The last of this is spoken in a hurry, as I rise and run down the front steps, calling : " Hi, Charley ! " for in the last of the locomobiles I have just recog- B 1 6 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. nized an old friend of mine, Charley Manders, sitting next the driver. At my salute Manders directs his chauffeur to stop, and a moment after I am shaking hands with an ath- letic, horsey young gentleman who had once been my school chum and who had put with me at my advice a little money into the Yellowstone copper mine and had been compelled like me to take a profit of one or two hundred per cent, when he ought to have received a very substantial addition to his already large fortune from the investment. " Hello, Frank ! I didn't recognize you at first. You are the unexpected. Back from the Rockies ? " cries my friend, holding out a sinewy brown hand. " Yes. What are you doing here ? " answer I. " Killing time till my polo team comes up. I hurt my wrist in a tumble at Lakewood, but I hope to be in form when we play here in a couple of weeks. The Brankie Warws you've heard of them. We open the tournament against the Point Judiths up at the County Club." Of course I have heard and read of the Brankie Warws, one of the famous polo teams of the country, upon which play the two celebrated Elderberry boys and of which team Charley Manders, No. 3, my friend, is a member. We have scarce shaken hands, when in his easy polo way Charley commands his chauffeur : " Thompson, skip out and give your legs a chance. Meet me at the Casino." Then, turning to me, he says : " Take his place be- side me, won't you Frank ? " And I, accepting his invitation, Charley remarks, glancing up at the Con- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 1 7 tinental : " What the dickens have you been doing in that morgue ? " " Living there," I answer. " I suppose life in the Rockies makes you prefer solitude," grins Charley. Our locomobile is already purring savagely along the Ocean Road, making one or two horses stand upon their hind feet, but Thundering Devil ahead of us has produced a runaway> " , " That is the most dangerous machine in town," sug- gests Charley, pointing to it. " Its owner ought to be indicted for running it." " How about yours ? " I ask. " Oh, my meek little Fire Boy is innocent compared to it. That brutal machine belongs to a Frenchman, a chap who 'has just come over from Paris and calls himself Alfred, le Comte de Varnes. He is usually in Newport more American heiresses there, but ran over here a few days since; to locate himself for the coming polo, I imagine." " You don't seem to like the Comte de Varnes ? " I suggest. " Well, I am not particularly partial to foreigners, though they have a few good riders among them," replies my friend, " still De Varnes, to do him jus- tice, straddles a pony with a very good knee grip, and handles a polo stick more like an Englishman than a Frenchman. But tell me about yourself," he adds genially. " As we take a run around the place you can give me your adventures, Frank, since we settled up with that damned Bennt. He has gone to kingdom come, though, and left, they say, about the prettiest widow on the track behind him." " Left a widow ! I I never knew the old scoundrel 1 8 THE SURPRISES OF AN. EMPTY HOTEL. ' I .was married," I answer. Then perhaps, mentally, transferring my animosity from the defunct Bennt to the living Bennt, I sneer: "A pretty widow? .Why; the old scoundrel was seventy when he died. The pretty widow must be rather ancient. " Twenty-two, I am told," remarks Charley sen-^ tentiously. " Great Scott ! I hope she gave him a lively tussle before he died," I scoff. " Couldn't ; didn't have time ! " " Oh, young and pretty Twenty-Two, married to senile Seventy, can do a good deal in a few months." " Didn't have the few months. Married Tommie Bennt on his death-bed." " Gee whiz ! " This Western expression is drawn from me by astonishment. " Yes," remarks Manders, " from reports, Bennt didn't live more than a polo period after she became his wife. I believe the girl was half jollied into it, half forced into it by an impecunious father. Jingo, didn't Bennt's relatives say nasty things about her! However, she didn't appear to be very grateful to her paternal, for I believe Mrs. Bennt fired her parent on a pension almost immediately, and now, on dit, she is .very much run after in Paris." 1 " Yes, I should think she would be. Somewhere between ten and twenty millions, I imagine," I sneer, adding surlily : " And about two or three millions of it belongs to us." " Yes, theoretically," answers Charley. " We didn't quite get through the goal posts. Old Tommie Bennt was too good a goal keeper. However, they say one of Tommie's relatives and a lady or two who claim in New York at odd times to have been that aged THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 1 9 reprobate's common-law wives are giving the widow some little trouble." " Of course ; it's practically impossible for a rich man to have lived in New York and not leave some such ladies behind him under the extraordinary and atrocious marriage laws of that State," I answer re- flectively. " But that needn't bother a young man of your enterprising nature. You might run over to Paris and see about recovering those millions if you could get Bennt's pretty widow interested enough to marry you." " Don't think I've got the nerve, after the reports about her," mutters my friend. " Rather a peculiar admission from a man who risks a broken collar bone and internal injuries every polo game," I cogitate and am about to say so, when the bright scene that greets my eyes stops further dis- cussion." r; We have jogged up to Central Street and from there out on the Kingstowne Road during this conversation, and now on our return we are in front of the Casino, for this was before that popular resort of Narragan- set Pier, and, for that matter, Newport also, was de- stroyed by fire. '.. Gazing at its flashing lights and its numerous tables surrounded by gay dining parties of merry men and beautiful women in exquisite summer toilets, which permit pleasing 'displays of shining shoulders and gleaming arms, Charlie remarks : " Seems to me a person needn't go to Paris to find lovely girls or pretty widows." " Or perchance, even fortune," I suggest, adding savagely : " I rather imagine you might have a fair chance with Bennt's relict a young dashing wooer 20 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. f. :" \. like you, my polo-pony centaur, is just the kind of animal to catch the widow of a seventy-year-old bridegroom. That kind of women marry first for money, afterwards for passion 1 " J> But Manders No. 3 doesn't seem to hear me. He .whispers : " There's sweet little Birdie Jameson at iTravers's dinner party they are just getting up!" He steps hurriedly off his locomobile at the entrance under the arch, gives it into the charge of Thompson who is waiting for it, and strides for the Casino ve- randa. " By the bye," I ask, as I follow him, " who is that dark-eyed, long mustached fellow beside Miss Jame- son now ? " i " Oh, that's De Varnes," answers my companion. " Birdie is an heiress. The Count likes heiresses." " Did you ever hear of a French Count who didn't like American heiresses?" I jeer. | " No, and a good raany American heiresses are rather partial to foreign titles also," mutters Manders, who sees the place he coveted occupied by the at- tractive foreigner. With this Charley takes a chair at ' a nearby table, and, motioning me to a seat opposite to him, orders gloomily B. & S.'s for both of us. At the Casino I pass a pleasant few hours during the early part of the evening, listening to Sherry's Hun- garian Band, with Charley Manders, the Elderberry boys and a few other of his polo friends, being casually introduced to several pretty girls and one or two mag- nificent widows. Among the girls is Miss Queenie Lawton, a charming brunette with a very pert tongue, [who lives at the Mathewson, and among the widows Mrs. Sophie Arnold, an extremely effective blonde, JTHE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 21 ;who, Charley whispers to me, is the liveliest thing off horseshoes in Narragansett. As the evening runs on, I discover that my 'friend Manders, despite my suggestion about his running over to Paris to woo the widow of the man who had swindled us, is decidedly fascinated by Miss Birdie Jameson, to whom a little later I am introduced. Miss Birdie, who is vivacious and very pretty, per- haps lets her bright blue eyes rest too often upon the rather romantic Latin face of De Varncs, who has a cavalry bearing and a nonchalant repose in his address and manner that is unusual in a Frenchman. Yet, as I inspect the Count, having been introduced to him, as he sits beside Miss Jameson, I notice that his eyes have, in their dark depths, always an alert inquiry, as if he were seeking for something or some one and not finding it. Two or three times when beautiful women have entered the Casino he has glanced searchingly at them ; and seemed disappointed. Still he is sufficiently devoted to the young lady beside him to make my friend, Manders, hate him with a good, cordial, sportsman, left-at-the-scratch hate. For Miss Birdie pays scarcely any attention to Charley's remarks, enduring them with a languid assent or countering them with an almost insolent repartee. Once or twice, when he makes some assertion, she turns her bright eyes upon De Varnes and, looking into tHe Frenchman's face, asks appealingly : " Do y'ou think so, Count? " or, " Is that your opinion, Mon- sieur Alfred ? " in so sweet a voice that young Man- ders, who apparently plays polo much better than love, drinks his champagne very gloomily. As I, the on- looker, inspect the affair, it seems to me that Miss Birdie's indifference is somewhat assumed and. her 22 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. preference for the Frenchman is intended to produce a quickening effect upon the dashing young polo player's passion. Like most American girls of twenty, the young lady is as well equipped for flirtation by experience and education as her grandmother was when she died; and though Birdie turns her eyes very prettily to the Count's remarks and appears wondrously interested in some tales of personal adventure in Algeria with which the Frenchman regales the company, once or twice I catch a furtive glance at my friend that if Charley could see it would probably place him in much more buoyant spirits than he at present enjoys. Mr. Manders's good humor is not apparently in- creased by Miss Jameson's statement that she has rid- den in the Count's automobile, Thundering Devil, and thinks it can beat Charley's Fire Boy. " It can as regards racket, perhaps," mutters my friend, " but if De Varnes wants to back his machine and doesn't fear getting arrested, I am good to race him from the Country Club entrance to Point Judith and back for about any sum in reason." " After the manner of the English, I say done for a thousand dollars," answers the Count. " Any day this week. " Yes, and I'll back my opinion and the skill of Mon- sieur Alfred's chauffeur for two dozen pair of gloves," interjects Miss Birdie. " I book both your bets," replies Manders savagely. " I wear five and three-quarters," laughs the young lady. " Tell you beforehand, as I am sure to win. But why do you look so surly, Charley I mean Mr. Man- ders " the girl checks herself and blushes slightly *' when you think you are sure of winning a thou- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 23 sand dollars and two dozen pairs of gloves, more than you have earned by hard work in your whole life, I imagine." " Yes ; I am a sporting man, not a working man," remarks Manders; and as the party rise to go he strolls alongside of Miss Birdie and I think I hear him whisper : " I'd like to make the stakes higher. Are you game for any bet ? " " I am a true sportswoman," answers Miss Birdie, stoutly, though her voice is very low. " Very well ; just step aside a minute and I'll tell you what I'll wager." Perhaps Charley has pulled a better stroke for him- self than he imagines ; for the young lady, though she appears for a moment embarrassed, replies instantly: i " Pooh ! I am as game as you, Mr. Manders ! " i The Count, who has been occupied in bidding a ceremonious adieu to the other ladies of the party, doesn't catch this colloquy, but I keep my eye upon the sporting lady and gentleman, and notice, as Char- ley Manders whispers to Miss Jameson, her face sud- denly glows with the color of the red light in Whale Rock Lighthouse, and then turns very white. A mo- ment after she sets her pretty teeth together and says a few words that make Charley apparently very much excited. The young lady, however, almost immediately after remarks lightly to her chaperon: "Auntie, isn't it about time for us to be going?" Two minutes later Charley and the Count are as- sisting Miss Jameson and Mrs. Talbot into their car- riage at the Casino door. A new light seems to be in Miss Birdie's eyes ; she says quietly : " Monsieur de Values, I rely on you to win my.gloves for me." 24 THE SURPRISES OF AN. EMPTY HOTEL. ' " But if / win ? " mutters Mandcrs eagerly, adding desperately : " And I will win too ! " " Very well, I pay my bets always," returns the young lady, and sneaks at the polo player a very cu- rious glance. As the girl drives away with Mrs. Talbot to their cottage on the Rocks, Charley takes my arm. He says : " I'll walk up the road, a hundred yards or two with you." His voice is so serious that I immediately as- sent. " As soon as we ge.t out of ear shot of the Casino he whispers : " I want your help, Frank, to beat that cursed Frenchman. I have wagered my happiness on the result of that race." " .What devil's bet have you made ? " I gasp. " Why," answers the young fellow, " I have staked myself against Miss Jameson." " Hognr do you mean ? " " If I win, Birdie belongs to me and has got to marry me. If I lose I belong to Birdie and I have got to marry " Here my friend pauses and ejaculates with an excited start : " Great goal posts, I win either way ! Win or lose, I have Birdie. Oh, was there ever a luckier inspiration ? " To this he adds slowly, almost sadly : " I wonder if Birdie appreciated that part of it?" " I have no doubt she did," I answer confidently. " Miss Jameson is a very bright girl and if I ever read blue eyes she loves you." " Do you think that ? " cries the volatile young polo player. " Loves me? The sweet little minx the co- quettish little filly! Do you really think that, you Western prophet of good luck ? " "It appears to me," I laugh, "that .you won't go THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 2$ k over to win the millions of the relict of the late Thomas Cadwallader Bennt." " What, think of a widow when I can get Birdie ! " answers Charley excitedly. " You can have never felt true love ! Anyway, I am headed for the goal posts, and no man shall ride me off this time." Looking 'at his young and ardent face I really envy my polo player his enthusiastic emotion ; and mutter : " If I could only love like you !" For up to this mo- ment, barring a few boyish episodes, no great passion has ever come into my heart. CHAPTER II. THE LOVE OF A POLO MAN. Getting tired of Charley's romantic raptures, I re- turn about one o'clock in the morning to the Conti- nental Hotel. It is only a short stroll over a good sidewalk. The surf splashing against the ocean wall across the road seems refreshing, as the night is rather warm. At the hotel, the doors of which are open, I find the proprietor acting as night clerk, asleep in an armchair in the office. As I rouse him and leave an order upon the hotel books to be called at nine o'clock the next morning, I detect in the forlorn Barclay's breath evi- dence of Kentucky whisky. Apparently the poor fel- low had been trying to dispell the gloom of loneliness and unsuccessful business by patronizing his own bar. Going up to my room, I make my preparations for the night. I don't wonder at the hapless landlord's attempts at spiritual consolation ; the tremendous con- trast from the dazzling Casino from which I have just departed makes the solitude of my hotel more im- pressive. Since leaving the outskirts of civilization I have scarcely thought of my revolver, but this evening be- fore I go to bed I inspect my big six-shooter carefully, even recharging it with new cartridges. Placing this convenient to my hand I go to bed and very quickly to sleep. Apparently there are no ghosts in the Continental, 26 THE SURPRISES OF AN EM-PTY HOTEL. 2^ for no noises disturb me, and I am not awakened until the next morning. It is by the familiar voice of Solomon A. Smith, who is rapping on my door. In his office of bell-boy he is giving me my morning call, for he announces : " Nine o'clock, sah ! " then says cheerfully : " Shall I order your breakfast for yo' so it will be ready when yo reach the dinin'-room ? " B A moment later, acting as "Boots" Solomon A. Smith departs, whereupon I proceed to my morning toilet. Shortly after my clothes are returned to me by Mr. Smith, who says grinningly : " I 'spose, sah, I'll get de tips of all de different classes of help about dis hotel, won't I, as I act in such a numerous ca- pacity ? " p " Why, certainly ! " I reply, and make the darkey my friend for the season by, in my Western careless way, giving him a five-dollar bill. It's a most for- tunate investment, though at present I do not know it. t: A few minutes after I sit down to a very good breakfast. Facetiously I say : " Smith, were these batter cakes cooked two weeks ago?" t " No, sah, but de batter was made " The servi- tor checks himself and departs suddenly. i Coming out, I light a cigar and stroll down to the Casino, where my friend Charley Manders, No. 3, has rooms, and is just finishing his morning meal. During the morning I brighten up myself with a game of tennis in the Casino courts and about half past eleven o'clock go down with " the push," I believe they call it to the beach to take a dip in the Atlantic Ocean, with which I haven't dal- lied for ten years, though during that time I have floated in the Great Salt Lake and ridden a plank amid the surf of the Sandw.ich Islands. 28 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. The beach is crowded with diversified manhood and womanhood, some intent on wooing the breakers, others sitting on the verandas of the bathing pavilions, chatting the latest gossip and looking on at the bril- liant scene, for on a sunny summer day the beach of Narragansett, with its softly curling breakers and its myriad merrymakers is a stirring sight. I don a bathing suit and, strolling along the sands, encounter Miss Oueenie Lawton and the pretty widow in most becoming bathing dresses. Together we swim out to the raft. Mrs. Arnold and I are seated upon the float, Miss Queenie is poised upon the spring-board for a dive, her hands above her head, her supple body al- ready bent for the spring. Almost as she leaps she turns her head and asks : " By the bye, Mr. March- mont, where do you live ? " "At the Continental!" I answer. With a muttered shriek the girl disappears in the waves and the rest of the congregation on the float seem to look solemnly astonished. Miss Queenie is so long out of sight that I am anxiously preparing to dive for her, when she makes her reappearance and tosses her hair about like a sea nymph. ( " What made you remain immersed so long ? " I ask. " Why," she laughs, " when you gave the Con- tinental as your place of abode I was so astounded that I believe I fainted away under the water." " It can't be possible," interjects Mrs. Arnold, " that you lite in that ghost house." " Pish," I answer, " nobody has died there in eight years." " Nobody has lived there in eight years," scoffs the dashing Queenie, as she hauls herself upon the raft. v - From these remarks I am reasonably sure that I THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 29 ^C shall Hot have much company at my hostelry and rather sigh, thinking of the sad business fate of its host. During the afternoon I occupy myself assisting Charley in testing and preparing his locomobile for the coming race, which, he informs me, is scheduled three days hence. Out on the solitary Matunuck Road we give Fire Boy a pretty fast test, getting railroad speed out of the machine, and the road being practically unoccu- pied, only killing two chickens and frightening a farmer's milk-wagon horse until he runs away like a Derby winner. From here we drive over to the Kingston station, where we leave Thompson to take the train for New York, he having suggested that certain minor parts in the machinery of Fire Boy had better be renewed or duplicated. - As we return towards the Pier, Manders's conversa- tion becomes more confidential. He remarks moodily : " Since she made that bet, Birdie's been ducedly off- ish. Didn't even seem to see me on the beach and went in swimming with the Elderberry boys." " That's so much in your favor," say I. " Having aroused you, by your jealous fears of the Count, to action, the young lady is probably somewhat bashful ; but she didn't go in swimming with De Varnes, and she knows the Elderberry boys don't mean business." " I should think not," assents Manders, cheerily ; " one of them is married and the other is engaged to be. However, I am going to make the straight run now. I can't stand this. I was so elated last night that my fears of to-day are unendurable. If I can catch Birdie at the Casino this evening I am going to 30 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. : knock her through the goal posts, or have her cry out ' Foul ! ' to the umpire." " That's a first-rate idea," I reply. " If you play the game of love as well as you play the game of polo, you'll probably very shortly receive the flattering han- dicap of matrimony." "Do you think so?" cries the young chap as we drive up to the Casino. " I am awfully glad you got back from the West, you are always such a prophet of good luck. Come in and have a cocktail before din- ner." I accept Charley's invitation; somehow or other I envy the fellow, even his anxieties, in making love. From this, about seven o'clock in the evening, I stroll up to mine inn, whose deserted appearance de- presses me after a day of gregarious enjoyment. When dinner is over, still solitary and alone, as I smoke my cigar on the big piazza with its hundred un- tenanted armchairs, the proprietor comes apologet- ically out and sits beside me. "You don't mind my speaking to you, do you?" Barclay says, almost pathetically. " I've sat in that office waiting for customers who don't come so long that I've grown tired of the voices of that cussed Smith and Milly, who is the scullion, chambermaid, ladies' maid, bell-girl and every other feminine help about the hotel, or rather would be, if we had any lady guests. To give you the straight tip, living all alone here and seeing one's money drift out, makes a man morbid." Then he asks : " You wouldn't mind if I closed up the institution? You could easily find rooms in another place." " Why, certainly," I reply ; " I am almost tired of the place myself." TRE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 31 "Very well, if no guests come by the end of the week we both of us cry off, eh? I pocket ray losses and shut up the darned thing; and you go down with your friend that runs that high-screeching locomobile and live high at the Casino. Darn it, it seems to me rather hard that because this hotel had scarlet fever or measles ages ago that no living being will risk it when the place has been refumigated and repainted every season and has got a sewer that runs into that water half way across the Atlantic, judging by the length of the pipe. Meantime, until the end of the week " the boniface rises up in the man " I am going to do the best I can to make you say this is the best hotel in Narragansett Pier. We have already opened the suite for you." ' "Thank you!" " I have also taken the liberty of announcing your arrival in the New York papers." " Under how many different aliases ? " I chuckle. " Oh, only twenty, and eight of them female. I have also announced a garden party, a lawn fete for chil- dren, two church fairs and a free dancing class. If that doesn't bring custom God knows what will I give it up. The hand of fate seems to be upon this hotel, though there is another one equally unfortunate." " The dickens you say ! What place is that ? " " The Tower Hill House, upon that lonely eminence about two miles from here. Nobody goes near it be- cause it is so out of the way. The proprietor and I keep ourselves going by telephoning each other every hour. At present he announces no guests except a ghost. I beat him by one. We have got a bet of fifty dollars as to who will have the most at the end of the (week. If he doesn't get any customers, Robertson c 3 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. that's his name probably closes also. Come in and have a cocktail. I've got to keep my dander up! " Barclay seems so anxious to stimulate his courage under an evil star that I rise and assent. Ten minutes later, I am in the bustle, hurry, excite- ment and social gayety of the Casino. Manders is at a solitary table and I join him. At some little dis- tance Mrs. Talbot and Miss Jameson are seated ; the young, lady, looking like a piquant fairy, surrounded by a group of masculine admirers. " She's more offish than ever," mutters Charley gloomily as I seat myself beside him ; " doesn't seem even to see me/' " A very favorable indication for you," I whisper, as I light my cigar. " Any way, that cursed Count isn't about. He has taken his machine over to Newport. I rather think he wants to tinker his Thundering Devil up a bit over there for the race." If Miss Birdie doesn't seem to see Charley, she sees me and favors me with a very pretty bow. Her glance has in it an invitation to join their party. " Come over with me," I whisper to Manders. " She wants you." " Are you sure ? " " You would be sure also," I reply, " if she wasn't too smart for you. I have noticed her bright eyes on you a dozen times, but she has taken particular care that you didn't see them." " All right," whispers Charley, who has apparently grown crafty himself. " I will be over as soon as I finish this highball." * As I stroll over to her Miss Birdie pouts slightly, THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 33 then appears to grow impatient, the polo player taking a long time in finishing his libation. But he joining the party, she jeers recklessly: " What makes you so moody this evening, Mr. Man- ders, No. 3 ? Flunking at your wager ? " "Ah, you've been thinking about it, have you?" says the young man so significantly that Miss Jame- son turns her eyes towards the bandstand and seems engrossed in a ragtime tune. Whereupon Charley suggests, a strange ring in his voice : "By the bye, Miss Birdie, how would you like a stroll? I want to discuss the details of that bet." " Oh, I shan't let you back out ! " says the young lady laughingly. She rises instantly, and the two wander off together round the corner of the veranda and disappear in the reading room. Anxious to give my friend every opportunity I do my best to engross the chaperone's attention. In this I probably succeed well enough, for Mrs. Talbot asks me to visit them at their cottage, Green Lawn. Then the conversation runs upon Narragansett and Narragansett girls, tlie lady, who is a matron of fifty, expatiating upon the boldness of the modern maiden. " In my time," she remarks, " young ladies com- pelled gentlemen to seek their society. Now they run after the masculine brutes in a manner that is hor- rible. Worse still, they not only make themselves the companions of men, but attempt to become their rivals in athletic disturbances. Even my niece Birdie, who is as modest a girl as this present age permits, thinks no more of sitting up on an automobile with a gentle- man and riding twenty miles en tcte-a-tctc, than she ,would of eating her breakfast. In my time that would 34 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. have meant at least an engagement. Besides, many of the very young set call each other by their Christian names ten minutes after meeting, I think. It's Billy, and Jackey and Alice and Ethel before they have gone into the surf together once. In addition, girls gamble." Then she suddenly asks, a curious tone in her voice: "What's Birdie's bet with that polo player?" " Oh, gloves, I imagine." " Ah, I am glad it is no worse. I have absolutely heard that girls have sometimes wagered kisses. That was never permitted except at church fairs and for the benefit of charity in my time. However, Mr. Manders, your friend, seems a rather harmless if reckless young man, though he has not the distinguished bearing of the Count. He has a very good fortune, I believe? Most polo players have." " Yes," I reply, " Polo costs money. A man can't keep up a string of ponies without a pretty fair amount of secttrities." Here the chaperone interjects : " Where's my niece? She has been gone long enough to discuss a hundred automobile wagers." Seeing Mrs. Talbot is nervous and has already risen 1 accompany her and make her search innocuous. We walk to the reading room, but no Birdie. We in- vestigate all the lower balconies of the Casino, even to outlying kiosks, but no Birdie. " Where can they have gone ? Oh, my heaven, not for a stroll on the beach at this time of night ! " shud- ders the aunt. This is the crowning iniquity of young ladies in Narragansett." I am too wise to lead Mrs. Talbot to the deserted tennis courts at the back of the building or to explore the upper veranda behind the ball room. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 35 Finally, just as the matron is growing so nervous that I fear she will raise up her voice and cry out " Birdie Jameson, where are you ? " the sought-for maiden makes her appearance, having a bashful yet radiant expression on her face. Attended by Manders, who has a winning goal grin upon his, Miss Jameson strolls down the circular stairway demurely from the rotunda that leads to* the theatre and the billiard room. " Birdie, we must be going home," severely says her aunt, who has lecture in her eye. ; ' The band has stopped playing; they will be turning the lights out on us. Mr. Manders, how could you keep my niece so long?" " Why, it didn't seem more than about five minutes," replies Charley enthusiastically. " Won't you stay and have some supper and" champagne; they won't turn out the lights as long as anybody is here." i " No, I must take my niece home at once." So we escort the two ladies to the main entrance. As we place them in their carriage under the arch, Miss Birdie, a sudden air of proprietorship in her voice, astounds and shocks her aunt by commanding: " Now don't sit up all night, Charley ; you know that I am going to take you for a drive in my pony phaeton in the morning." I hear Mrs. Talbot half gasp, as the carriage drives away : " Asking a gentleman to drive with you ! " What the girl's answer is I don't catch, but it seems to me there is a kind of astonished shriek from Mrs. Talbot as the carriage dashes up the Ocean Road. " Did you hear that ? " whispers Charley. " Birdie has told her aunt that's what that scream means! Come in ; I shan't be able to sleep to-night I am too 36 HUE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. infernal happy. Come in ; I want to tell you all about it." With the enthusiasm of youth, in the retirement of a far-away kiosk, Mr. Manders makes me his confident. . " You'll have to stand up with me in church," he says. " Delighted," I answer. " Is it to-morrow morning in St. Peter's?" ; " Nonsense ! Though I wish it was," answers Man- 'ders with an enthusiasm that would doubtless please his fiancee. i< " How did you adjust the affair? " I inquire. " Oh, I just took Birdie out on that back balcony behind the theater ; that is the surest dead lonely place in this whole institution. It's astonishing how girls keep their heads under such circumstances. I whis- pered to her with trembling voice : 'Birdie, do you un- derstand thoroughly that bet?" $ " ' Sure ! ' she said. She had the presence of mind to use slang. " ' You understand that if I win and you belong to me, I have got to marry you ? ' ' - " ' I should hope you would to avoid scandal ! ' she remarked quite severely. " ' But if you win me, and I belong to you ? ' ' " 'In that case,' said she, in very prim and proper tone, ' I suppose a decent respect for the opinions of mankind will compel me to marry you.' " i " ' Then / win anyway ! ' I whispered enthusiastic- ally, and chalked up my goal on the two sweetest lips in the world for a Scoreboard/ " whispers Manders triumphantly. " Think of it ! Birdie's to look at me from a four-in-hand as I play polo all through life." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 37 Gazing at my face as I receive this rather incoherent effusion, Charley adds : "You ought to get a girl too ! But then there are no more Birdies." CHAPTER III. THE FIRST LADY GUEST. { Coming from the Casino, somehow Manders's ad- vice runs in my head. The Continental looms up be- fore me, suggesting how lonely I am. In the office the unfortunate Barclay apparently has again soothed his spirits by a nip or two in his own barroom. I don't wonder at it, as I go surlily to bed. The next morning, after bolting a good breakfast for the soli- tude of the empty dining-room is becoming more and more irksome to me I pass to the office and light my cigar. " Any more arrivals ? " I inquire of the hapless hotel man. "Nary a one!" Then I go down to the beach. On my way Miss Birdie in the very nattiest of pony phaetons, driving a pair of dashing cobs, salutes me with a wave of a ribbon-decked whip. Beside her sits Charley looking stupidly happy, though he probably curses the liveried groom, who, in the rumble behind, represents formality and propriety. Deprived of my friend's company I take a long and therefore a lonely swim, as my trip is beyond that of the usual bather. I go out to several steam and schooner yachts that are lying off the Casino. While thus floating about, lazily rocked by the swell, a bigger fellow than the usual run of such craft comes thresh- ing by me. It is the same beautiful yacht that looked like a phantom ship on the evening of my arrival, 38 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 39 Save its officers, no one seems to be upon its bridge or quarterdeck. I recognize it by the three peculiar raking masts and the golden-banded white smokestack. As it shoots out in the direction of Block Island, I read upon its stern Sapphire. \ After perhaps three-quarters of an hour in the water I return to the merry beach, from which I stroll in the company of Mrs. Arnold and Miss Jennings. At the Casino we have lunch together ; divorced from the solitude of the Continental I seem to need society. Then the ladies wander away to their various hotels, the band ceases playing and the usual mid- afternoon calm of the Casino comes upon it, during which it is mostly occupied by children, their nurses and attendants. I sit lazily gazing at these until I am joined by Manders. ; With happy face, he strides in from his drive and a lunch with his fiancee up at Green Lawn. "I have been under examination by Mrs. Talbot," he laughs, "as to my fitness for the matrimonial state. Between our- selves I rather believe Auntie would prefer De Varnes for Miss Birdie's husband women have such a sneak- ing adoration for titles." > Then he produces a telegram from New York and whispers to me quite earnestly : "I think this will win the race. Thompson wires me he can get a new and improved kind of gasoline, by which we can increase the horse power of the Fire -Boy considerably. It is only rated at thirty-six, but runs to nearly forty. With this additional force I think I am sure of win- ning. Birdie now declares I must beat the Count, though she loses the gloves to me." "Hello, your opponent has just announced his re- turn," I laugh. For now over the sleepy quiet of the 4O THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. afternoon, there arises a noise that would wake the dead a kind of mixture of a quartz stamp mill and a locomotive on a limited train. Every horse in the neighborhood that is not paralyzed by fear, rises upon its hind feet to do it honor as the Thundering Devil makes its appearance coming round the corner, appar- ently from the Boston Neck Road and Newport, via Saundcrstown. A second later, "It is raising hell at the door of the Casino," as a Western man remarks. The next moment the Count comes in with his Parisian stride and greeting us affably, sits down at our table and discusses some conditions of the race with Man- ders. It is settled that the affair takes place by moon- light, as the moon will soon be at its full after twelve o'clock at night and the Point Judith Road will prob- ably be untenanted. This will save sudden deaths. During this conversation, several ladies chance to wander in; each one receiving a searching glance from De Varnes, whose eyes are playing the same tricks they did on the night I first met him. This runs along until about six o'clock in the evening, when the Count ap- parently grows very eager and excited. Whenever there is a rustle of a lady's dress his eyes seek it the swish of a petticoat seems to arouse his curiosity. As we drink together, my seat at the table gives me a view of the water, over which a heavy Narragansett mist has fallen. Though the vapor makes every thing in-distinct I think I see the beautiful big steam yacht which has apparently come back from her trip to Block Island, floating aimlessly about under easy steam. But De Varnes takes the yacht from my mind; his glances seem to be directed continuously towards the main entrance of the Casino. Every time a lady en- ters, his eyes rest upon her in a peculiar nervous THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 41 anxiety, though each time disappointment appears to follow his inspection. Finally he rises and remarks : "As I have arranged the details of our race, I shall return to Newport, where I have the honor of being expected at Madame Beldan's Patent Medicine, Kill or Cure, ball this even- ing," and goes rattling off in his machine. A curious chagrin on his face makes me wonder. At seven o'clock I am about to go to the Continental for my dinner. Happening to step into the office of the Casino to get a check cashed, I casually ask genial Mr. Wilson, the manager, if he knows anything about the big steam yaoht off the Casino landing at noon. "No, I don't. Nobody came ashore or registered. I know most of the boats that run over here from New- port," he replies: "I think it must be some English chartered yacht. Some of the new steel millionaires, not having had time to build such craft have hired them for the season and the cruise of the New York Yacht Club. Do you think you have friends on board ?" " Not a chance of it," I return, as, pocketing my greenbacks, I step out on the sidewalk. As I walk along, an idea niters gradually through my mind. "Is De Varnes interested in some one, ap- parently a lady, who may be expected to land from this yacht ? " Quite possibly. Manders says the Count is in search of an heiress over here, and heiresses are quite often found on mammoth steam yachts. But all consideration of De Varnes deserts me after I have run up the steps into the hotel. As I stride past the office I chance to glance at the register. There are six or seven names upon it. Barclay's face is aglow yrith smiles. Mr. Solomon A. Smith's voice, that had 42 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. been growing gradually somber, has become jubilantly Ethiopian. Apparently some of the new-comers are ladies, for I hear Milly, the chambermaid, bustling about the hall upstairs. At dinner I'll see who the new guests are. I run upstairs to my room and slip into evening dress. Coming down the stainvay, I am ushered into the big dining-room. Curiously, there is only one table set mine ! All the rest are as before. Interest comes upon me, for sitting at my table is a woman whose head is turned from me. " I put her at your table, sah, 'cause I'se got to wait on you two, and it's more convenient," whispers Mr. Smith apologetically. As I walk to my chair and take my seat, my fellow boarder gives a start and turns her face upon me. I give another and a greater start ; I find myself gazing upon a lady of faultless bearing and superb yet ethereal beauty. iThe new arrival has apparently been looking about the dining room seeking for the other boarders of the hotel; and its ghastly array of tables not only un- tenanted but also unprepared for guests has seemingly benumbed a face which otherwise would be vivacious. At my appearance, its exquisite features are made even more striking by a vivid embarrassment. For a mo- ment her big startled hazel eyes droop in modest diffi- dence ; then, apparently appreciating her situation, they grow slightly indifferent, perhaps haughty, and meet my glance so unfalteringly that my eyes seek the menu and I hurriedly direct Mr. Smith to bring me clams, soup and fish. This portion of the meal is already in front of my vis-a-vis. As Mr. Smith makes his exit to procure my THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 43 order, the confusion of unexpected tete-a-tete comes upon my fair companion; a delicate blush gives color to cheeks that had been lilies; she devotes herself to the first courses of the dinner. In assumed carelessness I dally with a piece of bread and, taking advantage of her drooping eyes, surrepti- tiously inspect the lady sitting opposite me. Her a;?;c indicates she is scarcely more than a girl, about twenty- two or twenty-three at the utmost; possibly not over twenty-one; though her figure has a maiden's svelte graces, its exquisitely rounded contours are those of womanhood, in its first attractive develop- ment. This is easily apparent as her evening gown, 'decollette de rigeur, after the European fashion, per- mits a view of snowy arms and shoulders of fault- less proportions, and a glimpse of a bust lovely as Danae's under the Golden Shower ; though my charm- ing companion seems under a rain of pearls, as about her ivory throat is twisted a string of what are prob- ably Roman ones the real gems would be worth a Pasha's ransom. Her costume, which is summery in its light laces and lawns, bears the cachet of some French artist in female adornment, it simply giving effect to a form that in itself is perfect. Still it is her face upon which my eyes linger. Be- neath brown, luxuriant, clustering locks, which under the electric lights give out occasional golden glints, is' a forehead, intellectual, but not too high to be un- womanly. This is softened by dimpled cheeks and a rather haughty yet bewitchingly retrousse nose. Beneath are arched lips, red as cherries ; the upper one firm, the lower one passionate, yet modified by a vivacious chin, at times femininely irresolute. The eyes, though drooping, flash from beneath their long 44 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. lashes, in resolute spirit. Of this spirit, a few mo- ments after I have additional proof. Mr. Smith has brought in the first courses of the meal and placed them before me. Requiring his atten- tion, the lady raises her eyes and gives that sable func- tionary some orders in a sweet voice yet one accustomed to command. As I eat, I try mentally to place myself in the position of my companion. Taking a tete-a-tete dinner with a man who is an entire stranger, and that in a hotel without one other guest to soften the strange familiarity of the meal, the embarrassment of the young lady adds the charms of nervous vivacity and anxious eyes to the fascination of a face that needs but oppor- tunity to become bewitching. Not to increase her confusion, I devote myself to my meal and try to keep my eyes from the loveliness in front of me; but that is impossible. Once or twice also I think I catch my vis-a-vis sneaking a brilliant yet almost pathetic glance at me. The meal would probably go on in a circumspect reticence on my part, and a dignified silence upon hers, did not Mr. Smith about the time the desert is on the table, in his easy darky waiter manner absolutely intro- duce us. I give a start a l s that sable functionary says : "Being de only guests in dis hotel yo' should be acquainted. Would yo' please pass de sugar to Missus Fairbanks, Mr. Marchmont, and make yo'self useful?" Politeness forbids me to disregard this request. "With all the pleasure in the world," I remark, "if the lady will permit me. Likewise the peaches." " I thank you very much," replies the lady pleas- antly yet distantly. 1 Whereupon. Mr. Smith approvingly remarks, with a THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 45 wave of his napkin. " Dat's right. I allus likes my people to be sociable !" At his, catching my eye, the girl, for her manners have all the vivacity of youth, cannot restrain a roguish laugh ; though her face grows formal again as, perhaps taking undue advantage of her merriment, I murmur : "Would you also like some apricots ?" A moment after I rise and bow. She returns my sa- lute slightly. Then I stride off to the office eager for information. "Where are all these other ladies on your register?" I ask the landlord, as I gaze at three or four feminine names. "Hush ! They are all fakes," whispers Barclay. "As I saw her drive ug I was afraid she would go away if there wasn't any other ladies in the house, so I jotted a few women's names down promiscuously." "Don't you think that was rather an unwarrantable trick ?" .1 reply severely ; though even as I reprove him, I am blessing the hotel-keeper for his astuteness. Picking out her cognomen, for the delicate female chirography upon the register is easily selected from Mr. Barclay's forgeries, I give a slight sigh as I read : Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks, Providence, R. I." The MRS. looks to me bigger than a mountain, though its script is no larger than the other words on the page. "She came on the half-past five train from Provi- dence, I reckon," Barclay whispers. "She's the kind of customer to keep a house open. Pier pocketbook just bulged with big bills. Took three rooms and didn't ask for a reduction. Uses one as a parlor, and another is fitted up as her dressing room. She is a product of your grand idea." grand idea!" I echo, astonished. 46 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. "Yes, sir; acting on your suggestion, I went pri- vately to every hackman at the Pier and told each of 'em I'd give him a dollar for every customer he brought me she is the first ! " To this the boniface adds eagerly : " Do you think she will stay here now when she discovers there is no one but you in the hotel ? " An anxious sigh is my answer, as I light my cigar and stroll out upon the deserted piazza. Here I sit down and curse myself for my assumed diffidence. If I had been more forward, I might have got a little bet- ter acquainted with her by this time, I think. Still the haughty modesty in the lady's face makes me conclude : "I might have received a thundering snub, had I been what in American slang is called 'fresh.' " As I smoke I can't help reflecting that it is very curi- ous a female of apparent refinement and wealth is with- out a companion. Besides Mrs. indicates a husband; and no husband could permit so beautiful and young a wife very far from his side. About this time, the lonely piazza seems to change to me. Its gloom appears to leave it. There is a slight rustle of delicate skirts and lingerie and the lady of the dinner-table comes rather timidly out; seats herself at no great distance from me and apparently anxiously scans the waters of the bay. The fog has lifted ; there are no yachts in sight except Mr. Ward's Shamrock, which dares shipwreck every night by lying at anchor off Sherry's. Inspecting this scene the lady emits a sigh. Fortu- nately she is near enough to me to permit my making use of a masculine ruse to begin a conversation. I turn to her and ask: "You don't object to my cigar, Madame, I hope?" SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 47 "Oh, not at all," she replies very affably. ''In Europe one gets accustomed to the weed." "Thank you," I reply, and continue smoking. I am not ashamed of the fumes of my Havana, which is a good one. Once or twice as I glance casually towards the lady, I note her lips open nervously as if she Is about to speak. I am wise enough to know that she is woman enough to ultimately let her tongue enunciate what is upon the end of it. Finally she asks timidly: "Am I the the only woman in this hotel ?" How musical her voice when emotion of any kind tinges it. I immediately move to a chair next to hers. "Yes !" I answer candidly, "I believe, with the excep- tion of the chambermaid, you are the only woman in the Continental, this season as yet." "Why ! The wretched hotel-keeper has a lot of femi- nine names upon the register!" There is a dismayed indignation in the sweet tones. "Certainly ; those were to induce you to place yours there," I answer, deftly taking sides with her against the unfortunate Barclay. "I had no idea," she says simply, "that when I told the hackman to take me to the quietest hotel in Nar- ragansett, he would bring me to an uninhabited one." Then she suddenly starts and falters : "I my trunks are unpacked ! I shall not be able to leave until to-morrow. Besides I have telegraphed my " She checks herself, and murmurs miserably : "Oh, what am I to do?" Though the appeal is not to me ; I am wise enough to answer it. "There is nothing for you to do but to remain "here quietly this evening," I say rather commandingly. '48 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. "You will be well taken care of, and if my pres- ence " Here I craftily rise to go. My astuteness is rewarded, for the lady ejaculates : "No, no. I should be more frightened with nobody but the proprietor and the servants in the hotel. Don't don't leave me, Mr. Mr. " "Marchmont," I suggest. "Yes, please don't go, Mr. Marchmont!" she ex- claims. I am too much a gentleman not to comply with the request. I sit down again and am pleased to notice that Mrs. Fairbanks appears relieved. The moon is just rising and Barclay has, in honor of the new arrival, turned on a few more electric globes; in the subdued light, I have been studying my companion's counte- nance. At first its bewitching beauty had obliterated all else in my mind ; but now, in the anxiety of her eyes, and a latent appeal in her demeanor, I divine that the lady is timid at the thought of being left alone in this big and almost deserted building. Hoping to get her mind from this part of the affair I attempt to draw her into conversation. In this pleasing task I find myself quite successful. At first my companion's speeches are somewhat guarded, but as the chat goes on, we both becoming more at our ease, I discover from her casual remarks that she has been living for the past few years in Europe. In return I relate to her some experiences and anecdotes of my Western life and mining specula- tions, and eager to give her confidence in my social status, contrive to let her know exactly who I am. Ap- parently she believes what I say, as her manner grows less formal ; and once or twice she glances at me rathee interestedly, I think. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 49 As I conclude, she queries : "You have lived in Mon- tana, Mr. Marchmont?" "Yes. I was once interested in the Yellowstone Copper Mine, near Butte, out there." "Yes; I think I have heard of the mine," she remarks. "But you have apparently been in Europe ?" "Until a few days ago. Then private and imperative business brought me suddenly to America. Unfortu- nately, Celeste, my French maid, almost at the dock at Havre, grew frightened at the Trans-Atlantic voyage and left me. Otherwise I should not have been so alone, as I am at present. Still the Yellowstone Cop- per Mine has been of such international importance that I have read of it, I think, in the columns of the Paris Herald." Then perhaps to make the subject of our conversa- tion less personal, she asks me about Narragansett. "I may live here some little time, so I should like the details of the Pier," she observes. This gives me the opportunity for which I am look- ing. In my eagerness to cultivate an acquaintance with this lady, whose bright eyes and charming pres- ence have grown upon me with the rapidity of a prairie fire, for one rash moment I think of asking her to take a drive; but a second's consideration indicates such a proffer would be altogether premature. Therefore I turn to her and ask deferentially : "Would you like to take a short stroll and see a portion of the place ?" "Why, yes," she says, "a little exercise, after con- finement on board ship, would do me good, if it doesn't trouble you too much. Please wait for me until I get a wrap ?" "With pleasure," I answer; and watch her graceful 50 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. footsteps as she flits into the hallway and runs up the stairs; then I light another cigar and go into contem- plation. "What imperative and immediate business can have brought this fair creature from Europe unat- tended where's Mr. Fairbanks all this time?" From this I am awakened by a voice that has already grown sweet to my senses, saying archly : "Have you forgotten our walk, Mr. Marchmont, in another cigar ?" "No," I reply, as I spring to my feet. "The weed was only an attempt at consolation for your absence." It is my first hint at compliment. Her face responds to it with what, I am concerned to think, is a slightly amazed expression as she stands before me, a Parisian hat perched upon her clustering tresses, the soft tints of its delicate flowers enhancing her spirituelle daintiness. Over her round white arm is carelessly tossed a filmly summer wrap of lace and gauze. "Do you think I need this?" Mrs. Fairbanks asks, giving the mantilla a little flourish. "Certainly," I answer, "the fog is coming up again. Let me cloak you?" I take the wrap from her. She turns about and standing with her back to me, slightly inclines a per- fectly formed head and delicately dimpled shoulders that gleam like ivory under the electric lights. As I carefully place the garment upon them, I cannot help noting their superb proportions. F Admiration makes me clumsy; my fingers chance to graze, just for an instant, their snowy surface. It is as if a spark from the incandescent electric lamp above us had given fire to my veins. r Her eyes are very bright also. I look on this lady and the empty hotel appears no longer untenanted. BOOK IL A STRANGE LADY. CHAPTER IV. "THUNDERING DEVIL." Together, we trip down the Continental steps to the sidewalk of the Ocean Road. As the hotel recedes from us, relieved from the gloom of the lonely build- ing, the lady's spirits seem to rise. She is chatting quite merrily as we pass the Revere and approach the brilliantly lighted Mathewson. Apparently more at her ease, Mrs. Fairbanks permits her sprightly men- tality to enter into her remarks, favoring me with some bright flashes from a mind that seems as viva- ciously alluring as her face. Her conversation is that of a woman educated in Continental Europe. Once or twice her remarks indicate so slight a knowledge of Narragansett Pier that I stare at her, remembering that she has registered as a resident of Providence, the metropolis of this State, not much over thirty miles from our watering place. 52 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. c " Though affable, her demeanor contains a latent air of exacting deference. Is it because she feels her peculiar situation demands it, or is it the habit of her life to be bowed down to ? A few moments later we pass the Casino's brilliantly lighted terraces. There is the customary gathering of carriages about the entrance under the arch, and the usual crowd of local men and boys seated upon the fence opposite, enjoying a free concert from its band. :i Its low stone wall and surmounting hedge are high enough to prevent my discovering any friends in the gay throng upon its terraces ; but as jwe round the corner opposite the Rockingham, lolling Over the veranda rail are two or three of the masculine acquaintances that I have acquired in the last few days. iThese raise their hats and stare. The electric lights in (the Rockingham and upon the Casino balcony easily make the beauty of my companion conspicuous. ; "Would you like to step in and have some refresh- ments?" I ask. For a moment she glances at the bright scene enliv- ened by a rag-time tune and the buzz of merry voices. I think she is about to accept my offer. As she hesi- tates, the big boiler-shop and cyclone racket of De Varnes's locomobile is heard, guided by its chauffeur from the Boston Neck Road. Apparently the fellow has taken his master over to Newport and re- turned. It is going slowly; but the slower it goes the more unearthly its noise. With a rat-a-tat, bang, clang and shriek it pauses in front of the Casino. Beside us is a ramshackle country wagon, left in careless rustic manner with only a little girl upon its seat. A moment before the horse in its shafts seemed safe enough, be- ing literally upon its last legs ; now the equine cripple THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 53 becomes a dangerous maniac. It rears upon its two spavined hind legs and is making a frantic lunge for- ward into the crowd of vehicles. The little girl at its mercy utters an affrighted shriek. Before I can spring to the beast's head, Mrs. Fairbanks, who is nearest to it, quickly puts out her white arm, and seizing with her delicate hand the animal's bit pulls it sharply; to the ground ; where it stands upon its four trembling legs, snorting with fear, but apparently unable to make further demonstration. Turning from the child's par- ents who have run across the road and are effusively thanking her, the farmer saying : " Great potatoes, but ye are gritty !" my heroine remarks to me, half laugh- ingly : " I thought only French locomobiles made sucK hideous noises?" "Probably they do; this is a French one, lately brought by its owner from Paris," I return : "But you haven't answered my question. Would you like to go into the Casino?" : For one moment her eyes are fixed quite earnestly; upon De Varnes's Thundering Devil; then she turns to me and answers quietly, a slight tremble in her voice, apparently produced by the exertion of curbing the runaway : "Not this evening." "Not this evening!" Her words conjure up a wild hope of future comradeship. If not this evening, ft will be some other evening. However, I am delighted' that the lady in my charge doesn't accept my invitation. ' Her beauty in that throng would draw mascu- line moth-millers, as if she were an electric light at present I prefer to be the only singed one. ii I offer her my arm, and in a few steps we reach the comparative gloom of the Casino stores, that are closed at this time of the evening. 54 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. "It was quite a fairy scene," remarks Mrs. Fair- banks. "Supposing we turn about and walk past it again before you take me to the gloomy Continental." She gives a piquant little shudder. As we stroll back I raise my eyes and discover Birdie Jameson and Charley Manders seated in careless non- chalance upon the railing of the Casino balcony. They also discover me. Miss Birdie bows very sweetly. Charley, however, greets me in his reckless way with a hearty: "Hello there, Frank ! Then, noting my companion, he laughs : "Glad to see you have taken my advice !" "Who is that gentleman?" whispers my heroine great powers, I am beginning to regard her in that light. "Oh ; that's my friend, Charley Manders, No. 3, who was interested with me out there in my copper mine speculation." " Ah, yes ; Mr. Manders. I believe I have heard of him; he is the celebrated polo player, isn't he?" " Yes," I reply, " he is one of the famed 'Brankie Wawrs.' " " What was his advice he congratulated you upon having taken ?" There is a slight inquiry in her voice. Of course I won't tell her that Manders had coun- seled me to get a girl, and now he thinks I have got her! So I keep silent, as we pass the Mathewson. We are already in the more gloomy portion of Ocean Drive, and approaching the Continental when Mrs. Fairbanks speaks again. Has Mother Eve's subtle- ness as well as curiosity entered into her bright mind ? She asks suddenly : " Mr. Manders's remark applied to me, did it not?" SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 55 I am not a good liar; therefore I answer disconcert- edly: "I believe it did." " Then I must know," she says impulsively." " You'll forgive my insisting, but under the peculiar circum- stances of our meeting, you should tell me." Her voice is strangely commanding. From the way in which she speaks, my lady has apparently been accustomed to be bowed down to and obeyed. Though my brain is almost addled by the charms upon which I turn my eyes for any emotion seems to add loveliness to this being at my side and pride now makes her eyes like diamond stars, and pouting makes her lips more piquantly bewitching I know enough of the sex to be certain they like variety. Accustomed to be obeyed, the man who doesn't bend the knee to her, .will be at least a novelty to Lucie Fairbanks. Anyway I am sure that in my intercourse with her it is best for me to be the autocrat, not the lady. There- fore I reply pleasantly but uncompromisingly: "You \vill have to excuse my not answering. Though I may tell you some day; I shall not at present." This cun- ningly excites a curiosity that I do not satisfy. " I am sorry you haven't confidence enough in my self- command and good judgment, to make me your confidant in a matter that you admit concerns me," she says rather indignantly. " That runaway horse indicated your self-com- mand," I answer, " though your action in this mattef proves you are slightly impulsive." " Indeed ! " she remarks haughtily, and indicates the correctness of my judgment by spiritedly with- 'drawing a little hand that had rested slightly upon my (sleevef. 56 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. This gives me such a shock it nearly brings me to my knees. " I can tell you, however," I say eagerly, " that Mr. Manders's remark is one than can do you no harm in any way. To this I add desperately : " In fact it was rather a compliment." Though I mentally wonder if she would accept it as one. By this time we have toiled up the Continental steps and are standing on its deserted veranda. Though the electric light above us is burning and there is one at the office, the rest of them have been economically ex- tinguished. Through the wide open center doors the great hallways look exceedingly dark and gloomy. As we face -each other I venture : " You are not angry with me, I hope?" " Oh, no," Mrs. Fairbanks retorts quietly " don't mistake anger for indifference." The words issue so coldly from her delicate lips that itoey strike me for a moment dumb. This is fortunate, as I would perhaps be conquered and gratify my com- panion's curiosity and make a failure of my first battle. * Then stung by her manner, I say lightly : " I think I will bid you good evening. I had forgotten that I had an appointment with Manders at the Casino, but I presume that he'll forgive me for breaking it, if I turn up later." I I am half-way down the Continental steps when I perceive the brutally cruel thing that I have done. Left alone on the veranda of the great tenantless hotel the unfortunate young lady turns her eyes about her in a dazed and frightened condition. Barclay's half drunken snoring from the distant office doesn't seem to reassure her. She sinks down into a seat, and I think I hear a THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 57 little sighing shudder, perhaps even a sob of terror. One who has thought nothing of seizing a runaway horse, has become half paralyzed with the simple lone- liness of this deserted building which in the darkness of the night is quietly ghastly. Still her last remark has made me very angry. I take a few steps down the walk kading to the Ocean Drive. Can it be she has uttered my name? I pause, listen and note that her head which had been raised, has sunk again upon her hand. I take two or three more steps. Glory, she is calling me ! " Mr. Marchmont just a minute ! " comes to me in a tone more appealing than her words. I step hurriedly back to the veranda. The pathetic look on her spirituelle face makes me ashamed of my- self. I think I see a tear or two in her lovely eyes. I hurriedly enquire : " You you don't wish to be left entirely alone in this great deserted hotel? " " Yes ; its dark passages, its gloomy emptiness frighten me." " Very well," I answer, " then I will stay here." " But you have an engagement at the Casino with that horrid Mr. Manders." Good heavens, has she guessed what Charley meant ? " " That is a matter of no importance, compared to your pleasure," I answer. Having won the battle, I am wise enough to be gen- erous. I seat myself not too near the agitated lady and lighting a cigar, remark : "You need have no fear of my leaving the hotel until to-morrow evening, Mrs. Fairbanks, though you would be as safe here without me as in the most crowded hostelry of Narragansett Pier/' 58 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Still you will stay ? " she pleads, and the timbre of her voice acknowledges me the victor. " Certainly," I answer, " I am always at your ser- vice, whenever it is " I hesitate. " Best for me. That's what you were going to sug- gest, weren't you?" she interjects, half laughingly; then astonishes me by adding: " You're the only man in the last two years who has not given me my own way." "How about your husband?" is on the end of my tongue. Fortunately, before I can utter it, she goes on riantly : " You thought loneliness would be a proper discipline for my petulance is hunger to be added to it is the naughty girl to be sent to bed without an\ 4 supper ? " Though she is laughing, I see appetite in her eyes. Perhaps I also judge her feelings by my own; I ejacu- late hurriedly : " Good heavens, you are hungry ! " " Yes, very ! " she declares. " On shipboard I gen- erally had supper about this time in the evening." " Then you had better have accepted my invitation for the Casino. I would take you there now, but it is too late," I remark. " However, I will see that your wants are provided for. Just remain here until I rub Aladdin's lamp." I step hurriedly to the office and rouse the unfortu- nate Barclay from a catnap. To him I whisper quite sternly : " If you want to retain your guests, they should be attended to. This lady is accustomed to sup- per every evening. Start up Smith and tell him to get something." Two minutes after Barclay has dragged the somno- lent Smith to me. A dollar bill passed into the darkey's eager hand makes him very wide awake. In answer Jo THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 59 my commands, he says : " I can get yo' something, sah, just a cup ob coffee in de hot line; but we hab plenty ob cold meats and fruits " " That will be sufficient; add to it a bottle of cham- pagne." " Yas, sah, Perrier Jouet. Fo' how many shall I set de table?" " Two ! " I answer decidedly. " Glad to hear it, sah. Pleased to see de lady's got off her high hoss." Leaving him, I return to my charge. Good heavens, I am regarding her as such. | " Have you interviewed Smith I mean the genius of the lamp ? " she asks laughingly. TJ " Yes, supper immediately ! " I announce trium- phantly. , A few minutes later we are in the dining-room. Smith has turned on all the electric lights; she care- lessly tosses off her wrap and stands radiantly before me, the place looks pleasantly brilliant. Together Mrs. Fairbanks and I make a merry meal. The cham- pagne puts light into her eyes and rougishness into her voice. - After it is finished, as I bid her " Good night " at the dining-room door, she murmurs : " How can I thank you for giving up a Casino evening and taking so much trouble for me ! " " By sleeping as if a hundred policemen guarded your slumbers," I suggest. A curious authority has ^ot into my voice, though it doesn't seem to displease her. " I will ! " she replies in simple confidence. She has .taken a step or two up the stairs. Turning impulsively, ^she remarks : " I am glad you forgave my wayward- 60 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ness; otherwise we might have been like ships that pass in the night, without a collision." " But we have had our little collision," I laugh. " And I am the vessel that hoisted the signal for aid," Mrs. Fairbanks murmurs contemplatively then flashes on me one quick, startled, almost frightened glance. Her light feet carry her hurriedly up the stairs, and I can hear the door of her room close sharply after her. I go out upon the veranda and light another cigar. It seems to me a very lonely one. I try to fancy she is by my side, then I cannot help thinking of several curi- ous things in connection with her. Though Mrs. Fairbanks has registered as a resident of Providence, she knows practically nothing of Narragansett Pier, besides she has telegraphed some one to meet her whom? Good heavens, if it's her damned husband? Barclay comes out to me and sitting beside me dif- ferentially offers me another cigar. " You are smoking up all your profits," I return. " Might as well. There's nobody here to smoke 'em." " Ah, but these are such remarkably good ones ! " I suggest ; then anxious to keep him in good humor, I order : " Send all you have in the house to my room." " Won't I ! It's such a pleasure to do business once in a while," he says, a little hope coming into his voice. Apparently he has been adding to his hope by a visit to his bar-room, though he is perfectly able to attend to business. Then he asks in appealing tone : " You will do everything you can, won't you, Mr. Marchmont, to prevent Mrs. Fairbanks leaving here, now she has found there is no other woman in the hotel ? " ^ " Jerusalem, if she should leave it ! " I mentally THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 6 1 gasjx To Barclay I say : " Be sure you do everything to keep her in the hotel. Make certain she has, to- morrow morning, the best breakfast woman's tecih ever closed upon." " I will ! " he answers resolutely, and goes away ; I imagine, to inspect his cold-storage room. Then meditation settles down upon me. I only think of one person in this world. No one else is worth con- sidering. Of a sudden Manders's words rise up before me big ns a sign board " GET A GIRL ! " In answer, I fal- ter to myself : " Can I get this girl ? " She is the only on-e I want. A gross of Birdies would be as nothing to her!" CHAPTER V. THE CHAUFFEUR CRAZE. I go up to my rooms and pace the floor of my parlor, for, Barclay, as he suggested, has given me an additional apartment next my chamber. Next to me, in the corner of the house is her suite. The very contiguity of this charming woman makes me restless, though no noise comes from her rooms, indicating Mrs. Fairbanks is in more placid mood than I am, for the partitions in most of the Narragansett hotels per- mit sounds to filter through them, sometimes even conversation. I try to read a novel, but it is a romantic affair .which discourses continually upon love. It doesn't soothe me. I toss it to the other side of the room and go to bed. Fortunately my long swim has produced physical fatigue and, after a time, sleep comes to me the good, sound dreamless repose of young and healthy manhood. From this I am awakened in the morning by some thundering raps upon the door and "Hello, get up there. Rouse your lazy bones ! " It is Manders' genial voice. "What time is it?" I cry. " Quarter to nine." "What the dickens are you up for so early?" " Let me in and I'll tell you ! " I spring out of bed and open my door. In comes the polo man and whispers to me : " Get your 62 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 63 duds on. Thompson has come up with the new gasoline. He'll be at Kingston by the boat train. I am going to take Fire Boy over and we'll put the patent naphtha into the tank and test the machine on the quiet. I want you to go with me." All this is under his breath. " Is it according t'o tHe terms of the race ? " " Oh, yes," Manders replies, " it's square enough. The Count's doctoring his brute over at Newport and I'm fixing mine up at Kingston. It's simply a question of who can do the other. I told him I was going to overhaul my motor thoroughly. He was equally frank with me and informed me he was going to get all he could out of his. Hurry up, jump into your clothes and come along." " You've had breakfast? " I ask. '* Oh, yes; a thundering good one ! " " But I haven't," I dissent. " You are not coming with me ? " " Not without breakfast : besides I don't think I can go anyway." "Oho," cries the impulsive wretch, " I'm on to you ! You've a date ! " Then he continues in a voice loud enough to frighten me. "From a glimpse of her, you've the prettiest girl in Narragansett, except Birdie. Of course, nobody is like Birdie, but you've got the next best. Berdie says your girl is more fetching than she is, but Birdie is such a modest little thing." He can surely be heard rooms away. I shudder and give him a warning look. "Oh, you needn't be jealous of me," lie laughs,, " but look out for the other fellows, my boy ! Two or three chappies were discussing her at the Casino after you passed. Not a man had laid eyes on her before last 64 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. night but they'll all be looking for her this morning on the beach. Where does she stable? Why is your face so deuced frightened ? What are you making such absurd gestures for? " His voice is so strident that if Mrs. Fairbanks is awake she must catch his words. For answer I spring at him, clasp my hands sternly over his mouth and mutter savagely : " Hush, for God's sake ; she'll hear you!" At this a knowing look flies into Charley's eyes; he gasps : " By George, she's here ! Oh, you sly devil ! Only a room or two away. Nobody in the hotel but you and her. No wonder you won't go with me appoint- ment for a tete-a-tete breakfast, eh ? " " No tete-a-tete breakfast ! " I whisper sternly. " I only met the lady last evening. She came to this hotel thinking it full of visitors. Confound you, speak lower, she'll hear you ! " For he has broken out : " Ah ; took her out walking last night. That's why you didn't keep your appoint- ment with me afterwards ? " " She was so frightened, so lonely in this big empty car," I explain. " The proprietor's semi-drunken snores from the office, when we returned last evening, alarmed her." " Oh, I see, you stayed here to cheer her up a bit," he grins ; then looks hard at me and whispers in youthful wisdom : " This must be a decidedly piquant situation, my chap, cheek by jowl with a bang-up beauty in this big tenantless hotel." Here I interrupt him sternly, saying : " Our being alone in this hotel is an absolute accident, both on my part and the lady's." " And so oleasant an accident," grins Charley, " that THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 65 there is no chance of your coming with me." To this he adds in a whisper, as he goes away : "If you think you know her well enough get her into a runabout and drive her over to Kingston three or four hours from now, and see me and Thompson running the Fire Boy." " If I know her well enough ? " I meditate, as his footsteps die away. Mrs. Fairbanks's dignified bear- ing and distant demeanor when she isn't frightened at gaunt loneliness of this big empty hotel, indicate my advances must be both deferential and gradual." As I think this, I glance at my watch and discover that it is already nine o'clock. " Malediction ! If she has had an early breakfast and I have missed her at the meal ? " I make a very rapid toilette, slipping on my clothes in a frantic hurry. Fortunately when I enter the dining-room I discover by the state of the table that no one has been before me ; therefore I gaze intently upon the door, expecting the entry of her graceful form. Towards the close of the meal, Solomon A. Smith, probably noting the direction of my glances, abruptly disheartens me by remarking : " Yo' needn't trouble yo'self 'spectin' Missus Fairbanks this mawning. Milly, actin' as de chambermaid, took her breakfast up to her rooms half an hour ago." Under this information, I finish the meal hurriedly, go to the office, light a cigar, and prowl about the front veranda, hoping to catch Mrs. Fairbanks if she comes out for a morning stroll. As I watch, Mr. Smith makes his appearance, com- ing up the stairs with the mail. To kill time I help them sort it at the office. There are a number of en- velopes addressed to Barclay. Only one for myself, 66 THE SURPRISES 01? AN EMPTY HOTEL. which is a circular, and one letter addressed to Mrs. Lucie S. Fairbanks. Its upper corner bears the name of the well known legal firm in New York Milo, Orten and Shillaber, who are great at settling will cases and also potent at arranging social entangle- ments, divorces, et cetera. Probably the business upon which Mrs. Fairbanks came hurriedly from Europe is legal. I set my mind guessing as to what it is, without particularly satisfactory results. During this, I am interrupted by an imprecation from Barclay. He has run over his letters and is sighing piteously : " Nothing but circulars ; not one application by letter for rooms. This darned losing business is knocking all the spirits out of me. Come and have a cocktail." The non-appearance of the woman for whom I am beginning to long makes me glum also. I adjourn with Barclay to his private bar and in conjunction with the unfortunate hotel proprietor cheer myself up a bit. So I linger about the hotel hoping she will make her appearance; but she doesn't come. The minutes run into the hours; but my co-boarder at the Continental does not leave her room. " Can she have heard the first blatant remarks of Manders, when he shouted that I had the prettiest girl, except Birdie, in Narragansett ?" I meditate savagely. " Is she punishing me on account of his indiscreet a- sertions ? " Pondering over this I grow sulky. It is near the bathing hour. I surlily leave the Continental and go down to the beach. Here I sullenly keep away from the general crowd of bathers and take a long, hard, savage, shark-like swim. Then I go up to the Casino to luncheon; but have little appetite. Mrs. Arnold and several other ladies THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 6^ give me pleasant salutations, but they do not raise my spirits. I wander back to the Continental. She is not en evi- 'dence. Barclay, under the influence of bad luck, seems to have imbibed a few assorted cocktails. His voice is rather thick; but I draw from him that Mrs. Fairbanks has apparently been busy with her correspondence and is just having her midday meal served in her room. Moodily I sit upon the veranda and gaze out upon the Ocean Road. Even my cigar doesn't seem pleasant to me. All the time I am listening for a coming foot- step and hoping for the rustle of dainty skirts that will indicate her approach. Hang it, has Mrs. Fairbanks overheard the reckless remarks of the careless Manders ; and have they de- termined her to keep me at a more than safe distance. A terrible hooting, clatter and whizzing, inter- rupt my meditations ; a locomobile is coming on the Ocean Drive from the direction of Tucker's store. With a snarl I glare at it and see the reckless Manders piloting Fire Boy merrily along. From its noise and action I should think the new gasoline has considerably increased power; its racket is certainly greater. Glancing up at me the wretch shouts : " What makes you look so gloomy! Has she gone back on you?" Mrs. Fairbanks will surely hear him. With a shud- der, I rush down the walk to prevent further vocifer- ous questions from the charioteer. "Your face is red enough to blow up my gasoline tank," laughs Manders. " Ye want to be dead careful abo^Tthat new and im- proved gasoline ;" says Thompson warningly, his Cock- 68 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ney in his earnestness becoming pronounced. " Hit goes horf 'orrible easy. That's the reason hit's so quick hon combustion, and gives the extra power it's just like nitro-glycerine is to old black gunpowder it's got more force but is liable to do ye. But I don't care if I goes hup hin the hair, if we distances Frenchy ! " This effusion Charley interrupts by : " Get in with me, Frank. Thompson jump off and wait for me at the Casino." As I take my place beside myfriend he turns the ve- hicle about. " I was looking for company," he re- marks, " let's go down and test the machine over the course." To this I mutter assent. " You look so glum," grins Charley as we pass Tucker's store, " that I imagine I guessed right." " Yes ; and it's on your account," I say angrily. " She must have overheard you calling her ' my girl ' this morning. Great Scott; no wonder she fights shy. Do you think a modest woman likes to hear herself as- signed as the property of a man she has seen but once in her life." "Jingo; that won't do you any harm," replies the polo man in philosophical subtility. " It will only get her to thinking of you in the light of future proprietor ; something that might never have entered her head if it hadn't been for me." Then he queries : " Who is she, anyway, maid, wife or widow ? " " Blessed if I know," I answer. " There's a Mrs. be- fore her name in the register, but hang me, if some- times she doesn't look like a girl." At this Charley bursts out laughing; in his merri- ment, carelessly pressing his foot upon the accelerator, .we fly up the hill towards the Rocks at a terrific pace, THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 69 A few minutes after we pass the Country Club, and there being very few vehicles on the road, \ve go the course down to Point Judith and back at a speed that makes Charley chuckle. Then he turns round and we travel the course several times, noting the curves where we must slacken speed, and testing the best methods of taking the ascents and descents. This occupies considerable time, as Manders does a good deal of experimenting. He remarks complacently : " If De Varnes hasn't got some new wrinkle up his motor I am bound to beat him." " Unless you blow up," I laugh, for the terrific snort- ing of the machine indicates that Thompson's new and improved gasoline has power enough to run us to kingdom come, if by any chance it ignites or explodes. " Perhaps you'd feel a bit easier if you drove Fire Boy yourself," jeers Manders, No. 3. " Supposing you teach me to run it," I answer, for having a natural knack at mechanics, I have been not- ing his management of the motor, and the speed and power of the steel beast have interested me. Whereupon we change places and I take the steering wheel. After a few hints from Manders in regard to changing the gear, using the foot-brake, clutch and accelerator, we got under way, Charley showing me how to gradually increase the pace of the vehicle without sudden jerk. An expert on the bicycle, having ridden bronchos at breakneck speed, and even taken a few trips in the cab of a locomotive out West, a high speed does not rattle me. I gradually acquire the knack of the machine, and Fire Boy goes along very comfortably under my man- agement. 7O THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. The steel beast's untiring vigor and impressive power soon put the chauffeur craze in my veins. I discover why men who are devoted to the horse are delighted with an automaton which can so outlast and outspeed that noble animal. In the excitement of my first auto- mobile run the hours pass very quickly. Returning, we draw up beside the Casino, where Thompson greets us with a muttered: "Good Lord, is he driving?" then goes on volubly : " You have been taking bigger chances than you know, Mr. Charley, with an inexpe- rienced man running Fire Boy. My new and improved gasoline if anything went wrong would put you up in the hair in a second. A friend of mine who was work- ing for the Winton Company used it to win a race. 'E came in first ; but two days after 'e and his machine, while taking a lonely run, disappeared entire. They picked up some of the hiron work, though." " Nonsense," I reply, " I could run this motor any- where." Here Manders interrupts : " Got the fever in your veins, I see. You'll soon own your own machine and be arrested for fast driving." " Yes," mutters Thompson, "no man's a chauffeur unless 'e 'as been fined a few times to give 'im a reputa- tion. It's strange how the judges are so down on us, when they ought to imprison the 'osses. It's a bloomin' shame that 'osses like that one " he points to a steed that is rearing on its hind legs at the unearthly noises of the Fire Boy "should be let loose in the streets to kill people." At this both Manders and I burst into laughter, as we spring out of the vehicle. Thanking my friend for an exciting afternoon, I turn my steps towards the Continental, but do not THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 7 1 reach it until the shadows of evening are descending upon the Ocean Drive. As I run up the hotel stairs, recollections of the be- ing, for the moment ejected from my mind, return suddenly to me with them comes joy. I see her white dress in the reception room. I am about to step hur- riedly in and join her, when her voice makes me pause. The lady of my desire is in apparent consultation with a rather formal prim-looking black-coated man. She is standing before him in a defiant attitude. I catch a few words, though these are pertinent. She says: "Mr. Shillaber, you can tell that that gentleman," she hesitates slightly over the title " if he dates to cause one breath of scandal I will make him report it till the day he dies." Fortunately I have not been noticed. I return quietly. to the front veranda and sit down well towards its north end, so as to avoid the slightest appearance of intruding on what is a confidential interview. The .very position I take to eliminate myself from Mrs. Fairbanks's affairs makes me a partner in the conclu- sion of the conference. I have not been seated on the balcony five minutes .when I hear the rustle of her skirts just round the cor- ner on the veranda at the steps which lead down to the side entrance. She has come out by the side pas- sage, apparently to bid good bye to the gentleman whose words now tell me he is a lawyer. As I glance around the corner I see that a hack is waiting for him. Mr. Shillaber shakes hands with Mrs. Fairbanks, and says : " Thank you very much for your invitation to dinner, but I have just time to catch the steamer train for New York, and I have a very important reference for to- 7* THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. morrow morning. Remain quietly here. Its very lone- liness makes this much the best hotel for you, until I have legally arranged this unpleasant matter." " So you think I had better stay here ? " she mutters, looking up at the deserted hotel, a kind of terror in her voice. " Yes ; it is certainly wisest, until everything is set- tled. I very reluctantly cabled you to come over from Paris. Now that you are on this side of the Atlantic this business should be finished entirely. You have registered from Providence, I see, as I advised." Then the legal gentleman makes me start. " You are per- fectly sure that the man staying here is not a detect- ive ? " he asks. Your opponents know you are in America and would do anything they dared to annoy you." " Pooh," returns Mrs. Fairbanks, airily, "my fellow boarder was here two days before I came, and I didn't know to what hotel I'd come until driven up to these empty portals. Besides, the gentleman's name is per- fectly familiar to me. In Paris I once heard my hus- band speak of him as a mining engineer." " Hang it ! That settles it she has a husband ! " I moan mentally. The anguish of the thought makes me frightened at my feelings in regard to her. Then I hear the lawyer saying : " Good bye, Mrs. Fairbanks. As soon as possible I will communicate to you the answer I receive to our proposition. You don't think I had better engage a maid or companion for you?" " Are you sure you could get one you could trust ? " she asks suspiciously ; then goes on : " This business will be finished shortly supposing we leave things in status quo for the present." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 73 As Shillaber steps down the side stairs to take his carriage, his client, with a rather perturbed look on her beautiful face, turns away and coming round the cor- ner of the veranda descries me in the partial gloom of the evening. As her eyes rest on me, she gives a little start; then says in apparently careless indifference: " Been having a pleasant day, Mr. " hang it, is it assumed, or has she really forgotten my name " Mr. Marchmont ? " I start at this sting to my pride. " Very ! " I reply curtly. " Hope you have enjoyed yourself also." At this she gazes at the empty balcony, gives a piquant little shudder, passes into the hotel and goes quietly up to 'her room. Very shortly I step up to mine, put on my tuxedo in a hurry and come down to the dinner table. If I have hopes of seeing her, I am disappointed. Mr. Smith, in his genial darkey way after a little, re- marks : " Won't have no companionship dis ebening, sah. Missus Fairbanks jes' ordered her dinner sent up to her parlor. She's a good customer, she is. Extra service in de rooms runs up de bills, I tell yo'. Milly is jes' takin' it up." I finish my coffee, step out on the balcony and smoke a moody cigar. If she can be offish, so can I. I won't even think of her. Of course, I do think of her. My mind goes back to her interview with Shillaber, who is one of the big guns of the New York bar. If he took the trouble to come all the way to Narragansett to see a client, it must cost the poor thing a pretty penny," I reflect, sympathetically. Then I wonder what is the le- gal business that makes it wise for Mrs. Fairbanks to assume a residence in Rhode Island and live so quietly here. What did she mean by her threat if her opponent 74 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. attempted to make a scandal ? Why should he dare to use a detective to watch her movements? The only reasonable deduction is I gave a gasp at the thought the beautiful creature is desirous of obtaining a di- vorce from her brutal husband. The laws of Rhode Island are very favorable to severing the nuptial knot The State is practically an aristocratic South Dakota. How could any man treat that lovely being slightingly or cruelly? If he has ! " I am about to mentally knock the brutal Fairbanks's head off, when I suddenly remember that Fairbanks's beautiful wife has given me a very decided hint that I need take no further interest in her. CHAPTER VI. THE SLEEPING MAN AT SHERRY'S CASINO. Fortunately Barclay interrupts the misery of my meditations, by half staggering from his office, to my side. " Our grand scheme with the hackmen doesn't seem to work," I remark, grimly. " No, that's reason I'm so down in the mouth," he answers with a hiccough. " They brought two or three to-day, but when the fares saw how lonely the place looked, hanged if they didn't all cuss the hackman and get out in a hurry. But the Tower Hill House is worse," he says, with a semi-drunken grin. " I've I've jus' had a telephone. Robertson ye hie know Robertson He's the boss of the Tower Hill House. He tells me he's got a boarder, too. But I beat him by, one, don't I. Come in and let's have a nip on the one! " This invitation I decline. It is easy to see that Bar- clay has already had too many nips to-day. " Then let's have a drink on the boarder up up a' the Tower Hill House ? " he stammers. " Robertson telephones he thinks his boarder's a de a detective; the hie cuss seemed so dis-pointed when he didn't find anybody up there to spy on. He's been inquiring surreptitious if people was expected." " Did Robertson telephone you the name of his guest ? " I ask. " Yes ; it was Timothy Brain Dash it, I've " Mr. Barclay interrupts himself by a hiccough and mutters : " I've forgot it." 75 76 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Think ! " I command eagerly. " It was Timothy Brain Brain-hard. That's what it was." " Timothy Brainard," I correct. " You are sure? " " Certain as a man can be with twenty cocktails in- side of him," mutters Barclay stupedly ; then brighten- ing up, he cries : " I'll 'phone Robertson and find out for you." " You needn't take that trouble," I direct ; adding nervously : " Have you telephoned Robertson the names of your guests ? " " Not" hiccough " as yet ! " " Then you had better not do so," I say severely. " The only advantage you can give your boarders, Bar- clay, is privacy. If you take that from them, both Mrs. Fairbanks and I may not remain with you." " Devil a bit I'll tell on ye," mutters the boniface, with a drunken leer, and goes away. The fellow has certainly been taking too many cocktails. Turning from him, I wonder if this Brainard is a detective; then utter a mocking laugh if he is em- ployed to shadow Mrs. Fairbanks's movements and has mistaken the deserted Tower Hill House for the equally deserted Continental that would be a rum go upon the mouchard. Somehow about this time I wish I could hit her husband. Gloomily I step out on the Ocean Drive, stride its sidewalk and look up at the hotel. There is a light in the lady's windows. Though the night is warm, the blinds are down. I feel as if she had drawn the cur- tains between us. I go off moodily to the bustle of the lively Casino. Here, in conjunction with some of Charley's friends, I knock out time for an hour or so. Manders isn't pres- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 77 ent; that gentleman chancing to dine this evening at the cottage of his fiancee. About this time little Larry Montagne, who is sitting beside me, whispers : " Get on to him ! " " Get on to whom ? " I ask. " That excursionist who has lost his girl." Following Mr. Larry's eyes I notice at a table a dozen yards away from us a man, with a bottle of beer before him, smoking a long black domestic cigar. He has grey eyes and a sandy straggling moustache and beard, also a rather florid complexion. His general get up and costume indicate that he is out of his class in this place. He sits alone; and his rather rest- less eyes scanning everybody in the Casino has sug- gested to Mr. Larry that he has lost his girl. " Lost his girl " as this idea comes into my head an awful thought flies through me " Good heavens, I have left Mrs. Fairbanks alone with a drunken land- lord ! If she was timid last night, she will be in hys- terics this evening. Under the circumstances, whether she slighted me or not, is was a dastard act to leave that poor girl to the nervous terrors of that big empty unlighted hotel. With a few hurried excuses I get up and leave the Casino. Outside I have a fight with myself, but thank God, I put my pride in my pocket and hurry back to the Continental. As I approach the building I see a white dress fluttering upon its veranda. I run up the stairway that leads to the main entrance and hear heaven forgive me a low, faint, but very sweet sob. I cautiously approach a graceful figure. She is seated with her head buried in her hands. Hearing my step she starts up with a little agitated scream, then stammers : " I I thought you you w*re that awful 78 THE SURPRISES OP AN EMPTY HOTEL. drunken Barclay ! " next murmurs : " Thank God, you are here, Mr. Marchmont ! " " Now she wants me, she remembers my name," I think ungenerously. Even her trembling loveliness doesn't appease me. To her I say curtly : " Why don't you leave the hotel ? " Though I sympathize with her, I haven't forgiven her. " I I can't ! My lawyer thinks it best I remain quietly here. Of course, if this keeps on, I must go to some other hotel, no matter how public." " You need have no fear of being left alone in this place from now on, or of Barclay's getting drunk again," I answer. " I will speak to him in the morning. He is a well-meaning fellow, but his business mis- fortunes in this losing venture have, I think, made our landlord seek the consolation of the bottle." Then I gasp suddenly and savagely : " Did the villain say or do anything unpleasant ? " " Oh, no ; Barclay was perfectly respectful, but very, very drunk," she shudders. " Very well ; reassure yourself ; this evening I shall remain here." Then I remark authoritatively : " Go quietly up to your room; you need fear no interruption. Thank Providence, woman-like Mrs. Fairbanks doesn't seem to care to do what she is told. She doesn't go to her room, but remains seated. I light a cigar and pace the veranda. After a few moments contemplation, she looks up at me nervously, gives a charming little pout and astounds me with : ' 'You you haven't been very sociable to- day?" At this terrible prevarication I pause petrified, my cigar nearly falling from my hand. " What opportu- nity did you give me to be sociable ? " I ask angrily. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ^9 "A man of your social discernment might might have made one," she stammers, almost reproachfully. " A man of my social discernment can take a hint and understand a snub." " You you don't know much about women ! " she answers, then tries to muffle the suggestion in a nerv- ous giggle. " I know enough about women," I remark severely, "to know that they need care, attention government." " I'll take care and attention first," she smiles coquet- tishly. " As for the government ! " she favors me with a piquant little moue and a roguish toss of her head. " Very well ; now for the care and attention," I an- swer, pleased that her spirits seem to have risen on my coming. A moment's consideration tells me the very best thing for Lucie Holy poker, I've thought of her by her Christian name is change of environment. Any place will be better for her during the next two hours than the gaunt loneliness of this hotel. Il " Let's go down to the Casino ? " I suggest. Seeing that she hesitates, I add : " At least for a walk." " Yes ; that will do me good," she answers cordially. " I've I've been in there all day." She gazes at the almost unlighted hotel with melancholy eyes, then sud- denly queries : " Am I costumed for the Casino ? I didn't dress for dinner this evening." We have wandered beneath the only electric light in the hall. She droops her eyes as I inspect her. The sheer tissues of the plain white muslin frock give en- chanting glimpses of her dazzling shoulders. All her robes have evidently been made by artists in costume. .This one t though it's only trimmings are a lew bits of 8o THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. rare old lace, lends to her superb figure a girlish freshness and piquant youth. " A hat and a wrap and you'll do for a beauty show " I answer so ardently that she looks at me astonished, and runs upstairs, a dainty redness on her cheeks. As I stand near the office awaiting Mrs. Fairbanks, Barclay is snoring in drunken unconsciousness upon his office chair. I step behind the railing, carry him to his little room immediately behind his office, place him on a sofa and make him comfortable. During this I give the unfortunate hotel keeper a grateful hug; the fellow's very dissipation has endowed me with an addi- tional chance in a game that has been growing so des- perate to me I fear to contemplate what it really means. A second later I heat her voice as she trips down the stairs. I hurry out to her, and she, putting a very daintily-gloved hand lightly upon my arm, departs with me from the Continental. Then we walk along Ocean Drive, I trying to raise Mrs. Fairbanks's spirits by the small talk of the Pier. As we approach the Casino she glances up and down the line of waiting vehicles, and says lightly : " That awful locomobile that frightened the horse is not here this evening." " No," I reply, "its owner, Comte De Varnes, is in Mewport, I believe, on social duties. Would you like o go in and get some supper ? " " Yes ; to tell you the truth, I am very hungry," my companion answers decidedly. " I I hadn't any appe- tite for dinner. I had heard some unpleasant news from my lawyer, and felt lonely and out of spirits." " You are better, now? " THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 8 1 " Oh, very much ! What a lovely tune the band is playing ! They call it a rag-time in this country, don't they?" I place Mrs. Fairbanks's name on the register, then we step onto the balcony, and she exclaims enthusiasti- cally : " What a brilliant scene ! It reminds me more of the French watering places than any thing I have viewed in America." Anxious for the credit of Narragansett, I reply: " You should have seen it early in the evening. There is a dance up at the Country Club. The place is lonely now." " I am very much pleased if is lonely." Taking the hint I lead her to that little green kiosk in the extreme north corner of the terraces. It is far away from most of the people, who are nearer the ver- anda and band-stand. Here I secure a discreet waiter. Together I think we have as pleasant a little supper as anybody ever did in Sherry's Casino, and that's say- ing as much as is possible for a meal. Of course, it contains some confidences what tete- a-tete supper doesn't though not as many as I wish. Towards the close of the repast one or two of my charge's remarks indicate what I have already guessed that she is unhappily married. We have already wandered through an omelet, chicken and mayonnaise when, carried away by her graceful vivacity, I remark : " To-morrow I hope you will give me a great pleas- ure." " Indeed ? " Mrs. Fairbanks's bright e^es are inquisi- tive. . " Yes ; one of which you cheated me to-day." " What's that, Mr. Enigma? " she laughs. " That of seeing you naturally illuminated. Our 82 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. meetings so far have always been under incandescent lamps." " Mightn't that be a mutual pleasure ? " she returns insouciantly ; then queries : " Do you try to look as commanding in the daytime as you do at night? " " You know very well how I look in the sunlight," I answer significantly. " What makes you think that? " " You have seen me twice this very day." " Nonsense ! " Though she is slightly embarrassed, she shrugs her shoulders in almost French unbelief. " Once after breakfast when I went off to a lonely swim; the second time when Manders shouted to me and I joined him in his locomobile." Probably remembering the reckless polo player's words, Mrs. Fairbanks' face grows rosy as I go on lightly: " I saw a white hand lifting one of the blinds of your windows that look out upon the Ocean Drive." Here she brings astonishment upon me ; she scoffs : " Why, you would make an excellent detective ! " then murmurs, almost sadly : " Perhaps some day I'll want one," adding half laughingly, " Could I engage you ? " "You can engage me for anything from bellboy to husband ! " I reply with such ardor that she checks me with, " How do you know that position is open ? Didn't you read Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks on the regis- ter? You can't deny it," she continues, " for I saw you inspecting the book as soon as you left the dining-room last evening." My companion has grown so interested in tlie con- versation that the woman of the world has vanished in an exquisite girlish naivete. A plain little straw sailor hat that tops her brown clustering locks and two escaped curls that wave in the sea breeze about her. JTHE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 83 white neck make her appearance so juvenile that I blurt out: " You look too girlish for a matron ! " " Ah, but I married two years ago," she sighs rather sadly. Great Scott", how I hate her husband ! I remark sympathetically : " Your slight experience of matri- mony doesn't seem to be a pleasant one? " Mrs. Fairbanks's answer startles me. She turns away her lovely head and shudders : " Slight but aw- ful!" i Indignation at the dastard Fairbanks overcomes m'y prudence; I mutter: "Curse your husband." For- tunately this is so under my breath that she doesn't catch my words, but the reproving expression on her face shows she guesses my meaning. ' " Of course, I apologize to you for my tone," I say hurriedly. " But when I think of the outrages your husband must have perpetrated upon one so young, so innocent, so tender as to make her leave him, I " My heart has got the better of me; there is no telling what wild words I may utter, but as I look at her such surprise sparkles in her brilliant eyes that I pause and remark in sulky explanation : " Excuse me, but inad- vertently I learned this from some words of your lawyer that I accidentally overheard as he was bidding you good-bye this afternoon." " Ah yes of course ! " she is trying to prevent some emotion of her vivacious mind escaping her. For a moment I think it is laughter. I rise half angrily. She rises also, and looking about, suggests with a slightly startled expression : " Good gracious ; no wonder you think it is time to be going. Everybody felse has disappeared." 84 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. "All but one." I point to a silent figure, half re- clining in a chair near our kiosk. " Oh, he doesn't count," she exclaims lightly, as we pass out. " He's asleep." Following her pretty gesture, I notice that the sleeper is the excursionist that little Montagne had christened, " the man who had lost his girl." Apparently our conversation has aroused the excur- sionist, for after we have left the Casino a few paces I chance to glance back and see the man standing at the entrance in conversation with the doorkeeper, probably asking his directions as to some hotel in which to pass the night. A moment after the lady's voice draws my attention. I forget all else in the charming vivacity of my companion. / CHAPTER VII. THE PEEPHOLE INTO A LADY'S PARLOR. .With woman's tact, Mrs. Fairbanks doesn't permit the conversation to drift again upon her unhappy mar- riage; but as we walk towards the Continental favors me with a few sprightly anecdotes of the French watering places, Dieppe, Trouville and Boulogne sur Mer. Her facile tongue makes it seem scarce a min- ute ere our hotel looms up before us, the single electric light on its balcony adding to its deserted appearance. " Home again ! " I say cheerfully. In reply she utters a slightly nervous laugh as she runs up the steps with me and stands hesitating at its portals. " You are not frightened ? " is my anxious question. " Not with you here ! " she replies simply. " Though Smith and Milly, having in their careless darkey way gone off to a Cakewalk, when I discovered there was only a drunken man in this big empty building with me, I was decidedly alarmed." " You need have no fear of being deserted now." At my words she turns impulsively to me and re- marks apologetically : " You take a great deal of trouble for a casual acquaintance," then, rather quizzic- ally, suggests : " I suppose you would like to hear a little about me?" " I am so interested in you," I say hoarsely, "that I want to know everything about you." Probably my eyes speak even more pertinently than 85 86 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. my tongue. A startled expression flies into her hazel orbs. " Perhaps you shall some day," she answers, attempting lightness; then before I can reply, breaks out, a curious intensity in her tone : " Let me thank you for doing so much for one about whom you know so little. Like most women, I desire to be taken on faith, Mr. Marchmont. I wouldn't care greatly for a man who didn't implicitly believe in me without credentials." Her face, adorned by a slight flush of earnestness, seems to me radiant in its truth. " You are like the Bible to be taken on faith," I answer, adding enthusiastically: "and I believe equally good." " When they burned people for heresy, that simile would have been very dangerous to you, Mr. March- mont," she laughs. This is an attempt on her part to avoid earnestness, but I go on recklessly : " It's dangerous for me now, when they don't burn people." " Dangerous to believe in me? " " It's dangerous for anyone to let his belief become a fanaticism." The ardor in my eyes disconcerts Mrs. Fairbanks. She laughs flurriedly : " I always flee from fanatics ! " and trips into the house as if to go to her room. But even as she passes into the empty hall I see her pause and hesitate. She turns to me timidly and fal- ters : " Don't you think with these big doors open all night and Barclay in a drunken slumber, burglars might enter unobserved ? " " Would you like me to look under your bed ? " I laugh. " Not exactly! But but there might be some- THE SURPRISES OP AN EMPTY HOTEL. 87 body in the passages," she whispers appealingly, " Please come up as far as the entrance to my rooms and stay there until I get safely in and lock the door." " With all the pleasure in the world." I am already stepping up the stairs with her. At the portals of her apartment, desiring to destroy her nervousness, I observe lightly : " In case you are alarmed during the night, rap upon your wall. There are only two inches of lathe and plaster between you and me, and I can hear very easily." " Yes ; I know ! This morning " she checks her^ self suddenly and fumbles the key in embarrassment, as she unlocks her door. This brings to me recollections of occurrences for which I haven't yet forgiven her. " Yes," I reply se- verely, "this morning you overheard the reckless Man- ders, and punished me for his words." "How?" " By denying me the pleasure of your society ; by snubbing me and affecting to have forgotten even my name." Mrs. Fairbanks's only answer is to get red in the face, and I go on : " Didn't you do that because you over- heard Manders making some idiotic remarks ? " " Y-e-s," she returns, slightly disconcerted and not meeting my glance. "That was the second time I suffered for Mr. Manders's effrontery," I reply sternly. " Now I am tired of vicarious penance. I am going to smoke a cigar on the balcony. If you think you owe me repara- tion, you can come down and tell me." " Otherwise ? " Her mien has grown haughty, her eyes are blazing, though rather startled. " ptherwise ; though I shall take the very best care 88 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. of you in the world while you are at this hotel, Mad- ame, still it will be from a most respectful distance." I have already turned from her and am at the head of the steps. I know I have taken a foolhardy chance, but if it wins from a woman of her kind, it will be a great victory. She gives me no answer save an astonished and angry gasp. So I walk down the stairs and seat myself quietly on the deserted veranda. Here I smoke and listen anxiously for a coming step. Not hearing it, after a time consternation strikes me. Dolt that I was, to put my happiness for this is the way I am beginning to regard the matter upon a single impulse of a woman's mind. If this haughty lady doesn't yield, I am com- pelled to keep my word and my distance or be regarded by her as a nincompoop. After such a defeat at her hands I know enough about the sex to be reasonably sure that a careless toleration will be the most I can ever hope from Lucie Fairbanks. Women despise slaves, though they like to use them. These reflections make the fine cigar in my mouth bitter as wormwood. Suddenly I hear the quick rustle of muslin skirts, the music of a light step. She is standing beside me. Her eyes are embarrassed, yet frightened, her mouth pouting, yet angry. I can see that she has had a mighty struggle with herself, for her whole appear- ance is excited her limbs are even trembling. She nearly knocks me off my chair with these astounding words : " I I apologize to you. Demand any repara- tion you cleem proper from me, but for God's sake, go up stairs and catch the burglar ! " " The burglar ? " I half cry, in gaping astonishment. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 89 "Yes; the villain whose stealthy footfalls make me crazy." " You are sure ? " " I I heard him moving about over my head. He stumbled over a chair; he must be in the dark. He he is in the room immediately above my parlor ! He he nearly frightened me to death ! " The excited alarm in her face and the quivering of her body carries con- viction. " I'll fix the fellow ! " I say savagely, though I could almost embrace the miscreant for the weapon he has placed in my hands against this defenceless lady. I am about to bolt up stairs and get my revolver when I reflect that should I shoot the scoundrel, or make any disturbance that will require police investiga- tion, good bye to my occupying the Continental alone and unnoticed with my beautiful charge, whose fears are providentially placing her within my hand. I can see that she is trembling as she stands beside me. " Step quietly back into the office. There no harm can come to you," I whisper, and lead her to the little reception room. Here I command : " Don't think of leaving this until I tell you, no matter what happens." " Yes ! " Her voice is more subdued than I have ever heard issue from her lips. After thinking for a moment, I act rapidly. Hur- riedly entering the little room off Barclay's office, where the hotel proprietor is still in the sleep of the sof, I take from it a long, strong cord that has apparently been used in securing some freight packages; next I gather up all the newspapers I can find about, whicfi, fortunately, are quite numerous. 'Making these into three paper torches I go cau- 90 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. tiously up the first flight of stairs to the corridor upon which Mrs. Fairbanks's apartment and mine open. From this a stairway leads up to the next story. At the foot of this stairway, knowing very well even in the darkness the position of everything, I secure the strong cord a foot or so above the landing, in such a position that it will trip anybody coming hurriedly down the steps. This done, I ascend cautiously to the next -story, upon which the burglar is located. The passageway is absolutely dark. I listen. There is no noise, but by a little streak of reflected moonlight I see the transom over a room is open. This should be the place of the man's concealment, as it is immediately above Mrs. Fairbanks's parlor. Provided with matches, as most smoking men usually are, I quietly light the paper torches, then waive them furiously outside the open transom. As they blaze up I run about shrieking : " Fire ! Everybody out of the house! Turn on the hose ! Fire! Save your- selves ! Fire ! " and dash along the passageway. There is an answering yell of horror from the room. Its door is thrown open and a man, with two afrighted French shrieks, dashes down the stairs. I hear a stum- ble, a howl and a crashing fall. Next a horrible " Sacre nom de Dieu!" Then, the scoundrel recov- ing himself, rushes down the second stairway leading to the office floor, dashes out through the open portals and descends the steps upon the Ocean Drive; some piercing screams from Mrs. Fairbanks in the seclusion of her anteroom, apparently helping the miscreant to increased speed. Anxious for her safety, I have come flying down the two flights of stairs closely after the man ; I pause THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 91 at the office and stand petrified. As the fugitive half runs, half limps out under the one electric light his general appearance seems to me foreign and something like that of Alfred, le Comte de Varnes. Of course, in the uncertain illumination I can't be absolutely sure, but his oaths were French that I could swear. Con- fused by this astounding idea I step into the anteroom and find Mrs. Fairbanks pathetically finishing her last scream. " Is the house on fire? " she* gasps. " No ; that was my method of rousing out the burglar without shooting him." Then I question anxiously : " Did you see the scoundrel's face ? " " No ; I was about to run out when I remembered you had told me I must stay here," she answers ; and astonishes me by adding : " You are the only man I ever obeyed in my whole life ! " Delighted with this tribute, I say to her oracularly : " That is the end of the burglar in this house to-night. After an alarm and a tumble like that villain got, he will not be apt to return here in a hurry. However, the safest way is to close the portals." During this hubbub Barclay has been snoring utterly undisturbed. We step to the front door, and as I am about to lock it, Smith and Milly make their appear- ance, returning from the cakewalk. " Let me help yo' boss," says the darkey effusively. " I'se de porter of dis hotel." Gazing upon his Ethiopian countenance and reflect- ing upon his Ethiopian brain, I judge it wise to say nothing of the occurrence to Mr. Smith, but simply suggest he had better shut up shop for the night, which he does, assisted by Milly. Leaving the servants to this business, I escort Mrs. 92 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Fairbanks to the door of her apartment, and seeing that she hesitates to enter, remark : " There's no dan- ger now." "You jeeringly offered to look under my bed once," she pleads, " now please do it. Be a man of your word." Throwing open her door, she remains outside nerv- ously pacing the passageway as I enter her parlor. It is my first glance at the lady's retreat. Though the room is, of course, slightly decorated, its walls and ceiling being papered in some cheap flowered pattern of roses and honeysuckles, it has been made homelike by some subtle feminine art. An upright piano has been placed in one of its corners. This, with a few little articles of bric-a-brac and a photograph or two, give it a domestic appearance. I scarce notice these, but immediately proceed to my inspection. Of course, there is nobody in the parlor, nor in its adjoin- ing closet, which is filled by a magnificent wardrobe. I turn towards the second room of the suite, my foot as it passes over the carpet stirs up a little white dust. Snarling mentally : " Has she received the visit of some gallant ? " I stoop down to pick up what seems to me the ashes from a cigar. But as my fingers touch it I know the white stuff that grits between them is powdered plaster which has been apparently either dashed about the room by Lucie's agile feet or hastily removed. The fall of a pimple of plaster isn't such an unusual thing in an unoccupied summer hotel, which endures the storms of winter and the heat of summer untenanted and sometimes unrepaired. Carelessly I glance up at the papered ceiling from which the plaster must have dropped, and see almost in the center of a THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 93 big pink rose something that looks like a spider's hole. Still I think little of this, for my feet are entering the sacred portals of the lady's chamber and dressing room. Evidently Mrs. Fairbanks needs a maid; her toilet articles are tossed about in careless disarray from two trunks hastily unpacked. I glance under the white bed and think reverently but ardently of the beautiful head its snowy pillows will soon cushion. Of course, there is nobody there; a fire alarm like the one I have given would make a Jack Shepard take leg bail. I gaze into the dressing closet and ob- serve more dresses, robes and lingerie, likewise an array of the daintiest slippers and feminine footgear. From their distractions I hurry back into the parlor, for their fair owner, tired of patroling the passageway, has nervously entered it and is now call- ing to me : " Is there anyone there ? Be sure you look in the trunks. Have you poked under the bed ? " " Oh, yes," I reply laughingly, " I've caught a burglar fly in the water jug and drowned him in your washbowl." " Don't make fun ! If you had heard that man overhead swearing awful Gallic oaths when he stumbled over that chair, you would have been frightened also." There is reproach in her sweet timidity. At this I reflect. " Surely the villain was a Frenchman. * ; " There was nothing peculiar in the scoundrel's voice?" I ask eagerly, attempting a little detective work. " After hearing his first horrid words I closed my ears with both hands and ran down to to apologize to you and get you to catch him/' she answers. 94 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. We are standing together in her parlor, from which I am rather astonished to note that Mrs. Fairbanks has removed the photographs. Would that I had looked upon them; they might have given me an insight into a life I am very anxious to know all about. But her words again make me savage. " Yes, only terror has ever brought you to appeal to me," I say bitterly. " The first night it was on account of this lonely hotel; this evening because a drunken landlord was snoring in the office you gave me your company ; a moment ago it was merely your frantic hysterics at a burglar that made you come to me and say apology." " It it was so very hard to humble myself after your haughty manner," she stammers. " But now that you have been so brave about burglars and so resource- ful, I mean what I said on the piazza." Then she asks impressively : " What reparation do you want ? " " Only what you denied me this morning," I answer triumphantly. " Your presence at the breakfast table to-morrow" I look at my watch "no, this morning." "Likewise, I am going to take you for a drive to see the most beautiful nautical panorama in the world, the New York Yacht Club squadron rounding Point Judith." " That is not such awful penance," she laughs. " I adore yachting. I should also enjoy a drive if you didn't put it in the form of a penalty. I have never obeyed anybody since my governess, and I hate being told to do anything. " Think of me as your governess," I suggest grimly. f< That's that's impossible! " she ejaculates. "I hated her." The latent suggestion of her observation coming home to us both my face grows radiant, hers flushed and abashed. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 95 " No; I don't mean exactly that, of course ! " she falters; then breaks out: "But if I am to breakfast \vith you, as you demand, I have to get up early. I'm I'm so helpless without my maid. Early to rise means early to bed ! Good night, since you won't let me off the breakfast." " Not a bit," I reply. " Your hand on that." Impulsively she extends her beautiful member. It is the first time I have clasped it. Before when Mrs. Fairbanks had accepted my escort she had merely bowed. As my fingers close ardently about her dainty idigits they give fire to my veins. My eyes blaze. Her orbs are likewise bright. Has the Promethean flame reached her also? She withdraws her fingers deftly and I step into the hall. Gazing after me she says a tinge of coquetry in her voice: "Under the circumstances a Frenchman .would have kissed my hand." " We Americans know a better place to kiss ! " I an- swer imprudently, and step towards her. " We Americans know too much ! " she retorts se- verely, then closes the door sharply in my very face and locks it. From the other side of the portal she repeats : "Good night!" As I stand in the corridor looking at the blank wood- work, I have a wild hope that Lucie I will call her Lucie though she may hate being bossed, may not hate the bosser. But another sensation is before me this night. In the very act of stepping into my own apartments I remem- fcer the spider's hole in the big rose of Mrs. Fairbanks's parlor ceiling and reflect that it was immediately under the room out of which I had frightened the burglar. The dust of the fallen plastering was white and Q 96 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. fresh. I hurry noiselessly up stairs to the room and enter it cautiously, fearing that my footfalls may give the lady below another fright. Guardedly striking a match, to my astonishment I see the electric incandes- cent is in place. Turning this on, my first hasty glance shows that the miscreant, with the exception of tip- ping over a chair, presumably in the darkneess, has left no trace behind him. My second inspection makes me start. A portion of the carpet has been torn up from ^ie floor. Stepping anxiously to this I give a gasp, as I discover with what design. A small section of the flooring has been taken up and a peep hole has been bored with an augur through the lathing and plastering of the ceiling below it, permitting a view of a portion of Mrs. Fairbanks's parlor, likewise the ascent of al- most a whisper from the room below. iWhat I had thought a spider's hole in the big rose is to give a spy opportunity of inspection. To obtain freedom for his mechanical work, the scoundrel, hav- ing taken off his cuff link, had rolled up the shirt sleeve on his right arm. Disturbed in his nefarious work by my alarm of fire, the man had rushed from the room so hurriedly that he had left the trinket on the carpet beside where he knelt. I pick up the cuff link. It is of plain gold, but bears in enamel, beautifully worked, a crest consisting of a silver moon pierced by a golden arrow. This clue to the spy I put in my pocket. I am ib^ut to replace the bearding and the carpet and withdraw cautiously when a muttered sigh floats up to me through the orifice leading from Mrs. Fair- banks's parlor. I cannot resist the temptation. For a moment I gaze down. In radiant beauty she is stand- ing almost beneath my eye. She is apparently rpplac- ing on the table the photographs. One is already . THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 97 on the table beside her, but I cannot see the face ; an- other is in her hand. As she looks upon it she utters a low exclamation, then raising her white arm above her head, she dashes the photograph to the floor and stamps her little foot viciously upon it. The room is not over eleven feet in height ; my eyes all scarce six from the photograph as it is poised in air, the electric light falling full upon it. I fight to restrain a cry of mingled pain and astonishment. The picture that Mrs. Fairbanks has dashed down and crushed is a likeness of Alfred, le Comte de Varnes. In a half-dazed way I cautiously replace the flooring and the carpet, and after carefully inspecting the other rooms above her suite, and finding nothing suspicious, regain with noiseless steps my own cham- ber. Eternal heavens, what has the Comte de Varnes to do with Lucie Fairbanks ? " Of one thing I am now certain. It wasn't for the purpose of theft but espionage the man had sneaked into the Hotel Continental. Then her destruction of the photograph rises in my mind. It had been upon Mrs. Fairbanks's table. She had removed it to keep it from my eyes. What made her, this night, cast down and grind under her heel the face of Alfred de Varnes ? My only solution is that she may have seen and recognized the Count as he fled through the hall, and some sudden disgust produced her assault upon his likeness. " What can this man have to do with Lucie? Is he some lover who has stepped between her and her husband ? Has she ever loved him ? Does she love him now?" That his relations to her are aught save what a true <)8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. woman might permit, I will not believe; though I am man enough of the world to know that fair faces are not always to be trusted. Anyway I have the sleeve link as a basis to investi- gate his identity to discover whether it was De Varnes's face I saw this night as he fled through the hallway. Then something strikes me from my very agitation, something I have not admitted to myself until now. I give a startled moral moan. Shades of bigamy, I am in love with another man's wife I CHAPTER VIII. WHAT HAPPENED AT POINT JUDITH. Passion is even a more potent insomnia than indi- gestion. I go to bed, but not to sleep, until the early morning; then I relapse into a troubled slumber and dream that De Varnes and I are battling desperately in the midst of a fearful thunder storm. A series of terrific crashes awakens me. Manders's Fire Boy is making a fiendish row as it goes bowling along the Ocean Road. I spring from my couch and glance at my watch. It is ten o'clock. " It is I who am late for our tete-a-tete breakfast," I snarl mentally. Then I make a very hasty toilet for a man anxious to look well in a lady's eyes, and hurry down to the dining room. As I go in a depleted breakfast table indicates Mrs. Fairbanks has kept her appointment and has not lost her appetite at my breaking mine. " You'se a little late, sah," remarks Smith. " De lady was de early bird. She ate a right smart meal, too, sah. She most took yo' bre-ff away in a hifalutin negligee. She looked real honeymoonish, sah. Com- plimented me very highly on de batter cakes, sah ; and after she was gone, sent dis note down fo' me to deliver to yo', sah." i follow Smith's finger and see upon my plate a dainty envelope, addressed to Francis Marchmont, Esq. Tearing it open, I read in the same delicate feminine hand in which Mrs. Fairbanks had registered; 99 100 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Hope you don't mean to forget your second en- gagement to-day. If you awake in time, I shall be ready to take the Point Judith drive at 11.30 A. M. There is no signature to this, but I know very well from whom it comes. Then I rush through my meal, which is easy, as I have no appetite. Leaving the dining-room, I think I'll wait for her on the veranda. About this time Barclay comes out of his office and sits down near me. He is perfectly sober this morning, though the effects of yesterday's spree have probably increased his discontent. It occurs to me to lecture the hapless hotel man on his intemper- ance. To him I remark severely : " Probably you don't know what happened in your hotel last night ? " " Devil a bit," he says apathetically. " Too many cocktails ! " I observe sententiously. " A man has to do something to kill time." The boniface doggedly lighjts a cigar. " So you knocked out your senses with whisky and went to sleep," I reply. " Now you are a pretty good landlord, and I don't want to be hard on you, but do you know what happened in your hotel last night while you were asleep?" " Blessed if I know," mutters the fellow recklessly. " Well, while your doors were wide open and Smith and Milly had gone to the Cakewalk and you were in- sensible in your office, a burglar entered your house and I ran him out. His presence alarmed Mrs. Fair- banks." " Naturally," says the hotel man, who hasn't entirely gotten over the stupidity of his debauch. " And I ran him out," I repeat. Whereupon I give Barclay a succinct and vivid and I think humorous ac- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. count of my frightening the burglar from the room in the third story by producing an artificial alarm of fire. As he listens, instead of laughing, the hotel man breaks forth savagely : " Confound you ! Dash my buttons, if you haven't run out my new boarder ! " " His name is not on the register," I gasp aston- ished. " No. He said it didn't matter, as he was going to take his meals outside, but that he might stay here for a week." Then the unfortunate Barclay's face grows almost livid with rage as he ejaculates: "Bad luck isn't in it with me ! " " What kind of a man was he, anyway ? " I ask eagerly. " He was French or Italian hang me if I know ! " mutters the boniface. " Anyway, after being fright- ened half to death, he'll not come back, I reckon." Then he literally horrifies me by adding in a disheart- ened way : " I suppose it doesn't matter much anyway. Not an application for rooms to-day. That grand hack- man racket cost me a few more dollars; and never brought another guest but Mrs. Fairbanks. The few they carted here did not wait to register. If this goes on to the end of the week I am going to shut up shop. I hope it won't trouble you much if I turn you out by next Monday or Tuesday." Mentally I gasp : " Good heavens, she will go away also ! " I see the slight connection between me and my beautiful will-o'-the-wisp snapped as easily as if it were a veritable thread. However, I contrive to answer in assumed indifference : " Oh, that's all right ; you told me something like that might happen two days ago." " Yes. But yer face shows you don't seem to like it so much now/' the fellow remarks with a sly grin, 102 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. adding: "I hope it won't also inconvenience Mrs. Fairbanks." Perhaps Barclay had better not have grinned it makes me reckless as regards his welfare. " I wouldn't mewtion it to her for a day or two," I manage to reply. " Only be sure you don't take too many cocktails." " Not a cocktail ! " says the hapless Barclay deter- minedly, and returns moodily to his office, leaving me in a dazed condition. If he closes his hotel it will probably be an end to my acquaintance with the being who is making me daft. That shall not be! I put my mind on the problem of keeping the Continental open without additional boarders. Suddenly an idea flashes through my mental pabu- lum it bodes no good to the unfortunate boniface, but I am desperate. Leaving the Continental, I walk rap- idly down to the stationery store in the Times Build- ing. There I buy every different kind of note and let- ter paper they have in the establishment, with envelopes to match, some of which are monogrammed; likewise all their different inks. With these in my hands, I step across to the writing room of the Casino and gather together an assorted collection of pens. Then on the various note papers I write letters from all over the United States, addressed to the unfortunate Barclay at the Continental Hotel, engaging rooms at his establishment for families of various sizes, for bachelors and all the classes of people who usually drift into watering places. To these epistles I forge the sig- natures of mythical individuals, selecting names in ac- cord with the monograms upon the stationery. I in- scribe these in various inks with assorted pens and in different handwritings ; in a few cases even attempting THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 103 imitations of feminine chirography. Some of the letters I address from nearby places, Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore, others from Omaha, Chicago and St. Louis, then the Wild West, running out as far as Denver. In all of these cities I chance to have acquaintances. The addressed envelopes contain- ing these demands for rooms I forward to my friends in the various places, accompanied by notes asking that the enclosed epistles be posted at once. This will insure business hopes dropping in to Bar- clay gradually. The first letters will come from the nearby towns, later those from Chicago, St. Louis, etc., and finally those from the extreme West. In all of the letters addressed to Barclay, I take care that the rooms called for shall be for dates at least a week in advance. As these letters reach him, the deluded hotel man will think that he is sure of a full house just a little later in the season; therefore he will keep the Continental open, in expectation of the future good business prom- ised him in his mail. I chuckle as I post the letters containing my forgeries. It is only after they are in Uncle Sam's grasp that I begin to appreciate the despicable trick. But the deed being done, conscience comes to me, though I soothe it by determining that if the worst comes to the worst, I will remunerate Barclay. Anyway, nothing shall stand between me and my chance of winning the wife of another man. Lucie Fairbanks's graces and beauties have made me the kind of an individual who produces divorces. This epistolatory deceit occupies me until eleven o'clock; then I hurry to Mr. Peleg Brown's stable and engage a smart runabout drawn by a quick trotter. With this I drive to the side entrance of the Conti- 104 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. nental Hotel and hitching the horse, run upstairs, my heart beating with impatience. I am just about to send my card to Mrs. Fairbanks quite formally by Solomon A. Smith, who is acting as bellboy, when I hear the lady of my hopes tripping down the stairway. She stands before me, saying archly : " I saw you drive up, Mr. Marchmont, so I thought I'd be a good girl and wouldn't keep you waiting." Glancing at her, my heart beats like a steam engine. It is the first time I have seen Lucie Fairbanks in the light of day, and her charms are only increased by the brilliant illumination of the sun. She has carelessly called herself a girl. She is one a most dashing, vi- vacious and lovely girl ! Perchance the very simplicity of her toilet adds to its juvenile effect. A yachting costume of softest and most delicate white flannel out- lines the superbly svelte curves which it drapes. Al- most devoid of trimming, it falls in graceful simplicity down to two little bronze boots, of which its skirt, cut to walking length permits occasional glimpses. In ad- dition, a straw sailor hat is perched coquettishly upon her brown locks. Her eyes, as she enters, are spark- lingly audacious. Above all, in every pose and motion, is that gift of the gods, an indescribable subtle charm of manner. " Who shirked our tete-a-tete breakfast ? " she re- marks in demure severity ; then without waiting for me to answer laughs : " Better late than never ! " gives me her hand affably and trips down the steps with me to the side entrance, to take pretty pose at my side in the runabout. The pleasure of contact comes into my veins the runabout is not very wide. She hoists a big white, glistening sun shade, A moment THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 10$ later we dash up the hill behind Tucker's and pass the villas on the Rocks. Near the Stevenson Cottage the whole ocean towards Block Island and Point Judith is before us. The day is a perfect Nar- ragansett one ; a fair sailing breeze from the southwest tempers and makes pleasant the heat of the summer sun. The ocean is blue almost the blue of the tropics, except where the light touches its soft waves and makes them golden. A few sailing and steam yachts are com- ing out from Newport to meet the New York Yacht Club squadron. After an exclamation of delight, Lucie pays me the compliment of giving her attention to me. She says poutingly : " Do you think it is very nice to practically force a lady to get up very early in the morning to breakfast with you and then dodge the appointment ? " To this I mutter sheepishly : " I didn't sleep till morning, thinking " She doesn't seem to dare to ask me what I thought, but breaks in impulsively : " You were lazy, that's what you mean. When I returned to my room, and actually heard you snoring through a few inches of lathe and plaster, my indignation was something terrible. But finally considering what you missed I deferred my rage." " I know very well what I missed," I answer sheep- ishly. " Mr. Smith said you looked quite honeymoon- ish." It is a brutal remark, for she blushes to her very hair; she turns her big eyes almost reproachfully on mine and murmurs in a voice that trembles as if at some cruel recollection : " Hush, marriage is too awful to jest about." Awed by her tone I go to meditating gloomily: 106 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " What kind of a villain must this Fairbanks be any- way? Some day, God willing, I'll punch Fairbanks's head." Already I hate him so fiercely I am perfectly willing to rob him of his wife. From these virtuous reflections I am aroused by Lucie suddenly crying : " Oh, mercy, that schooner looks as if she were upon the land." I glance up. We are nearing Point Judith. Across it some advance craft of the New York Yacht Club squadron appear to be sailing over its green sward, though they are really out upon the Sound beyond. five minutes afterwards we drive up to the govern- ment reservation. In it are already collected a few teams and perhaps a score of seaside loungers, who are out to see the nautical panorama, the ladies in light toilettes, the gentlemen in the picturesque costumes of summer. In a moment I have hitched my horse, and Lucie in pretty diffidence has permitted me to swing her from the vehicle. Her feet have scare touched the ground when she bursts into exclamations of admiration at the magnificent sight. The white lighthouse with its out- buildings and foghorn-shed contrasts with the green of the turf and the blue of the ocean which, in lazy tide, languidly washes the rocks up to the timbers of the wrecked schooner that is lodged upon them. Towards Block Island and the east there is blue water as far as the eye can reach; likewise up the Sound towards New London. Over this, speeding towards us come half a hundred sloops looking in the dim distance as they stand before the wind like great white hayricks, two pyramids of snowy canvas larger than the rest, indicating the America's Cup defenders. In their rear are a lot o| THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 10; the big schooners of the squadron. Mingled with these are steam yachts of assorted sizes, from the vessel that can cross the Atlantic Ocean to the little midget launch that skips about the shallow waters of Long Island, dodging thunder storms by day and Sound boats by night. Beautiful as the scene is, the eyes of all nearby gen- tlemen turn to my graceful charge as she stands, blown about by the soft breeze. " Don't you think we can get a better view upon the rocks ? " she suggests. I am delighted to see her shrink modestly from gen- eral admiration and hurriedly lead her down to the sea- ward gate of the lighthouse enclosure. Opening this, I assist my companion onto the rocks and hand her a marine glass I have brought with me. Then I throw myself on the beach and pretending to look at the nautical panorama, craftily enjoy gazing at my charm- ing companion, as battling with the winds, she exam- ines the vessels that pass in review. Listening to her vivacious comments I grow astounded at the knowledge of yachts and yachting Lucie Fairbanks seems to pos- sess. She even criticizes the sailing of some of the craft. The first of the big sloops passes under her eyes. After a glance at the direction of the wind she ejaculates : " I don't think her skipper sails his craft quite right, whoever he is. He has his main boom to port. As he rounds the Point he has got to jibe a mighty ticklish operation with such a tremendous mainsail." The boat does jibe but does it with such care and deftness that Lucie claps her hands and cries : " The skipper has redeemed himself." Then noting the following cup-defender coi^*'r>^ I08 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPT HOTEL. down the wind with her main boom to starboard she says : " That's right. All her captain has to do is to ware ship as he rounds Point Judith." After most of the sailing craft have passed a little incident astonishes me still more. The squadron has been joined by a number of yachts from Newport, among them the steam vessel that had attracted my ad- miration so often, the swan-like Sapphire. I glance at the craft, half expecting to see on her deck the white- robed lady whom I had noticed when first I looked upon her as she glided past me in the mist the night I had put up at the lonely Continental. But her quarter deck is empty. Lucie's eyes rest upon the boat also, and a sudden extraordinary wave of rage runs over Mrs. Fairbanks's mobile features ; she stamps her lit- tle foot and ejaculates angrily: " Does he dare? " " Dare what ? " There's no danger of that skipper's being run into," I reply. " Of course there isn't," she answers. " The wretch is steaming about for his own amusement. A nice coal bill he'll run up for for his owner." " How do you know his owner is not on board ? " I laugh. " He's he's flying an absence flag. His very signal shows the owner's ashore," Mrs. Fairbanks stammers ; then turning to me, jeers: "Much you know about yachts, Mr. Landlubber." " I know enough to admire the beauty of that boat," J rerrjark. " Yes," she answers carelessly, " the Sapphire is a very comfortable craft. At least she looks so." " That's a remarkably good glass you've in your hand, to read her name at that distance." I extend my hand for the binocular. Lucie relinquished the glass to THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 109 me, but after a fruitless attempt, I observe : ''I can't decipher the letters." " The Sapphire is a quarter of a mile further off ; be- sides, your eyes may not be as bright as mine,'' she remarks archly. " No, they are not as bright as yours." Audaciously I look into their hazel depths. Blushing, she turns away her head and remarks : " Everybody is going home now. What next ? " " The next is luncheon ! " " Thank you for remembering that I breakfasted earlier than you." " All right," I reply, " I'll have you at the Casino in half an hour." But though hungry Mrs. Fairbanks doesn't seem to care for good eating. " Please not the Casino," she begs. " It's it's too crowded. Let's lunch at our hotel. Then, if you like, you can take me for another drive this afternoon." Her extraordinary dislike for assemblies I, by this time, think is because she fears to meet De Varnes. Her tone and glance are so pleading, and the bribe she surreptitiously offers is so tempting, that I am delighted to accept. I return : " Certainly, I'll forego my broiled lobster at the Casino, for another tete-a-tete drive." " Thank you." She impulsively extends her hand. I dare to give its delicate fingers a slight squeeze, and leading the way, open the gate into the lighthouse inclosure. Proud in the beauty and amiability of my charming companion I look forward to a delightful day; but about this time a few lies that float about in the soft breezes of Point Judith nearly destroy my happiness. Half a dozen teams are standing near our runabout. IIO THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. A little throng of people are, like us, preparing for the return drive, consequently a good many gentlemen and ladies are about us and several masculine eyes are directed towards my lovely charge : likewise the ven- omous tongues of some women. As I am arranging our vehicle for Lucie's entrance, words are blown by the gale to me that make me grind my teeth. " Who is that creature every man is looking at ? " queries a widow of uncertain years and artificial beauty, in conversation with an old and talkative dowager. " Thank God, you don't know her, my dear," an- swers the elder woman, in the grim severity of gossip- ing sixty. " Why! Is she? " The lady of manipulated charms gives such a shudder she nearly shakes all the powder off her cheeks. " Yes, she is ! " asserts the elder. " No woman at the Pier knows anything about her, except that she lives at that God-forsaken Continental. There are only two people there she and that friend of that reckless Polo Manders." Then she sneers : " They are not married: no wonder they like an empty hotel." " Ah, yes ; no prying eyes at the Continental ! " grins the younger calumniator. I am assisting Lucie into the vehicle and praying God she doesn't hear these ebullitions of feminine ran- cor; but a slight shiver that racks her delicate form tells me the breeze has blown them into her ears also. She turns about and would apparently confront her slanderers, but I am too wise to permit this. Almost by force I lift her into our carriage and seating myself beside her drive hurriedly away; Mrs. Fairbanks never THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Ill taking her flashing eyes off her maligners, who look rather confused under her indignant glances. Throughout the return drive my companion's beauti- ful head is held on high and her delicate nostrils are like those of a thoroughbred under the curb. She doesn't mention the incident; neither do I. Still her voice is strangely cold, as she comments nonchalantly upon the yachts which are now speeding towards New- port, or on the beauties of the scene which, as we drive on becomes not only nautical but rural. A few minutes after, she carelessly asks some questions about the coming polo at the Country Club. This airy coldness makes me too wise to return my goddess to the Conti- nental until her ice has melted. I suggest : " Would you like to see the old deserted Tower Hill House? There is a wonderful view from there." " If you wish," she replies apathetically. Taking her at her word I turn into the back country road and drive to the main Kingstowne pike. During this, Mrs. Fairbanks seems generally preoccupied, though she startles me by asking : " Do you know who those women were ? " " The name of the elder one is unknown to me," I answer. " The younger one calls herself Mrs. Bennt." " Mrs. Bennt? " Lucie ejaculates, turning her eyes on me. " Why do you say she calls herself Mrs. Bennt?" " Because," I answer, " I believe she claims to be the common-law wife of an old enemy of mine the gentle- man who I told you when we first met did me out of my Montana copper property ; but Bennt left a genuine widow in Paris. So the lady's assumed respectability is decidedly shaky." At this Mrs. Fairbanks utters a slight, nervous 1 fl 112 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. laugh and remarks : "I believe Mr. Bennt he spelled his name with two N s didn't he left two shady connections on this side of the Atlantic," and re- lapses into her meditation , which apparently is a melan- choly one, if twitching lips and agitated hands mean anything. By this time we have come to the "Corners" of the Kingstowne Road and are beginning to ascend the long rise to the Tower Hill House, which stands alone and deserted, its few outlying, unoccupied cottages seeming to make it more desolate. As we drive past the hotel and gaze down towards historic Canonchet, even the beautiful view doesn't de- stroy the air of loneliness about the grounds. " Gracious ; this place is w r orse than our hotel." Lucie shudders. " Not a single occupant." " Oh, yes, one!" I reply, and glance at a man seated upon the piazza, reading a newspaper. " Why, he's he's the person who was asleep near our kiosk at the Casino last night ! " cries Mrs. Fair- banks, apparently aroused from her lethargy. " This Alexander Selkirk seems to be interested in us. I sup- pose we are the first people who have intruded upon his lone domain." As we drive off the man has glanced up from his paper and catching our words is gazing intently at us. A moment after he becomes indifferent and devotes himself again to his journal. Coming down the hill I try to raise Mrs. Fairbanks's spirits by telling her of little Montague's remarks about this Robinson Crusoe of the Tower Hill House having lost his girl. These suggestions as to girls are perhaps unfortunate, for no sooner have we arrived at the Continental than my lady gives me & mental blow. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 113 I have scarce assisted her out of the runabout when she turns to me and remarks in languid nonchalance : "I've a slight headache; I don't feel up to luncheon to-day nor driving either. I hope you'll excuse me." " Again you are punishing me for the remarks of others," I say angrily. " No, I am punishing myself," she answers sadly. " I understand thoroughly your position but I under- stand my own also. Good-bye." Without waiting for my reply she flits upstairs, and disappears in the sacred portals of her apartment. Enraged and astonished I stride up after her and knock upon her door, but receive no answer. I know, of course, that those women's remarks have made her ashamed to be seen with me but that does not appease me. I am tired of her snubbing me for other people's sins. BOOK III A FRENCH LAWYER. CHAPTER IX. THE FALSE TELEPHONE. After one or two more fruitless knocks upon Mrs.' Fairbanks's portals, I depart dejectedly to the Casino, where I try to eat a lobster, which doesn't agree with me. Next, to avoid Manders, who is sure to ask me in his breezy way about ' my girl,' I stroll up to Sherry's ballroom and pass a miserable afternoon looking at a children's dance. Generally I love tots now they seem as pestilent as mosquitoes, especially one urchin who, disdaining the refined delights of treading on little girls' toes while dancing with them, wanders out on the balcony imme- diately behind the ballroom and from this concealment, amuses himself by peppering with a rubber shot- shooter, the German waiters carrying liquid refresh- ments to the tennis courts. I am in such a bad temper myself, that for a moment I laugh at the Teutonic execrations which ascend from the astounded and wrathful servitors under the wasp- like stings of these little pellets, which discharged by a good strong band of rubber have enough force to be 114 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 115 quite dangerous should they touch a delicate organ like the ear or the eye. This young sharpshooting Thug I shortly discover is Miss Birdie's younger brother, Bertram; for that young lady, probably suspecting what is the cause of the " Ach Gotts " and "Donnerwetters" that arise from suffering Germany in the tennis courts, flies upstairs to seize and confiscate her brother's weapon. In this she would scarcely succeed, for Bertram is evidently a " scrapper " and threatens Miss Birdie with a snapshot as she approaches him. " Bertram, if you dare to sting me with that, I'll tell on you ! " cries the young lady wincing and retreating, she having probably previously tasted the delights of the implement in her brother's hand. ! " Tell who? There's nobody up at the cottage that can fix me dad's in Europe. Tell who? Get out, or I'll give you a scorcher on your stuck-up nose ! " Here, Miss Birdie, gazing about for aid, sees me and cries : " Oh, Mr. Marchmont, please help me. Bertie is shooting the waiters downstairs. They are swearing awfully. Some of them will hurt him. Catch him!" Thereupon I, being unexpected and nearby, seize Bertram's arm in the very act of discharging a missile, and confiscate the weapon. " Oh, thank you ever so much ! " says Miss Jameson. " I'll do something for you, some day. Please don't give it back to Bertram ! " And hearing Manders's locomobile outside, the maiden runs downstairs to her sweetheart, leaving me holding the implement up in the air with one hand and the bellicose Bertram at a distance with the other, for the unchin is now vindic- tively attempting to kick my shins and demanding his Il6 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. property with savage outcries as he stigmatizes me as "a big stuff" and miserable sneak thief. The little rascal's howls are so vehement that I finally purchase peace and his weapon from him at the same time by a box of candy sufficiently large to keep him interested during the day and probably restless during the night. Carelessly placing the shot-shooter in my pocket, I very shortly forget it in contemplating the horrible ef- fect of women's gossip upon my relations to Mrs. Fairbanks. As dinner time grows nearer I become more gloomy. I won't dine at the Continental, but will try and forget Madame Marbleheart by eating my meal here. But even while contemplating the menu, a sudden thought goes through me like a knife she said "Good bye." Does Mrs. Fairbanks mean to leave the Continental ? To the astonishment of the attendant waiter I spring up from the table and dash out of the place. My heart has got into my mouth so I can scarcely run, but I con- trive to get to the Continental very rapidly. A hack is standing at the side entrance. As I hurry past the office I find my guess is right. i " What have you been doing to my other boarder? " cries Barclay savagely. " Scaring her off, too?" " What makes you think that? " I ask. * Why, she no sooner got in from driving with you than Mrs. Fairbanks set Milly to packing her trunks and told me to send up my bill. She'll have a darned fine job finding any room that will suit her in this town to-night! Every hotel, except that Tower Hill House, which is two miles out, is packed with guests. They are making up cots in the parlors of every lodg- ing house in Narragansett but mine. This is the THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. II? height of the season, this is ! " jeers the unfortunate boniface. " I don't answer this, but go up stairs and discover two of Mrs. Fairbanks's trunks in the hall ready for transportation. I have, of course, no right to make remonstrance, so I turn on my heel and descend to the balcony. There looking at the gloom of approaching evening I light a cigar and think over the matter. I am too angry to reason with Lucie. I feel too humili- ated to plead to her. Besides, my imploring her to re- main may make her deem it more imperative that she should go. Even as I think, I start and tremble. A mighty joy comes to me; the cigar drops from my hand over the railing onto the green sward beneath the balcony. A light step is beside me ; Mrs. Fairbanks is holding out her hand to me and faltering: " Only one last word, Mr. Marchmont. Just to tell you how sorry I am that I feel that you or I should leave this hotel where we are so entirely by ourselves. Of course, I couldn't turn you out, so I was compelled to go myself." This "one last word" has changed the fate of many a woman. I determine that it shall swerve the destiny of this lady whose charms, now that they are drifting from me, seem perchance even greater than before. I know I have little time. Frocked for going away, she wears the light wrap I threw over her shoulders on the evening of her arrival. Upon her head is a pretty little bonnet, whose dainty flowers and delicate ribbons increase the piquant loveliness of her face which the suffering in her hazel eyes makes almost pathetic. " You are going -where ? " I ask eagerly. il8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " To some other hotel." " That will be impossible, unless you want to sleep in the hallway," I remark grimly. " Everything is full now, except the Tower Hill House, and from what you and I have seen of that institution, it is too dreary and lonely, on the top of its foggy hill, for you to think of." "Then where shall I turn to-night ? " she sighs. " I I can't telegraph Newport in time for the " She checks herself suddenly. Tears come into her eyes as she sinks into a chair. "Don't bother yourself; I will go," I answer. "I can sleep on the rough side of a plank. Conditions that would be comfortable enough for me would be utterly impossible for you." " But I I can't let you discommode yourself ! " she tiissents falteringly. " You were here before me I should be the first to go ! " , " Pish," I reply, "a bachelor can put up anywhere I've bunked in too many log cabins to be afraid of the soft side of a billiard table. Anyway, you stay here ! " With this I astound her by calling Smith to me and commanding: "Go and give that hackman this half dollar and tell him he is not wanted. Then place Mrs Fairbanks's trunks in her room again." Turning to her I demand : " Where are your keys ? " " Here ! " gasps Lucie. " Give them to me," I direct. She hands them to me. " Take these to Milly Smith," I say, " and tell her to open Mrs. Fairbanks's trunks and get her things out again and make her rooms comfortable." The darkey's eyes, which are astonished, roll so there is nothing visible except the whites. As I give THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 119 him a dollar bill, they become more normal, though as he goes away I can hear the fellow quietly chuckling. " Oh, what will Smith think? " falters Lucie. " You take charge of me just as if you were " her voice seems to choke in her throat. "What I'm going to be!" I interject in audacious yet ardent inspiration. Although my arrogant attempt at prophecy makes her face very red Mrs. Fairbanks doesn't answer, but turns her head away and sighs. Emboldened by her silence, I continue : " For some reason you have been trying to paddle your own canoe, as they say out West, and found it rather hard work." " I I was married so young," she interjects. Her remark as to her nuptials puts a pang in me. I .<*o on uncompromisingly : " Believe me, the younger -and more beautiful a woman the more her difficulty in doing what you attempt." . " That is a dogma too insulting to my sex for me to contemplate," she replies half angrily. "Yet it is your sex that makes the dogma," I an- swer. " Most women fly like a swarm of wasps at one unprotected by the aegis of society. Besides, you need the company of your sex; any woman grows morbid without it. Now I propose to place the aegis of society over you." Here Manders's Fire Boy coming along the Ocean Road, gives me inspiration. I startle Mrs. Fairbanks by commanding : " Wait for me ! " and run hurriedly down the steps. What a curious woman Lucie is. I think I hear her laughing as I reach the sidewalk of the Ocean Road, which is not a hundred feet from the veranda. 120 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. I am just in time. Fire Boy is corning along, its side lamps blazing like locomotive headlights. Above its diabolical noise I hear Miss Birdie's so- prano voice : " Charley, Mr. Marchmont is beckoning for us to stop." The vehicle draws up beside me. I hastily greet them and ask: " Where are you going? " "Just a dash about before dinner," answers Miss Jameson. " It is too hot for appetite at present." Then seeing Birdie is seated in the driver's place and has the wheel in her hand, I remark, in some astonish- ment : " I wonder, Manders, you permit this rather reckless young lady to run your machine so imme- diately before your race. At this, Thompson, seated on the rumble, bursts into a British guffaw, crying : " Frenchy has flunked ; didn't you hear about it? Blowed if the Count hasn't crawfished ! " Here Manders startles me; he says: "The race is off, or postponed anyway. I received a note from De Varnes this afternoon. He is at his room in the Casino all bunged up, sprained ankle and bruised face. He writes me he had an upset on Noisy Devil." " When did it happen ? " I ask sharply. " Oh, some time last night," replies Charley. " The Count's chauffeur, Gregoire, is a reckless fellow. The accident must have been a severe one." " Haccident ! " chuckles Thompson. " There wasn't hany haccident." " I have seen De Varnes," interjects Manders angrily. " He is so battered he must have had a regu- lar cropper. Thompson, don't go about town bragging before we've won." " There may have been an haccident to the Count', THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 121 but there harn't been no haccident to his motor," asserts the English chauffeur with bulldog obstinacy. " Hi saw hit to-day with Gregoire driving it, and hit didn't have a scratch upon it from rubber tires to the Count's silver moon with his golden harrow sticking into it." " A silver moon with a golden arrow sticking into it?" I ejaculate in rather an excited voice, my hand involuntarily seeking my pocketbook in which I have the burglar's crested sleeve link. " Yes, sir; the harrow sticking into a silver moon is the Count's crest. 'E's got them stuck all hover his machine. I wonder you didn't notice 'em before," an- swers the Cockney. Then Miss Birdie, opening her pretty mouth, gives me my opportunity. She says slyly : " What a beauti- ful woman that is on the balcony ! " To this Manders adds : " Why don't you bring her to the Casino and let somebody else see her. Introduce her to a few of the boys and give the poor lonely thing a chance of a good time. You are evidently afraid of your powers of fascination, my young ' stick-in-the mud.' " " I had the honor of escorting Mrs. Fairbanks to the Casino last evening, when you were not there," I an- swer. " But if you and Miss Jameson will do me the honor to take dinner with me to-night at the Country Club, I shall be delighted to present you to Mrs. Fairbanks." As I speak Manders's face tells me I am taking chances. Men seldom like to introduce their fiancees to ladies whose antecedents are totally unknown. Too much of a gentleman to suggest such a thought, Charley says sententiously : "What do you think about it, Birdie?" 122 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ' Oh, Miss Birdie, I hope, will accept," I interject. " She said she would do me a favor this afternoon in return for my aid in subduing her brother." " Would you consider it a personal favor ? " asks the young lady, a slight hesitancy in her voice. " Yes; a very great one. Mrs. Fairbanks is so alone here that she needs the companionship of her sex." Miss Jameson looks at me for a moment nervously. She is one of the most prominent young ladies at Nar- ragansett Pier; her position is assured. Then, God bless her dear little heart, she says impulsively : " Why certainly; I should be deligted! Charley and I will run up on Fire Boy and order dinner for you." " A good one, I hope ! " " Well, rather ; seeing we are going to eat it ! " re- joins Manders cheerily. , " Very well," I say ; " I'll bring Mrs. Fairbanks after you." They drive away. Returning to the veranda, I remark to my protegee rather triumphantly : " Run up and make your prepa- rations, while I telephone for a carriage. I have invited Miss Jameson and Mr. Manders to meet you at dinner up at the Country Club this evening." Upon this a very haughty woman rises. " What right have you to assume," she says uncompromisingly, "that because I let you order my trunks sent back to my room I'll do everything you direct ? " " Of course, I have no right to assume such a power," I return diplomatically, "but I thought, in consideration of my missing our breakfast, you owed me the pleasure of your company at dinner." 4 To this Mrs. Fairbanks does not directly reply. She asks savagely: "What plea did you put up to Miss THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 123 Jameson to induce her to sit down to dinner with a woman of whose antecedents she knows nothing ? " " My very invitation to Miss Jameson indicated that I guaranteed you," I answer severely; then go on enthusiastically : " I have faith without proof. I go it blind. I'd guarantee you at the gates of heaven. That is the kind of a man you said you like." " Thank you, Saint Peter," she sneers. " Men go it blind as regards women, and women go it blind some- times as regards men vide you and me " she blushes slightly " but women don't go it blind as regards other women." Then, checking herself, she continues coldly : " But I imagine you are right ; some addi- tional society to yours will be at least variety for me. You can trust me that when I am at dinner with Miss Jameson I shall contrive to tell that young lady enough about myself to obviate any objection she may have to become at least my acquaintance. You can telephone for the carriage, Mr. Marchmont ; I'll run up stairs and make a hasty toilet." " Suppose you make me your confidant also," I insinuate, a mighty curiosity in my voice. " No; you shall go it blind, as you express it," she scoffs. " Neither Mr. Manders nor you would be shocked, I imagine, at dining with a much less rep- utable lady than I am. Order the team ! " This las-t is said with such an air of command that I gaze at her blankly, then do as she bids ; and running up stairs, get into an evening suit. A few minutes after I take my seat in a victoria be- side Mrs. Fairbanks, who has some light, fluffy, lacey wrap thrown over her dinner gown, and we drive to the Country Club. Here Charley and Miss Birdie are sitting on its balcony awaiting us* 124 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. As I present him and Miss Jameson to Mrs. Fair- banks I am impressed by the easy yet high bred man- ner of my charge. She removes her wrap and I start in astonishment. This morning Lucie had been a dashing girl; now she is a lady of the grand monde. She is very simply gowned in some white thing of such wondrous style and chic that it makes Miss Birdie's eyes bulge with admiration. The only jewelry she wears is the long string of pearls which she has twisted about her fair neck, and a single ring, which guarding her plain gold wedding one, makes it prominent; for in it is one teary diamond of perfect water and a solitary ruby that flashes red as pigeon's blood. Under her charm Miss Jameson, who like most girls meeting a woman about whom she practi- cally knows nothing, has at first been inclined to a conservative reserve, becomes very cordial. As for Manders he gives me a sly nudge of con- gratulation and remarks pleasantly: " I have done the best I could for us all, my boy." With that we sit down to a dinner which indicates he has done very well. The soft summer wind is broken by magnificent trees. The moonlight seems a fairy moonlight on the wondrous green lawns of the Point Judith Country Club. Both Manders and I are in high spirits.- What men would not be, with two such lovely women by their sides, with plenty of the best to eat and plenty of the best to drink ; the plenty of the best to smoke will come afterwards. During this Miss Birdie is very bright and piquant, but as the meal runs on Lucie Fairbanks becomes easily the queen of the fete. Exquisitely affable, but by no means undignified, she enlivens our dinner THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 125 table by some pleasant anecdotes of Parisian so- ciety and a few of the American colony in the French capital, that indicate the familiarity of one who has moved in its bette^r circles. Just as the dessert is brought on a waiter interrupts us, saying that Mrs. Fairbanks is wanted at the tele- phone by the Continental. " I wonder what it is ? " Lucie queries musingly, as she leaves us. " Goodness ; hasn't she a pretty action under that plain white frock ? " comments Manders, gazing after the graceful figure. " That plain white frock, Mr. Milliner," jeers Birdie, " is probably the most expensive gown at the Pier." A few moments after Mrs. Fairbanks makes her re- appearance, and seating herself at the table, aston- ishes me by remarking almost petulantly : " I wish my lawyers would give me a moment's respite." We have reached our coffee, and my charge rising, says lightly : " As I suppose I am the chaperon, I'll take Miss Jameson away while you gentlemen enjoy your cigars." " Oh, I don't mind smoke a bit ! " laughs Miss Birdie ; then perhaps seeing coming confidences in Lucie's eye, she goes off with her quite complaisantly. As the ladies stroll into the parlor I can't help reflect- ing that Mrs. Fairbanks has obtained her opportunity of privately telling Miss Birdie something of herself. Alone together, Manders, lighting a cigar, says meditatively : " Jove ; you are a lucky devil ! " " So are you ! " retort I. " Yes; we have got the two prettiest girls in Narra- gansett. What a team they make blonde and brunette cross matched 1 " Then he astounds me by suggest- 126 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ing : " Do you know I think you have under your wing a multi-millionheiress." " Nonsense ! " " Hanged if her jewelry don't look like it. I've just gone broke buying knickknacks for Birdie, and if that string of pearls and ring would not run a first-class racing stable a couple of seasons, I never hit a goal from the field." Then he ejaculates: "My jinks; they are sociable ! " For Miss Birdie's voice comes floating out of the parlor in one or two outbursts of feminine delight. Aftera few more contemplative puffs Manders suddenly queries : "What do you know about your sweetheart, anyway ? You needn't deny that you are daft about her ; your eyes have been spooney for the last two days." In answer to this I tell him a little about Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks. This he interrupts occasionally by exclaim- ing: " Great Scott, they're having a great time! " or " Oh, my ; hear 'em ! It's Birdie and Lucie now ! " and as I conclude, remarks : " Their interview must have been very confidential. Those two have been chatting now for about two cigars." Shortly after the ladies come back to us. They are arm in arm. Sitting down at the table, Miss Birdie puts her eyes on me and remarks roguishly : " Wouldn't you like to know about her as much as I do? " then bursts into uncontrollable merriment. A moment later she says: " Lucie, I'm going to take you with me on Fire Boy to the Casino. Charley and Mr. Marchmont can drive down after us." To this invitation Mrs. Fairbanks appears about to demur, but the girl pleads : " Oh, you must go ! I must show you what a chauffeuse I am ! " THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 127 " You are sure the machine is safe; Thompson hasn't got that new explosive gasoline in the tank? " I ask in terror at the thought of the lady of my heart taking such a risk. " Not a drop ! Do you suppose I'd risk Birdie blowing up ? " returns Manders. As soon as the race was off with the Count, we emptied that nitro-glycerine stuff out in a hurry." "The race off with the Count?" asks Mrs. Fair- banks eagerly. " Yes ; since his accident." " Mon Dieu! He is injured?" This exclamation from Lucie produces a hurried account of the mishap that has happened to De Varnes. As she listens, my charge seems more affected than I like. She queries earnestly : " You are certain that the Count is seriously injured? " " Oh, nothing that will kill him, but just at present only a fire in the house would get him out of his bed," remarks the polo man. " Do you know the Count ? " " I have met Monsieur de Varnes quite often in Paris," replies Lucie rather slowly. " If we talk all night, we'll never get to the Casino," cries Miss Birdie. " Come on ! " As we take the young ladies out and place them in the locomobile, I can't help wondering if it is because the Frenchman is confined to his room and cannot mingle in the crowd that Mrs. Fairbanks no longer has any objection to visiting the Casino. The first time she had refused to sup there on seeing the Count's auto- mobile in front of it the second time she had only entered it after I had chanced to tell her De Varnes was in Newport. But this evening naught seems to interfere with her I ia8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. movements. We get down to the Casino in time for Miss Jameson to introduce Lucie to some of her lady friends. As my charge sits listening to the band, surrounded by several of the leaders of Narragansett society, and chatting to a number of the cavaliers who have been attracted by her beauty, I am pleased to re- flect that Mrs. Fairbanks is now well fortified against venomous tongues. However, her stay at the Casino isn't a very long one. Probably fatigued by the exercises of the day she, whispers to me confidentially : " Please take me to the Continental," then makes her adieu to Miss Jame- son and her friends. Outside the entrance, she places her hand on my arm, and I remark : " General society doesn't seem to interest you very greatly ? " " On the contrary, I have had a charming evening, but I am anxious to write a letter to my lawyers," she answers. " You see I received a rather curious tele- phone communication from them while we were at dinner." " From New York ? " My voice is rather astonished. " Oh, certainly ! The Continental called me up and put me in communication with my attorneys." " Both the method and time of this communication from Mrs. Fairbanks's lawyers are so unusual that I, after turning the matter over in my mind, query: " You answered that communication by telephone ? " " Of course," she replies quite frankly. " But their questions were so peculiar that I, as we sat at the Casino, thought I would write to Milo, Orten & Shil- laber immediately about them while the matter was fresh in my mind." As we walk along Ocean Road reflection makes me THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 129 suspicious of Mrs. Fairbanks's telephonic communica- tion ; even her pleasant chatter, for she has eliminated all timidity from her manner, doesn't put it out of my head. "You have done just the right thing for me thrown me a little among my sex and given me, I hope, a new friend in Miss Jameson," Lucie says gratefully. We are ascending the steps of the Continental. On the veranda she turns to me, her face radiant, and mur- murs : "Thank you for a delightful evening which has taken the downheart of the day out of me." She ex- tends her hand. I dare to give its slight, cool ringers a little squeeze, Hesitating to destroy her good spirits, but anxious to place her on her guard, I suggest to my charming com- panion : " Please sit here for a moment, I have an inquiry to make at the office." She looks at me inquiringly, then without a word, takes a chair. Leaving Lucie I stroll along the corri- dor whistling carelessly as I approach the office. Here Barclay, seeming unusually awake, says in rather buoyant spirits : " I've the promise of a lot of people from Providence; Mr. Excelsior Smith and Mr. Jabez Greenapple, Mrs. Jones Remington and Miss Alice Partay; but they won't be here for a few days yet," and smites my conscience by handing me four of my own epistles. " Ah, I didn't know but they had engaged rooms by telephone," I remark, returning to him the letters that prick my conscience. " No," he replies : " Like everything else in this hotel, I haven't got my money's worth out of the 'phone," JO THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " But your guests use it ? Mrs. Fairbanks, for in- stance ? " Barclay's answer is categorical and convincing. " With the exception of your message to Brown's liv- ery stable, nary a 'phone since the hotel has opened." Stepping out upon the veranda, this information makes my face so serious that Lucie starts up and ejaculates: "What's the matter?" " Only this," I whisper. " The telephone communi- cation from your lawyers was a fraud." " How do you know that ? " " I drew from Barclay incidentally that he has neither received a telephone for you nor forwarded one to you." " But how could that be ? A voice over the wire Stated the Continental wished to place me in com- munication with Messrs. Milo, Orten & Shillaber. Then another, or the same voice disguised spoke to me apparently from New York." Though she is trying to convince herself her face is agitated. " Probably a disguised one," I remark. " And I answered his questions ! " She would nerv- ously pace the veranda, but I place my hand upon her arm and ask : " Were they very important ? " " No ; only they might embarrass the settlement of my case," she whispered anxiously; then asks plead- ingly : " What am I to do? " " As I haven't as much of your confidence as you gave even to Miss Jameson," reproach is on my tonguej "my counsel is to simply write to your lawyers and explain to them the whole matter. Did I know more about you I could, perhaps, advise you better- certainly more definitely." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 131 But this hint does not gain me revelation from Mrs. Fairbanks ; she simply says : " I'll write to my lawyers at once." " Very well," I answer; ''run up to your room. As soon as I hear your door shut and locked, I shall go off." " Where ? " she asks anxiously. " Oh, a man can always find some place to pass the night in Narragansett. You remember I promised you I would go. At the worst I can wander down to the Club." " You don't mean that awful place on the Kings- towne Road? You you must not go there." The interest in her tone makes my heart beat. " Oh, you needn't fear; I haven't much money to gamble away." I say recklessly. " Still I I am not quite sure you ought to to leave here." Her voice grows timid and then bashful. " There may be another burglar ! " " Nonsense. Barclay in his office is now as sober as if he had got a new boarder," I laugh. Then my heart getting into my voice, I whisper : " Besides, your good name is very dear to me." " You you forgive me for sending you away ? " she asks, compunction in her tone. " Yes ! Thank God, we have grown so close that you feel we should not be too near ! " I say fervidly. At this ardent suggestion Mrs. Fairbanks's face grows crimson, her big eyes droop. A moment later she replies coldly : " Good night ? " and tripping up- stairs, doesn't even look back. CHAPTER X. THE PARISIAN AGENT OF AMERICAN LADIES. I go away and pass a vagabond kind of a night, part of it at the Club. I am ashamed to s sk a share of Man- ders' quarters and tell him the reason that I want them. Finally I find a cot at the Revere, being careful to register at that hotel. In the morning I return to the Continental about eight o'clock, get a tub and clean clothes, then go down jauntily enough to break- fast. With a pleasant "good morning," Mrs. Fairbanks walks into the dining room and takes her seat opposite me. Whether she wishes to or not she puts another of Cupid's arrows in my heart. Upon a beautiful wo- man plain white muslin is a most attractive morning robe. Though her conversation and manners are gra- cious, they are by no means familiar ; she doesn't bring up the subject of the evening before. I also have no opportunity to touch upon it; be- fore the meal is ended Miss Birdie Jameson comes in, looking very pretty and bright, and announces that she is here to take Mrs. Fairbanks for a drive. Where- upon the two go up to Lucie's rooms together; Miss Birdie saying lightly as they leave me : " Now, you female Sphinx, you know you promised to tell me all about it." After waiting till I am tired for them to come down, and Miss Jameson's phaeton still being outside, I stroll moodily off for tennis and a long, solitary, sol- emn swim, and during the day see nothing of a wo- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 133 man I am now commencing to think decidedly indif- ferent to me; though I hear a report on the bathing beach that Mrs. Fairbanks and Miss Birdie have been out to the raft with Manders. In the afternoon I don't go near the Continental, not wishing to appear too eager, and feeling pretty con- fident that I shall see my divinity this evening, a little note having been handed to me which states that Miss Jameson will entertain some friends at dinner at 8 P.M. at the Casino, and asking the pleasure of my company. Accepting this invitation I find I have guessed cor- rectly, for I am placed next to Mrs. Fairbanks. For some reason, though affable, my companion is by no means confidential ; still she deigns to tell me that she, has taken my advice and written to her lawyers. In truth, Lucie has not much opportunity of whispered confidence, her beauty makes her the center of mas- culine eyes at the dinner table, and a lady with half a dozen gentleman trying to have a word with her can't give very much of her time to any one of them. Still I have hopes that later in the evening she may permit me a word apart. However, this not seeming to be her plan, Mrs. Fairbanks goes home in company with Mrs. Talbot and Miss Jameson and leaves me chewing the bitter cud of the "turned down," as Man- ders expresses it, for even that careless gentleman notes the change in my lady's manner to me from the previous evening. That night I gloomily bunk in the parlor of the Gladstone, making a point of registering at that hotel, and the next morning go back to the Continental for the comforts of a wash and clean clothes. Of course I hope to see Lucie at breakfast, but on entering the dining room discover that pleasure fe 134 THE SURPRISES OF AN" EMPTY HOTEL. denied me, Mr. Smith in his genial darkey way an- nouncing : " Yo'se not early enuff to kotch her dis mawnin'. Missus Fairbanks and Miss Jameson went off by demselves about eight o'clock." , " Without breakfast ? " I ask. " Yas, sah ; widout a word." " Ah, then, probably she intends to take her morning meal up at Miss Jameson's cottage on the Rocks," I say. Coming from the dining-room, as I pass the office, Barclay cries to me : "I shall be doing a rushing business soon ! Got advance orders for ten more rooms to-day ! " He holds up a lot of my forgeries. Fleeing from the hope on the hotel man's face, which stimulates my conscience unpleasantly, I stroll down to the Casino. On the way I gaze on the ocean panorama. The New York Yacht Club is having one of its races. The bay is flecked with white-winged sailing craft and a lot of magnificent steam yachts. Two or three of these are off the Casino, apparently getting some guests for the spectacle, and the big Sapphire is lying off Tucker's wharf. As I gaze she gets under way, and I cannot help noticing the grace of the craft, notwith- standing her size, as she makes a circle down the bay and heads south for Block Island under full head of steam. On the Casino balcony I encounter Manders, eating a rather gloomy breakfast. ,, " Hang me, if I don't feel quite bluish to-day," he re- marks. " You see Birdie has gone over to Newport with Mrs. Fairbanks." "Why didn't you accompany Miss Jameson?'' I suggest. " Couldn't! Got to look after the ponies and take THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 135 some practice. The team wrote me that Wilburton, who is my substitute, misses every back stroke, and I'll have to be on hand for the Point Judith cup. I'm get- ting off my game, and polo here commences next week." With this Manders rises and suggests : " I am going up to see how the Count is getting along after his accident ; would you like to come with me ? " This is my opportunity. I have been anxious to see the Frenchman, but have been unable to in- vent a decent excuse, my acquaintance with De Varnes being altogether too slight to warrant my intrusion in his room. Therefore I say : " With pleasure," and step eagerly after my friend to a rather curious inter- view in one of the tower rooms. Being admitted by his valet, we find the Frenchman in dressing gown and comfortably propped up with pillows on the sofa. " We have run up to see how you are getting on, old fellow," remarks Charley in his easy way, adding: " You remember my friend, Mr. Marchmont ? " As De Varnes greets me, the affable indifference of his face shows he has no idea that he is indebted to me for the fire alarm and stumble down the stairs of the Continental, which have disabled him. He informs us that he will be out in a day or two. At his request we sit down, Manders doing most of the talking, I most of the inspecting. On a nearby table, together with his watch and some rather expensive knick-knacks' lies the mate to the sleeve link that I have in my pocket ; the golden arrow piercing the silver moon showing strongly in the sun- > light. " We will have the race shortly. I am injured, but Diable Tonnant is all right," the Count says. Then, for Manders has risen, he remarks : " Don't go; you can 136 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. not think how pleasant company is to me in my con- finement." " I'm deucedly sorry, but I've got to practice up at the Country Club," returns Charley, as he steps to the door. " However, as Frank there isn't a polo man, he will probably be very happy to chat with you." " As I make no move to depart, De Varnes goes on rapidly : " Thank you for staying, Monsieur March- mont ; it is so lonely here." " .What ! With the noise of ladies' voices and the music of the band floating up to your ears so much of the day and night ? " " Saprlsti, the music only makes me more uneasy. The ladies' voices cause thoughts of the beautiful women so close, yet so far," sighs the Count with a Gallic shrug of his shoulders. " But you will be up in a day or two," I remark, and drift into a conversation with De Varnes, who, I have noticed, speaks excellent Anglo-Saxon. During this I attempt to draw the Frenchman oui. as much as possible as to himself and discover to my bewilderment that the reason of the Count's good English is that he is a prac- tising lawyer in Paris and has considerable business not only from the American colony, but from American sources forwarded to him by his correspondents in New York. "More social scandals than you imagine," he re- marks, " that have begun in America reach their climax in Paris. Those of your countrymen who like pleasure are very apt to drift to the French capital, where they sometimes lay the foundations for divorce litigation." " Likewise my countrywomen," I suggest. " Ah, yes, Us belles 'Americaines often also import "divorces," he laughs, and tells me a few rather spicy THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 137 anecdotes of the American colony in Paris, though, with legal caution, he withholds the names of the par- ties to them. In trying to elicit from the Frenchman some account of himself, I am compelled incidentally to tell him some- thing of myself and my profession ; among this in- formation is a short account of my copper mine ex- perience with Mr. Thomas Cadwallader Bennt. As I mention this, De Varnes looks at me with ap- parently more interest than he had given me before. " Ah, yes ; I knew Monsieur Bennt in Paris," he re- marks. " He was a great financier." " And left a very young and beautiful widow behind him, I believe." " del, very young, very spirituelle, very brilliant," rejoins the Count, " and in rather a difficile position, there being two other claimants in America to the title of Monsieur Bennt's widow." " Shucks," I answer carelessly, " Manders tells me the old sinner was legally married to the girl on his deathbed." "Undoubtedly," answers De Varnes, "both civilly and by the Church, but the fact that it was but a cere- mony makes Madame Lucille Bennt's position more legally critical." " Oho," I jeer, " the present widow had the ceremony and not the actual nuptials. These putative common- law widows had the actual nuptials and not the cere- mony." " Yes," smiles the Count ; " in France these common- law ladies would have no standing whatsoever, but American lawyers tell me that with an American jury, anxious to despoil a rich woman, they might have a bet- ter chance. **3 8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL* " Yes," I return, " the adventuress is extremely well protected by New York law. I wonder some one of the women doesn't sue the Bennt Estate in New York." " There is no Bennt Estate in New York," observes De Varnes. " Monsieur Bennt, either to avoid your claims or more probably those of these women, left no realty in America ; nearly all his property was personal and the estate is being administered in P.aris and Eng- land. But if Madame Bennt, who is the sole legatee and executrix, could be got under the jurisdiction of the State of New York, so the papers could be served on her and their action could be brought to trial in that State, the common ladies most probably would force a magnificent compromise." The French law- yer's dark eyes light up with a peculiar gleam. " A compromise yes, money is what such women always want," I sneer; "likewise their lawyers." At my words the Count winces, shrugs his shoulders in his Gallic way and astounds me by saying: " I don't think you would make that remark if you knew that I' was the Parisian agent and attorney for one of these common-law widows, as you term them ! " " No, I should not have made the remark," I answer diplomatically ; " but still the real Mrs. Bennt is the one who has all the trump cards in her hands. Bennt's fortune being in Paris, I presume Mrs. Bennt keeps it in Paris ? " " Certainly," replies De Varnes ; "La Veuve Bennt is no fool." " And remains in Europe herself," I suggest, " so the common-law ladies can't have papers served on her in the State of New York." At this the French lawyer shrugs his shoulders again THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 139 and remarks, rather laughingly : " So much for I' Af- faire Bennt!" and doesn't continue the subject. Neither do I. I am not interested in Bennt's widow I want to find out about Lucie Fairbanks and what this Frenchman knows of her, though I don't venture to bring up the lady's name. As the conversation runs on, the Count amazes me by remarking that he has come to America upon busi- ness quite suddenly. ; " But you are devoting yourself entirely to society ? " "Ah, with society is often business. Knowing a number of the American colony in Paris, I had several good letters of introduction," he adds. " Newport was open to me and I took advantage of it. Your friend, Mr. Manders, is engaged, I undersand, to Miss Jameson, a very beautiful girl, very charming, very chic, very vivacious, like all Americans." " Yes, and quite an heiress." " Oh, I didn't hear of that before. That is pleasant for Monsieur Manders, though he looked quite glum this morning." " Yes, Mr. Manders is lonely," I observe. " Miss Jameson has now gone over to Newport with her friend, Mrs. Fairbanks." " Ah, whom did you say ? " " A new arrival here ? " I remark. " I haven't met her her name is unfamiliar to me. " She is a very attractive woman who has just come to the Continental ! " I say placidly. " The Continental ! " De Varnes starts. " She has lately returned from Paris, where she has been living some years. Strange you do not remember her ; she mentioned having met you in the French cap- ital," I continue suavely. 140 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, At this De Varnes looks at me searchingly, then says hurriedly : " I I believe I have met a Mad- ame what is the name you said? Madame Fair- banks, in Paris, but my professional duties have been so extensive she had passed from my memory." " Still, she is so attractive, you could hardly forget her." " Diable, I eliminate beauty from my profession," grins De Varnes. " An avocat who has a practice with ladies and permits their charms and loveliness to enter his mind will make as many mistakes as he has fasci- nating clients." " Still, you admire beauty," I laugh. " You'll be 'down stairs soon and then can see if you don't remem- ber Mrs. Fairbanks." As I rise to go, the Count puts a peculiar question to me. " From your speech with regard to the mil- lionaire Bennt, who swindled you, I should presume that you were not very favorably disposed towards his widow, who has possession of the money that should belong to you and Mr. Manders? " " Pshaw ! " I reply. " As for the pretty widow in Paris, I have no animosity to a woman I have never encountered, and who, from your description, might be charming enough to make me love instead of hate her." This assertion the Count greets with a curious mock- ing smile. As I go down the tower stairway this grin of De Varnes seems to follow me. I cannot get anything out of him in regard to Lucie Fairbanks he'll hardly admit knowing her. iThis secrecy in regard to her by the man who I now. guess is pursuing her indicates the caution of a lover who fears to be detected by the husband. Somehow, I pity the absent Fairbanks and could almost telegraph THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 141 him, if I knew his whereabouts, to keep a sharp eye on this suave French lawyer-count. Then I curse myself for the implied doubt I, for the instant, have permitted to enter my mind in regard to my divinity. So swayed by unhappy passion I pass a miserable afternoon ; though the evening is no more pleasant. I go to dinner at the Continental. Upon this meal, to my delight, intrudes Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks, ac- companied by Miss Birdie Jameson. The two ladies come into the dining-room apparently direct from their travels, Miss Birdie announcing that sea air has made them so hungry that I'll have to excuse their traveling dresses, as they can't wait. " Sea air," I laugh ; " I thought you were over at Newport ? " " Why, certainly. Going by the boat ; there's plenty of sea air." I gaze at Miss Birdie and know she is lying. Though she has forgotten it, I am perfectly aware that the boat to Newport has been withdrawn this season. As that volatile young lady runs on telling about her experiences at Bateman's Point and Bellevue Avenue, apparently she remembers it also. She checks herself and grows very red in the face. As for Lucie, she wisely lets Birdie do all the lying, and saying nothing simply looks beautiful. Here suspicion enters me that the two have been at the great yacht race their hair has that blown- away appearance peculiar to yachting ; their cheeks are as ruddy as if a sou-easter has been giving them color ; their white dresses are limp with the salt damp of the ocean; their appetites are those of people recovering from seasickness at least Birdie's is. 142 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. There can be but one reason for their wishing to con- ceal it at the regatta, other swains have been in at- tendance upon them. I know the insidious, amorous danger of a yacht's deck and handsome cavaliers. With a shudder I think of poor Charley's jealousy, if he guessed his sweetheart were accepting surreptitious at- tentions from another man. If Birdie has had a gal- lant, doubtless Lucie has been equally well provided. I choke over my salad. Mrs. Fairbanks, under my condemning eyes, appears embarrassed and loses her appetite. But Miss Jameson eats away vigorously. Con- science apparently does not trouble her. She is in the most extraordinarily high spirits, and also seems to have fallen down and worshiped Mrs. Fairbanks; ap- pealing to her lovely chaperone effusively quite often, and once saying : " Of course, I won't, if you don't want me to, Lucie ! " which is a more submissive ex- pression than his fiancee has ever used to Manders in my recollection. In a dejected way I proffer my escort to the Casino. Miss Birdie is about to accept, but Mrs. Fairbanks de- clines, stating she is too tired. Whereupon Miss Jame- son suddenly remarks : " So am I ; too tired to do any- thing but sleep. But please tell Charley" there seems a slight compunction in her tones "I'll pass the Casino in the pony phaeton at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, so he can have a drive with me." As I rise to go I remark, wishing to note its effect upon Mrs. Fairbanks : " By the bye, that motor race is on again. I have just been to see De Varnes and he'll be about in a day or two." My words are spoken to Miss Jameson, but the effect THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 143 is on her companion. Into Mrs. Fairbanks's eyes flies almost a hunted look, her hand trembles slightly as I take it in mine to bid her good evening. J iurn away, and hear Miss Birdie saying tenderly : " If you'll let me, Lucie, I'll telephone or send a note up to the Rocks and stay here all night. You seem so lonely in this deserted place." She gives a playful shudder. 1 " Oh, thank you, dear," cries Lucie gratefully. " I tremble all night when alone in this dreary unoccu- pied hotel." i As I gaze back from the dining-room door they make a lovely but distracting group Birdie has cast her arm sympathetically about Mrs. Fairbanks's exquisite waist. " Hang it ! " I growl mentally. " This girl is sooth- ing the fears of my divinity something that a few evenings ago I had deemed my office." ! I stride along Ocean Road to the Casino and make Manders as glum as myself by giving him his fiancee's message. " Deuce take it ; I have been looking for her face all day ! Every time I hit a polo ball I could see Birdie's eyes in it didn't improve my playing either ! " he mutters. " Going to stop all night with Mrs. Fair- banks, eh ? That woman is getting to have a great in- fluence over Birdie, Frank." Then, misery loving company, he jollies me by : " Jinks, you seem to have lost your pull entirely with your girl ! " I spend the early part of the evening with Manders. We both drink considerable wine. Then I go away to hunt up a shakedown in some overcrowded hotel. I could have part of Charley's apartments of course, but i am too humiliated to tell him I have made myself r 144 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. vagabond and wanderer for this woman, who appa- rently cares nothing for my sacrifices. Perhaps in soothing my feelings I have taken more champagne than is wise. The wine is a little in my head. I will walk it off upon Ocean Road. But as I stride along I don't seem to grow calmer. I pass the Continental; with the exception of a single electric light in the hall its whole front is dark. I glance up at Lucie's rooms and think morbidly: " She has rejected my protection ! " Then an idea, perhaps born of the wine comes into my almost bursting brain. I jeer: " She shall see if Birdie is as good a burglar catcher as I was ! " It is the impulse of a vinous moment, which I shall probably repent, but I hastily act upon my idea. They have probably in their feminine way already frightened each other, listening for noises in the big deserted build- ing. It will take but a few heavy footfalls over their pretty heads to make them both shudder to their very bones. Noiselessly I glide up the steps of the Continental and pass quietly in, Barclay, as usual, being asleep in his office chair. With cautious tread I ascend to the story above the apartments of my divinity. I know the suite of rooms over Lucie's parlor. I had gone to them in the dark that night I frightened De Varnes by the alarm of fire and discovered the miscreant's peephole. From this auger hole I now dexterously lift up the car- pet that I had replaced and scoff to myself : " Through it I'll hear the screams of this little guardian against burglars." Even while doing this, the darkness and silence of the big hotel impresses me. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 145 Then I commence to tramp about slowly but heavily, immediately over Mrs. Fairbanks's bedroom. I have not taken a dozen steps when there comes up through the peephole an affrighted exclamation. It is in Birdie's trembling voice : " Oh, mercy ; hear those footfalls ! Lucie, wake up burglars, burglars ! " This is followed by an alarmed : " Good gracious ! " in the sweet voice of my love. I make a few hasty steps then listen. The door be- tween their bedroom and the parlor must be open, for I can hear Birdie shudder : " We shall have our throats cut for your jewels ! " Then Lucie gasps : " Oh, if he were only " Inadvertently I stumble over a chair and utter a sup- pressed curse. A scream from Lucie interrupts her sen- tence. Then Birdie joins her in a higher key. A bright ray shoots up through the auger hole into the dark- ness of my room. They have turned on the electric light. Doubtless beneath me is a view of frantic beauty that might charm an anchorite, but I fight against the temptation of a " Peeping Tom " and, replacing the carpet, glide down the stairs with silent tread, fleeing as if I were a real burglar, the piercing screams of both ladies following me. As I exit swiftly from the hotel I hear Barclay's voice, whom they have aroused, and a moment after the Ethiopian jabber of Mr. Smith, who is apparently now acting as night watchman. As I stride rapidly away along the Ocean Road I mutter to myself triumphantly : " Glory ! Birdie is sure to throw up the job of burglar catcher at the Con- tinental. Perhaps to-morrow my darling will again turn to my strong masculinity for protection against miscreants." J have wandered as far as the Atlantic. Into 146 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. hotel I go and succeed in obtaining a cot, taking great care to register my name in big letters. Then I turn in, and the wine makes me sleep heavily. CHAPTER XI. "COULD BIRDIE, THE BURGLAR CATCHER, DO THAT?'' It is rather late in the morning when I return to the Continental. In my rooms I wash the dirt of a vagrant existence from me and get into a clean shirt and other togs. At breakfast Smith greets me, saying : " Yo' missed a sensation, sah, by being out all night." " Indeed ! What was it ? " My tone is carelessly uninterested. " Burglars ! " returns the darkey, rolling his eyes. "Yo' won't see Missus Fairbanks dis mawnin' ; she's so done up ober it dat I guess she won't eben come down to lunch. Dat young lady dat was stayin' wid her, she went off mighty early dis mornin'. I tell yo' she was scared, she was. Yo' oughter habe seen dem when I went up dar. Dey swore dar was some one raisin' hell ober dair rooms las' night." " Did Mrs. Fairbanks use that expression ? " I ques- tion severely. " No, sah ; not exactly dose words ; but dat was de consensus ob her remarks." Notwithstanding the success of my stratagem, I make a gloomy meal. As I go out of the Continental I receive another stab. That blasted Barclay calls to me : " Twelve more rooms engaged to-day ! " and holds up a lot of my forgeries to make my conscience scorch me. I wonder what will happen to Barclay 148 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. when he discovers that none of his promised boarders eventuate. About eleven o'clock I am at the Casino and sit down opposite to Manders, who is taking breakfast. His drive with his fiancee seems to have made him more morose than ever. From his conversation I judge Miss Birdie has made no mention of her fright at the Continental. " Hang me if I don't feel devilish to-day," Charley remarks. " Your Cleopatra has been putting a lot of tomfool notions into Birdie's hear." He grinds his teeth into a beefsteak at the words. " Who do you mean by ' my Cleopatra' ? " I demand angrily. " Why, the lady you took the trouble to introduce us to. I think she is having a deuced bad influence on Birdie." " Bad influence on Birdie? " I jeer. " Miss Jameson can take care of herself." " Oh, trust her for that ; but that isn't the trouble. I think Mrs. Fairbanks is making my sweetheart alto- gether too extravagant. You never saw a girl change her ideas about the future like Birdie has, ever since she met her." " Mrs. Fairbanks' expenditures have seemed to me moderate enough," I dissent. " No woman who wears such jewelry as she does can be moderate in her expenditures," growls Charley. " Birdie now talks of running a steam yacht after we are married. Now, my income and hers can stand a house in New York, automobile and polo, but where the devil's the money to come from when you put on top of it a big steam yacht like that greenback burner out there? " Manders points over the blue waters and THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 149 I, following his gesture, see the graceful Sapphire ly- ing off Tucker's wharf. " But Birdie has the cheek to say we can easily af- ford it. Did you ever hear of such rubbish? I'll be playing polo in the bankruptcy court, that's where I'll be playing it," goes on the gloomy Charley, \vho soon after departs for his polo practice. From this interview I wander misanthropically to the beach. Even the ladies' bathing dresses do not fascinate me; I refuse Mrs. Arnold's invitation for a swim out to the raft. Finally I ensconce myself on a low sand dune contiguous to Sherry's pavilion and in- spect the glittering throng in cynical respose. My meditations are interrupted by a biting sting upon my leg. The sharpness of the anguish makes me think I am attacked by a sand hornet. I spring up and dis- cover the sand hornet is Miss Birdie's younger brother, Bertram. " Hang you," I mutter ; " you've another of those 'devilish shot-snappers again." " Oh, quit your squealing ! I only hit ye light," re- torts the boy. "If I'd given it to you in the eye or the ear, you'd jumped ten feet. I could too!" Bertie deftly hits a knothole in the underpinning of Sherry's pavilion and continues : " All I wanted was to remind you that there's salt water taffy not far from here." Thinking that I may obtain some information about his sister's surreptitious outing of the day before, I veil my wrath and go into a conversation with the young sharpshooter. During this, he so astonishes me by his skill with his weapon, that I become interested in the fiendish little machine. " It's dead easy," Bertram observes. " Supposing we have some target practice for candy/' 15 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Anything to keep him near me while I pump him. I reply 1 "All right!" " Produce your shooter ! " he commands. "My shooter?" " Yes ; look in the pocket of your coat ; that was the one you wore when you swiped mine from me." Obeying his suggestion, I find the weapon which I had entirely forgotten. Then Bertie and I have some target practice. Between shots I deftly question the boy as to his sister's doings of the previous day. But Bertram has only the candy stakes to talk about. Fin- ally I get so interested in the contest that I neglect to question him. My Rocky Mountain experience has made me apt with shooting irons, revolvers, and such like. I soon become an expert with the shot-shooter and Bertie's early winnings gradually diminish. How- ever, to keep the lad in good humor, I let him have the best of the contest, and when we finish, though I have become accurate enough to hit a knothole five yards away, Bertram is a pound of candy to the good. As I buy him the taffy the boy remarks : " You'd better get in practice we'll have another shoot to-mor- row," and puts a handful of buckshot in my pocket for ammunition. While he eats, however, he gives me a little informa- tion. Between bites, he suggests : " Do you know what I heard Birdie say about you to that stunning woman she's chumming with now? " " What was it ? " I question eagerly. *" Birdie said you was the blindest thing that lived ! " chuckles the boy and goes off with his mouth full. Miss Birdie's compliment does not improve my temper. During the day I see neither of the ladies and rather wonder what will be the effect of mv ruse. Once THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 151 a shtidder goes through' me as I think : " Great powers; if I have frightened Lucie from the Con- tinental ! " Somehow I feel its dreary halls and de- serted rooms and passageways are my allies in my cam- paign against this lady's heart. I am too dispirited to care for adornment ; and loung- ing about the Casino, don't go back to the Continental to put on an evening suit of clothes. ! After dinner I am seated at the Casino balcony, in- dulging in a solitary smoke and listening to the band, when I note Manders enter with a gay party, among them Miss Jameson, Mrs. Talbot and Mrs. Fairbanks. A few minutes later Miss Birdie wanders over to my table and laughingly whispers : " .What is the mat- ter, Robinson Crusoe ? You have the face of an anar- chist!" " I wouldn't have the face of an anarchist if a very bright young lady would sit at my table," I suggest. i " No ; you come over and sit at our table," she remarks. " But I am not in evening dress." J< What does that matter?" she rejoins, then sud- denly adds under her breath, " You've got to come over and take Lucie home." " Why should I act as escort to Mrs. Fairbanks ? " I ask doggedly. " She scarcely looks at me." Miss Birdie's answer gives me a strange joy : " She 'does look at you very often though you never see it." ; " Like you used to gaze at Charley ? " At this suggestion Miss Jameson's face grows red, as she laughs : " I never give away secrets." " Then why does she treat me so indifferently ? " " That is her lawyer's advice, I imagine." 152 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. This answer nearly knocks me off my chair. I gasp : " .What do you mean ? " " Oh, I mean nothing only that you are a noodle if you think a woman always loves the fool she smiles upon or always hates the brute she snubs. Wouldn't you like to know as much about her as I do? " the little witch queries, and astounds me by remarking: " Lu- cie is your good angel, and Charley's too, though the foolish fellow doesn't seem to like her." " Supposing you tell me a little about her? " I ask in eager curiosity. " Not a word. I've sworn. " I don't even tell Char- ley, though I am tempted to when 'he lectures me about her. Wander round to our table in a minute or two it's the advice of an up-to-date girl." With this Miss Jameson passes to a lady friend at a neighboring table, but shortly after returns to her own. Acting upon her hint, I soon find myself seated be- sides Mrs. Fairbanks, who looks at me nonchalantly and asks : " How have you been for the last two days?" " Pretty well, thank you. -How have you ? " "Never better!" But the party some little time after breaking up, the haughty one whispers to me : " Won't you kindly take me home ? " " How about the gentleman with whom you came? " " You mean the lady Miss Jameson. Birdie will be escorted to her home by Mr. Manders. Please put your pride in your pocket and come with me." - "If I decline?" " Then I I shan't 'dare to go back to the Con- tinental," she falters. Jhis announcement pleases mej but I scoff: "Oho,. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 153 frightened again! I am at your service." " Thank you ! " she murmurs, and places a little hand upon my arm rather confidingly. As soon as we are out of earshot on the sidewalk, I say: " Now what's the matter? " " Everything. I am terrified." " Barclay getting drunk again ? " " No; he is as sober as a judge and happy in coming boarders ; but last night I heard noises over my apart- ments." " Ah, didn't Birdie protect you ? " " Birdie ? Good gracious, she was more alarmed than I. You couldn't get Birdie to spend another night at the Continental for a diamond necklace," murmurs Mrs. Fairbanks. Then her tone becomes almost en- treating. " So I I want you to be my detective." At this I chuckle inwardly, but remark to her sternly : " After expelling me from my rooms in the hotel you desire me to return to them ? " " No ; I think it best that you don't come back to them. Still I want you to forgive me for making you live the vagabond life that I see you are living." She looks at my unconventional costume and adds : " After everybody has gone to bed, you stay with your friend Manders, don't you? I suppose that reckless fellow never goes to sleep." " I stay with nobody," I mutter. " Last night I camped on a cot in the hallway of the Atlantic. To- night I am doing better ; I have secured a shakedown with half a dozen others in the parlor of the Meta- toxet." " Why, you come to the Continental every morning to breakfast ! " 154 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. '" Yes ; to get a wash and fresh linen." My tone expresses the discomfort of my daily routine. We have reached the entrance of the Continental, ^.s we stand before its open portals I, struggling to conceal the triumph in my voice, remark : " Now go to your room. I shall stay down here on the veranda. [When I hear your parlor door close above, I shall go away; but, believe me, I shall keep a very alert eye upon the apartments over yours." " Thank you," she says sadly. " Forgive me for sending you away, but I I am so alone ! " She gazes helplessly into the deserted hallways and looks almost shudderingly at the tiers of unlighted win- dows and unoccupied chairs. The latent appeal of her drooping pose and the helpless loveliness of her pa- thetic eyes intoxicate me. I dare to suggest : " Thank God, you are alone ! " " Why ? " she turns and faces me. I This I don't answer directly. I say hurriedly : " You are living in Rhode Island for the purpose of obtaining freedom from a brutal husband." ', Her answer is a little gasping cry ; her eyes expand with astonishment; then she turns away her head, hides it in her hands and I can see her shoulders are convulsed with some hysterical emotion. But I am too excited to stay my words : " When you have freed yourself from one husband," I whisper ardently; "with your youth and beauty, surely you should bless another who will adore you ! When that time comes " Her face is painfully red. She draws herself up haughtily, yet falters : " Oh, why do you always make such speeches that 'drive me from you ! " next mutters hoarsely : " Go ! I decline your assist- THE SURPRISES OF. AN EMPTY HOTEL. 155 ance. I fight this thing out myself. Good bye! This time I mean it ; there shall be no last word ! " Still woman-like, she says many more. " I have had enough of marriage," she bursts out passionately. " Try again ! " I suggest suavely, thpugh my heart is in my mouth. This seems to make her furious. When enraged women sometimes say rash things. " Not with you ! " she retorts. " Your voice even now has command in it." Her eyes are angry, but her face is blushing; she breaks out excitedly : " Know that I hate being dom- inated. I shall obey but one man in my life, and he will be my master because I love him. Until then I am my own mistress ! Should I ever ask your protec- tion and guidance " " Then I may hope ? " I whisper. " Pish ! Then you may have me ! " she jeers reck- lessly. "Good bye. I I forgive you." She turns rapidly away and I can hear the froufrou of her skirts as her light feet trip along the corridors and run up the stairs. i " She didn't dare to face it out with me," I cogitate, a crazy hope rising in my heart. " Still I don't follow her. From our previous inter- views, from even her wild words now, I know that Lucie Fairbanks is a woman who will think more of a man to whom she pleads than of one who petitions her. Then I go down the Continental stairs. " Of course there is no danger; last night / was the burglar," I think grimly, as I walk along Ocean Road. Here the love of the woman I fear may be lost to me stays my footsteps. I raise my eyes to the illumina- tion in her windows. Her shadow is upon the lowered 156 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. blinds. Is this the last of her? " Suddenly I pause I cannot believe my eyes ; yet I think I catch a flicker of light just over her rooms. Of course it is impossible it was / who frightened her last evening. Still I watch intensely- 1 the flicker dances in front of my vision again ! Somebody is in the vacant rooms over Lucie's head! I return hurriedly to the Continental. It is quite early in the evening. Passing the office I find Barclay awake and very elated. He calls to me : " I've got another boarder upstairs the first of the rush ! " I glance at the register and start as I read the name upon it, Timothy Brainard, assigned to room No. 80. Going quietly up to Mrs. Fairbanks' parlor I rap on the door. Evidently she knows my step, for she opens it at once and comes out to me in the corridor. Red eyes suggest she has been crying. Her hat is still on her head, her wrap is in her hand. " What brings you here ? " she asks in a haughty whisper, for my finger is on my lips. " There is somebody over your parlor," I answer in tones scarce audible. " This time it isn't a burglar ; it is a new boarder, and a detective." "A detective? Why do you think that?" " Only that by his name on the register he is the man who was at the Tower Hill House when we drove past. You remember, he seemed interested in us. Robertson, the proprietor of that house, telephoned the other day he thought him a secret service man. In addition, the fellow, I believe, was watching us, though apparently asleep, at the Casino the other evening. Be- sides he is booked for room No. 80 on the fourth floor at the other side of the house; but is at present in No. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 157 45 on the third story, just over your parlor. Now my rooms are next yours is he watching you or me? " " He is watching both of us ! " she gasps, an indig- nant light flaming in her eyes ; then falters : " Any scandal would injure me! " Here I make my point. " Very well," I say, " shall I dodge this man's inspection and flee from this hotel, as if you and I feared espionage, or ?" Then she makes her point. " You must stay here, of course ! " she answers decidedly. " He must see that though you and J are all alone in this place, we are the merest acquaintances." While I wince at Lucie's reply, I am not entirely crushed by it. " All right," I answer, " only if I am to aid you in this matter, I must see you on the veranda for a few minutes." To obtain her attendance I feel I must impress her. " For your own sake," I whisper, " do as I tell you ! " adding : " I shan't be able to frighten this fellow out as I did De Varnes." "De Varnes," she falters, and grows for a mo- ment pale. Her lips are trembling, but she returns resolutely : " Very well ! I'll make an excuse by ringing my bell for Milly, which she is sure not to answer; then I shall come downstairs apparently to give my orders at the office and join you ! " The astuteness of her plan impresses me. Leaving Mrs. Fairbanks, I stroll along the corridor, whistling nonchalantly; then descend to the office. After a few careless words to Barclay, I pass out to the veranda, seat myself and light a cigar. Two minutes later Mrs. Fairbanks joins me. I have been turning her matter over in my mind, and don't permit her to take the initiative. I place a chair for 158 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. her and say : " Please sit down." As she does so I continue rapidly : " Judging from your hasty words, you dread scandal ? " " Yes ; the slightest social reflection upon me at this time would be most injurious to my case," she answers under her breath. " Of course it would on any woman suing for di- vorce," I reflect grimly, then remark reproachfully: " For some reason you don't wish to make me your confidant ? " " No-o ! " This is hardly more than a sigh from her lips. " But if I am to be of any active assistance to you, I must know some little of your affairs." " I have been warned by my lawyers to make no one my confident," she replies circumspectly ; but goes on rather piteously : " Believe me, I would like to, but perhaps it is better not to you." " To me? " I exclaim. "In that case, Mrs. Fairbanks, all I can say is you had best go to your room, lock and bolt its door. If anything alarms you during the night, don't hesitate to rap upon my wall. Though you have no confidence in me, still I am ever at your service." She doesn't take my advice. Had I told her to stay woman-like she might have gone. She continues earn- estly : " But I I don't want you to have any animos- ity to me." " Then why have you kept so entirely apart from me in the last three days ? " " My my lawyers warned me I must be very dis- creet." " And you feared " there is elation in my tone " that were you near me you might be indiscreet? " THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, 1 59 " No, I feared that you might be," she half laughs, half pouts. ' " That I cannot help ! " Passion is in my voice. " Proximity to you makes my heart destroy my judg- ment." " But still use your judgment a little for me," she murmurs impulsively : " Think how I am situated here, with no relatives to shield me. Remember it is a man's place to be strong. Know that I am fighting for my name, though, believe me, nothing can assail my honor." She paces the balcony nervously. Of a sudden she pauses, facing me, and whispers : " I must tell you a little for I want you to believe in me." I dare to place my fingers on her delicate lips and whisper in return: " I believe without revelation." I " But I have made up my mind," she asserts ; then goes on in a voice strained and nervous : " I am the daughter of a man who, having been despoiled by a scoundrel of the major portion of his fortune ten years ago, deserted America and journeyed to Europe to live on the moiety of his estate in cheap Continental cities where a small income means, if not luxury, at least ease. In my early years, being motherless, I was al- ways repressed by a governess, and in my later girlhood immured in a convent, from which I was taken ignorant of the world and innocent of its wiles, having been taught after the manner of the French that it was a parent's office to give a daughter's hand in wedlock. While still in con- vent uniform, I was informed that to preserve my father's honor I must wed a man selected for me. Had I known a little more of the selfishness of life, I had never been led like a lamb to the altar. But when I had made the sacrifice I discovered it was not to pre- L 160 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. serve my father's honor but to fatten his purse, that I was a bride. " What dastard bridegroom would accept such sac- rifice ! " I cry in indignant tone. Her answer shocks me more. " Ah, you don't know an old man's love for youth and innocence," she murmurs sadly. " No wonder you are parted from such a husband ! " I break in. " When I think of your wrongs I could strangle the brutal Fairbanks ! " f At this she gives me an overpowering mental slap. She whispers : " There is no Fairbanks." " What do you mean ? " " I mean that I am living here under my maiden name, not that of the man to whom I was wedded." I wonder grimly : " Under what name shall I curse her brutal husband." To her I remark : " You have given me the outlines of a social outrage. No wonder, having discovered your father's deceit you do not turn to him for guidance in your trouble." '-. " My father is dead," she says simply : " Do not discuss him." Then she bewilders me with this curious question : " Do you believe in deathbed penitence ? " t " Certainly," I jeer. " Deathbed repentances cost nothing. The sinner is leaving the world behind him. To those who survive he bequeaths the misery; coming from his dying revelations." "Yes," she answers bitterly; "the living have the suffering for the sins of the dead. That is my case. That is the reason I give so little of my confidence to you ! " As if to cut off comment on this astounding statement she continues rapidly : " From your words Upstairs, you seem to think Monsieur de Varnes is the THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. l6l man you frightened out of the room over mine by your alarm of fire." " For these reasons," I answer, " the man flying- downstairs took a very nasty tumble. That night De Varnes said he had his accident on his automobile. In investigating the room above your parlor I discovered a small portion of the flooring had been loosened and a hole bored in the plaster of your ceiling, so that an eye could partially oversee your movements, an ear could hear almost a whisper in your parlor." " Impossible ! " she mutters, though her face grows red with mortification. " Look near the right hand corner of your parlor ceiling. Concealed in the ornaments of its paper you will see something that may appear like a spider's hole," I suggest. " It was the work of one who wished to know your movements, your life, your heart the scheme perhaps of a jealous lover." " Don't dare to talk of any man as my lover ! " she says indignantly. " Still you will find the spider's hole," I answer. " In addition, in the room above your parlor, thrown aside to give greater freedom to his arm as he did his carpenter work, by the man making the arrangements to spy upon you was this sleeve link." I produce the bauble from my pocketbook. " Look at it, it bears the crest of De Varnes, as displayed upon his locomobile." " His coat-of-arms ! " cries Lucie, her manner agi- tated. " In the Count's room yesterday I saw the mate to this on his dressing table," I whisper triumphantly. " Still I think you are mistaken," she returns, ap- parently forcing her mind to contemplation, " I know of De Va.rriej to be quite sure he has tog much 162 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, of a lawyer's caution to indulge personally in such a nefarious adventure." " Yet he might have wished to know your move- ments ? " I ask, almost suspicion in my voice. " He might have," she answers. Catching the im- port of my tone she turns upon me, her eyes flashing haughtily, and whispers : " Only be sure of this : " I have permitted from no man even the words of love!" " Pish," I answer ; " no woman of your supreme at- tractions could escape the admiration and attention of my sex." " But I have never permitted it, never ! " she cries indignantly. " You are the only one " The blood flies up in her lips as her white teeth bite them, trying to check her tongue. " The only one who uttered words of love ! " I inter- ject inspired. " That I will always be I shall permit no other ! " Her cheeks flush redder than her lips. Her eyes flame angrily. But before she can smite my boldness with cruel words, another inspiration flying through me, I say : " You doubt your parlor is inspected from the room above? Give me its hospitality for five min- utes and I will prove that even now you are under the eyes and ears of some one ? " Perhaps terror, perhaps curiosity stays her invective. She looks at her watch and answers severely : " 'Tis not too late in the evening for a lady to entertain a gentleman. Step up with me you can have the five minutes in my parlor but no more ! " Already my hand is in my pocket handling the shot- shooter I have purchased from the youthful Bertram, and under whose instructions I have this day Become THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 163 an expert. I whisper : " For God's sake, don't let your eyes wander to the ceiling ! " We pass the office, and I glance at it to be sure the new boarder has not come downstairs. Barclay is there asleep, but no one else. As we ascend to the second floor I suggest : " In your room, after one sentence to attract attention, speak very low. I want this man's ear, not his eye." We are at the door of her parlor ; the electric lights have been left burning in it. Lucie has a quick mind, as she enters, she says rather loudly: " Come in for a moment, Mr. Marchmont; then I can explain more privately what I want you to do for me ! " " Yes, you must explain that very carefully ! " I ex- claim, then close the door and walk up to her as she stands in the center of the room, and continue earnestly : " You must now feel that you must tell me everything." " Oh, yes, of course, I know that." Her eyes are looking in mine a wondering, anxiety adding to their beauty. Resolutely I turn from them to the ceiling. I note the spider's hole hidden in the florid rose of the paper decoration. It seems to me that it has been enlarged. All the time I am speaking in softest tone ; a whispered conversation will make a spy hold his ear very close to the lathing. Lucie now answers me under her breath, but I scarce note her words my eyes are fixed with marksman's instinct on my target. I have already the snap-shooter arranged in my hand and loaded with a buckshot. I have stepped almost directly beneath the rose; it is scarce six feet above my head. I gauge the distance, I raise the weapon, I take deliberate aim ; there is no movement above it is the ear of the spy that is at 1 64 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. the hole, not his eye. With a hand made accurate by this day's practice I strongly snap the implement. At its vicious twang, from the room above, goes up a shriek that is melody to my ears. With an answering screme Lucie, with her hand upon her heart, con- fronts me. There is a hurried rush of feet above, then two howling moans die away along the distance of the passageways of the upper stories. " Now," I say proudly, " could Birdie, the burglar catcher, do that ? Last night when you heard the foot- steps above she screamed and clung to you and you shrieked and trembled with her." "Oh, mercy! How did you guess that?" falters Lucie ; next suddenly gasps : " Don't jest about such a serious matter. I I am not accustomed to have spies upon me ! " then breaks out almost hysterically : " Aid me, guide me, Mr. Marchmont, support me against my enemies ! " Then probably remembering her wild promise of an hour before, and her nerves unstrung by her situation, she sinks upon the sofa and begins helplessly to sob. Emotion adds to her distracting beauty. To take her in my arms and kiss away her tears should be my office. But I fight down desire, deeming it wiser to play that card so fatal to women indifference. So I do not even approach her. I say formally : " Have no further fears. To- night you can rest certain of your slumber being guarded. Good evening. To-morrow morning I shall take you for a drive." Perchance she had expected some immediate claim from me of her promise, for her big teary eyes have been watching me in wary anxiety. Even as I open the 'floor to depart, her light step brings her beside me; THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 165 her fair hand clasps mine ; she says gratefully : " Thank you!" "Thank me for what?" " Don't you remember? " she whispers reproach- fully ; then glides bashfully yet haughtily away. BOOK IV. THE SURRENDER OF A WOMAN. CHAPTER XII. I GO IT BLIND. Do I remember? Half the night I sit up smoking and remembering. At breakfast the lady of my thoughts is not visible, I hope from diffidence. Mr. Smith remarks to me cheerily, as I take that meal : " Yo' look like a new blown rose, sah. That's what comes of stayin' to hum, and not browsin' around all night." After a time he adds : " Yo' won't have no company to breakfast this mawnin'. Milly has taken her grub up to Mrs. Fair- banks; and the new boarder in Room Eighty is sick, sah." " Anything serious ? " I query blandly. " Room Eighty is cussin* with peritonitis of de ear; that's what's de matter with him." Shortly after I send for Milly and despatch her Upstairs with a note. It simply says : " I shall take you driving at eleven o'clock, if the Hour is convenient to you." I await its answer impatiently. After what seems 166 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 167 fo me an interminable time the dusky abigail returns with a verbal message : " Missus Fairbanks says as she'll be ready, sah." .' .Whereupon I devote myself to some arrangements I make with Mr. Barclay. I These keep me until half past ten. Then I stride over to Mr. Brown's stable on Kingstowne Road. Here I engage the smartest kind of runabout with the most placid looking nag Brown has in his well- horsed stables. .With this I drive over to the Conti- nental at eleven o'clock sharp. - Aware of my delicate position to the lady, I step into the parlor and formally send up my card by bell- boy Smith. j? Returning from this errand, the darkey replies: " Missus Fairbanks says she'll be down in a minute, sah." But Lucie doesn't come down in a minute. I wait for nearly half an hour until my impatience become a savage one. Then there enters to me a lady whose appearance startles me. > Before when Mrs. Fairbanks had driven with me to Point Judith she had seemed a brilliant, dashing girl of almost flippant tongue and dazzlingly vivacious manner. Now, this second outing, she is a woman \ who has apparently nerved herself to meet an ordeal which produces an extreme timidity and exquisite bashfulness. Her hazel eyes have dark shadows be- neath them as if she had kept a midnight vigil debat- ing some problem that had banished sleep. She extends her hand diffidently. Just for a mo- ment she glances shyly at me, then her eyes meeting the seisinship of my gaze seek the floor ; she says, stam-> mering over her sylables : " I I presume after my; l68 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, j. wild appeal and promise of last night that you you think " a vivid blush completes the sentence. I am sufficiently acquainted with Mrs. Fairbank's peculiar temperament to hold her hand very firmly and whisper impressively : " I do ! The very fact that you have placed yourself under my guardianship gives me supreme hope." With woman's tact, she cuts my ardor short by ask- ing : " Where are you going to drive me ? " , "Up the Boston Neck Road; that is the loneliest." " O-oh ! " Mrs. Fairbanks emits a nervous sigh, and flutteringly withdraws her hand. As I look on her I know she has had a great struggle with herself and I fondly think has lost it. Her brilliant eyes can- not meet mine, though they have in them a furtive ap- pealing softness that makes my nerves tingle. No longer the bright, airy, insouciant girl; she has the supreme beauty of a modest woman who is in the presence of the man to whom she is about to surren- der. Her toilette indicates that though she wishes to look her best in my eyes she also desires to assume in her yielding a piquant maturity. The white laces, gauzes and muslins of a summer corsage outline her rounded bust to taper to her delicate waist and from there float into long skirts that almost sweep the floor, lending a kind of sylph-like lightness to the noble lines of 'her figure. Her almost shrinking pose is hope to me. Suddenly she speaks, half desperately, I think : " Please take me to the carriage." I immediately escort her down the side stairs to the runabout. I cramp the vehicle for Lucie to step in, and feel that Mrs. Fairbanks in entering that car- riage is delivering herself to me. Probably some- thing like this is also in the lady's mind; as she puts THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 169 her little foot upon the step I notice it is trembling; her eyes are almost filled with modest tears; for an instant she seems ready to turn about and fly. "Quick ; the horse is restive ! " I say, and spring to assist her; but she flits into the runabout before my hand can touch her. Then as I seat myself beside her, she murmurs disconcertedly : " You you are so possessive." We drive away. Lucie's face is turned from mine ; the sun is hot but she forgets to put up her para- sol and simply gazes before her, in deep and agitated thought. Her eyes are still downcast as we pass the Casino ; of which I am glad ; for as I look towards the tower rooms, I see De Varnes gazing from his open window. His glance rests upon my lovely com- panion and some suppressed emotion almost convulses his Latin features. We have turned into Beach Street on our way to the Boston Neck Roard, when a wagon containing two men chances to drive in after us. I hardly notice them ; but as we .reach the Pettaquamscutt Hill, they are still behind us some two hundred yards away. , About this time Mrs. Fairbanks, though her face is flushed and her eyes are bashful, says almost coquet- tishly: "You didn't seem in much of a hurry for for our drive? Eleven o'clock is rather late in the forenoon." " No; I was busy with your affairs." " Ah, yes ; I heard a knocking as if the flooring over the hole in my parlor ceiling was being nailed down. Let me thank you for it." To this she adds : " There was such a noise of moving furniture afterwards that it almost frightened me again," 17 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " That was while I was arranging my studio." "Your what?" " My studio; I am an amateur photographer. For photographic purposes, I have engaged the three rooms immediately over yours from Barclay. Of course, when the hotel is filled I am to surrender them up to some family from St. Louis." Lucie's eyes give mine a flash of gratitude as I con- tinue : " I have put bolts as well as locks upon each of the doors of these three rooms and have removed my photographic apparatus into them. While I keep them, I don't think anyone else will try to take that point of vantage over you." " You you are sure the wretch could see into my parlor ? " she asks nervously. " Certainly ! A section of it, but not over a quarter of the room." " How did you know that ? " she asks, then abruptly cries : " Ah, you have looked ! " And her big eyes gaze indignantly into mine. Judging frankness to be the best course I reply: "When I inspected the place I was compelled to ex- amination." "What did you see?" Her face is very red. " I only looked for ten seconds." What did you see ? " " I heard a sigh float up to me." What did you see?" "I saw you destroy the portrait of Alfred de Varnes, the gentleman who grinned at you from the Casino windows as we passed this morning." To my astonishment this doesn't seem to discon- cert her. She replies : " Certainly I did." . " You rvfm .susoected his esoionasre ? You" recoer- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, i;i nized his face as he ran out of the hotel ? That's the reason you crushed his photograph under your heel? " " No. As I told you before, I remained in the room off the office. For a wonder I did what I was told." Though she is treating the matter lightly her eyes are now embarrassed. " Then why did you destroy his photograph ? " " I I thought you might at some time come into my parlor. I feared you would recognize De Varnes's face." i " Why didn't you wish me to see it ? " " That, after the end of the drive," she utters, a plaintive diffidence in her voice; then almost implores me: "Have you not faith enough to wait so little time?" " I have every faith," I say. "Didn't I, last night, attempt to stop you telling me anything about your- self?" " Yes ; that was glorious ! " she cries impulsively. "That made me " she checks herself. The horse has grown extremely restive and makes her conversation disjointed. But I go on earnestly : " Of one thing you may be sure both the man who fled from that room on my alarm of fire and the one who went shrieking along the passageways last night with aching ear were under the same direction; otherwise, how should the last know what the first had prepared ? " >"You are perfectly right in that," is her reply. " Sometimes I now think De Varnes may have in- spired the espionage." " Why does he wish to investigate you ? " I ask, jealousy making mv yoice hoarse. 172 JHE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Because he is a lawyer and a lawyer's business is to investigate. Because he is paid to, I presume," she replies ; then continues impulsively : " This af- fair on which I am now engaged; this legal business originated in Paris, not here." " Of course; I know that," I sneer. " Most Rhode Island divorce suits originate in other states, they are only brought here for settlement." Though a peculiar embarrassment ripples her mo- bile features, she laughs slightly. I am not pleased with her merriment and turn my head away. We have reached the top of the hill at the White Farm. I look back upon the beautiful view the distant ocean, the nearer bay, the green foreground dotted with farm houses and made pic- turesque by Narrow River. As I gaze, my attention is fixed upon the road. Some few hundred yards be- hind us comes the same team that had dropped into our wake as we turned into Beach Street. I have now a suspicion that the two men in it are following us. Not wishing to alarm Lucie I interrupt her merri- ment saying : " Apropos ; how shall I address you ? I decline longer to call you by a name that doesn't belong to you. Tell me your real one?" " Lucie is my real name," she says simply. " Ah ; you wish me to address you by that ? " Rap- ture is in my tone. " When we are alone ; if you like." Her eyes are shyly inspecting the dust of the wayside. I am about to make ardent answer to this, but Brown's infernal horse, which I had supposed was placid, is now tearing my arms out of their sockets. He has just gone like a rocket pver the trolley line THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 1 73 .which crosses the road as we near the White Church. 1 The beast must be under the influence of some stinging black flies, I suppose, though I see none of the insects about. We dash by farm houses and hedgerows and recross the trolley line near the South Ferry road, the brute making desperate efforts to get his head and once or twice indulging in some vicious kicking. Though I have had a good deal of Experience in broncho horse flesh, it is not until we have passed where the Saunderstown road leaves the Wickford one, that I get my steed under control. " You were not frightened ? " I ask Lucie, who has very sensibly made no move nor outcry during my contest with the beast. " No, I was interested," she answers. " I like to see you control him. Men who conquer seem fit to guard " she hesitates. "What?" ".Women," she murmurs; then suggests pouting- ly: "What's the matter with the harness; you are giving your attention to that and not to me ? " " Only this," I say : " I believe I have conquered something more than this beast." " What do you mean ? " Holding the reins, I spring out of the runabout, and stepping to the horse's head, make a short but effective examination. Producing from under the saddle of the harness a piece of camel's-hair cloth, full of most irritating bristles, I remark : " This is what has made the animal almost ungovernable." " You think some enemy has done this thing ? " " Certainly," I reply. " Brown's stable is a most reliable one. The horse was gentle enough when I drove him to the Continental, but has been re stive ever 174 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. since. As I was waiting in the parlor you kept me some thirty minutes, young lady some one has quietly prepared a runaway for us. An accident would have undoubtedly linked our names promi- nently in the notices of Narragansett Pier in all of the New York papers." I "Ah, I see," she mutters dejectedly. Getting into the runabout I am about to attempt to console my drooping charge, when looking back to be sure we are alone, I notice, scarce a hundred yards away, the country wagon that had left Narragansett after us. It must be drawn by a better nag than is usual in such rustic equipages. I am now quite sure these men are following us. I will not have my t wooing supervised, and drive on rapidly. > As I urge my horse, Lucie noticing the pursuing wagon, which seems to have increased its speed, sud- denly shudders : " Followed ! Will they never leave me alone ? " and her light hand nervously clutches my arm, for just a moment ; then she whispers : " Don't mind me. Drive like the wind." Mrs. Fairbanks, though not afraid of horses, seems to dread espion- age. Somehow I think these men have done me a service. I take Lucie's advice and Brown's horse dashes on at a speed the country nag cannot equal. As we reach a white school house I turn from the main Wick- ford road and enter the lane which leads to the head of Narrow River. If the other wagon takes this by-path it will be an almost practical proof that it is following me. I give a hurried glance behind me, but the road has made a turn and the trees prevent my being sure. Still I think it has left the main thoroughfare. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 175 "Being a Western man of course you've got your revolver with you?" Mrs. Fairbanks questions agi- tatedly. " Being a lover, I forgot all about my shooting iron," I laugh. " Then hurry ! I'm sure they're coming ! ' ' cries Lucie pathetically. Her terror is so great I am as- tonished. We dash down the rural path between hedge rows of grape and blackberry vines filled with blooming wild flowers. I can see nothing of our pursuers ; only, the loveliest of nature is about us, as we fly under soft green foliage down to a rushing stream that flows between banks of overhanging shrubbery. Crossing a little rustic bridge we pass an old de- serted mill and slacken speed, and our horse for some minutes trudges up the road cut into the steep hill side. As we emerge from the thicket at the summit, Lucie emits a low cry of admiration. We are gazing upon the head of Narrow River, which like a beautiful inland lake lies almost abruptly below us. The hills softly clothed with groves of trees and copses of viney shrubbery decline to its clear waters, seemingly on every side. Perhaps seeing romance in my eyes, the color deep- ens upon my companion's face. Having passed beyond the water and climbed Rose's big, long hill, I check our horse under a grove of elm, beach, and oak trees, among which I hear the partridges crying. I spring out of the vehicle and look down the road; nobody is in sight. To Lucie, who is gazing at me with timid yet en- quiring eyes, I say cheerily : " If these men are fol- M 176 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. i lowing us they may find the runabout, but I'll be hanged if they discover us in these leafy thickets." " Yes, they do seem green, cool and inviting as they run down towards Narrow River," she observes nervously yet philosophically. ; jWith the reins, I hitch the horse firmly to a tree that I am certain is strong enough to hold it and sug- gest : " Let me help you out so that we can go black- berrying." "Blackberrying?" " Certainly ! Beyond that little stone wall is a blackberry patch in which half a hundred lads and lassies could get lost. There we will be alone." "Then en avant!" cries Lucie, a kind of despera- tion in her sweet voice. Before I can assist her, she springs from the wagon. Though almost immediately confronted by a rustic wall of big piled up stones ;with brambles and vines growing over and trailing about them, she clambers up it and jumps recklessly into the thicket beyond. I follow with all the speed my dignity permits, but 'do not easily overtake Mrs. Fairbanks. She flits through the brambles with a wood nymph's grace; like a fay she springs over fallen shrubbery and along rocky ledges, and once when I am near her side she thinks she sees a snake and piquant- ly flies from me. She is like a mustang who knows capture is inevitable, yet dreads the lasso. $ I By the side of a little rivulet that trickles down un- der some horse-chestnut, locust, and wild cherry trees7 I overtake her and place my hand upon Lucie's arm. [Looking in my face, the lady finds her ordeal is upon her. IWlth my handkerchief I carefully dust a boulder JHE SURPRISES OF 'AN EMPTY HOTEL. 177 that will make a comfortable- resting place. She does not take the seat, but stands like a statue. Through the light muslin sleeves I can see her white arms tremble. " Here we are out of ear shot of the world," I whisper fervidly. " Here your heart must speak to mine." At my words all girlish archness leaves her face, an exquisitely beautiful woman turns and confronts me. With great but shrinking dignity she falters: " It would be absurd if I pretended that I didn't know what you mean. And yet," she sighs, " I have scarce given myself, from my wild words of last night or my action of this morning, the right to answer save as you dictate." " I will not have you in that way ! " I retort stern- ly. " You shall never say to me that fear and loneli- ness gave you to me only by love I'll have you and yet I'll have you ! " " That is the only way I will be taken ! I will be loved as I can love ! " she whispers ; then adds quite sadly : " I have been so alone here that sometimes I feared your interest in me was because I was unpro- tected." " I love you," is my simple answer. " I have adored you since the first glance of your eyes ! " " Ah, love at first sight ! " Her face glows radi- antly. " Delightful ! That is the way I want to be loved; that will make my my surrender, to you easier." I " Remember your promise ! " Her very modesty makes me impatient. " I have not forgotten my promise ! " she answers haughtily. Then she bows her head and utters, her voice very low, and almost broken by trembling dif- 178 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. fidence: " Ever since last night I have felt that I be- ( longed to you." With wild joy I would take her in my arms, but her frantic gesture stops me. " You're sure you won't repent," she falters shrinking from me. " You've had but a glimpse of me. You don't even know who I am." ? " I know I love you ! " " Would you " her words are so low they scarce reach me over the babbling of the stream " would you turn from a woman, who had borne a name you hated?" 1 j Desire for her makes me mad. To this extraordi- nary question I say doggedly: " I'd never turn from you ! " " You are willing to love an enigma ? " she stammers ! " You won't demand what I am ; until I tell you who lam?" I "No!" I answer in a crazy kind of way. "I'll simply love you! I'll go it BLIND! Here I assume to you the sweet guardianship you last night promised. Come to me quick !" ' She steps to me obediently. Her face is as red as the wild roses, her eyes have grown passionate, like mine, but much more tender. I place my arm about her wood nymph waist and take her close to my heart, which is wildly beating, though hers is beating more. Into her ear, for she turns her face timidly from mine, I whisper : " Your lips for betrothal kisses." Her fair head is yielding to the dominion of my hand; she looks shyly at me and falters almost tear- fully : " I don't know much about kissing." " Pish, I know enough for both," I say impatiently. 179 At this unfortunate revealing, Lucie gives a little Cry of rage and sorrow and struggles wildly to fight herself from my arms ; but even as she struggles seems to battle with herself. " .What right have I," she sighs, " to question your past, you nobly do not demand mine. 'Tis but your future I claim. Forgive me ! " She holds up to me quickly as if she feared she might repent two sweet lips that I make my own. Then even as I kiss her, she half sobs: "I I have never been loved before." " What kind of a brute is this devil husband of hers ? " is the wild query in my mind, which is dazed by rapture; for never was fairer sweetheart in man's arms, nor never more entrancing yet shrinking lips pressed by a happy wooer. " When will you marry me ? " I question eagerly. " As soon as my litigation ends," she answers in sweet resignation. "That won't take long; my law- yers write it is coming to a climax. AJi, the sweetness of bestowing myself on a man who has proved to me he loves me for myself, and not " She stays her Words, her eyes, which have been scintillating, grow suddenly troubled, she affrights me by muttering half hysterically : " But I am asking more than woman should ask of man. You'd better give me up, and go your way." " Never, while you love me ! " " But some day you may doubt me. That I could not endure." A subtle agony has risen in her face. 1 " I'll never doubt you, if you say to me there is no cause for doubt." 1 n " There is none ! " she cries. " But still words may; come to you that'll make you question not with your lips, perhaps, but with your glance. I could not en- l8o THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. clure your suspicion. I'd better fly from you before you give me crueller pangs." She has struggled from me. Here I play my last card, and play it well. I know her nature. " You've given me your promise," I say hoarsely. " You've given me authority over you. I iorbid you to ever think of parting as long as we live upon this earth. If I am silent, without even knowing your identity, be you silent also. Now rebel against our love ! " I seize her in my arms and caress her till she forgets all else save that the man she desires holds her within his grasp. " That's glorious ! " she pants. " Conquer me make me happy despite myself. Have faith, that's all ! and I will make you feel that no woman ever gave herself so thoroughly to man as I give myself to you ! " She is trembling, she is sobbing, but the anguish has left her eyes, and affection has made them radiant. She entrances me, by placing her arms about my neck and giving me, of her own accord, for the first time, an extremely bashful yet very intense kiss. Then comes an hour, in which each time I look upon my darling I bless God I have won Lucie Fairbanks. There is a strange, wistful tenderness and yet an elu- sive modesty in my divorces passion, which make it seem like a maiden's first love. I gaze into the depths of my fiancee's liquid eyes, and wonder, despite my promise, what social mystery they contain. Then I forget all in that mystery; of mysteries we call love. CHAPTER XIII. I ANNOUNCE APPROACHING BIGAMY. During this time my affianced gives me some glimpses of her heart that astound me. Growing more at her ease, she says roguishly: " Now I can whisper to you why I destroyed De Varnes's picture? This must go into your very ear," next cries out bashfully : " Oh, mercy ! I was never treated so since I was a little girl ! " For at these pleasing words I have sat down on the boulder and drawn her upon my knee. " First, how did you get his photograph ? " I ask sternly. " He gave it to me," she answers, then timidly ex- claims : " Don't look at me so severely ; I did not ask it. He pressed it upon me ; so long ago I had almost forgotten it. I took it from my trunk to show my lawyer, Mr. Shillaber, that he might rec- ognize the Count in case he met him casually. Why, , I didn't even guess De Varnes was in America till out- ' side the Casino I recognized his chauffeur and his lo- comobile. You noticed after that I refused to enter the place." At this extraordinary information I look astonished and say rather harshly : " But why destroy De Varnes's photograph ? " 181 .l82 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ' " I feared you might recognize it and be jealous of him, as you are now." Her voice has grown low again and her eyes almost ashamed. " My love as well as yours was love at first sight." " At first sight ! God bless you ! " " .You you remember within an hour after you had met me you chanced to touch my shoulder as you cloaked me," she says simply ; " how bright my eyes were ! Bright as yours. I saw the thrill in you ; I felt the answering thrill within myself. It foretold the hap- piness of this day." " Then why did you avoid me so continually and treat me so frigidly ? " I demand doggedly. " Don't you know I am a woman who has struggled to keep her independence ? " " That I do," I reply grimly, " and the more difficult you surrender, the more complete your love." h " Oh, I will prove that to you," she whispers, nest- ling to me, but goes on, a tinge of defiance in her voice : " To rule or to be ruled is my nature. Until you came 7 ruled. Before I saw you, men always bowed the knee." " Doubtless ! " My face is very severe. ." But don't think I listened to them," she cries indig- nantly ; then sighs : " Oh, I know you're going to be awfully stringent with me, because already you arc very jealous of me." To this I do not answer. I am thinking of De Varnes. " But jealousy proves love," she laughs, her eyes growing radiant. " Therefore, Othello, I am what Charley Manders calls me, without reservation, wholly entirely." " AVhat Charley Manders calls you ? " THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 183 " Yes, ' your girl,' " she laughs. But even lovers cannot make love forever. Lucie, noticing the lengthening shadows, glances at her watch and cries : " Good gracious, I imagine our poor horse is hungry ! " " So am I," I observe, " now you mention it." "I also!" she laughs. "Kisses don't feed a per- son, do they ? " As I lead her back to the runabout, which is some half mile away, I appreciate the change that has come over my fiancee. Mrs. Fairbanks is no longer the girl of tripping feet; she is a woman who, through love, has given herself into my care. She seems to appeal to me to assist her over fallen timber and rocky places. Though the touch of her clinging hands and the sup- port of her charming figure is entrancing, the day is very hot. After a time I remark grimly : " By the bye, as a first example of masculine government, I tell you, Miss, if I catch you again wearing white slippers for country excursion, I shall take you up to my studio and photograph you severely." " That would be a cruel and most unusual punish- ment," she says archly. " Your amateur pictures would be so uncomplimentary they might make me weep." She is laughing about this as we reach the road, but suddenly grows quite pale, as I cry out: " Great Scott, what has become of our horse ? " Springing over the stone wall, I make a hurried ex- amination, and announce : " Trie brute has not run away, but has been deliberately untied and driven off." " Oh, mercy ; how do you guess that ? " " I see the prints of other men's feet. I know the 184 THE SURPRISES pF AN EMPTY HOTEL. soles of my own shoes; those little holes are your high heels, and these are foreign footsteps." " The footsteps of my enemies," she mutters : " They wish to force me into some compromising position with you ! " " Pshaw, I will get you home all right/' I observe, soothingly. " Get me home ? Do you suppose I can walk ten miles in these slippers ! " " You needn't go so far," I reply. 'Those men are evidently strangers here ; they have forgotten the trol- ley road that runs only three miles away." " Goodness, what a Vidocq ! " she cries blithely. I step to the wall, and prepare to assist her into the driveway, suggesting sympathetically : " Probably those silk stockings and white slippers will now be punishment enough in themselves." Perhaps she imagines a slight irony in my tone. Lucie cries : " Pooh, you shall see I am agile enough in them ! " Before I can aid her, she scrambles lightly up the stone wall, and from its top would spring over into the road. But some twining vines catch her skirts and, with a little fluttering cry, the agile one trips, and making a very pretty display of lace jupes, condemned hosiery and slippers, tumbles ignominiously into the dust of the road. 1 With a bound I am beside her. Lifting her up, I cry aff rightedly : "You are injured?" " Only my pride," she says, as I place her on her feet, and brush the dust from her white muslins. " Why didn't you wait for my assistance ? " I " I wanted to show you that I am not so helpless as you think," she answers, resolutely, and steps along beside me. After a few paces, however, she pauses THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 185 and exclaims : " O mercy, I can't go any further ; I have got a bramble in my slipper now. The stones have worn a hole in my stocking, and I I believe I have turned my ankle." "It is not serious?" I ask. The tenderness in my voice makes her glance at me cheerfully, and answer, pleasantly: "O no; but I won't be able to walk for a little while." The moment after she sits down, and asks, almost tearfully: " What are you going to do? " ! Mentally, she has again thrown herself upon me, but I am equal to it. " I must carry you," I say. " What ? Down the mountain and up two big, long hills, and along the Wickford road, almost to Saund- erstown." " I can carry you to the farm house, at the bottom of this hill ; there I'll make you comfortable, and get a team." " I am too heavy for you, I'm afraid ! " , " Put your arms about my neck and see, Lucie," I command, tenderly. " Of course, if you tell me to, Frank." My name seems to come very easy to her tongue, I think. I take her up in my arms. She is an awful load; it is a fearfully hot day; but I'll never admit that I can't carry her to the ends of the earth; so I stagger along under my sweet burden, who nestles confidingly, and once half laughs : " It seems to me my silk stockings and white slippers are now your punishment, not mine." v " So it will ever be," I pant devotedly, wiping the perspiration from my brow. " Misery to you means misery to me ; misfortune to you is my misfortune." She stops me with a timid kiss; then suddenly l86 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL/ whispers : " Somebody is coming along the road 1 " and struggles bashfully from my arms. Looking back, I see, in a cloud of dust, a country wagon driven from the direction of McSparran Hill. The yokel handling the lines has doubtless seen us. There is a grin on his face as I call to him : " Where are you bound ? " " To Saunderstown, stranger," replies the country- man. " Don't you and her want a lift ? " " Yes, and I'll pay you well for it ! " I assist Lucie into the wagon, which is apparently a truck-cart; though it is empty, it smells of vegetables. Its driver, who seems rather a bright and intelligent New England yokel, politely moves its one spring seat towards the back of the wagon, and observes : " Ye can make the lady comfortable on that ; I kin sit on a box and drive ye." " You can get us over to take the four o'clock trolley?" " I'd like to powerful, if I kin, stranger. I have got to make Saunderstown in time to catch the Jamestown ferry," says the man. At this Lucie looks gratefully at the fellow, and remarks : " We are very much obliged to you." Ap- parently feeling some explanation is necessary, she adds : " Some one has run off with our wagon, while we we were blackberrying." ; " Gee, horse thieves ! " mutters the man. Then scratching his head he reflects aloud : "I wonder if it was those ere cusses I met in a runabout, jist after I come down from McSparren Hill; they was driving towards Narragansett." He looks at a Waterbury watch and, turning to his horse, shouts: "Go 'long, THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 187 gal ! " and we travel quite swiftly down the steep road overlooking Narrow River. Soon after this Lucie and I forget our driver. Anxious to show my sweetheart my exertions to capture her, I laughingly whisper to her of the letters I had written presaging coming boarders to Barclay, in order that the unfortunate hotel man would keep his caravansary open until I won her. At first she smiles at my tale, and murmurs : " For love of me, you committed forgeries ? " " Lots of 'em ! " I answer triumphantly, and going into details, tell her of the various names I recollect using in my scheme. w " I shall feel guilty every time I look poor Barclay in the face!" she ejaculates; then cries generously: " But I'll make it up to him." i " No," I answer, " I won the prize, I'll pay the score." " Pish, you can't afford it," she observes, " but I " She checks herself by interjecting : " It seems to me that man drives very slowly." I look up, and find this is true. We are going very, languidly up the long ascent that leads to the Wick- ford road, and are now certain to miss the four o'clock for Narragansett. Had the fellow urged his horse we would have surely made the connection. I am the more annoyed, as Lucie looks quite hungry. After a time we reach the trolley station. " I suppose we'll have to wait here," she remarks 'discontentedly, then sighs : " Can't you do something for a poor starved girl who is now in your hands ? " "Watch me! " I grin. "Here's Kelley's, with ice- cream and sandwiches, just fifty yards down the hill; but, on my first care of you, I shall do better. We'll l88 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Have to wait almost an hour here. During it a pleasant lunch at the Saunders House, on the bay." " Oh, Frank! " is her delighted rejoinder. " That's a cute notion," interjects our driver, who it seems has very good ears. " Till. Saunders '11 look after you just as good as that old deserted Continental Hotel I heard you say you came from." Our Jehu promptly drives us down the hill at a lively pace. \ In front of the Saunders House the bay breezes make Lucie's cheeks very red, as the fellow, putting ihecash I pay him in his pocket says : " I'll only charge a dollar more to take ye over to Newport ; there's better hotels over there for wedding towers." Lucie runs onto the veranda of the Saunders House, upon which some boarders are lounging. It's mar- vellous how her ankle has recovered under the team- sters embarrassing words. As I join her she looks at me rather nervously and asks : " I wonder if my care- less talk about your having charge of me gave that fellow his ideas?" then startles me by asking: " Wasn't that very like the wagon which followed us from Narragansett this morning ? " " Impossible ! " I gasp, but looking after the vehicle that is now on board the Jamestown ferryboat, I can't be sure. " You've a wild imagination, Lucie," I say reassuringly, and give my orders for the meal. During its preparation my sweetheart and I sit on the veranda. Two or three sailing yachts are anchored not far from the little landing wharf and a big steam one is slightly farther in the stream. It is the graceful Sap' phire. Lucie has her eyes upon it. She pouts : " I don't think the skipper of that craft is as careful as he should THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 189 be. She is too near the course that the Providence boats take at night." " Why, you are clenching your little fist ! " I laugh. " The captain of that yacht always seems to make you angry." " Does he? " she says, slightly embarrassed. " Don't think I have a bad temper, but that vessel is such a pretty one, it seems to me as if I took an interest in it.'' A few moments after we walk into the dining room, where a very pleasant lunch awaits us. The table is placed so that we can look out on the bay, the open windows permitting a refreshing breeze to enter from the water. " Let me pour your coffee," suggests Lucie eagerly. " You remember my taste in sugar ? " I ask dubiously. " Oh, yes ; three lumps. I have heard you growl at Smith too often for only giving you two," she answers archly. , " This is quite like a honeymoon meal," I suggest, adding savagely : " If I hadn't been robbed by that fellow Bennt, we might have had a yacht like that one for a nuptual cruise." My glance is turned to- wards the magnificent Sapphire straining at her an- chor under the tide. " Do you like yachting, Frank ? " " With you I'd enjoy a catboat." " Well, I like sailing also," she answers. " Why should we not have a " i " A yachting honeymoon ? " That means a quick marriage. Rapture is upon me. " The yachting season will soon be over ; Lucie do you think ? " My eyes emphasize the question. ' ".Well, my my lawyers sav they will finish my 190 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. legal business very soon," she murmurs diffidently; then breaks out eagerly : " The Sapphire looks like a very comfortable craft, doesn't it? Perhaps there is a smoking room for you " "And a boudoir for you," I laugh. Then re- flecting how impossible such a luxury is for me, I growl : " Curse that infernal Bennt." " Oh, don't don't say that about a dead man ! " She is almost crying. " Bless God, as I do, for our living love." There is no waiter in the dining room. I reverently press my lips upon her ungloved fingers. Then I look at my watch and suggest : " It is just time to get you to the trolley." Mindful of Lucie's ankle, I have ordered a rig, and we drive up quite rapidly from the Saunders House. This time we catch the trolley car and going merrily along to the lower part of Narrow River, upon which the shadows are growing longer, soon reach the Nar- ragansett terminus. Here I place Lucie carefully in a hack, and in ten minutes more escort her tenderly up to her parlor in the Continental. I step down to the office and telephone Brown's stable. As I do so, Barclay is sitting at his desk a dazed look on his face. " I expected my Providence crowd this evening and not a darned one of them yet," he remarks so morosely that my conscience smarts me even in the joy of winning Lucie. I return quickly to my divinity. In the privacy of her parlor she has tossed off her hat. Her hair has become partially dishevelled by our outing. Her eyes have in them a yielding, dreamy look; she is lik^ a goddess who has been captured by a bandit. "How is the ankle?" I ask tenderly. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Oh, nearly well. What a baby you must think me. By my foolish independance in not allowing you to assist me over that wall, our jaunt has been made an all-day one. " Under those circumstances," I answer, " my runa- bout having already been returned to Brown's stable, I shall let those spies, detectives, whatever they are, think we are entirely indifferent to observation. Not a word shall I utter about the confiscation of our team, which has simply been done to place you in an em- barrassing position. Any arrest of these men would mean more or less publicity and scandal. That you wish to avoid." " Of course, I do," she whispers. Then abruptly she makes a proposition that mentally knocks me down. She remarks : " I have been pondering over our relations. Frank, it is best for my good name that you announce our engagement publicly. Step down to the Casino and say that I am going to be your wife." I gaze at her astounded, my head bobs from one side to the other with an idiot movement, I jeer: "To save the good name of a lady who is obtaining a di- vorce, proclaim before the divorce is granted, that she is to marry another man. That may be the Newport way, but still is not that of ordinary self-respecting women." Tears fly into her eyes, and then burn up in indig- nant sparks. " Were I not so fascinated, I should be very angry with you," she cries spiritedly. " Do you think, Mr. Hothead, I'd let you love me if I had no right to give my heart. Oh, it is evident you do not know me; that you have gone it very blind!" L Astonishment checks my words. The next instanf N 192 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. two superbly rounded arms fly contritely about my neck ; Lucie sobs upon my shoulder : " But I adore rashness in a lover. Pish for the man who calcu- lates, questions and investigates! By this kiss, tell everybody that I am to marry you;" then she hangs her head, and murmurs : " When do you wish ? " " The sooner the better ! Now ! " I answer, made crazy by the charms that are so close to me. " Oh, not so soon ; not quite so soon ! " She clings to me and whispers : " Would you think me forward, unmaidenly, if I married you in ten days ? " next says commandingly : " Go ! Tell all the world that I am to be your bride ! " As I look upon her, it seems to me that in the big affairs of life, Lucie has a very pretty will of her own. The band is beginning to play at the Casino, the people are about to sit down to dinner as I, in a dazed way, wander to that gathering place of all Narragan- sett and announce my happiness to Tom, Dick and Harry. I wonder if in ten days I shall be concerned in a bigamy. I don't care I am the kind of wretch who would do anything to possess the sweetest lady in the world; and the sweetest lady in the world seems to like me more, because I am so desperate a wooer. CHAPTER XIV. "NO ONE WAS EVER JEALOUS OF ME BEFORE." The announcement of my engagement naturally floats about quite rapidly. Apparently it reaches the ears of De Varnes as that gentleman, seemingly just able to get from his. room, is seated on the veranda, quite loudly discoursing on his coming motor race. The Count now walks rather haltingly to me, accepts my offer of a seat at my table and says, in what seems to me forced cordiality : " Every one here tells me you are a happy man, Monsieur March- mont." " For a wonder, everybody tells the truth," I reply. Wishing to see how he endures my information, I con- tinue : " I am going to be married very shortly to Mrs. Fairbanks, the lady who has come so recently from Paris." His answer disconcerts me. De Varnes returns complacently : " del, the moment I saw you driving en tete-a-tete I was quite certain that you were the fa- vored one. In Paris she was so distant, so reserved to all gentlemen." Though this is exactly as Lucie told me, still I am not pleased at it. Apparently my sweetheart has had a great many suitors. "You knew her better this morning, Count, than 194 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. you acknowledged to me the other day," I rejoin caustically. " Yes ; ^ladame Fair Fairbanks's name was not as well known to me as her face," he laughs. " You've had some legal business with her, I be- lieve," I observe. " A woman of so grand a fortune can't avoid having some claims made upon her. Under the circum- stances Madame Fairbanks escaped from the lawyers very well," is his guarded reply, as he takes his leave. This is the first direct evidence I have received of Lucie's wealth. It doesn't seem to make me happier. Her finances had scarcely entered my mind I had thought only of Lucie's personality. I wonder what De Varnes meant by under the circumstances. It seems to me the Count's ambiguous words carried a veiled insinuation. After De Varnes has gone away I curse my- self for being a jealous idiot. Has not my betrothed to-day given me proof how much she loves me! A woman of her attractions must have had admirers ga- lore and suitors by the dozen. If she kept them at a distance, as De Varnes has said, what more could an Othello ask. I growl at myself : " Dolt, you should have fallen in love with a hag, not a Venus." Quite shortly congratulations nauseate me, some of the ladies' kind words having a veiled meaning. Mrs. Arnold says : " No wonder you have disappeared from society these last few days the lone beauty of the Con- tinental, I am told." As I pass out of the side entrance I note in the far- away retired green kiosk De Varnes, seemingly in earnest and excited converse with the blonde-haired lady I had designated to Lucie as one of Bennt's corn- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 195 mon-law widows. This must be the one who had cm- ployed the Count as her Parisian agent to prosecute her claim against the real Mrs. Bennt. For some rea- son the common-law lady gives me a vicious glance. Probably because I have always socially ignored her. Such women demand the attentions of gentlemen, which they appear to think gives them a putative re- spectability. Meditating on De Varnes, I return to the Conti- nental. Here my happiness seems to be known also. Barclay grins at me: "I am glad somebody in this house has luck. I haven't much only one of those Providence people has shown up." " One? " I gasp, knowing all my letters were for- geries. " Yes, Mr. Jabez Greenapple of Providence, who had written for a room. But three more are due. I hope the New York gang that are booked for to-mor- row will be more prompt." With this information buzzing in my cars I go as- toundedly off to the balcony to meditate. I remember distinctly among my forgeries, the name of Mr. Jabez Greenapple. I recollect how I chuckled as I invented the cognomen. It is certainly a very curious coinci- dence. This is broken in upon by Mr. Smith coming to me and saying, as he grins from ear to ear : " Mrs. Fair- bank's compliments, and wants to know if you will accommodate your financey by dining with her." " Did she give you the message that way ? " I ask. " No, sah, not exactly. She don't say nothin' about financing, but Milly told me as to how Missus Fair- banks was going to marry yo', and I thought it would be kind of pleasant to yo' to hear it commentated upon." 196 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Is her dinner in the dining room ? " " No, sah ; it is in her private parlor, sah ; very home-like, sah." Anxious to keep the convenances strictly with Mrs. Fairbanks, I go up to my room, put myself in elab- orate evening costume and directing Smith to an- nounce me, am ushered into Lucie's parlor, to find the meal is very home-like. If anything could wean a man from bachelor irresponsibility, it is the delights of such an entertainment as my affianced offers. I find her little parlor bright with flowers and her dinner table set with more elaboration than I had sup- posed .the Continental capable. Still, the room seems empty to me, probably be- cause my hostess is not in it. But Lucie soon comes tripping from her bed room looking the embodiment of coquettish domesticity. " I didn't feel equal to a grand toilette," she says, apologetically. " You'll pardon this on account of my fatigues to-day." Pardon it? I look at her and think Lucie is more charming in the sweet disclosures of a fairy-like tea gown fluttering with laces and ribbons, than if ar- rayed as gloriously as the Queen of Sheba. Under its floating gauzes her arms and shoulders gleam in snowy beauty. As I take her hand Lucie's eyes beam. " You have told everybody I am the happiest girl in Narrangan- sett ? " asks she. " Girl ? " I stammer, and note her kiss is so diffi- dently given, it has a virgin flavor. " Yes ; girl or widow. Perhaps, I may be a little of both," she says in arch ambiguity. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 197 At this astounding proposition, I gasp : " You have the charms of both." The compliment seems to please her; though there is a wistful embarrassment on her face. Perchance this is produced by the proprietorship in jny manner as I playfully tap her shoulder and remark : " De Varnes says you had many suitors in Paris and a lucky escape from the French lawyers." " De Varnes ! " She suddenly asks : " Was that all he said about me ? " " Why, was there more to say ? " She grows pale, and her eyes seemed troubled. " Men gossip as well as women," she sneers. " I'll warrant as many gentlemen as ladies are discussing us at the Casino now, and I'm glad of it. At first I trembled at the thought of anyone guessing I belonged to you ; now it seems as if I wished the whole world to know my happiness." I would be very tender to her; but just here Mr. Smith enters with the clams and soup and we sit down to a tete-a-tete meal that I hope is a delicious fore- taste of domesticity to come. Even Smith this ev- ning has sense enough not to be always present. Noting how my mention of De Varnes has agitated my betrothed, I don't tell Lucie of the arrival reg- istered so curiously on the hotel books under a name that agrees with one of my forged letters. If any- thing is to be detected in Jabez Greenapple of Provi- dence, I, the Detective Fiance, will discover it. From my two first successful spy-hunting exploits I, by this time, believe myself equal to a Pinkerton and Byrnes rolled into one, and magnified a hundred diameters. Lover like, we dawdle along to the dessert. As the coffee is placed before me, Lucie says very sweetly : 198 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " See what I have for the martyr, who, in deference to me hasn't puffed tobacco smoke all this day." " Oh, I have been making up for it, since I brought you home," I laugh, and am about to decline a cigar from a box of Havana's that make me open my eyes in admiration. " But if you can smoke here, you'll come in the oft- ener. So you've got to! Now, I'll light your weed for you," says the nymph. Who Could resist a magnificent Havana, tendered by the hand of beauty ! " Very well," I observe pla- cidly, " only if you get into this habit as my fiancee you must continue it as wife." After the second whiff, I ejaculate: " Holy Poker, where did you get this?" " Oh, some I brought ashore with me," she an- swers, a tinge of embarrassment rippling her sensi- tive face. Such cigars are uncommon. I cry : " Why, you little smuggler, where did you get them first? " " Some my my husband had." Lucie's cheeks are slightly flushed. " Then we will toss the husband's cigar out of the window," I cry angrily, and throw the weed away, though its flavor is as fine as I have ever enjoyed. " No wonder it grew bitter in my mouth," I growl. " It was one of the same brand that Bennt used to give me to smoke in the Superintendent's office out in the Rocky Mountains, when he was doing me, and you, too, Lucie out of a fortune." Her sweetness makes me ashamed of my petulant outbreak. "That's right, Frank," she says, "don't think of me in connection with any other man. Smoke one of your own cigars. I'll light it for you." Then her eyes glow and my Juno breaks forth : " I am glad 'THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 199 you are exigeant of me; I want you to be jealous of me that means passion for me. I'd think more of a burly savage who beat me if I gave a single side glance at another man, than of a white-livered lord who would smile in civilized conservatism at a flir- tatious wife. Never again will I mention my hus- band to you, until the time I leave his name to take yours." As she lights the cigar that I take from my own case I recognize that Lucie is not divorcing her hus- band for being brutally jealous of her. I am puffing away rather contentedly when I am startled by the noise like of an express locomotive staying its wild career in front of the hotel ; a minute later Mr. Smith, after several announcing knocks, brings in the cards of Miss Jameson and Mr. Man- ders. 1 " Ask them to step up," commands my sweetheart, and the bell boy having departed she says deprecat- ingly : You won't mind a slight interruption by your best friend and my best friend? I think they have come to congratulate me. I wrote a little note about you to Birdie about two hours ago." My fiancee has guessed right. Miss Birdie breaks out almost as she enters : " It's lucky Lucie I knew you were only engaged ; or gazing upon this domestic ban- quet, I should say you were married." As for Manders, he extends his hand and gives mine a cordial squeeze, then looks upon my beautiful af- fianced, sometimes, I think, as if he believed her a De- lilah. " I took your advice, Charley," I remark, " and got a girl. In Manders's joy at winning you, Birdie, he told me to do likewise." 200 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEC. " How misery loves company," jeers Miss Jameson, trying to scoff down a blush. " Egad ; I think I must be something of a prophet," mutters her swain. " I saw business in both your eyes that first night from the Casino balcony." " Please stop your divination," murmurs Lucie, growing red also. The box of Havanas which has arroused my rage is open upon the table. Inspecting them the polo man's eyes light up with the pleasure of a smoker. He mut- ters : " Frank, you are in luck ; these weeds are beyond compare." " Supposing you men go down stairs and don't fill Lucie's parlor full of smoke," suggests Birdie. Both ladies apparently wish to do a little private chattering; therefore I take Manders with me to the balcony. After Charley has seated himself and lighted up, I tell him my story. To this he listens, puffing his cigar in a nervous way unusual in a man who is accustomed to the dan- gers of a polo game. As I finish he says : " I hope you have a long pocketbook." " Not as long as I wish," I reply. " And not as long as you ought to have," he re- marks seriously. " I am afraid you are going to marry a very extravagant woman. These cigars never cost less than a dollar each, if I am a smoker. Did you notice that brooch on her negligee. Twenty thou- sand at Tiffany's if thai jeweler ever made out a bill." Then as I make a deprecating gesture, he goes on, a slight embarrassment in his voice. " Though I admit Mrs. Fairbanks is a most beautiful and charming wo- man, still you don't know even who she exactly is. THE SURPRISES OF. AN EMPTY HOTEL. 2OI Don't you think you are a little rash, old man. I'd like to see the goal posts before me when I made the play of my life." " But Miss Birdie knows all about Lucie." " Yes, I believe Birdie does," Manders says caus- tically, " but Birdie keeps her pretty little mouth very close about it, which is something unusual in her. Perhaps it is because I lecture her about getting ex- travagant ideas from Mrs. Fairbanks, for between our- selves your fiancee has put such extraordinary finan- cial notions into my sweetheart's brain that were I not blind gone on Birdie, I should almost fear to take up the responsibilities of matrimony." This is about the most conservative speech I have ever heard from the dashing polo man. It impresses me ; but I rejoin : " So am I, blind gone on Lucie. That answers your question; that answers everybody's question, old boy; so wish me happiness." ; " I d'o, with all my soul," answers Charley. About this time, Miss Jameson coming downstairs says : " Charley, please run out and get Fire Boy ready while I bid good evening to Mr. Marchmont. Taking this hint, Manders goes down the steps and rouses up the somnolent Thompson, who is asleep on the motor. Upon the balcony Birdie whispers to me excitedly : " You darling gambler ! I like to see a fellow play for high stakes and win them, especially when he doesn't know he has got the capital prize in the Havana lottery ! " " The capital prize in the lottery of love, you mean ! " I laugh. " One would think you were com- plimenting me on winning money bags instead of a woman." 202 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEti " Oh, people can win both," says the little witch. " Wouldn't you like me to tell you all about your prize? Lucie hasn't opened her lips to you yet, I am sure. She is so extraordinarily sentimental ; she wants you to love her for herself ; besides she is afraid ! " With this Miss Birdie trips down to the locomobile. I \vould run after her and ask her what the dickens she is driving at, but she jumps into the vehicle and calls to me : " Hurry, some one on the second floor is waiting for you." As I turn to follow her suggestion, a man sitting by the side stairs rises and remarks : ' By Blackstone, if they ain't running engines on the streets ? " and points to Fire Boy, which is panting away noisily as it turns into Ocean Road. His sudden appearance startles me; but I answer affably : " Yes ; we will soon all be flying through the air." r - " You're right ! I've been sitting here half an hour watching for that machine to blow us all to kingdom come. Then we would be all flying through the air, he, he, ahoo ! " chuckles the man. i' I laugh with the humorist. " It's quite sociable of you to see the point, Mr. Marchmont," he says. " We ought all to be convivial in this hotel, seeing how few of us are in it. You've gleaned my name on the register, I apprehend Jabez Greenapple. I obtained evidence of you from the reg- ister also; we are the only male boarders in sight. There was another, but he went off to-day, just as I arrived, he, he, haw ! " Mr. Greenapple has tramped along the balcony be- side me, until we are under the electric light at the main entrance. Glancing at my companion I notice SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 203 that his face has a summer tan upon it, and bright, twinkling, inquisitive yet hollow eyes. After the manner of countrymen he wears chin whiskers that encircle his neck to his very ears. His age is about forty. A rather tight-fitting suit of clothes makes his figure, which is below the medium height of man, look attenuated. Though wiry and active for his years, his laugh is the most striking thing about him. " You'll excuse my making friends with you ; I have heard all about you from Mr. Barclay," he adds. I reflect with a start; if Mr. Jabez Greenapple sat for half an hour watching for Manders's locomobile to blow up, he has probably, in my conversation with its owner, 'heard considerably more than Barclay knows. I think it wise to let him do all the talking. " You weren't in at dinner to-day ; I tell you what, that dining room looked as empty as my stomach, haw, haw, haw! He, he! Our one lady boarder, Mrs. Fairbanks, wasn't down," he remarks. " I ain't seen her yet. She comes from Providence also. I told Barclay we were a Providential dispensation to his empty hotel; haw, haw, haw, he, he, hoo!" Mr. Greenapple's melancholy laugh, which is a mix- ture of wheezing whistles, interpersed with foghorn grunts and occasional puffing bellows, follows me as I enter the hotel. Passing the office, I carelessly remark to Barclay, who is behind his counter : " Mr. Greenapple is the only one who arrived from Providence to-night ? " " Not another one of 'em," mutters the hotel man. " I thought he might be the advance guard when he come up from his hack, so I said, ' Which are you ? ' smilingly. He replied, ' Give me your Providence let- ters and. I'll see if this is the hotel that I wrote for ^ 204 "THE "SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEC. room.' Then he looked over the correspondence, picked out his letter and said : ' That's my name ! ' and registered. So I had Greenapple shown to the room I had put aside for him. It's lucky someone came in to-day; for ten minutes after Greenapple ar- rived, Number Eighty went away with his head band- aged up. I think the fellow has the mumps, so I can spare him." This information as to Greenapple's only register- ing after he had seen my letter, impresses me. It is with quite a serious face that I enter Lucie's room. Love has very good eyes. She is beside me in a moment asking: " What is the matter? " I don't wish to alarm my affianced, so remembering Manders's complaints I say in affected sternness: " I've got to give you a little lecture." " A lecture ! " she echoes, adding : " Your counte- nance is very serious," and shocks me by faltering: " Oh, what have I done ?" " Pshaw, it is nothing to be frightened at," I mut- ter shamefacedly. " Only Charley tells rne that you have made his sweetheart so awfully extravagant that Miss Birdie's exaggerated financial ideas alarm him." At this she gives a playful toss of her head and laughs : " I am to be disciplined for Miss Jameson's extravagances? That's justice, isn't it? Everytime Birdie buys a new ball dress, I suppose I'll be photo- graphed severely." " It isn't ball dresses," I reply solemnly. " It is the most extravagant luxury in the world steam yachts ! " " Yes, don't they cost an awful lot," the chided one murmurs contemplatively, then apparently utterly un- crushed at the horror of steam yachts^ she continues THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 205 blithely-: " But I'll defend Birdie as well as myself. Miss Jameson is not particularly extravagant. She is pretty sure of her betrothed having an important addition to his income, and has put her agile mind on the best way of spending it. Birdie likes steam yachts, so do I." " Well the important addition to his income will be news to Manders," I jeer. " How did Birdie get her mythical ideas about his increased fortune?" Then I whisper : " Was that what Birdie meant when she said you were Manders's good angel." " Who can tell what Birdie means," Lucie says, speaking fast from embarrassment. " But if I am to be lectured every time Miss Birdie Jameson gives Charley Manders's heart a twinge I am up against what Charley Manders calls ' a very hard game.' " Then she suddenly cries : " This is not what was in your face when you entered that door. Something else ; tell me please ! " " Well," I answer, " if you have any valuable pa- pers here, documents that may aid your enemies, you'd better seal them up and place them in my charge, I'll take them to the local bank here and deposit them." " There isn't anything that is of real value. Under my lawyer's instructions, I have destroyed even their correspondence," she replies. " But there are some new spys in the house I know from your manner. I am beset again. This shall happen no more." She paces the room uneasily, then sits at her writing desk, opens a drawer, pulls out some note paper, and has already 'dipped her pen into the ink, when she pauses and goes looking hurriedly over the desk again very carefully. ; "You miss something?" I ask. " No, nothing ; but I am sure^ from the arrange- 206 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ment of these papers that my desk has been ex- amined. Let me look at my other things." She runs into her bedroom and in a few minutes comes back with startled face and says : " Somebody has investi- gated my trunks; even my private portfolios have been opened." "Anything taken?" " Not a thing. Oh, if they would steal something, then I'd have somebody in jail." " You haven't left your rooms since you came back from our drive ? " " Not a moment, I was too tired. While the table was being set for dinner, I remained in my bedroom, most of the time my door open. Since I returned no one could have entered my rooms." 1 " Then it must have been while we were away," I suggest. " Perhaps my runabout was taken to de- lay us, as well as to place you in an embarrassing position." t " Then who here has done it ? " > " No one who is here now. Barclay said Number Eighty went away with a headache. Mr. Jabez Green- apple arrived long after we returned from the drive. He could not have searched your rooms ; but Number Eighty did. Then Number Eighty waited to confer ,with Greenapple. They are all acting under the or- ders of the same man." " Then I will stop it. The scoundrel who ran away) ifrom the alarm of fire was French I will stop it." She sits down again and writes eagerly, hurriedly, directs and seals the letter and hands it to me : "I 'do this openly," she says. " You needn't be jealous, Frank. Please sive this letter to the Comte de Varnes." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMriY HOTEL. 207 "At last you believe he inspired this surveillance? " " Yes. But this man that you speak of he has a name like one of your forgeries of which you told me in the wagon to-day. Greenapple, Jabez Greenap- ple? I was amused at the appellation." " Yes," I answer. " That produced the concern up- on my face when I entered your room." " So to avoid frightening me, I was lectured for Birdie's extravagance. That was the reason of it, Frank, wasn't it ? " asks my sweetheart with a tender smile ; then her face grows passionate, she goes on im- pulsively : " Don't fear to frighten me after this ; I would sooner know there were a hundred spies about, than feel that you condemned my actions," adding in- terrogatively : " You don't mind delivering this let- ter?" " I do not think it wise," I reply. " In legal mat- ters correspondence should be avoided if possible. Bennt taught me that by bitter lesson. Besides, I wish you to have as little possible to do with Alfred de iVarnes." " Oho, Bluebeard again," Lucie whispers radiant- ly. " Now ! " She tears up the letter. " Forgive me for even having written his name." She puts her arms about me and murmurs : " How happy you make me, Frank. No one was ever jealous of me be- fore." " You didn't see De Varnes's face this morning," I observe severely. CHAPTER XV. TWO OF BENNT'S WIDOWS. The next morning I am no sooner down stairs than Mr. Jabez Greenapple gets hold of me. As I pace the piazza, keeping time to my steps he queries quite ex- citedly : " You haven't seen our new widow board- er?" " Our widow boarder? " " Yes ; she came up from New York this morning by the boat train. I've picked up an acquaintance al- ready. She would be quite attractive, were it not for her kid. Come in and I'll make you acquainted with her at breakfast." Although Mr. Greenapple goes into the dining room, I linger, hoping Mrs. Fairbanks will come down to breakfast; but she does not. Finally, appetite over- coming me, I go into my meal. Mr. Greenapple is seated near a lady whom I presume is the widow, as she is in deep mourning and has beside her a blue-eyed little girl, not much over three years of age. The lady is as Mr. Greenapple described her, and yet a mass of contradictions. She has that style of blue eyes that seem to contain nothing but truth, but nearly always in their unreadable depths harbor the reverse. Her hair, judging it by its roots is blonde, 90S THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 209 although under a passing glance it is a fashionable Titian red. Before I have time to inspect her further Mr. Greenapple, looking up from his chops, says hurriedly : " Mrs. Ella Todd Bent, let me acquaint you with Mr. Marchmont. There ain't more than enough of us here to go round, so we should be sociable. " Yes, I shuddered with loneliness last night," shivers Mrs. Bent, as I take my seat opposite to her. " I am always accustomed to crowded, fashionable places. If there was a suite of rooms to be obtained in any other hotel at Narragansett Pier, I should fly from this place for very fright. Should you hear me scream in the night, Mr. Marchmont, run to room forty-six and rescue me from bugaboos and burglars. You needn't look shocked; forty-six is my parlor. I couldn't live in a hotel unless I had a suite." As I give my orders to Smith, I carelessly analyze the widow. Though demure, at times the lady is dis- tinctly flirtatious; her voice is high-keyed, yet con- fiding. A moment after the lady says in widow's diffi- dence : " My parlor is next to your studio, Mr. Bar- clay informs me. Some day I shall run in, perhaps, and let you photograph me with my darling Jocelyn," she throws her arms about the little girl, " but I am told you artists are such wild men." I don't pay much attention to the Bent family. Bent is quite a common name ; there are lots of Mrs. Bents in the country. Though if she spells it with a double " N " she may, perhaps, be some connection of the scoundrel who swindled me. Whoever she is, the lady is not of the more educated and refined class of American society. Attempting a fashionable bear- 210 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. , ing and modish toilette, her manners are Brummagem and her costume has a ready-made Third Avenue ap- pearance, though it fits very tightly a figure laced to an hour-glass symmetry. Ten years ago the widow must have been flashily attractive to the general run of men. I take no great part in the conversation; though I can't help noticing that both my companions keep anxious eyes on the door. Like De Varnes on the night of Mrs. Fairbanks's arrival in Narragansett they seem to be watching for somebody who doesn't come. As I finish my breakfast the dining-room door opens. I spring up, hoping it is Lucie; the eyes of Mr. Greenapple and the widow seem excited. Then Mrs. Bent emits a sigh of disappointment, so do I, at the black face of the entering waiting-maid. To me Millie bustles in, bringing a note. It is in my sweetheart's dear handwriting. ', " Oho, a little billet doux," laughs Mrs. Bent. " Yes ; from my fiancee," I answer. " I am very shortly going to marry our fellow boarder, Mrs. Fair- banks." At this announcement Greenapple gazes at me, a curious admiration on his face mixed with consterna- tion. Upon 1 the widiow's features there seems to have come a sneering, though uneasy look. " My, but you are in a hurry," she ejaculates. " You haven't known each other a week." I wonder how Mrs. Bent has that information. Then I devote myself to the note. It reads : " Frank, please take me for a drive this morning. I am too tired, too lazy or too happy to come down to brcakfasi. Besides, I don't care to meet that man. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 211 " P. S. On our excursion please be a Western ruf- fian and buckle on your revolver." This postscript makes me smile. Lucie has indeed grown timid. " Tell Mrs. Fairbanks, Millie," I whisper to the abigail, " I will be here with the runabout in an hour." As I leave the dining room Mrs. Bent is wiping her little girl's face with her handkerchief and saying; " Remember, Joscie Cadwallader, that you always must be a lady." The " Cadwallader" in the child's name strikes me. At the office, while I light my cigar I glance at the reg- ister and notice the widow has the same idea as to au- tography as the scoundrel that swindled me ; she spells her name with two " N's." I stroll over to Brown's stable and ask them to give me the same rig that I had yesterday. As the horse is being harnessed, I guardedly and incidentally make inquiry as to the man who had returned it for me; but not daring to question directly, receive very little information. Peleg Brown seems only to think that I am anxious if the horse was returned in good con- dition. ' " Oh, yes," he answers cheerfully. - " The nag came in quite fresh. It was the countryman that drove him back from the Continental for you who seemed hot and rushed." I don't deem it wise to tell Brown 'the occurrences of yesterday, therefore do not continue the subject. Driving up to the side entrance of the hotel, I see Lucie waiting for me on the veranda. She is playing with Mrs. Bennt's blue-eyed little girl, and that ten- der motherhood which comes to some women when- ever they handle children illumines her face. 212 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. As I check my horse the child is saying : " I like 'oo so much. 'Go's an angel." ' " Yes ; an angel who will bring you candy," laughs Lucie. " Angel candy ? " " Caramels, lots of 'em ! " cries my sweetheart. " I must go now. What's your name? " "Joscie Cad-wall-a-der " The child gets no farther ; Lucie is in a hurry to meet me, I am happy to see. Greenapple is strolling about, just round the corner of the veranda near the side entrance. Mrs. Fair- bank's kindness to the child seems to him to be humor- ous. I can see the weasened fellow struggle to re- strain his laughter; though he finally bursts out: " Haw, haw, haw ! he, he, he ; ha hoo ! " He finishes his guffaw with such a resonant blast upon his nose, that as my. sweetheart passes him, she gives a little start. Lucie seems even more nervous to-day than yesterday. To her I call : " Please come down. I don't like to leave the horse. I think he is restive." " That cow restive? " jeers Greenapple, looking over the banisters. " He wouldn't run away if he had hot ashes in his ear he, he, hahoo ! " " He ran away yesterday," I say, in excuse for not leaving the horse to assist Lucie, though my aid would be but formal. My affianced runs down the stairs as agile as any girl at Narragansett, gives me a bright glance from her brilliant eyes and says " Good morn- ing," very sweetly. t "As I am putting her into the carriage, our nag, apparently anxious to justify, my remark, does eeem THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 213 rather fretful, and Greenapple, leaning over the banis- ters, cries excitedly : " Whoa, Jimmie ! " " Thank you," I reply, and drive away wondering how Greenapple knew the horse's name. Jimmie is what they call the beast at Brown's stable. Then I think no more of the horse, my thoughts are concentrated on the beautiful being sitting at my side. She sits very close to me. and prodding a little bronze bottine with her parasol, laughs : " I'm ready for a tramp now, so I won't be photographed ; " then whispers : " Please drive me up to Narrow River." For I, careless where we go, so long as she is beside me, have turned down the Ocean Road towards Point Judith. " You would like to live yesterday over again ? " I ask. " Very much. All except that pursuit by those two men in the wagon; they they frightened me. Did you bring your revolver ? " " Of course, since you asked me." " Thank you." There is such relief in her tone that it startles me. " Do you think that this is the wild and woolly West ; that we have bandits here?" I laugh. " No; but there might be tramps," Lucie answers, I can feel a slight shiver run through her. I have turned to my horse and we are driving to- wards the Casino. Coming towards us with great clang and frightful clatter of machinery is a locomo- bile. I recognize it as that of De Varnes. The Frenchman and his chauffeur, Gregoire, are seated on the motor, though it has room enough on its ex- tra seat for two more. It will be the first time Mrs. 214 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Fairbanks has met the Count in my presence. I am anxious to see her bearing. We pass each other rapidly, De Varnes taking off his hat in formal politeness, and Lucie acknowledg- ing his salutation by a piquant nod of her graceful head that indicates affable indifference. Gregoire, however, gives a Gallic grin. I am not altogether pleased with Lucie's bow ; I think if she recognized the Count at all, it should have been with haughty coldness. My sweetheart reads my face. She says : " Ah, jealous again! You do not like the way I greeted De Varnes," then breaks out at me : " Promise you will not ask him who I am. He thinks you know ; do not undeceive him." Next she astonishes arid shocks me by adding in a frightened and pleading ten- derness : " Should he tell you anything bad about me, believe that the wretch lies ! " " If he says anything but good about you, I'll She stops my threat by interjecting radiantly: " God bless you for your faith ! " and apparently throwing all care becomes only my sweetheart. We drive lazily up the Boston Neck Road and are about to turn down through the hedge rows to the head of the water way. Here Lucie chancing to look at her watch seems to change her volatile mind. " It would be desecration to visit that spot again," she says sentimentally. " We never could live over those first hours of our love. I'm hungry, supposing you drive me over to Saunders- town and give me another lunch at the hotel. I can eat that over again." " Very well," I reply. " We'll put yesterday upon THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 215 a shrine and worship it. To-day we'll be more prac- tical." " Hurry ! " cries Lucie lightly. " Their regular meal is two o'clock." Soon we are in front of the Saundcrs House, and looking at the wharf which runs out to the ferry. By its landing steps is a naphtha launch, apparently be- longing to the big steam yacht; Sapphire is upon its stern board. The great, white, pleasure craft is still lying at its anchor. Two or three of her sailors are on the wharf and one of her officers. " .While you order lunch, I'll go down to get a nearer view of the boat that we have discussed so often," says Lucie ; then she pouts. " Quick, I'm very hungry ! " I enter the hotel and am occupied there some few minutes in giving orders for the meal. As I come down the steps my sweetheart is on the wharf in con- versation with the officer of the steam yacht. Rather to my astonishment, I see the man touch his cap to her with sailor deference and step into the launch, which gets under way for the Sapphire. " Did you find who was the owner of that magnifi- cent craft ? " I enquire as I stand beside my fiancee. " No, I was only asking why the sailors seemed so lazy when lying at anchor. I was suggesting to the mate that they had better put on another coat of paint. The Sapphire looks a little dingy about her bow and the streaks near her stern-post, don't you think so, Frank?" " Yes, a little, now you mention it," I answer. With this we go into the Saunders House. The 'dining room is well filled with guests^ and our meal is 2l6 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. not as pleasantly familiar as it was the day before. Still, we have a window looking over the water; and any place near Lucie is to me Elysium. Just as we finish my sweetheart utters a little laugh and cries archly : " How curious ! They have taken my advice. Already they are giving the Sapphire a new coat of paint. Wasn't that polite in the officer ? " My eyes follow her gesture. Planks have been rigged over the sides of the ship and her tars are adorning the big pleasure craft with a new coat of gleaming white. " Oh, I hope they'll remember to gild that streak round her taffrail," babbles Mrs. Fairbanks as we leave the Saunders House and I place her in the runabout. While we are driving up the hill that leads from the water, Lucie is joking me about the craft. " I hope that the state cabins will be re-decorated," she laughs. " You know we are going to take our honeymoon cruise on the Sapphire in imagination." " Then those jack tars will have to be in a hurry," I remark, taking up her cue. " They have only nine days now, to-morrow will be eight, the next day seven " " Oh, don't figure it up in that deliberate way," whispers Lucie, archly. " When I think about it, I always jump to the wedding day." The road is empty, I make suitable acknowledg- ment to this. As we drive into Narragansett my coming bride seems in ecstatic spirits. We are drawing up in front of the Continental when a child salutes us from the balcony. It cries excited- ly : " Angel candy ; angel candy ! 'Oos got my angel candy?" THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 217 " Don't stop driving," whispers Lucie to me. " Keep on; turn around. Go back to the Bijou. In my hap- piness I forgot my promise to little Joscie, that is what she said her name was, I believe." Five minutes afterwards she buys for the child enough bon-bons to make a school festival. Returning to the hotel, Lucie suggests archly : " You'd better photograph me this afternoon, as you threatened. It will disguise the real reason of your engaging the rooms over mine." " I've already made pictures of Smith and Milly," I remark. " But as discipline must be preserved, pre- pare to pose." " With pleasure," she answers airly. As we come up the steps to the piazza, she cries: " An idea ! " and picking up little Joscie in her arms, laughs : " Take us both." As she holds the child before the camera in my third floor studio, a tender radiance is on Lucie's exquisite features. A few minutes after tHe mother comes after little Joscie, and I hear her thanking my sweetheart for her kindness to her offspring, who is munching caramels till her cheeks stick out. My efforts at photography are apparently not re- garded as complimentary by my betrothed. Two days after I spy her coming from the beach be- fore breakfast. She waves something in her hand and laughs : " Would you like a real likeness of me, Mr. Amateur? On seeing your picture of me, I immedi- ately went down to Davidson's. Behold ! " She ex- hibits a photograph of her fair self that makes me utter an exclamation of delight. 2l8 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " I'm so glad you like it, as it's for you," she says simply. That afternoon at the Casino I proudly exhibit it to Miss Jameson, whereupon that young lady declares she must have a duplicate. So together we stroll down Beach Row to the Narragansett studios, where Mr. Davidson astonishes me by stating that after one pic- ture was printed he had destroyed the negative by Mrs. Fairbanks's direct and positive order. " I was very sorry to do it," he adds, " as I doubt if I'll ever take a finer likeness." At this Miss Birdie gives a knowing wink and emits a low whistle, and I wonder whether it was caution and fear which induced Lucie to limit her photographs to one, or the determination to make her picture all for me. I grow perturbed. In the confidences of engage- ment Lucie has shown me many flashes of her lovely soul, in these I cannot help noticing that some latent terror rests upon her fair spirit, some fear that makes her not only reticent but tremulous even in the delights of first love. Still for the next day or two the world seems ex- tremely pleasant to me in this beautiful watering place. As we are now known to be engaged, general society considerately leaves Lucie and me a good deal to our- selves ; though Manders and Birdie being in a similar state join us each evening in a quartet dinner at the Casino. During the day I don't see very much of my af- fianced; being engaged in my financial affairs; as any man must be who attempts the responsibility of wed- lock with a lady of whose fortune he has no definite information, but who he knows has decidedly ex- travagant ideas. Of course I say nothing to Lucie THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 219 about her affairs. Her pride is to be loved entirely for herself. I am content with what she has given me, herself. In my happiness, one things strikes my conscience. It is Barclay. Of course, none of his promised guests have come from New York, and none from Pitts- burgh. The unfortunate man seems dazed. He mut- ters: ".Where are they?" and goes to telegraphing the parties who addressed him from both places. The answers to these dispatches strike the boniface with despair, he mutters : "I can't find out anything from 'em," and takes to patronizing his own bar-room very heavily. So much so that Smith comes to me and whispers, rolling his eyes : " Yo' ought to try and keep the boss from en joy in' hisself so much ; the first thin' yo' know he'll have the jim-jams wid hisself." Feeling that I am the cause of it, but not yet daring to offer reparation I try to advise the unfortunate land- lord, but without success. Barclay cuts me short with : " It's my cursed luck ; that's all there is about it. Some epidemic has car- ried off my boarders before they turned up, I reckon." In this occupation of cheering my landlord, rather to my astonishment, Greenapple joins. He says : " Let me look at those letters you received, Barclay. If they ordered rooms and don't pay for them yon can sue every mother's son of 'em ;" and gives considerable care to over-hauling my forged letters, in a way at times that makes me uneasy. Sometimes I wonder if Greenapple is a detective or a lawyer. At others I also speculate whether Mrs. Bennt has not some connection with this hollow-eyed creature who goes about the hotel with twinkling eyes and idiotic guffaws. Even as he inspects my forger- 220 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ies in the little room off the office I can hear Green- apple chuckling and haw-hawing and hee-heeing. Once or twice I notice him in conversation with the .widow. These interviews seem to me on some occasions to be an affable exchange of ideas ; at others the Bennt woman and Greenapple appear to quarrel, though Greenapple always hoos, hes and haws no matter on what subject he is engaged. Once it seems to me as if he was demanding some paper from Mrs. Ella Todd Bennt, which she was reductant to sign. But I believe he gets it, he laughs so loudly. Another time I hear him say to her : " Don't shoot your gun till you know whose in front of the bullet, he, he, hoo ! " But I am too busy to give much attention to them. I should go to New York and arrange my finances, but don't like to leave Lucy alone, unguarded. Con- sequently I have a great deal of correspondence. During the moments that I cannot give her my com- pany, Lucie when not out with Miss Jameson, often has little Joscie up in her parlor and amuses herself with the child. This seems to greatly please Joscie's mother, who takes advantage of Mrs. Fairbanks's at- tentions to her offspring to make herself quite at home in the apartments of my affianced, who, to my aston- ishment, I notice calls the widow Mrs. Cadwallader. Though Lucie's mistake as to the lady's name only came to my knowledge upon the day on which I re- ceived an inkling of who Mrs. Bennt really was. This arises from a curious accident. Quite early in the morning as Lucie and I finish a tete-a-tete break- fast ; we having a table set apart for ourselves in the dining-room, Miss Jameson comes in, a bright flush of what seems to me excited expectancy upon her pretty THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 221 face. Greeting us she says eagerly : "As Charley is going to speed Fire Boy this morning, and as your swain, Lucie, is still engaged in his business corre- spondence, suposing we two go off together. You won't have many more chances to play bachelor girl." Mrs. Fairbanks is even now ready for outing. She has on the Point Judith yachting costume, and Miss Jameson, I notice, is in rather a knock-about sea- side dress. " Very well, Birdie," Lucie says sweetly, " if Frank doesn't mind. Besides, I imagine your girlie girlie days are nearly over also." With this, she playfully pinches Miss Birdie's shell-like ear. " I suppose so," murmurs Manders's affianced. " Charley says they are ! " and the two condemned ones go away quite happily together. I give a sigh of loneliness, walk up to my room and commence to write my letters. Finishing one or two of them I look out of trie window. The day is a per- fect Narragansett one. Ocean Road is gay with bright costumes going down to the bathing beach. A lot of yachts are cruising to and fro about the Light Ship. I remember that one of the trial races takes place to-day, in order to select the defender of the America's Cup. As is usual on such occasions, two or three sailing and steam crafts are off the Casino to pick up guests of their owners . I turn my eye southward. Off Tucker's wharf is a great steam yacht. It is easy to recognize the Sap- phire, whose sides gleam with fresh white paint. She is apparently awaiting a party for the regatta, from some cottage on the Rocks, as I notice her steam launch is leaving the dock. In its stern sheets I can 222 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL, see fluttering white dresses and parasols shaking in the sea breeze. I think if I were rich enough to give such luxury to Lucie, and resume my correspondence. I am interrupted by Manders, who walks in with his horseman step and says : "I thought Birdie was up here in the hotel with your girl ? " " They both went for a stroll." I answer, " It wouldn't surprise me very much if they are on the Rocks looking at the yacht race." I shouldn't wonder Birdie's got steam yacht on the brain. Let's go and catch them," remarks the polo man. Knowing his general dislike for walking I laugh : " But you haven't got your locomobile ? " " No, I intended to speed Fire Boy, but Thompson wanted to run over the machinery again," he answers. " We are getting pretty near to the race with De Varnes. Besides, a trot about will do me good." i These last remarks are made as we run down the Continental steps and make our way amid the busy throng on Ocean Drive, acknowledge the salutes of many ladies who are about to play water nymph upon the bathing beach. Coming out past Tucker's wharf we make towards the Rocks. The path runs between the green lawns of the villas on the cliffs, and the big masses of stone that rise abruptly from the ocean which in stormy weather dashes wildly over them. This day is a brisk one ; the tide lashes our path with vehement spray. On Sunday afternoons this place is quite well pat- ronized by the younger part of Narragansett society, who indulge in that romantic form of amusement ycleot "Rocking;" now with the exception of two or THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 223 three carriages down by Lion's Head, whose occupants are looking at the race, nobody is in sight. , kWe have nearly reached that big mass of boulders, Called Indian Rock, over which the waves are break- ing into great clouds of silvery spray. " I'm hanged if I'm going to walk any further," growls Charley, " even to catch Birdie. I think they must have gone down as far as Dun's. I never knew tramping was so hard before. After a long walk I always pity my polo pony and it spoils my game. I ride my nag too sympathetically." | At this suggestion we sit down together and look at the exquisite ocean panorama. The yacht race is just beginning. Two distant white sloops are dashing across the line past the Light Ship. Behind them are the varied attendants of a prelimi- nary to an international race, torpedo boats, torpedo catchers, steam yachts, excursion steamers and even a mighty battle-ship. But we are not thinking of them, and go to chatting about our lady loves. ' Mindful of my approaching nuptials, I ask Charley if he won't do me the honor of standing up with me. ' " Certainly, old man," he answers cordially, adding rather seriously : " Of course, by this time you know who the lady is." " No," I answer. " Nor have I asked her." He looks at me in almost unbelief, then grins : " You're still going it blind. It's deuced risky riding, but from some words that Birdie has let fall, I imagine you have got between the goal posts." This conversation is made private by the noise of the breakers, though there is a big rock near us Nar- ragansettwards that might shield half a dozen listen- ers. p 224 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ; Just at this moment we find that we are the eaves- droppers. From the other side of the escarpment voices come to us in the strindent key of angry invect- ive and excited womanhood. " You abandoned creature ! " cries one lady. " You Tenderloin product ! " retorts another lady, in even higher voice. These compliments are passed so venomously that Charley starts and nudges me. " How dare you pursue me ! " cries the first. " How dare you call any one names ? " screams the second. " Ever since I saw Mrs. Ella Todd Bennt and child published as arriving at the Continental, I have been trying to get hold of you. I followed you here to have it out with you. I know your game ; you brought that brat to gain her sympathy." [ " Hold your tongue ! " retorts the other, in a series of high notes that I now recognize as those of the widow of the Continental. " I can prove in Court that I lived with Thomas Cadwallader Bennt before the old villain ever saw you." " Liar ! " screams the second. " If going with him on his steam yacht to Europe doesn't make marriage, what does? You take my advice; get out with your country lawyer and your trumped-up child. If I ever put eyes on you at the Casino I will have you expelled 'as disreputable." " Much good that will do you," scoffs the Titian- haired lady of the Continental. " What's the use of your quarrelling with me, you only expose yourself." Apparently having better control of her reason or her temper she adds : " Neither of us have got his money ; we only want it. I'll bet your lawyer told you to let me alone." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 225 These remarks seem to check the other's ire ; she exclaims : " Yes ; my attorney says we'll only cut each other's thoats. She is the one to get after." " That's what my lawyer said also! SHE! " asserts the first. " A fight between us two, is ruin to both of us. So, what's the good of scrapping, Mary? Bennt didn't treat you as badly as he did me." "Yes, he did, Ella," half sobs the second. "He never mentioned my name in his will." " Neither did he mine, the reprobate ! " snivels the Continental woman. We were friends before he died, Mary. What we have got to do is to go for his Church widow. There were nasty stories about her in Paris." " Were there ? Tell me all about 'em, dear," en- treats the second eagerly. " You bet I will ! " Their conversation and footsteps die away. I glance cautiously round the corner of the rock and see the yellow-haired creature whom Lucie and I en- countered at Point Judith arm in arm with Mrs. Ella Todd Bennt of the Continental. Gazing after them also, Manders emits a low whistle and remarks : " I didn't catch all that they screamed at each other, but by Jove, they are two common-law widows of the man who swindled you and me." CHAPTER XVI. THE HOP AT THE CASINO. " Yes," I answer, " I knew the blonde one before ; but this Titian-haired thing, though she called herself Bennt, I had no idea was the second ! " " If I were you," suggests Charley, "I'd drop a hint to Mrs. Fairbanks who the woman really is. Your affianced has displayed quite a liking for her little girl and the mother makes use of it to force herself upon her. I suppose the child is also called Bennt," he jeers. " Of course, Lucie's acquaintance with that woman must be stopped at once," I assent. "Mrs. Fairbanks shall understand. The girls ought to be coming back soon, they will be hungry about this time." We sit waiting for them ; but Birdie and Lucie don't make their appearance. Looking in the direction of Dunmere we can see nothing of them. Manders and I go back to the Continental. The ladies have not re- turned. My affianced is not visable until nearly evening, then she and Miss Jameson come in adorned by the same blown-way, salt-water, bedraggled, red-cheeked ap- pearance with which they had appeared from their sur- reptitious outing a few days before. " You look about the same as when you returned from Newport the other day," I suggest significantly. Mi x THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. "What a guesser you are! That is just where we have been ! " answers Miss Jameson, airily. " We went by the trolley line this time." "Ah, crossed the Saunderstown Ferry?" " Yes ; and I didn't see our beautiful steam yacht there," laughs Lucie. " The Sapphire had left her anchorage." " She was down here at the race to-day," I observe gloomily. Somehow or other I know that both Birdie and Lucie if not telling fibs are at least prevaricating. Of Miss Jameson's expedition I have no warrant to enquire; but I now have the right to interrogate my affianced. In Birdie's presence I keep silent ; but that little minx having gone away to dress for a hop at the Casino after dinner, which we take at the Continental. I bring up both the subject of Lucie's outing and likewise the social status of the putative Widow Bennt. We are in Mrs. Fairbanks's parlor, so I can speak freely, though I am sensible enough to make my re- marks in a low tone, knowing the porous nature of the dividing walls. Curiously, the subject of the Titian-haired woman seems to my affianced much the more important. " By the bye, Lucie," I observe, " do you know who the lady is, who comes in to your parlor so often with her little girl?" " Of course, Mrs. Cadwallader." " There you have made a mistake. The name the lady gives herself is Mrs. Ella Todd Bennt. If you had looked at the register you would have seen it." " Why, the child said her name was Joscie Cadwalla- der." "Yes; Joscie Cadwallader Bennt. Had you not 328 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. been in such a hurry to go out driving with me the other morning, you would have caught the last." " Cadwallader Bennt? " echoes my betrothed in quite a startled voice. " Certainly. Her mother is one of the common-law claimants to the name of the man who swindled me." "One of the common-law women who claim to be the widows of Thomas Cadwallader Bennt? Then little Joscie whom I have held in my arms so often, is " Lucie shudders slightly and grows unnatural- ly pale. The next moment, however, she is calm and murmurs : " It is not Joscie's fault. Why should she suffer ? " adding coldly : " But you are perfectly right as regards the mother, Frank. After this I shall hate the sight of the wretched woman." " You cannot keep the mother at a distance, unless you keep the child at a distance/' I suggest. " Don't you think that a very cruel way of putting it?" she returns; then suddenly changes the subject by saying, in attempted lightness : " But you haven't asked me about Birdie's and my Newport trip." " That was because I did not wish to encourage pre- varication," I answer sternly. " You went no more to Newport to-day than the other time when Miss Jame- son and you spent the day together. Then I had no right to enquire, now I have. Probably frightened for her chum, Lucie is meek as a mouse. " I admit that, Frank," she answers sweetly ; then stammers pleading : " Only please don't tell Man- ders." " Of course I shall say nothing to Manders ; but you had better inform Miss Jameson," I sneer, " that though Charley loves her dearly, his very affection for her. will not permit his affianced to play any pranks THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 229 with him. I know enough about yachting to be aware of its insidious dangers to beautiful women, when dashing wooers are about." " Pranks ? .Wooers ! Your insinuations about Birdie are insinuations about me ! " Lueie's eyes blaze, she throws away meekness and becomes a goddess. Bit I am angry also, and go on savagely : "I de- mand from you a simple statement on what yacht you were aad who was your cavalier." To this my sweetheart does not answer directly. She breaks out at me: " Oh, I adore to see you jeal- ous of me, Frank. Then I know you love me as I love you ! I'd tell you what you ask, but that's part of my secret. Trust me, I shall never give you real cause for jealousy. Can't you see it in my face; can't you feel it in my clasp? Look in my eyes and doubt me if you can ! " Her arms are about me, her lips are near mine. I mutter ; " By Heaven, I can't ! " then answer more potently by caresses. At this Lucie grows tender. A word from me, I think will make her tell me all. " But still, remem- ber trie peculiarity of our engagement," I plead. " A puzzle is my affianced. Do you imagine curios- ity is not racking me ? " " You wouldn't be human, Frank, if it didn't," she answers simply. "Don't you think it would be wiser if you made me your confident ? " I urge ; then I command : " Tell me!" t For a moment she seems to waver. Her beautiful eyes have a diffident, almost a frightened, expression ; her graceful frame is trembling ; her lips are opening ; they are going to tell me. 230 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. iWhen suddenly a tiny rap is heard upon the door and a baby's voice cries : ' ' Oo in there, Lucie. Did 'oo bring angel-candy from Newport, Lucie ? " At the child's words a shiver runs through try sweetheart that seems almost repulsion. Lucie cries: " Run away, Joscie. Angel candy in a minute ! " Turning to me she remarks resolutely yet pleadirgly : " I I can't tell you yet. As your wife, believe me, I shall have no secrets from you," then flutters : " You promised, Frank, you promised ! Seven days is not so long! " "In my position they are an eternity," I answer. " An eternity of suspense. By common sense I have a right to know." " Yes ; you have every right to know, I admit that, but give me your faith for just a little while. Before I say the words that make me your wife I've got to tell the minister my name. It's for my happiness I keep my mouth closed it's for your happiness also if you love me," she cries. " For my happiness ? My happiness is to know 1 " I have turned cruelly towards the door. But Lucie's clinging hands stay me. " You you shan't go away angry with me, Frank," she says des- perately. " Believe me you said you would. I'll I'll make the time shorter if you forgive me ! " She is blushing to the roots of her hair. " You mean you will wed me sooner ?" is my eager question. " Yes; five days ; only five days. A kiss for each day eliminated. Only believe ! " The blush has reached even her shoulders, her eyes are drooping modestly yet divinely excited. What man, who loved as I, could be obdurate to such a bribe? THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 231 " Five days ! " I answer, and take her in my arms. " Yes, Frank ; but please leave me I'll come down and go with you to the Casino in an hour. Some news has reached me that agitates me. Promise me you will remain in the hotel till I come to you !" "Why in the hotel?" " Because you said you'd you'd guard me." " What has alarmed you now ? " "You'd think I were a fool if I told you," she an- swers almost archly. " But please remain upon the bal- cony. Surely, you you wouldn't like me to disap- pear." She is nervous hysterical. Of course I agree to her request ; I soothe her and go down to the veranda to take a smoke. As I step out of her parlor little Joscie is in the hallway waiting for her candy. Lucie comes out and gives the infant her bonbons in a curious, shrinking, sympathetic way. I look upon the child with evil eyes; in some way I feel that this baby's voice has kept my affianced's lips from disclos- ing who she is. Perchance I should go to ruminating about it, but even as I light my cigar a new and greater sensation stalks to me. It is in the form of Greenapple. Several times as I have passed him in the last day or two he has seemed convulsed with laughter. His " hees, hoos and haws " have nearly blow him up. Once especially when he was in the Times office, buying assorted note and letter paper. Now his smile is an insinuating one. As I toss away my match he comes up to me on the balcony pleasantly and says : " Did you see him ? He, he, hoo!" ; "See whom?" 232 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Our unfortunate landlord. We are keeping it as quiet as possible, but Barclay has acquired the delirium tremens. Not one of his Omaha crowd of boarders ar- rived to-day. When none of 'em turned up, Barclay turned in the whisky. Before he got out of his head he gave me his power of attorney on a little legal busi- ness that I have to attend to for him. I'm a lawyer, haw, haw, hoo ! You thought I was a detective didn't you ? He, he, he, ha hoo ! " " I didn't think anything about you," I reply. Greenapple's communication in regard to Barclay has so shocked me that for a moment nothing else is in my mind. Is it possible that my forged letters to induce him to keep the hotel open until I had won Lucie has caused his dipsomania. '' But you will think of me from now on," grins the attorney. " Sit down here on the balcony with me, please. Now, that you know I am a lawyer, you'll un- derstand what I am driving at. I just want you to- answer one question, and I will be very easy on you. I want to know who the lady really is whom you are going to marry next week." " That is none of your infernal business," I rejoin. " Oh, but it is. I want to know her real name, and if I don't get it from you I am going to be right down hard with you, he haw hoo ! " " Hard with me? " I jeer. " You poor little wheezy fellow, don't you know that I could pick you up and throw you over the balcony ? " "You could physically, but you couldn't mentally; and to prove it I am going to paralyze your big brawny brutal frame. I have got a power of attorney from our poor landlord and I am going to sue you for writ-^ THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 233 ing them forged letters that made him keep his hotel open at a loss of thousands of dollars." " Forged letters ? " I gasp. * Ah, that hit ye! I'm onto yon. I have got even the duplicate of the various note and letter papers you bought at the Times office to write 'em on. I have got some of the very pens from the Casino reading room that you wrote 'em with. I have got the evidence of your buying that assorted paper that day. In proof that I know all about it, I picked out the name of Jabez Greenapple, one of your forged names. I ain't Jabez Greenapple, my name's Micah Pillsbury Sweat, a mem- ber of the New York bar, ha, ha, ho, ho ! Now, will you kindly tell me the real name of the lady you are going to marry ? " " Certainly," I sneer. " Go and look for it on the register of the hotel. She knows her own name. She wrote it there Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks is the name of my fiancee. As for Barclay, I will settle that matter with him." " You can't ; he's out of his head. And if you don't tell me whom you are going to marry, I know the man I can get it from and I am going to him." " Who's that ? " I scoff. " Manders ? " " No; Alfred, the Count de Varnes ! " " If you mention the name of my affianced to the Count de Varnes I will break you into bits." " No, you won't ; you will break him into bits, if he'll let you. Ah, I thought De Varnes would rile you. You can bet he knows the lady's name; he was out yachting with her to-day. Saw 'em come back to Tucker's wharf in a steam launch. I thought that .would hit you. He, he, he! haw, haw, hoo! It has hit me I Jabez .Greenapple, or 234 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Sweat, or whatever his cursed names is, goes chuckling down the steps from the balcony of the Continental. I sit looking at him dismayed. For some little time my brain is in a whirl. All I know accurately is that my latent jealousy of De Varnes has become a very active principle of my being. I try to evolve the reasons for Lucie's extraordinary conduct. Doing so, the fact confronts me that I do not know the name of the husband she has put from her. Suddenly it flashes through me with the bril- liancy of an electric shock. De Varnes is Lucie's rec- reant husband. He lived in Paris; she lived in Paris. She was dismayed when she discovered he was in America. Can that be the solution of the problem. By Heaven, I think it is. I will wait I will see I have promised. I shan't ask Lucie; I shall ask De iVarnes. As this mode of action settles itself in my mind, Lucie's sweet voice whispers : " Ready, Frank ! " Mrs. Fairbanks is beside me, robed for the hop at the Casino. She says, pleasantly : " The carriage is at the door." For mindful of her fatigue when I came down stairs I had ordered one. " Now, please cloak me." She turns her dazzling shoulders to me. As I throw over them light wraps of summer never has Lucie seemed to me quite so beautiful as on this hot August night. Her eyes are sparkling with some oc- cult excitement, the color comes and goes upon her cheeks in nervous waves ; she whispers : " Remember your promise have faith for five days, sweetheart ! " In the carriage, noticing that I say nothing, she turns upon me a searching glance. She has very sharp eyes for me, and cries admiringly : " Oh, how jealous you look!" next murmurs passionately: "It THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. i?J5 makes me love you more. By your rage, I know that you adore me. Sometimes I wonder if Desdeinona didn't love Othello a little better while he was smother- ing her because of Cassio." She snuggles her slight fingers into mine and almost laughs : " I see stilettos in your countenance. Only if you are jealous of me, please punish lago first, because he will have lied to you. Sure, he will have lied to you ! " " By lago you mean De Varnes," I say. '' Make certain I will take good care of him." " Oh, God ! He has not spoken ! " " No, the Count is gentleman enough to keep a close mouth about ladies," I return sarcastically. " It was that Yankee lawyer Pillsbury Sweat alias Greenapple, who told me of your yachting cavalier." I expect agitation, I get terror. " Pillsbury Sweat," she shivers, " here under an as- sumed name. Have those two come together? " Then her voice frightens me, she cries out desperately : " Let them beware; if they persecute me, as there is a Heaven, I'll make both wish I had never lived." I remark sternly : " Rage does not explain your yachting with De Varnes ? " " Tush ! The yachting was but an incident," she replies coldly, almost haughtily. " Five days and I am your wife. Then I will tell you everything. Then if you decide I have injured our grand love by word, deed or thought, for its upholding do justice upon me, merciless justice, and I will adore you all the more." Not knowing exactly how to meet this, I say noth- ing. A second later we are at the Casino; and the Six- teenth century goes out of my face amid modern con- servatism and modern complaisance ; wives are flirtingj THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. and their husbands are not killing them. Above us are a number of blazing electric lights under the big arch way. Among the attendant grooms and flunkies, Gregoire is standing near De Varnes's locomobile. The chauffeur is somewhat of a dandy. As a I glance at him carelessly I see something that makes me start. His sleeve links have on them the silver shield pierced by a golden arrow. No, only one sleeve link; a* different clasp is upon the other cuff. Was it Gregoire who played the spy that night for his master? Moreover, as we pass onto the balcony, De Varnes doesn't look exactly a heavy villain, he sits chatting to a pretty summer girl at a neighboring dinner party. * Although this is only a Wednesday dance, not the more important one of Saturday night, there are a good many little feasts drawing to a close at the tables about the band stand and upon the broad terraces. ! At one of these Manders and Miss Birdie are seated in company with Miss Jameson's aunt and a few other friends. We join them. Probably Charley notices something in my face ; at the first opportunity he whis- pers reassuringly: "Don't be jealous now. You have gone it blind so far, stick to the blind act old man." I look at him and laugh grimly. I wonder if he would stick to the blind act if he knew Miss Birdie has been yachting with another fellow? He was green-eyed of De Varnes that night they arranged their motor race, green eyed as I am now. | As we chat, I imagine Lucie is talking to Miss Birdie about the affair, for the two have wandered off together and got into a nook by themselves. A few minutes later Miss Jameson looking as sprightly as a pixy, contrives to get a few moments THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 237 f tete-a-tete with me, and I discover I have been under discussion. " Mr. Frank Marchmont," says the minx, vindic- tively, " how dare you bully your angel, when she has had such an unhappy life ; and now when she has got the fool she wants, you turn upon her. I told Lucie if I were she I would give you the grand bounce; but she is such a goose about you." " Perhaps you are a goose about some one," I retort. " What would you say to Manders if he brought you to task?" My arrow goes straight to Miss Birdie's tender heart. My critic grows pale and falters : " Oh, mercy, you haven't told him ? " then cries savagely : " Don't you do it, either! If Charley dared to lecture me I'd give him such a turning down he wouldn't play polo for a week. Besides, how have you the audacity to suggest such awful things of me. I know what you said to your poor injured angel. " Pranks and cava- liers ! Why, I was the chaperone." This atrocious statement of Miss Jameson overcomes me. I mutter : " Not if there was another fellow about!" Then she shocks me by saying : " There wasn't ! " and goes saucily away. Though she puts a little joy into my perturbed mind by whispering : " Lucie has asked me to be her bridesmaid." " A widow have bridesmaids ? That is not the fash- ion." " Some widows are entitled to bridesmaids." Birdie gives me a diabolical wink, What the deuce can she mean? During this Mrs. Fairbanks has been in the ballroom dancing^ a rather unusual amusement for b.er. 238 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. To avoid discussion with me she appears to accept the attentions of other gentlemen with avidity, though from no one of them for any undue length of time. A furtive excitement appears to make her a mixture of playful coquetry and vivacious merriment to her attendant cavaliers. Were she not known to be en- gaged, she would probably leave sore hearts behind her this evening. I don't dance, neither does Manders, who, like most polo men, seems to care very little for using his own feet. Yet I presume I keep an eye upon the move- ments of my sweetheart, for Charley growls at me: " Oh, don't follow her with your glances every play. Ring the bell and give the girl a rest. Look at me, I never ride off the men about Birdie," Then he ejacu- lates : " Hanged if you ain't the most jealous dog I ever saw ! " For at this moment I note Mrs. Fairbanks speaking to De Varnes. She has not danced with him nor accepted escort from him, of that I am quite sure. The words are spoken as she chances to be for a moment without partner in the circular reading room. Man- ders and I are on the balcony outside. The Count has been apparently watching for her ; as my bethrothed's pretty feet have brought her down the circular stairs from the ballroom he has joined her. Their conversa- tion is in French, a language of which I am not suffi- cient master to catch in the hurrying, buzzing, laugh- ing crowd, and the faint sweet music that floats down from the distant orchestra. But I know Lucie's eyes are entreating as she speaks to the Count. I rise to approach them ; the Frenchman sees me, a slight mocking smile plays over his Latin features. But THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 239 Mrs. Fairbanks's gaze is only upon him ; she whispers a few more words, pleadingly I am sure, and goes off upon the arm of some gentleman for a waltz. Her light steps carry her away, and one of my men- tal vagaries of that night is plucked from me. / know De Fames is not her husband. Lucie, when she gave herself to me had declared that she had never been loved before. 'As my affianced passes up the circular stairs, the Frenchman's soul comes out upon his face, his eyes blaze with feverish ardor and follow her charming face and graceful form with unsatisfied desire. Had this stalwart, emotional, fire-faced gentleman been Lucie Fairbanks's husband, of a certain my sweetheart had been loved enough and to spare. CHAPTER XVII. "THIS SITUATION IS TOO ATROCIOUS." That De Varnes has dared to put longing eyes upon my darling makes me furious. Soon after I grow, more savage. I see that weazened Greenapple or Pills- bury or Sweat, I cannot get accustomed to the lawyer's new name, chatting with the Frenchman. They have withdrawn together to a secluded green kiosk. In it they are laughing. I think they are merry at my ex- pense. I walk into the kiosk and remark : " Count de Varnes, I desire a few words with you." " I cannot give you my time this evening, I am en- gaged on some important business with this gentle- man," the French avocat answers affably. " But to- morrow in the afternoon I am at your pleasure." I can't mention her name before the Yankee lawyer so I have to be contented and ask : " Will five o'clock be convenient ? " " Certainly, Monsieur Marchmont." " I will call at your rooms at five o'clock." As I name the hour, the weazened Pillsbury breaks out into a he, he, he, haw, haw, haw guffaw. Can the country attorney be jeering me? Sometimes I think that he mentioned Mrs. Fairbanks's yachting with De Varnes to produce an estrangement between my affianced and myself. I Therefore it is with no very pleasant mood that I sit down with Lucie, Manders, Birdie and two or three others to a supper, later in the evening, J don't eat any;" ' 240 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 241 thing; I only drink. Probably the champagne makes me excited. As I drive home with Lucie I say to her sternly : " I promised not to ask you who you are, but I am going to ask somebody else." "Who?" " De Varnes, of course. I cannot get your secret out of Miss Jameson, but I can use a more drastic method with a gentleman." She does not answer me, though I can feel her shiver as she sits beside me. When I assist her out of the car- riage she whispers : " Come up to my parlor with me. Come!" Her tone is commanding, her gesture im- perative. " Come ! " In her parlor she says to me hoarsely : " For God's sake, Frank, do not ask De Varnes. I beg of you not to see him to-morrow." " I've made the appointment," I answer tersely. " I'll wring the truth from him ! " Then Lucie uses woman's most subtle argument, tearful eyes. " Why do you weep; do you fear for him? " I snarl. "No; I fear for our love," she mutters brokenly: " You see how nervous I am, how excited ; and yet, you have only sternness for me! Cannot you guess I am frightened of something ? " " Not of me? " I ejaculate, aghast. " Oh, no, Frank. Not frightened of you. I wouldn't be frightened of you if you loved me well enough to be as cruel to me as Bill Sykes was to Nancy. I only fear to lose you, that's all. Why did I ask yon days ago to carry your revolver on lonely drives. Can't you see I I am afraid of being kidnapped ? " 242 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. To this astonishing statement I simply gasp : " Kid- napped ! " " Yes, kidnapped ! Don't think that I am crazy. I don't mean stolen as Bulgarian bandits do it- captured and held for ransom or killed for not giving it," she goes on earnestly. " I am afraid of being taken by some legal ruse and conveyed to another State to have papers served upon me. I won't be sued in that way. That might bring about litigation that would keep me from being your wife for a lawyer's eternity. From this you must protect me. Guard me, because I love you; because you are the only man I ever loved. .Watch over me, because you fear to lose me!" " By my soul, no one shall rob me of you ! " I gather her in my arms ; she is dearer to me than ever before, i; " Only five days, Frank," she half laughs, half cries. " Stand by me five days. Five days of faith, and see how your bride will adore you." Then, oh, the allurement of her face. j| "Have no fear. No lawyers' trick shall postpone my joy of you. For you I'd shoot to kill ! " I mutter so ferociously that she cries out at me : " That's right my. Western ruffian, guard me with one hand, caress me with the other." li I give her some kisses to encourage her; and go into my room, get my revolver and look to its cartridges. Then I wander round the empty hotel to guard her. 'An awful night a night on which my conscience smites me, for I hear faintly from some far away room, 'where they have imprisoned the unfortunate Barclay the moanings of his drunken delirium. I know I have at least partially caused it. I'll make reparation to him. To-morrow morning he will probably be in his THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 243 senses. Then he shall have the money I have set apart to give my Lucie her wedding tour. At this thought, financial responsibilities come upon me and crush me. I am a poor man marrying an extravagant woman, one to whom money seems as dross. I wander uneasily about the house. As I promenade the passage ways, a light flickers under my affianced's parlor door. I rap upon it. She opens it nervously, a look of relief flies over her face, she stammers : " Thank God, it is you ! I I thought it was some one who had come to " Trust me to prevent that," I remark, " I am here to ask you a question," and step into the room. She has been writing at her desk. It is littered with pa- pers. I see deposit books on various foreign banks. She hastily closes the desk, shutting everything from my sight and turning faces me. " I have been thinking of Barclay," I say. " He has the delirium tremens." i " Yes, I know it," she shudders. " His dissipation is caused partly by the letters that I wrote to keep this hotel open so I could win you." " I love you for being wicked to win me." Inspired by her words, I say enthusiastically : " Bar- clay shall be the happiest drunkard in the world. To- morrow when he regains his senses I am going to give him the money I had laid aside for our wedding tour. You won't mind giving up that, Lucie ? " Then I take her in my arms and whisper : " You know I am a poor man. Can it be love in a cottage with me? Do you love me well enough for that ? " " I love you well enough to live in a cave with you ! I love you well enough to starve with you ! " 244 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " God bless you, I believe you," I cry ardently. " I believe you to be what Birdie says you are." "What's that, Frank?" " My good angel." " No, I am only 'your girl' ! " Lucie puts her arms about my neck and murmurs as if communing with her- self: "Strange I am so humble to you, I can be haughty to my enemies." " Humble to me? " I can't help jeering. " Why not ? Don't I do everything you tell me to ? " she asks indignantly but archly. " Don't I run at your call? Didn't I yesterday don another frock because you thought the one I wore could be improved upon ? Haven't I listened meekly to lectures upon making Birdie extravagant? Haven't I posed like a saint for amateur photography ? " " Pish ! " I answer, " those are but the frivolities of life. In its greater things you've tortured me with every agony a lover had." " Aye, tortured myself also," she mutters, her mood changing. " Don't think each shade across your face has not put a shadow on my heart." Then some new emotion seems to well up in her, she cries res- olutely : " But your torture which is my torture must cease. I'll end it ! " "By telling me?" " Ah, you still mean to ask De Varnes ? " " That has been my intention ever since I made the appointment with him," I answer uncompromisingly. "And my entreaties, tears and terror have not swerved you ? " She has got my hands in hers. "They have distracted me but I'm human," I re- ply grimly. " I must know if not from your lips THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 245 from his. There is a limit to my self-restraint, that limit has been reached." " Yes, you are right," my sweetheart ejaculates musingly, passing her hands over her brow. " I'm I'm asking too much. The situation is too atrocious. I'll end it!" "By telling me?" " No, no I I dare not," she shudders, " until I've in my grasp what your sex calls proof and logic. But I will end it ! " "How?" " By closing Alfred de Varnes's lips. He's reached my limit also ! " She strides the room, a kind of myste- rious fear upon her twitching face. The next mo- ment she stands before me a Juno of threatening mien. " Let these men beware," she whispers in low yet bit- ter voice. " They are assaulting not my property, not my pride, but your faith in my truth, honor and womanhood. I'll strike him and that Yankee lawyer so they will think they've been persecuting no poor helpless civilized woman but some medieval chatelaine who has a torture chamber in her castle." Lucie's lovely eyes grow big and blaze like suns. Her manner frightens me. " If I promise to restrain myself, you'll promise not to be rash ? " I whisper. " I'll promise to do nothing to injure our great love, but still I'll seal his lips ! " " What damnable thing is this you fear that I will hear?" I ask with trembling voice. " You'll not hear it till the proper time," she answers. " No man nor woman shall tell you, Frank, before I'm ready to lay bare my soul to you. Now, after my words, do you still trust me or " Her glance is upon me, questioning my very 2 46 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. soul, her lips are turned to mine trembling and ashen a word from me will crush her with the hu- miliation of my doubt, no word from me will be even more cruel. By the blessing of God her eyes meet mine; their divine truth, their wistful love, their tender devotion make me clasp her to my heart and show with all a devotee's fervor I have still faith in her. But I, lingering over my endearments, she falters: " It's two o'clock in the morning. Please go away, my love." I have turned towards the 'door, she steps after me. Placing her hand lightly on my arm, she whispers: " For this supreme trust, when I'm your wife, you can do with me as you please. I'll live in a dugout with you and do your washing if you tell me to; but, if you don't mind," she looks archly at me, " I'll love you just as much in a palace. I'm rich enough to do it, too! So, be generous to poor Barclay ! " As I go away, noting the concern in my glance, she laughs : " Don't be anx- ious at what I may do," then she wrings her hands nervously. I know she has some plan of action in her spirited head. Till the morning I prowl about the dark and deserted corridors of the Continental like a happy tiger; once from very joy at my sweetheart's devotion I dance a jig upon the big piazza. I am interrupted in this by Solomon A. Smith who comes to me about four o'clock in the morning apparently from Barclay's chamber which is in some retired portion of the house and whis- pers : " Bless de Lawd ! He's getting his senses back agin. De boss can tell now the difference between a whisky bottle and a snake." BOOK V. AN ELOPEMENT IN A LOCOMOBILE. CHAPTER XVIII. " THEY TOOK HER AWAY ON ' THUNDERING DEVIL/ '' This all-night vigil naturally makes me very sleepy. About nine o'clock in the morning, after getting my breakfast, I go up and rap on Lucic's parlor door. She opens it looking as fresh as a wild rose in a white negligee and cries at me astoundedly as I enter: " Good gracious, in your dress suit ! Haven't you been to bed?" " Do you suppose after what you told me, I could sleep?" I was patrolling the house protecting your slumbers. They seem to have been happy." "Yes, I had a delicious night's rest. I felt I was being guarded." Then she says in a possessive man- ner that delights me : " Frank, go to bed at once and get some sleep. I have lots of writing to do, I have to put my affairs in order for marriage as well as you. I don't think there is any danger with Ocean Drive crowded with a hundred carriages, and the busy life of the height of the season all about me. Besides, Birdie is coming to pass a portion of the day with me. Please go away ; you are frightfully sleepy and not very 247 248 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. complimentary," she laughs, " you have yawned three times in my presence." I am not too frightfully sleepy to kiss her. But af- ter a little I go to my room and turn in, telling Smith to be sure and wake me at three o'clock. That will give me time to get a mouthful before I keep my ap- pointment with De Varnes at five. I am awakened by Smith at the time mentioned. As I walk along the corridor, I can hear through Lucie's parlor door Miss Birdie chattering to my sweetheart, so I do not interrupt them. Thinking everything safe enough, I walk to the Casino and order lunch. I have just finished the meal when Mr. Wilson comes on the veranda from the office and says to me : " Mr. Marchmont, Sergeant Champlin asks to see you out- side for a minute." j To this I reply : " All right ! " and wonder if Cham- plin is soliciting subscriptions for the street watering department. I know the pleasant head of the Nar- f agansett police well enough to pass " good day " with him. As I step into the office I can see by Champlin's face that it isn't a street-watering subscription upon which he wants to see me. He says : " I must talk to you a minute, Mr. Marchmont." I " Certainly," I return. And we find privacy in a little room across the hall. i " It's quite an unpleasant duty I have to perform," remarks the Police Sergeant, " but it has got to 'be done! I I don't think the affair is important, but a warrant has been placed in my hands under which I am compelled to arrest you." " Arrest me, for what? " " This document will show you." Champlin pto- THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 249 duces a warrant for my arrest, issued by the Judge of the Third Judicial District upon information sworn to before him by one Micah Pillsbury Sweat of the State of New York charging me with the crime of con- spiracy to defraud, and stating said conspiracy has produced great loss of money and extreme mental anxi- ety to one Henry C. Barclay of the Town of Narra- gansett, which anxiety has been so grevious that it has produced mental aberration in said Barclay. " Of course I don't know anything about the details of the matter," remarks the Sergeant. " My duty is simply to arrest you and arraign you before the Judge at Wakefield under this warrant. There, I have no doubt if you offer proper bail it will be satis- factory." I turn the matter over in my mind for a minute. I know a good many rich men in Narragansett, but the only one with whom I am sufficiently acquainted to ask such a favor is Manders. I remember his telling me that he has a villa site somewhere towards Point Judith. I imagine he will do. " You won't mind coming with me, Sergeant, while I find a bondsman ? " " Of course not." Champlin doesn't seem to fear I will run away ; he hasn't produced handcuffs. I get hold of a waiter and send him to find Manders. By good luck the polo man is in his rooms. He cornea down and looking at my face and the Sergeant's ejacu- lates : " What's the matter ? " I take him aside and hurriedly explain to him. As he listens Charley laughs till the tears run down his cheeks, and then mutters : " You are a deep and des- perate one ! " To Champlin he says : " Fire Boy is here at the door. We will go over to Wakefield in 25 THE SURPRISES OP AN EMPTY HOTEL, i my locomobile. You don't mind going with us, do you, Sergeant; you can then see we don't exceed the legal limit of speed." " Very well ; if you don't run away with me," laughs the officer as I offer him a cigar. We light up, go out and get into Fire Boy. As we are about to start Thompson ejaculates as he gets on the rumble behind : " For 'Eaven's sake, be careful, Mr. Charley. You know we race with the Count to-night." Then notic- ing the Sergeant a sickly grin comes over his English phiz; Champlin has already arrested Thompson twice for fast driving. We go quite comfortably and safely over to Wake- field. In the court room I find Micah Pillsbury Sweat ready for me, grinning and hee-heeing. " I'm not a member of the bar of this State, your Honor," he remarks, " but as the informant who pro- cured the issue of the warrant I apprehend I may ex- plain the nature of the defendant's transactions." He makes a short address to the Court. I wonder at the man's power ; if I believed Micah Pillsbury Sweat I should think hanging was too good for me. The Judge does not apparently conceive that the crime is as great as Sweat would make it out. He says shortly : " I don't think there is a prima facie case of conspiracy shown. Have you a lawyer to represent you, Mr. Marchmont ? " " I have no lawyer," I reply. " At present I offer no defense." As I have journeyed to Wakefield, I have determined that to make any answer will probably bring the name of my affianced into the matter. ; ~ " You had better get an attorney to present a state* ment of your side of the case," suggests the Magistrate THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 251 to me. But I still reply : " I shall make no answer on this preliminary hearing, except to plead, Not Guilty." " Under these circumstances I shall have to hold you for trial before the Common Pleas Division of the Su- preme Court," remarks the Judge. " I presume you wish to offer bail. Had you set up any answer to this peculiar charge I should perhaps have made the bail less than I do at present. I shall hold you in the sum of two thousand dollars." At this Manders gives a little whistle and whispers to me : "I don't believe my little slip of land down near Point Judith will be enough." In this his Honor, when my friend mentions his property at Narragansett seems to agree. You will have to procure an additional bondsman," he says. "Of course, Mr. Manders's personal property or real es- tate outside of this district doesn't apply in this mat- ter." " All right," says Charley, who is a friend in need. " I will go and see whom I can obtain. Do you mind coming with me, Sergeant ? " As it is growing late in the day, the Judge remands me to the custody of the Court officer and tells him to bring me to his residence at Kingston as soon as the extra bondsman arrives. Hearing this Mr. Micah Pillsbury Sweat drives off in a buggy apparently to- wards Naragansett. But Manders doesn't get back very shortly. Find- ing a bailsman when you want him is not always an easy thing to do. The Court officer and I stroll to the hotel and get a very indifferent dinner. During this time I wonder if I hadn't better telephone Lucie ; but conclude it may alarm her. I shall return to the Continental early in 252 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. the evening and will give her my tale in full by my own lips. But it is half past seven o'clock when Manders comes back to Wakefield with Fire Boy, going at a speed that is beyond the limit of the Town Ordinance. With him he has Mr. Talbot, Birdie's uncle, whose magnificent villa on the Rocks would be enough bail for a homicide, Charley says confidently. I am introduced to Mr. Talbot and we all bowl up in the locomobile to Kingston, where the Judge resides. Here, everything is very shortly satisfactory and I am quite rapidly released. Something of my story has probably got to his Honor's ear; for there is a smile on his face as he bids me good bye. He says half laughingly : "I wonder if a jury will try you ? " " I don't think they will, Judge, I don't think any- body will. I have always intended to make financial reparation to Barclay, but I don't dare to tell him of it just yet." " I am gkd to hear of that," remarks the wearer of the ermine cordially ; then he smiles : " There's a lady in the case somewhere, I presume. The judiciary of Rhode Island are empowered to bind in marriage as well as to inflict other punishments." While I am taking my leave of the Judge, Man- ders is waiting impatiently for me on Fire Boy; for Thompson is growling : " If we're going to be hon time for the race with the Count's Thundering Devil, we'd better be getting back to Narragansett. I want to oil the blooming bearins again, and I've got to put the new racing gasoline into the tank." " The moon comes up at midnight," answers Char- ley. " It's only half past eight now ; we've plenty of THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 253 jtime, Thompson. Don't get excited ; I'm going to take it slowly, the road though good, is dark." " Corblime, hi'd cut my throat if hi wasn't at the post when Frenchy lines up," mutters the Cockney motorman, as he springs into the rumble. Charley does take us slowly and carefully into Nar- ragansett. It is nearly nine o'clock when we drop Mr. Talbot at his cottage on the Rocks. Hearing the noise of Fire Boy and our voices, Miss Birdie trips out to us. Leading her aside I question : " When did you leave Lucie ? " " About two hours ago. I waited till I had to rush to get into my dinner frock. Where have you been? Lucie has been very nervous all the afternoon." " Tuning up Fire Boy for the race to-night," I an- swer. " That's as true as that fib I told you about Lucie and I going to Newport yesterday," says Miss Birdie very pertly. " You men don't lose your dinners to tune up anything, except your appetites. You had better hurry ; perhaps Lucie has postponed her dinner on your account." I mount the locomobile. After two or three whis- pers with Miss Jameson, Manders gets ;n beside me and we roll down Ocean Road. Springing out at the Continental as Fire Boy goes clattering off, I run up the steps of the. hotel to en- counter astonishment, fright, jealousy and almost every other anguish of which the human mind is capa- ble. It isn't altogether like a clap of thunder in a clear sky ; the rumblings of the last few days have presaged storm. Even as I enter, the hotel appears more deserted than when I left it. I hear Barclay's ravings in his 54 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. delirium, more pronounced than ever. Mr. Smith, a grayish pallor on his darkey face, is standing outside the office. He says aff rightedly : " We had to lock him up in de little room, sah ; de boss drunk more stuff since the Denver contingent didn't consumate. He has broke out agin wuss dan eber, sah. He was raving so I had him locked up in de room. When de officers took her away, he was roaring so he mos' scared de detectives." " When the officers took who away ? " I ask. ."Milly, that Bennt woman?" " No, sah ; Milly 's crying up above. Dey took away Missus Fairbanks." " Officers ! You are mad ! " Even as I speak I spring up the stairs and enter my affianced's parlor. Subdued sobbing comes from the next room. " Who's there? " I call, hesitating to enter Lucie's chamber. " I's Milly." " What are you crying about ? What has happened .here?" " I don't know nothin', sir," snivels the girl, coming 'out. " I didn't have nothin' to do with it." "Do with what?" " Takin' her away, sir. Mr. Greenapple he just come in, sir, and read to Mrs. Fairbanks some paper ; I was in der getting her evening dress out. She has always feed me for dat, bless her kind heart, and Missus Lucie come and said she would have to go away with dose men. They read out some papers from the courts, sir, something that said something about her husband, sir. She put on some light wraps, sir, it's pretty warm to-night. Den she sat down and ^wrote you a little note, sir ; said she would not go until .she had written you dat note, sir. Dat Mr. Greenapple THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 255 said it was all right. But after they had taken her away, dat Greenapple come back agin in a hurry and grabbed de note from me and put it in his pocket.'' " That note was for me ? " " Yes, sah." " .When did they take her away ? " "About five minutes ago, sah, I tink, but I'm flus- trated." " Five minutes ? When did Greenapple leave with this letter?" " He 'just done and gone, sah', I thought you was he a comin' back agin." " In what kind of a wagon did they take her away? " Milly's answer astonishes me more : " It was in a tooter, sah. Puffin', pantin' and shriekin' outside, .worse dan Fire Boy." " Whose locomobile ? " " Don't know, sah ; but I heard French talk down- stairs. I took a look out of the window, sah." " Would you know it again ? " " I'd know dat thing anywhere by its head lights, 'sah. Dare was an arrow sticking into a heart on de headlights." This is evidence enough for me. " De Varnes ! " I mutter. " My God, she has gone with him ! " That is the meaning of her meeting that is what " Here I curse myself for doubting her and think : "Im- possible! She loves me; she doesn't love him. The paper read to her said her husband. Her husband has heard that Lucie is to marry me next Monday. That is the reason of her arrest." As I am thinking I am flying down the stairs. On the balcony I pause and try to reflect logically. This .Greenapple or Sweat had attempted by telling me of 256 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. her yachting with De Varnes to produce a rupture be-' tween my sweetheart and myself. That failed; then he had caused my arrest so that I would not be near my love when he carried her away. Can this be the legal ruse Lucie feared ; to get her to another State. But then De Varnes I know he loves her. It .was his locomobile carried her off. , Half of this flashes through my mind as I run along to the Casino. As I enter, the band is playing cheer- ily, the buzz of conversation from the tables is light- ened by women's laughter, the scene is as merry as ;when my sweetheart seated by my side had made it radiant. Now the whole place seems dark and gloomy, though the electric lights are as bright as ever and the music of the band is a merry waltz. Perhaps some- thing in my appearance attracts observation; at all events Manders catching sight of my face, strides up to me and asks in a scared tone : " What the deuce is the matter ? " " The matter is ' I draw him aside and tell him hurriedly of Mrs. Fairbanks's fears and what has just happened to her. { Here the strong American common sense of the polo man, who not being in love with Lucie, can think bet- ter than I, gives me a happy inspiration. He says: " Birdie has told me your sweetheart is as noble a wo- man as ever lived. It's some infernal trick to get her to New York to serve papers on her, I think." " Not to New York," I say. " She went away in De Varnes's Thundering Devil. I must overtake them,, It's some accursed ruse to steal her from my love, some infamous plot to win her from me. This French- man was Lucie's suitor in Paris." "Perhaps you are right," remarks Manders. "1 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 2 ft saw the Count gazing at her last night as if she were the pick of the stable." " Curse him ! Let me go after him ! " " All right, I'll help you." " But what can overtake his Thundering Dei'il? ' J " Fire Boy," says the American. " It is outside. Thompson's polishing her up. He'd like to pursue that French machine. Fire Boy is ready for the race, which may have been a blind to give DC Varnes excuse for staying here. Jump in ! " While we have been speaking we have run out of the Casino entrance together ancl Charley has beckoned to Thompson. " They will not go very fast this dark night for fear of accident. Perhaps you'll overtake them," he suggests reassuringly. " Though five or six minutes is a long start in a go of this kind." " Who am I to catch ? " asks the English chauffeur eagerly, as 'he tests his brakes. "De Varnes!" " Frenchy ! Hi can do it. Hi saw Thundering Devil go up Boston Neck Road three minutes ago. She didn't go past here, she came down Boon street." "Who was in her?" " Some girl for a moonlight ride the Count's a downey one with the women. There was white petti- coats in it, I saw that. But hi don't understand," mut- ters the driver, passing his fingers through his short hair in a dazed way. " Parlez vous 'as got to race us in three hours ! " " He's got to race us now ! " I say, and spring into the motor. " God bless yer 'cart ! " Thompson's foot is on the clutch, his hand is on the steering wheel. We have 258 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. left the Casino, Manders calling after me: "Tele- graph if necessary ! " As we turn into Beach Street I ask : " How do you know it was De Varnes's motor? " Then the chauffeur gives me a sensation. " Blow 'im," he mutters, " but hi smell 'im now ! " "Smell what?" " That blooming French naphtha the Count burns. He leaves a trail of stink behind his wagon. We'll track 'im by the smell." " Five hundred dollars if you catch him before he gets to Saunderstown." " Hi'm dead sure of that money ! " grins Thomp- son. "Why?" " Because there's a few gallons of Hell underneath Us ! Our tank is filled with that nitroglycerine rac- ing stuff. I'll blow us both to Kingdom Come, but .I'll nail Frenchy ! " I give a shout of joy. CHAPTER XIX. THE PURSUIT OF THE LOCOMOBILE. As he speaks I can see the Cockney working the accelerator. The speed of the machine, which he has not yet dared to move very fast, as Beach Street at this time of the night and in the height of the sason ha:s quite a traffic upon it, begins to increase, not by jolts but gradually. To me he cries : " You toot the horn ! " Then the Englishman keeping both eyes on the roadway and I giving signal, we dodge two or three teams coming from the cottages that lie beyond Sherry's Bathing Pa- vilion and begin to climb the Pettaquamscutt Hill. Suddenly Thompson asks : " Does the Count know, you are after 'im ? " " I think not." " Then we'll catch 'im sure. This racing gasoline adds horse-power to us ; it will give us a big advantage going up the hills between here and Saunderstown." Even in my agitation I notice that the chauffeur is right. Fire Boy seems to pay no attention to ascents, it glides smoothly along, even increasing its pace as we climb the steep divide. Then we begin the descent towards Narrow River. . "You can go faster down hill," I say. " Dassen't ! " mutters Thompson, using his foot break. " On these turns hi've got to be a little care- 259 260 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. ful. A fellow who ran one of them trying to break the record from Saunderstown the other night ditched his machine and took off one of his front wheels. Blow me eyes, hi'll catch 'em, though. That blooming French Gregoire shall learn that hi can beat 'im up 'ill or down 'ill ; for love, for money, for fun, for your gal that's who you are chasing, ain't you ? " For some wild words of mine have put thi* idea into the chauffeur's brain. As he speaks, disdaining county ordinances, we rattle through the covered bridge across Narrow River at a racing speed, then turning sharply to the right commence the long two-mile hill that leads past the White Farm. As we glide along in the dark- ness, for the moon won't rise for two or three hours, I can't help thinking of the day only a little while ago in which I journeyed between these hedgerows with a blushing sweetheart by my side. But I am called from recollection by Thompson say- ing: "Don't you sniff it, sir; we are picking up on them a little. Don't you smell it stronger that stink- ing French gasoline?" His voice is raised above the quick, sharp patter of the machinery as he puts on full power to climb the ascent. Gazing on Thompson I think I have never appreciated the wondrous skill of a trained chauffeur before. As we fly round a very sharp turn, I call out : " What are you getting out of the car- riage for?" then start astounded; the man has swung himself out of the wagon to counteract the centrifugal force and keep the outer wheel of the motor on the ground. " That ere'S a smart trick that Frenchy taught me himself," he chuckles. iWe have passed the White Farm some two miles, THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 261 and have already heard faintly on the breeze, the clang of the motor we are pursuing. The gasoline smell is much stronger. " The toff doesn't know we're arter 'im yet," remarks Thompson, listening. " The throb of his machine shows Frenchy's accelerator ain't a-going ; he is making simply fair running time." "And we have been doing very well," I remark, striking a match and looking at my watch. " Just nine minutes from Sherry's now." " I do better than that in the daytime, but if we're ditched, we are gone. What we want to do is to creep up on 'em afore they know we are after 'em," says Thompson. He listens again, and, after a second, cries sharply : " It can't be done ! Gregoire has caught the rattle of our motor 'imself. He's putting on his accel- erator." To my unpractised senses the sounds don't bear this meaning, but after a little I notice Thompson's accu- rate ear is correct. We don't seem to gain so rapidly, upon the carriage we afe pursuing; but still we gain. " Put on more power, Thompson, the Count is not 'dead sure we are after him. Remember the five hun- dred dollars," I cry, anxiously. Thompson does remember the five hundred dollars. fine road is a little more level now, though dusty, slightly sandy, and rather heavy. The cliffs along the bay are only some few hundred yards at our right, and the light-houses at the entrance of the bay on Beaver iTail and Whale Rock are well behind us. We keep gaining. As we pass the white church we are not over two hundred yards behind, the naphtha smell in the [dim fog is sickeningly heavy. " By Bow Bells, they know it Prenchy's sure of if 262 THE SURPRISES OP AN EMPTY HOTEL. now," mutters Thompson, for the quick, throbbing, .whirling of the motor ahead of us increases. By its unearthly racket I know I am after the right machine. Yes, I am sure it is Thundering Devil ahead of us. Suddenly there is a scream. I clasp my hands to- gether and shudder; but it only comes from a team laden with pleasure seekers whose horses have run away in the awful din of the two battling steel giants. A carriage carrying some dozen straw riders comes bounding past me, the girls in it shrieking, the driver of it cursing, as they go flying down the road. But I can't stop to see whether they have an accident ; I don't think of them, I only think of the woman ahead of me. So we go bounding on, when from under De Varnes's .vehicle comes a howling "ki-yi-yi ! " " Corbime me, if he hasn't run over some dog," grins Thompson. All of the time he is attending to his busi- ness, and getting on wonderfully. The speed is height- ened ; it is now a racing pace. So is that of De Varnes's locomobile. The dust, fog, and darkness are so thick that I only catch a glimpse of its lights as they go around a turn in the road. Our vehicle rocks wildly from side to side as it dashes over the uneven roadway. I think I hear a faint cry of alarm come back to me. It is Lucie's voice ! An accident to them is an accident to her! " Ease up, for the love of God, Thompson," I gasp ! " The Saunderstown hill is not far ahead of us." "Hi can catch 'im," says the chauffeur, doggedly. " Just let her go." ! " No, no; if we overtake them at the ferry it will be time enough. Think, man, of her danger." Thus adjured, the Englishman slows up, though' quite reluctantly. Our more moderate speed doesn't! . THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 203 seem to check the manner in which the locomobile ahead of us is driven. It goes dashing on until it is at least five hundred yards ahead of us, then slackens its speed. Thank God, De Varnes has thought of the Saunders- town hill in time. We are quite near it now; I can look down and see the illumination of the little town upon the bay and the anchor lights of some big craft lying off its wharf. Here, to my astonishment, it seems to me the Count's Thundering Devil comes to a sudden stop. I shout to Thompson : " He has had an accident ; we have got him now;" but almost immediately the vehicle we are pursuing goes on again, assuming a very rapid speed. To my concern, as we near the top of the Saunderstown hill, I don't see De Varnes's lights going down towards the town. "By Gum, if Frenchy hasn't gone on north!" cries Thompson, for the heavy odor of gasoline is drifting to us from the Wickford road, which lies straight ahead of us. "The Count is going to take her over by the Wickford ferry," I exclaim. " Follow him ; don't let him get away from us ! " iWe follow their lights doggedly through the little village of Hamilton, with its mills, and going north make towards Wickford, a mile and a half away. But as we reach the iron bridge over the little river, both Thompson and I give a grunt of astonishment; De Varnes's locomobile has turned to the left, and is apparently bound for Wickford Junction. " Going to the railroad for New York," I think ; and cry to Thompson : " Look out he don't reach the station enough ahead of us, to catch a train we don't catch." 264 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. i " Do yer think hi've cold feet ! " grins the Cockney, and goes on in pursuit. i At Coalshire Corners we get another surprise, the Count's lights turn to the south again, going from Wickford Junction. " Blow my nose," grins Thompson, " if Parlez Vous isn't on the back track." For the Frenchman, after | passing the Baptist church, which I can just see in the ! gloom, turns to the left again, and leads us back to Hamilton. Here we get quite close to Thundering \ Devil, and are never two hundred yards behind it as we speed back over our own tracks, along Barber's Heights, and turn down towards Saunderstown. " What the deuce is the meaning of this ? " I mutter, astounded. " This here's a blind of some kind," answers Thomp- son. " Damn that Gregoire ! He is as sneaky a Frenchman as ever played tricks on an honest motor driver." Thompson is right. We have reached the hill over Saunderstown. But now I think De Varnes's locomobile must have had an accident, for we overtake it. As we range along- side, I cry savagely : " Count, I'll trouble you for Mrs. Fairbanks; if she has had " Speech leaves my palsied tongue. Thundering Devil .has only a single occupant, Gregoire, De Varnes's chauffeur. A sneering accent is in his impudent Frankish tongue, as he grins : " Good evening, Mes- sieurs ; hope you've had a pleasant drive." "Where is your master?" I ask. *At the Casino, I imagine, Monsieur Marchmont. He Has a race in three hours from now with Monsieur Manders." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 2 65 As I stare dumbfounded at his lies, to Thompson the French chauffeur remarks, cheerily : " You didn't expect to catch my peerless motor with that tin pot of yours, Ross-Beef ? " " Damn you for a sneaking Parlez Vous ! " cries the Cockney. " Come out 'ere, if you are a man, and stand up to me ! " But the Frenchman only laughs mockingly, and starts his machine quite rapidly, crying: "Follow me down this hill, if you are a chauffeur, and see what kind of a Frenchman I am. 'Allans! " ' With a crazy English yell, Thompson does the Gallic fool's bidding, and the, two locomobiles rush down the Saunderstown hill at a breakneck speed. Sitting beside the Englishman, I am thinking rap- idly. The only place De Varnes's locomobile stopped was above the Saunderstown hill, as we first passed it. They have taken her out there, and Gregoire has run on to lead us this crazy jaunt about the country on a fool's scent. But I don't think very much ; our auto- mobile is dashing down the hill after Thundering Devil, springing from side to side like a wabbling top. Thompson makes me shudder; his face has grown ghastly ; he mutters : " She has got away from me ; the main brake won't work; it's that damned racing gasoline that's raising the devil with her we'll have to jump! " Jump! I should think we would. We are almost at the dock, with deep water in front of us. De Varnes's locomobile, under apparent control, has suddenly stopped. Both Thompson and I spring out of ours and grovel in the dust of the roadside, as Fire Boy goes crashing into Thundering Devil. With a shriek of rage De Varnes's chauffeur jumps from his ma- 266 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. chine, and as his English rival gets on his pins, gives him a cracking savate alongside the head. " Curse you, you don't fight fair! " snarls the Brit- isher. Staggering to his feet, he cries : " Take that below the belt, Frenchy ! " and plants a blow from the shoulder straight on Gregoire's solar plexus. Though the Frenchman is hard as iron, he can't help moaning as he goes down on his back. But he pluckily getting up again, the two chauffeurs go at it hammer and tongs, while the locomobiles, left to themselves, grind each other savagely. But I care not for them. I am thinking only of Lucie ; where can they have taken her ? The Newport ferryboats have stopped running long ago. Perhaps they have put her in a rowboat or steam-launch and conveyed her across. I have run out on the wharf, and am gazing eagerly over the water. All I can see are the anchor lights of some great craft in the stream. Suddenly, with a roar like ten thunder claps, the gas- oline tank, loaded with its patent naphtha compound, explodes on Fire Boy, illuminating the scene more vividly than lightning. And I, gazing still over the water, utter a shrill cry of joy and rage; for in the brilliant light I see the Sapphire not one hundred yards away, with full steam up, and for one moment there appears to me a woman standing on its quarter deck, and that woman is Lucie Fairbanks. I am sure of it, for Fire Boy still lights up the scene, upon which she is gazing eagerly and excitedly. I try to call to her, but she doesn't hear me. \ ^ People are running out of the Saunders House. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 267 Then De Varnes, curse him, comes on the yacht's deck beside Eucie. Some one has given a hasty order. The clank of the steam winch tells me the Sapphire's anchor is being weighed. They are going to take lier away from me away with that maaj CHAPTER XX. THE LADY PIRATii.. The brilliant conflagration of Manders's pet locomo- bile dies rapidly out. Taking advantage of its expir- ing flickers, I spy a rowboat, left with a pair of oars in the bottom, but hitched with a padlock, to the landing steps of the dock. Into it I spring. With one of the oars, I smash its fastenings ; then row rapidly towards the yacht. Apparently they are getting under way, in so much of a hurry they haven't yet hoisted in the side-ladder. The darkness of the night seems more intense by reason of the illumination that has so suddenly departed from it. The moon has not yet risen, but the white gleam of the vessel's sides are apparent to me. With quick strokes I have rowed beneath the side-ladder. It is only a few feet above the water. Springing up, I seize its stanchions and pull myself upon it as the rowboat goes drifting away from me. I am just in time. As I lie panting upon the white steps of the side-ladder, a great searchlight, forward of the yacht's bridge, breaks out, tinging the water with silver in advance of her. I feel the vibrations of the powerful engines; the vessel's big propeller is com- mencing to revolve. After regaining my breath, I draw myself quietly and cautiously up the side-ladder and, by a happy chance, get on board unnoticed. The yatch's quarter-deck is deserted, the captain in its 268 269 wheel-house, forward, is giving orders, and the deck hands are all near the bows hoisting and securing the anchor. .Wondering whether I shall be considered a pirate, and also rather imagining I am on the yacht of Lucie's dastard husband, I sneak down a magnificently panelled companionway, to find myself in a kind of Aladdin's dream. The electric lights, burning brightly, display cabins of such extent and magnificence that they seem enchanted in their sumptuous yet graceful beauty. As I stalk cautiously along the passageway, the won- drous decorations, draperies and fittings of the craft make me know it is the floating palace of some king of finance. Amazement falls upon me. I think I hear the tread of some one approaching from the forward portion of the ship ; probaly a stew- ard coming from his pantry. I hurriedly slip between some velvet portieres, and find myself in a boudoir of extraordinary beauty and considerable size. A hundred charming knicknacks of a lady of fashion are about me. An exquisitely carved upright piano is in the cor- ner ; an open fireplace of onyx is in another. A guitar is hung carelessly from the satin-draped walls. Despite my fears for Lucie, the superb deckings and general magnificence of the craft almost awe me ; such luxury I have never seen before. From this boudoir, in which I am concealed^ there is another opening draped by heaviest satin hangings. Through it I hear a female voice. I listen ; it is hers. My eyes in that quick flash Of the exploding locomobile have been right ; I am on board the same craft as Lucie Fairbanks. Then another voice smites my ear, smarting me with jealous rage and savage misery; it is that of Alfred le 27<> THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. Comte de Varnes. What they are saying I cannot dis- tinguish. The throbbing of the propeller, now in quite rapid motion, drowns the distinctness of the syllables. I will hear. As I cautiously approach the draperies of the en- trance there comes also to me a whining, wheezing, haw, haw, haw ! he, he, ha hoo ! It is the guffaw of Pills- bury Sweat. It gives me pleasure ; it shows De Varnes has not been entirely alone with Lucie in their midnight adventure. This laugh has now, it seems to me, a cringing tone, not like that of a successful legal villain who has played a shrewd card and won a dastard trick from woman's weakness. ?' I creep to the curtains of the doorway, and, half ashamed, yet desperately anxious to know their words, play eavesdropper. The voices of all have grown higher and are now quite audible. I venture to glance into the apartment, and behold a brilliantly lighted salon, almost regally furnished, decked and ornamented and of commanding size; for this great yacht, fitted for private luxury, is not only superb in its appointments but grand in its dimensions. Beneath its brilliant electric lights my darling stands 'disdainfully, haughtily. She has tossed aside her wrap, which lies upon a sofa near her. A plain white muslin frock drapes her beauty so simply that she would seem a Juno, were she not a sea-nymph. The soft breeze of the summer night coming through the open port-holes plays with her locks, one of which, in the hurry of her journey, has come unbound and floats about her snowy neck, divided into feathery curls. Her eyes are angry stars. The two men are looking at her amazed, though THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 271 the face of De Varnes has in it a suave complacency, that gives me great disquiet. That of the country law- yer has an astounded and rather a sheepish look, as the Count says : " .When this smart Yankee lawyer asked my assistance in duping you, I joined him to save you. As I have just said, Madame, this paper, issued by a New York court, has been served upon y " del, Frank loves you ? " sneers the Count, shrug- ging his shoulders in Gallic mockery. " 13ut Frank will not love you after to-night." "Why not?" " Monsieur Marchmont saw you run away from him this very evening? Did you cry out when his locomo- bile bounded two hundred yards behind us ? " " And he pursued me ! " cries Lucie, rapturously," and I didn't know it." Then she breaks out : " That was the reason you stopped; and told me you dare not run the locomobile down the hill at Saunderstown. So I sprung from the carriage, and came down with you on foot, as Thundering Devil continued along the road as if we were still in it ? She passes her hand in a dazed way over her white brow. " Certainly ! If you had shouted to Monsieur March- mont he would have heard your cries. He will think you have eloped with me willingly." " Impossible ! " " He will be convinced by every law of evidence, that you went with me of your own accord." " No, no! The letter I left for Frank will tell him the truth." " That letter Marchmont will never get." " He must ! I gave it to Millie ; she is faithful to my interests." " You noticed our delay at starting in the locomobile, I sent Mr. Sweat back for your letter ; he got it. It is here look at it." De Varnes holds up the note and jeers: " Your lover will never see it." " He must ! Give it to me." " He will never see it." With a quick step De Varnes is at one of the portholes ; he has torn the let- ter into bits and even while her hands are upon him, 280 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. even while she is praying : " Don't steal his heart from me ! " he throws the pieces out of the portholes, where they go floating over the boundless ocean to the unknown. At this Lucie stares at him with a scared face, and utters a miserable cry, as the Count goes on suavely, yet sneeringly : " Like most women you played the game too finely." His tone has a horrible, though amorous triumph. " You forget you and I are here alone, Madame, upon your yacht together ; and will be alone throughout all this night." " The Captain and the crew ! " This is a faint gasp, and Lucie's face grows gradually despairing. For the French lawyer is saying : " You know enough of yachting to be aware the captain and the crew don't count socially. It is but the guests who figure in a yachting cruise. You, by happy chance, have even no stewardess on board; Mrs. Blossom is away in Newport, I believe. Besides you ordered Pills- bury Sweat on shore. Sweat will not love you enough to tell quite the truth. The world will ask : Why did she send him away at midnight from her yacht ? The world will answer : ' So that she and the Comte de Varnes could be alone together.' Dieu merci, there is nothing for you now, but me ! " " Impossible ! " This is a shuddering sigh from Lucie's lips. " If you put me on shore, I tell the man you love the rumors you fear, almost as much as death, will reach his ears. If you keep me on board, he will think you untrue to him, in my arms! Par Dieu, I have you! You are mine ! " The Count's eyes look upon her with a hungry rapture. " You have my devotion, you have my love. I will forgejt that certain ladies in the United THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 201 States dispute that you were ever a wife. I will marry you. I, Alfred le Comte de Varnes know you are an honest woman ! " The Count bows to her. Then " the honest woman " gives a despairing moan, and sinks down upon the ottoman, like a stricken bird. CHAPTER XXI. THE SPECTRE AT MY WEDDING FEAST. During this, I have twice parted the curtains to take the French attorney by the throat ; twice I have paused, wishing to hear my sweetheart tell how great her love for me. I am sufficiently acquainted with Lucie's nature to know she will think more of me if I rescue her from the toils of this smooth Gallic gentleman than if she rescues herself. I step hastily in through the soft, satin portieres, be- fore she can regain her composure. As I enter, she is a beauty heap upon the ottoman, a dazed, unbelieving agony upon her abashed face. She is blushing to her very hair ; but her eyes have no tears in them, and are flaming also. ; At my step both start and glance at me, De Varnes .with a short shout of dismayed astonishment, Lucie with a little cry of astounded love, which changes to almost a scream of fright as she sees my condition; for I look a desperado. From head to foot I am cov- ered with the dust of the long, wild locomobile ride, except where this has been changed into mud by the sea water, that has splashed upon me in the boat. A big smooch is on my face, and my clothes have been blackened by the gasoline explosion of the locomobile. Besides, the frightful anxieties of this night, added to THE SURPRISES OP AN EMPTY HOTEL. 283 a week of blind love for a woman whose vagaries have ofttimes tortured me, have given me a haggard and a desperate look. " Frank here ! Impossible ! " she cries, and staggers up. " You followed me, you found me ! For God's sake, believe me, and forgive me ! " Lucic stops to me tremblingly as if she doesn't know how I will re- ceive her. Her face is pale, she shrinks and cringes from me, as if she were ashamed. " Of course, I believe you," I reply, tenderly, but dominantly. " I know what is in that letter the Count has just torn up and tossed out of the porthole." " Diable," the Frenchman shivers, " supernatural ! " My sudden appearance and my pretended knowledge of the letter's contents might well be considered out of all human possibility. " You know what is in the letter he stole and de- stroyed? Tell me! " falters the poor girl. For answer I draw her to me, and I whisper into an ear, pink as a seashell : " Your letter said, * I love you!'" " Of course it said that," she answers tenderly. " But it also said much more." " Yes, that yoti left Narragansett to put De Varnes where he could not whisper to me Parisian rumors." " Oh, Heavens ! " Her eyes can't meet mine. She droops her head despairingly. " That you left Narragansett to prove to Pillsbury Sweat he could have no hope of deporting one Mrs. Lucie Fairbanks Bennt, the lawful widow of Thomas Cadwallader Bennt, deceased, to New York, there to bring suit against her for certain creatures who claim, because, in times long ago, they were Bennt's harlots they are now Bennt's widows." THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " Ah, you know," she gasps, " that I bear the name you hate, and and still keep me in your arms." But squeezing her more tightly, I add : " You have played your game long enough, now I play our game for both of us. To do this I must have command of your yacht." " Yes, take the burden from my shoulders ; in your arms I can find peace. I should have told you long before." She is clinging to me, but I have other things on my hands. I put her in a chair, and ring the bell. One of the quartermasters entering, Lucie says to him: " Please ask Captain Jones to step here." In less than thirty seconds the captain, a red-faced Briton, comes slashing in. As he enters, seeing my tramp-like appearance, the sea dog growls : " Who the devil are you ? " " He is the gentleman who is to have command of tHis yacht," answers Lucie, resignedly. " Into his hands I give full direction of this craft's destination. Please, Captain Jones, receive your orders from- him, and not from me." " .Well, I damned ! " gasps Jones ; then says : " You are certain you mean it ? " " I as certainly mean it, as I am certain to marry this gentleman." " Well, if he's to have command of you, I suppose he will naturally command your craft," chuckles the skipper, grimly. To me he remarks, touching his cap : " The Sapphire and I are at your orders, sir." " Thank you, Captain Jones," I return. " I know my appearance is against me." To this the skipper says, rather apologetically : " If half my crew hadn't been on shore leave at Newport THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 285 when we got hurried telephone to get under way, you would never have got over the gangway unnoticed. It's God's blessing none of my men saw you. They might have thought you a sea tramp, and thrown you over- board. Very fortunate for your lady, sir." " It is fortunate for my lady," I answer, " for I am as devoted to her as you and your crew." Then my voice takes that of command. " Head for Block Island, and put this gentleman ashore ! " I point to De Varnes. " And then ? " asks the skipper. " I will give you further directions." At this I notice a nasty grimace upon the French- man's face. Jones has no sooner gone than the Count, who has been preparing a cigarette, breaks into a Gallic laugh that makes me shiver. ,', " What the devil do you mean ? " I query, hurriedly. " Your're going to put me off at Block Island. Only two upon the yacht, then ; the lady will always have a cavalier alone with her. If she is not alone with me, she will be alone with you. The same public comment might occur." " It won't ! " I answer. " I am going to marry her." "Ah! Then you have not heard the Parisian ru- mors ? " grins De Varnes. A cruel smile makes his countenance fantastic. But Lucie is between us, her face pallid as marble. She is wringing her hands nervously ; with white lips she is begging her French torturer. "Don't tell him. Have mercy! Don't tell the man I love, until I can refute those awful lies." " If the Count utters a word of them, I will kill him ! " I say, sternly, and draw my Western revolver. Its long barrel and big calibre seem very persuasive. 286 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. De Varnes shrugs his shoulders in attempted indiffer- 11 ence, but his lips are white and very firmly closed. " Now, step to your state-room, Lucie," I command, " and get ready to go on shore. Wrap yourself up well, for the night fog lies heavy about Block Island." " Go on shore at Block Island for what ? " " To marry me, of course. It will do your good name no harm to stay all night with your husband on this yacht." " Marry you NOW ? " "Yes." " No, no ! I will never marry you until you have heard those awful rumors, and I can refute them." " You will marry me now. I have gone it blind so far, I will go it blind to the end for trust of you. It is the only reparation you can make me for a week's torture." At this there is a sigh of misery from the Count, o'erwhelmed by a soft cry of gratitude and faith from my adored. " Oh, how I will love you for this trust ! " she whis- pers. Then, right before De Varnes, she takes my hand and kisses it. An act of humble love rather out of Lucie's haughty character. Before I can return it, she has flitted to her state-room. Fortunately, the Count and I are not left alone to- gether, otherwise we might quarrel. At this moment trie Captain comes into the cabin, and announces: " We'll be off Block Island in five minutes." Then the coming bridegroom gets hold of a steward, and is led away to a state-room of such magnificence that he almost hesitates to wash his dirty face in a Sevres basin adorned with cupids and to dry his hands with towels of fairy damask. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 287 A few minutes later we are all upon the little dock, Lucie clinging to my arm. To De Varnes I remark: " Would you like to witness my nuptials, Count ? " And he, Parisian to the last, says : " Accept my good wishes, Monsieur, but I I will bid 3-011 and Madame good evening." He lifts his hat, turns gloomily towards the big hotel, that looms up in the sea mist on the hill just above us. I have brought the Captain and first officer with me to act as witnesses. Very shortly the hamlet being not large and people easily found, we arouse the Town Clerk, and obtain from the sleepy official a mar- riage license. Though he is at first quite huffy about the matter, and doesn't seem to like being aroused from his slumbers at midnight, a good-size greenback makes the village officer not only content but very cordial. He even leads the way to the minister, and assists us to awaken the divine to a sense of priestly duty. It doesn't take very long to wed us, for the clergyman seems anxious to get back to bed again, though his fee is more than liberal. Only once during the solemn words that make her mine does Lucie falter ; when the priest asks : " If any one present knows why this man and woman should not be joined in wedlock, she shivers till she alarms me. Does she still fear De Varnes? Then we all go back to the Sapphire together. Upon its quarterdeck my bride whispers to me : " Please take a turn or two with Captain Jones," and flits quickly, down the companionway. The mate touches his cap, and steps into the wheel- house, and the Captain asks : " What further orders, sir?" "Cruise so that we make Narragansett about ten 288 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. o'clock to-morrow morning," I remark, " and, for God's sake cruise carefully. You have men on board enough for that ? " " Plenty for knocking about ; but, to run across the pond, I'll need a lot more in the fire-room ; half my crew are in Newport on shore leave our orders came so suddenly." " When we are at Narragansett, you can run over to Newport and get your men." J The Captain turns to go to the bridge, but, pausing, grips my hand, and whispers : " Though I take the liberty to say it, to-night you are the luckiest man afloat. Mrs. Bennt asking your pardon, Mrs. Marchmont is the sweetest lady who ever owned a yacht. I have cruised under her orders for two years, and the sea brings out the truth in man and woman." Mindful of Lucie's request, I take a short constitu- tional upon the quarter-deck, then eagerly turn towards the companionway. Upon its stairs I pause. I remem- ber she trembled at the words, " if any one present knows aught to prevent this man and this woman be- ing joined in wedlock." I have jumped in the dark, and yet I don't repent it. Were she a criminal I'd take her to my heart. A soft voice calls diffidently to me from the pretty boudoir in which I had been concealed ; I enter, to find domesticity. A little table, bearing a petite feast for Lucullus, with snowiest linen, sparkling crystal and painted china. Flitting about it, my bride in fairy negligee, is acting as its Hebe. " Sit down quick, Frank," she says, in wifely tones. " You haven't had anything to eat all day. Now I'm going to give you your supper." v " Hubby can wait upon himself," I laugh. THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 289 " No, no; I must take care of you after that awful locomobile chase," she cries, for I have told her my adventures. " Mrs. Blossom, the stewardess, is at Newport. You've never seen her. I never dared to have her at Narragansett, for Mrs. Blossom will talk when she is ashore. In her place I take a \vife's privilege, and look after you." How sweetly Lucie utters the word wife, how daint- ily she insists on pouring my coffee, crying: " Please let me, Frank. I know how many lumps of sugar. Now I'll Hght the cigar for you it's it's one of the kind you threw away, but you need not remember a poor old man who, though he gave me his name, died too soon afterwards for for any one to be jealous of him." * This mention of B'ennt is made in much embarrass- ment. All through the meal her tones have seemed strangely apologetic. Now when I caress her, tears are very near her eyes the Juno has all left her. I notice with concern that her glance cannot meet mine and her hands are always trembling. It frightens me; it makes me remember De Varnes's words. They con- jure up a spectre at my nuptial feast. . " You wish to tell me something, Lucie," I remark, and would put my arm reassuringly about the dainty; waist, which is even more lithely graceful now that it is uncorseted and its zone is but a broad band of light- blue ribbon. ; As I speak my bride shrinks from me, her husband ; the roses leave her cheeks, which grow unnaturally pale. She hangs her head abashed. Her beautiful but shrinking pose is more that of a culprit than a bride ; her white arms are quivering nervously; her snowy shoulders gleam shiveringly, as if thev were chilled. 290 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. -** 1 *- -*. *\. She startles me by saying, falteringly : " My husband, God bless you for the immensity of your love ; but it would have been better had you waited." For answer I take her face between my hands, I look into her eyes, anxious but innocent, and whisper : " I couldn't wait, I am content ! Still, now that we are wed, it is better that I know the rumors that you dreaded might reach my ear. Tell to me, your husband, what De Varnes would have said." " For God's sake, don't ask ! Without the official records to refute them; they are too horrible." Her appeal is so frenzied that it shocks me. " The more horrible, the more I must know ! " I say sternly. " By wedding you, with my ears closed, I showed my implicit faith in you. For my faith, you must now give me a wife's frankness." " No, no ! Believe in me without love me without." She has imploring arms about me. " I'll not love you without you tell me," I say, hoarsely, and put her arms away, though I almost break my heart doing it. " Do you think I'll have a spectre between my bride and me, sleeping or waking, for five more days and nights of torture. " Tell me ! " I com- mand." " Must I ? " She shudders, and sinks down on her knees before me, and hides her head in my lap. " Frank, if I see one look of doubt upon your face," she sighs out, " it would be more merciful to kill me." Then raising her eyes and looks straight into mine, she whispers, as if ashamed the air might hear : " They said how can I tell it that I, for his property, had murdered my husband by poison! I, a girl just brought from a convent, and tricked by my father's lies THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. 291 to marry him. I, who knew as little of the world as a child. I, who never saw my husband for weeks before I was led in to marry him, and when the ceremony was scarce over, beheld him grow sick to death with heart disease." At her awful words, for one instant a cold chill be- numbs my spine, then I clasp her to my heart, and kiss her till she sighs : " Thank God ! " " .Why, you little innocent," I laugh, " everybody knew Bennt had heart disease. He couldn't live in the Rocky Mountains on that account. And you thought I would believe such trash ? " I playfully pinch her ear, and take her like a child upon my knee. " No place in the world where such a crime would be discovered so certainly, in its accurate legal procedure, as France." - " Oh, yes, I know that. The rumor died stillborn even in Paris," she sobs, clinging to me, " but I feared " " You feared my love? " " No, not your love." " You feared my faith, then. You didn't even want to tell me you bore the name of Bennt, who wronged me." < ",Who wronged us all," she breaks out. "Who, even when he died, left a will which gave me every- thing and gave, me misery. Expiring, he threw the weight of his financial crimes upon my childish shoul- ders. To gain Heaven, he made me promise to make reparation. He had even wronged my father in a busi- ness way. 'Twas said that was the reason he married me; but I think the old man had looked upon me in the convent, and thought me fair. I was only waiting until these horrid women's claims were settled to make reparation both to Mr. Manders and to you." 292 THE SURPRISES OF AN EMPTY HOTEL. " .Yes, I understand ; Birdie's steam yacht ; business to-morrow." " You forgive me for being Bennt's widow ? " " Not quite." " Not when he died so soon ? " she flutters. " Look on my face, and see the traces of the tortures of the Inferno, that you have made me suffer," I say, severely, " when a few words from your lips would have settled all doubts forever." " But for very love of you I dared not speak." " Besides, you had an interview with De Varnes, ypon this yacht, unknown to me." " To beg him not to speak. But I had Birdie by my. side throughout all the interview ! " she cries, desper- ately, then astonishes me by pouting : " You knew of that, and did not reproach me ? You are not so jealous of me as I'd have you ? " H " I shall be the most jealous husband in the world. tWhat did you say to me ? " I answer. " Yes I can see," she murmurs. " You have a judge's face. My words to you, my husband, were if I did aught against our great love ; for its upholding, give me justice, merciless justice! I condemn myself! I should have trusted in the faith of a man who be- lieved, without asking. I should have spoken ! " Her glorious eyes, affrighted, seek mine in bewildering tenderness. To her I whisper, my tongue heavy with rapture: " The only justice for a woman of your divine beauty, spirit and devotion, my sweetheart bride, who was a widow and not a widow, is to love her with all my; soul forever ! "- "Frank!" FINIS. Novels by Guy Boothby. SPECIAL AND ORIGINAL DESIGNS. Each volume attractively Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood anJ ethers. Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, Trimmed Edges, 5s. THE KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT MY STRANGEST CASE FAREWELL, NIKOLA I SHEILAH McLEOD MY INDIAN QUEEN LONG LIVE THE KING! A SAILOR'S BRIDE A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS A MAKER OF NATIONS THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER LOVE MADE MANIFEST PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE THE LUST OF HATE BUSHIGRAMS THE FASCINATION OF THE KING DR. NIKOLA THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL A BID FOR FORTUNE or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits Sketch. London: WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. Novels by Joseph Hocking. Crown Svo, Cloth Gilt, 3/6 tach. Each volumt uniform. QREATER LOVE. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. LEST WE FORGET. Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS. THE PURPLE ROBE. Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS. THE SCARLET WOMAN. Illustrated by SYDNEY COWELL. THE BIRTHRIGHT. Illustrated by HAROLD PIFFARD. MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH. Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN. With Frontispiece and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS. ALL MEN ARE LIARS. With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON BROWNE. ISHMAELPENGELLY: An Outcast. With Frontis- piece and Vignette by W. S. STAGEY. THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX. With Frontispiece and Vignette by GEO. HUTCHINSON. AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? Illustrated by LANCELOT SPEED. JABEZ EASTERBROOK. With Frontispiece and Vignette by STANLEY L. WOOD. WEAPONS OF MYSTERY. With Frontispiece and Vignette. ZILLAH. With Frontispiece by POWELL CHASE. THE MONK OF MAR-SABA. With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STAGEY. LONDON: WAI