Lawrence L. Lynch

“ As morning dawned, the stillness of the inner room was pierced by a burst of shrill laughter, followed by words swiftly uttered but indistinct. Mamma hastened at once to the bedside of her new charge.
Leslie had broken her heavy slumber, but the fire of fever burned in her cheeks, the light of insanity blazed from her eyes; and for many days it mattered little to her that she was a fugitive from home, a woman under suspicion, and helpless in the hands of her enemies. Nature, indulging in a kindly freak, had taken her back to her girlhood’s days, before her first trouble came. ”

“ Leslie Warburton! This goes beyond a joke, sir. Leslie Warburton is what Leslie Uliman was, a lady, in thought, word, and deed. Oh, I can read you, sir! Her crime, in your eyes, is that she has married your brother. Is she not a good and faithful wife; a tender, loving mother to little Daisy? You have hinted that she does not love her husband—by what right do you make the assertion? You believe that she has married for money,—at least these are fashionable sins! Humph! In all probability I shall marry for money myself. ”

“ For Van Vernet, judging Stanhope as a man of the world judges men, had leaped to the hasty, but natural, conclusion, that his masquerade in the garb of the mother of his country, was in the character of a lover.
“Vernet,” said Alan at last, “you are a clever fellow! Let me see; there are half a dozen young men here who are ripe for novelty—set the whisper afloat that behind that blue and white mask is concealed a beautiful and mysterious intruder, and they will hang like leeches about her, hoping to discover her identity, or see her unmask.” ”

“ In spite of her weakness, Leslie springs up and stands above Mamma, a fierce light blazing in her eyes.
“Woman, answer me!” she cries fiercely; “do you know where that child is?”
“I? Oh, no, my dear.”
“Is there another, a man, who knows?”
Slowly Mamma rises, and the two face each other with set features.
“There is a man,” says Mamma, swaying her body slightly as she speaks, and almost intoning her words—“There is a man who swears he can find the child, but he will not make any other terms than these. He will not see you at all until you have agreed to his demands. ”

“ In the corner, borne down by the force and fury of Mamma Francoise, the girl, Nance, lies prostrate, her throat still in the clutch of the virago, whose face bears bloody evidence that Nance has not succumbed without a struggle. In the center of the room stands Alan Warburton, one arm supporting the half fainting form of Leslie, the other hanging limp by his side; and at his feet, ghastly and horrible, lies the form of Josef Siebel, his skull crushed out of all semblance to humanity, and a bar of rusty iron lying close beside him. ”

“ With a long, weary sigh, Leslie enters the library and lets the curtain fall behind her.
Alan Warburton pauses, hesitates for a moment, and then, seeing that the little group of maskers near him seem wholly absorbed in their own merriment, he moves boldly forward, parts the curtain a little way, and peers within.
He sees a woman wearing the garments of Sunlight and the face of despair. She has torn off her mask, and it lies on the floor at her feet. In her hand is a crumpled scrap of paper, and, as she holds it nearer the light and reads what is written thereon, a low moan escapes her lips. ”

“ Into Leslie’s face creeps a look of intense loathing. All her courageous soul seems aroused into fearless action. Her scornful eyes fairly burn into the old woman’s face.
“So,” she says, low and slowly, “I have found you out at last.” And then the weak body refuses to support the dauntless spirit.
She sinks back upon her chair, her form shaking, her face ghastly, her hands falling weakly as they will. But as Mamma comes forward, the strong spirit for a moment masters the weak body.
“Don’t touch me,” she almost hisses, “or, weak as I am, I might murder you! wait.” ”

“ And then, as his eye rested upon Leslie, sitting by the bedside pale and weary, a thrill of aversion swept over him as he thought:
“But for her, and her wretched intrigue, I should have no cause to deceive, and no man’s scrutiny to fear.”
Alas for us who have secrets to keep; we should be “as wise as serpents,” and as farseeing as veritable seers.
While Alan Warburton, above stairs, was congratulating himself, believing that he had neglected nothing of prudence or precaution, Van Vernet, below stairs, was grasping a clue by which Alan Warburton might yet be undone. ”

“ When Leslie learned her own story, and was brought face to face with her father, her cup of joy was full indeed. She was at anchor at last, with some one to love her beyond all others; with some one to love and to render happy.
“Oh,” she said, “to know that my dear adopted parents were after all my own kindred; my uncle and my aunt! What caprice of their evil natures prompted those wretches to do me this one kindness?”
“They knew where to find the Ulimans,” said her father, “and knew that they were wealthy. It was the easiest way to dispose of you.” ”

“ He was possessed of wondrous cunning, and all his instincts were evil, but he lacked the one element that, sometimes, makes a successful villain: he was an utter coward. Deprived of the stimulus of the old woman’s fierce temper and piercing tongue, he cowered in his cell, and fell an easy victim to his inquisitors. He was wild with terror when confronted by the girl Nance, risen, as it seemed to him, from the grave to denounce him. And when, after Nance had withdrawn, he faced Stanhope and his Chief, Walter Parks and John Ainsworth, he was as wax in their hands. ”

“ With such a host as handsome Alan Warburton, such a hostess as his brother’s beautiful wife, and such an assistant as her sparkling, piquant little companion, Winnifred French, who could predict for this masquerade anything but the most joyous ending, the most pronounced success? Ah! our social riddles are hard to read.
Into this scene of revelry, while it is yet early, before the music has reached its wildest strains, and the dancing its giddiest whirl, comes a smart servant girl, leading by the hand a child of four or five summers, a dainty fair-haired creature. ”

“ It was only the yelp of a dog, heard here and there as Silly Charlie and Alan Warburton sped through the streets and lanes, but its effect was magical. It told the rioters, the crooks and outlaws in hiding, that there was danger abroad,—that the police were among them. And their orgies were hushed, their haunts became silent and tenantless; while every man who had anything to fear from the hands of justice—and what man among them had not?—slunk away to his secret hiding-place, and laid a fierce clutch upon revolver or knife. ”

“ There is no slow awakening here. The two hands of the sleeper, which have rested in seeming carelessness loosely at his sides, move swiftly and simultaneously with his body. And Mamma’s only consciousness is that of more meteors than could by any possibility emanate from one candle, and a sudden shock to her whole frame. She is sitting upon the floor, clutching wildly at the candle, while Franz, a dangerous-looking revolver in either hand, is glaring fiercely about him. ”

“ The word arouses Leslie, she rises to her feet so swiftly, with such sudden strength of movement, and such a new light upon her face, that Mamma breaks off abruptly and stands staring from one to the other.
“Woman,” says Leslie slowly and with strange calm, “those are the first welcome words you ever uttered for my hearing. Say them again. Say that I am not your child.”
“I don’t see what it matters,” mutters Mamma sullenly. “You will be our’n fast enough when you’re married to Franz.”
“Eh!” Franz utters only this syllable, and advances step by step into the room. ”

“ Daisy Warburton surely, though so pallid, and clad in rags!
As Alan springs forward, she holds out the child.
“Alan, I have kept my word,” she says gently, wearily; “I have brought back little Daisy.”
It is the end of her wonderful endurance. As Alan snatches the child to his breast, she sinks forward and again, as on that last day of her presence here, she lies senseless at his feet.
But now his looks are not cold; he does not call a servant; but turning swiftly he puts the child in Winnie’s arms, and kneels beside Leslie. ”

“ Twenty years ago a man was murdered—killed by a nail driven into his skull. Detectives have hunted for the murderer, singly, in twos and threes. English experts have crossed the ocean to unravel the mystery and it remains a mystery still. And now, when the secret is twenty years old, and the assassin dead and buried, perhaps, you come and ask me for my two best men,—men who have worked together as brothers—and ask me to set their skill against each other, in a struggle, which, if it ends as you desire, will mean victory and fortune for the one, defeat and loss of prestige for the other. ”

“ A look of pitying tenderness lighted the face bent above the dying man.
“Poor fellow!” said Stanhope softly. “I am an officer of the law, but I am also human. If you recover, I must do my duty: if you must die, you shall not die in prison.”
“I shall die,” said the man, in a hoarse whisper; “I know I shall die—die.”
His head pressed more heavily against Stanhope’s knee; he seemed a heavier weight upon his arm. Bending still lower, the detective listened for his breathing, passed his hand over the limp fingers and clammy face. ”

“ Alan leans back in his chair, and clutches his two hands upon its either arm, fixing his eyes on vacancy. Seeming to forget the presence of his vis-a-vis, he loses himself in a maze of thoughts. Evidently they are not pleasant thoughts, for his face expresses much of perplexity, doubt and disgust, finally settling into a look of stern resolve.
He is silent so long that Mr. Follingsbee grows impatient, and by and by this uneasiness manifests itself in a series of restless movements. ”

“ It is the same figure; the same rags and tinsel and dirt; the same disfigured face, with its black patch and its fringe of frowzy hair; the same, yet worse to look upon; for now the under jaw is dropped, the mouth drivels, the eye not concealed by the patch leers stupidly.
Unmistakably, it is the face of an idiot.
“How!” ejaculates this being, peering curiously at the three. “How do? Where ye goin’?”
Van Vernet gazes curiously for a moment, then utters a sound expressive of satisfaction. He has heard of a fool that inhabits these alleys; Stanhope has mentioned him on one or two occasions. ”

“ As for you, you will marry Franz Francoise to-morrow, or you will go out of this place between two officers, arrested as the murderess of Josef Siebel!”
It is more than she can bear. The strength born of her strong excitement deserts her. Mamma’s eyes burn into her own; she feels her hot, baleful breath upon her cheek; hears the horrible words hissed so close to her ear; and with a low moan falls forward, to be caught in the arms of Franz Francoise, where she lies pallid and senseless. ”

“ Every servant of the household loved its fair mistress. And while those who could, bustled to and fro, commanded by Winnie, each eager to minister to so kind a mistress, and those who were superfluous went about with anxious, sympathetic faces, Alan Warburton, the one unpitying soul in all that household, paced his room restlessly, troubled and anxious—not because of Leslie’s illness, but because of the revelation just received from her lips. ”

“ The queerest one is pride of birth.”
For the moment it outweighed his grief for Archibald, his anxiety for Daisy, his very humanity. Later on, he might be Warburton the friend, and the truest of friends; Warburton the lover, and the tenderest, the most chivalrous of lovers; Warburton the champion, as on the night when he rescued Leslie; but now he is only Warburton the aristocrat; the aristocrat, insulted, defied, betrayed; brought into contact with mystery, intrigue, base blood, and in his own household. Could he ever forgive Leslie Warburton? ”

“ You never reckoned upon my throwing away my claim to wealth, for you were never human; you never loved anything but money, or you would have pity on that poor little child. Give me back little Daisy, and every dollar I can claim shall become yours!”
Oh, the greed, the avarice, that shines from Mamma’s eyes! But Papa makes her a sign, and she remains silent, while he says, with his best imitation of gentleness:
“But, my child; but, Leschen, how can we find the little girl?”
Leslie turns upon him a look of contempt, and then a swift spasm of fear crosses her face. ”

“ While Van Vernet is setting snares for the feet of his rival, and while that young man of many resources is actively engaged in disentangling himself therefrom,—while Leslie Warburton, tortured by a secret which she cannot reveal, and dominated by a power she dare not disobey, steals away from her stately home—and while Alan Warburton, soured by suspicion, made unjust by his own false pride, follows like a shadow behind her—a cloud is descending upon the house of Warburton. ”

“ Then he goes back to the window, and again looks out. With every passing moment he grows more and more disquieted.
In the inner room, Leslie Warburton sits alone. Her arms are crossed upon the rough table beside her; her head is bowed upon her arms; her attitude betokens weariness and dejection. By and by she lifts her face, and it is very pale, very sad, very weary. But above all, it is very calm.
Since the day when Stanhope’s message brought her new hope, she has played her part bravely. ”