A New Sensation Part 37

My husband was on the steamer with us when we left St. Croix, and--where, do you suppose? In the stateroom with his wife, where a true man should be, of course. I smuggled him in there and kept him hid till we reached Barbados, if you please. But the night you and I stayed at Martinique, I had a terrible fear that he would come ash.o.r.e and do something silly. He kept insisting that he had an account which he must settle, sooner or later, with you. So, if you remember, I went into your bedroom and stayed all night, for I knew he would trust me, and that he would not try to touch you in my presence. In the morning you took me back to the steamer, as I had intended you should; and that night and the next I slept again in the arms I love. It was he who was prowling around the Hotel des Bains, who played the part of mice and ghosts.

Disguised so that no one on the Pretoria recognized him he made his way to land and back again. It wasn't a bad trick, considering.

At Barbados I made him go to the Sea View Hotel instead of the Marine, though with the greatest difficulty. He is so hard to manage when he sets his mind on anything. It was distinctly foolish for him to be seen walking the street with Wesson, for you need never have known he had gone further down the islands than St. Croix. Then why should he come to the Marine in broad daylight, and get into that row, that nearly spilled all the milk? I love the man, I tell you, but I must criticise such conduct.

Where did Wesson get the jewelry? will be the next question in your mind. All I know is that our mutual friend "Edgerly" p.a.w.ned the lot at Martinique for four hundred francs and afterwards sold the ticket for 125 more, like a dunce! to the proprietor of the Hotel des Bains. That is an indication of where Wesson got hold of the swag. But why did he let you take it from him without making the least resistance? This is another riddle which you must discover for yourself. I can't fathom it.

If you are trying to find anything in my favor because I forgave your insulting language at the time you bade me give up the clothing you had bought, strike it out of your mind. I was merely doing the prudent thing in keeping you quiet until you paid my expenses back to the United States. As to the clothing I knew very well you would never ask for it, in your senses, nor get it, if you did. I finished the work you asked me to do, with the typewriter, to understand exactly how each item in this account seemed to you at the time.

Now, once more, my dear Donald, where does this leave you and me? I might remain in New York without the slightest fear you would molest me, either in person or through the law. No man would like to have this story printed, with his real name, in the daily newspapers; now, would he? Neither is it likely that your fondness for your Marjorie (ha, ha!) will long outlive the confessions she has so freely made. But I am not going to remain in this city. The haunts that have known me will know me no more. I am going far away, with my husband--my darling husband--and I can promise that your eyes have gazed upon both of us for the very last time.

Why, now, did I give up attacking your bank account when such a good opportunity still remained? I will tell you, candidly. There are sportsmen, many of them, I trust, who would not shoot a fawn that stood still at their approach. I never supposed there was a man with whom a woman could travel as I travelled with you, who would not give cause to bleed him with a good conscience by the outrageousness of his conduct. I thought, of course, you would be like the rest. In that case the fountains of mercy would have dried up in my bosom and I would have taken the last dollar I could wrench from you without the slightest compunction. It was a game I believed infallible. I had found it, more than once, to work like a charm.

There are usually only three moves: 1st, to convince the male animal that I am pure and wish to remain so; 2d, to put myself where he believes he can insult me with impunity; 3d, the insult.

I only wanted one move toward the third play on your part to pick you financially to pieces. You did not make it, and I could go no farther.

If this leniency of mine is a deadly sin I can only pray that the temptation to commit another like it will not come to me soon.

And now, my very dear friend, I must say good-by. Take it altogether, my two months with you have not been unhappy ones. On your part, if you have learned your lesson well, the investment you have made ought to yield a fair dividend. Forget me, if you can, forgive me at any rate. I have already given up my lodgings, so you need not seek me there. My address is for the present a secret.

Yours Sincerely,

"MARJORIE."

Donald Camran, Esq., The Lambs.

I had finished the entire story and yet I sat upright, with my senses all about me. I was going to bear it very well, after all.

A knock was heard upon the door of my apartment. The hallboy entered when I bade him do so and handed me a card, with the statement that the gentleman wished to see me on very important business. The name on the card was unknown to me, but I bade the boy send the owner up. It might prove a diversion and anything was welcome that would take my mind from Marjorie.

I rose and was about to greet the new comer in the usual terms when a sight of his face stopped me.

"Mr. Wesson, what does this mean?" I asked, angrily.

"It means," said the person, with all his old coolness, "that Mr. Wesson has disappeared from the scene, and that I am plain Martin Daly, of the Blinkerdon Police, at your service."

Staggered to the last degree I scanned his card again. It read, "M.

Daly, Boston."

"What do you want of me?" I asked, still standing and allowing him to do the same.

"In the first place," he answered, "perhaps you will permit me to take a chair. In the second, you may be kind enough to read a letter which I have brought."

He took the chair, without waiting for my permission and I received the letter, which I saw at once was addressed in the handwriting of my Uncle Dugald.

My Dear Nephew [it read]:--This will introduce Detective Daly of the Blinkerdons, who, at my request, has been for eight or nine weeks attending to matters of importance to you. He will show you his bill for services and expenses, which I would suggest deserves your early consideration. If you decline, for any reason, to pay the bill, kindly let me know at once, that I may give him my own check for the amount.

Yours, etc.,

DUGALD CAMRAN.

New York, April 9th, 1898.

I opened the bill, which had fallen upon the table, and read the following:

Donald Camran, Esq., to Martin Daly, Dr.

To services ninety days at $7 per day $630.00 To expenses of travel, etc., 521.50 To cash paid p.a.w.nbroker at Martinique and holder of ticket 125.00 -------- $1276.50

"What the devil does this mean, sir?" I demanded, very red in the face.

"It means," said Mr. Daly, affably, "that your uncle engaged me to make the West Indian voyage in your company and protect you from any designing persons. The price per day was the one he himself fixed, and is somewhat less than I am in the habit of receiving. A desire to visit that part of the world induced me to accept the lower rate. The expenses, I hardly think you will deny, have been kept very reasonable."

I reddened more than ever.

"In plain English, sir, you have been d.o.g.g.i.ng my footsteps, and desire me to foot the bill."

"You or your uncle--it is all the same to me," he responded, quite unruffled. "I think you have had some narrower escapes, sir, than you yet realize."

With Miss May's confession lying before me on the table I could not well doubt that. Still the shame of my position was no less galling.

"We can postpone the consideration of that little matter for the present, if you desire," continued Daly, for such I must now call him.

"What is of more pressing importance, is the examination of Jack Hazen, or Robert Edgerly, as you knew him, which is set down for day after to-morrow."

"What!" I cried, startled out of myself.

"Oh, I forgot. You know the check for $350 that you gave him when he buncoed you on the Madiana? Well, he raised that to $3500, and was arrested while trying to collect that sum at your bank. After you told me you had given him the check I had just time to stop the swindle by cable."

Edgerly arrested? Poor Marjorie! That was all I could think of.

"He is an old offender," continued Daly, "and will get a sweetener this time. At what hour can I expect you to-morrow at the district attorney's office? Twelve o'clock will suit me. Twelve? All right. I see you are busy. Good day, Mr. Camran."

He was gone and I sat there alone with my reflections. It may readily be guessed they were not agreeable.

The only thing I was sure of was that I should pay Daly's bill at once, if I had the requisite balance to my credit in the bank; and that I wished he had been in a warmer place than Barbados before he ever interfered in my affairs.

CHAPTER XXVI.

BEHIND THE BARS.

Why should I blame poor Daly for doing what his profession and the law he followed dictated plainly? Why should I blame my Uncle Dugald for putting me under guardianship, after I was supposed to have reached the years of discretion?

These are indeed pregnant questions. If the reader has had neurasthenia and only partially recovered, he will know that the victim of that malady needs no legitimate reason for any fancies that possess him. It is plain to me--now--that in sending Daly on my track, my Uncle was acting the part of a considerate and thoughtful relation.