No. 13 Washington Square Part 29

Mrs. De Peyster, for all her personal apprehension, could but marvel at this young man of the sea who had fastened himself upon her back.

Most amazing of all, he seemed to like the taste of his danger.

"Judge Harvey, Mr. De Peyster was remarking when you came in," Mr.

Pyecroft continued without permitting a lull, "that he wished his presence in this house to remain unknown. Also I had just told him and his young wife that my earlier years were given over to a life for which I have been trying to atone by good works. Now I have a very humiliating further confession to make to you all. Recently there has been--may I call it a recrudescence?--an uncontrollable recrudescence of my former regrettable self. For a disastrous moment the Mr. Hyde element in me, which I thought I had stifled and cast out, arose and possessed me. In brief, I have been guilty of an error which the police consider serious; in fact, the police are this moment searching for me. So you see, I am in the same situation as Mr. De Peyster: I prefer my whereabouts to remain unknown. Since we are in each other's hands, and it is in our power each to betray the other, shall we not all, as a _quid pro quo_, agree to preserve Mr. De Peyster's and my presence in this house a secret? For my part, I promise."

"I'm willing," said Jack.

"And I," said Mary. "Anyhow, I never get a chance to tell, for I haven't been out of this house once."

"And you, Judge Harvey? You will--ah--protect me?"

Judge Harvey bit the end of his mustache. "I don't like this bargaining over a matter of justice. But--for Jack's sake, yes."

"Thank you, Judge Harvey," Mr. Pyecroft said in a soft, grateful voice, and with a slight, dignified bow.

Mrs. De Peyster drew a deep breath. He certainly was a cool one.

"There's something that's just been occurring to me," spoke up Jack.

"It's along of that infernal reporter Mayfair who's snooping around here. He's likely to get in here any time. If he were to find me here alone, there'd be nothing for him to write about. It's finding me here, married, that will give him one of his yellow stories, and that will put mother next. Matilda, since you already have so large a family visiting you, I suppose you wouldn't mind taking on one more and saying that Mary here was something or other of yours--say a niece?"

"Oh, that would be delicious" laughed Mary.

"Why, Mr. Jack,--I! I--" The fl.u.s.tered Matilda could get out no more.

"Mr. Simpson, couldn't you say she was your daughter?" queried Jack.

"I would be only too delighted to own her as such," said Mr. Pyecroft.

"But I am not married and I am obviously too young. However,"--moving closer to Mrs. De Peyster,--"our sister Angelica is married, and I am sure it will be a great pleasure to her to claim Mrs. De Peyster as her daughter. Angelica, my dear, of course you'll do it?"

Mrs. De Peyster sat rigid, voiceless.

"What's the matter?" asked Mary, in deep concern.

"Our sister probably did not hear, she is slightly deaf," Mr. Pyecroft explained. He bent over Mrs. De Peyster, made a trumpet of one hand, and raised his voice. "Angelica, if any other person comes into the house, you are to say that young Mrs. De Peyster is your daughter. You understand?"

Mrs. De Peyster nodded.

"And of course you'll say it?"

For a moment Mrs. De Peyster was again rigid. Then slowly she nodded.

The spirit of the masquerade seized upon Mary. "Oh, mother dear,--what a comfort to have you!" she cried with mischievous glee; and arms wide as if for a daughterly embrace she swept toward Mrs. De Peyster.

Mrs. De Peyster shriveled back. She stopped living. In another moment--

But the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft, _alias_ Archibald Simpson, _alias_ Thomas Preston, _alias_ G.o.d knows what else, stepped quickly between her and the on-coming Mary, and with an air of brotherly concern held out an intercepting hand.

"No excitement, please. The doctor's orders."

"Is it anything serious?" Mary asked anxiously.

"We hope not," in a grave voice. "It is chiefly nervous exhaustion due to a period of worry over a trying domestic situation."

"That's too bad!" Very genuine sympathy was in Mary's soft contralto.

"But if she's unwell, she ought to have more air. Why don't you draw up that heavy veil?"

"S-s-h! Not so loud, I beg you. If she heard you speak of her veil, it would pain her greatly. You see," Mr. Pyecroft unhesitatingly went on in a low, compa.s.sionate tone, "our sister, while trying to light a gasoline stove--It was a gasoline stove, was it not, Matilda?"

"Ah--er--ye-yes," corroborated Matilda.

"A gasoline stove, yes," continued the grave voice of Mr. Pyecroft.

"It was during the very first year after her marriage. The explosion that followed disfigured her face frightfully. She is extremely sensitive; so much so that she invariably wears a heavy veil when she goes out of her own house."

"Why, how terrible!" cried Mary.

"Yes, isn't it! All of our family have felt for poor Angelica most deeply. And furthermore, she is sensitive about her deafness--which, I may add, was caused by the same accident. And her various misfortunes have made her extremely shy, so the less attention that is paid to her, the happier the poor creature is."

Mary withdrew among the others. Slowly Mrs. De Peyster returned once more to life. She hardly knew how she had escaped, save that it had been through some miracle of that awful Mr. Pyecroft's amazing tongue.

"By the way, Matilda," she heard Mary remark, "did you read in to-night's papers about Mrs. De Peyster's voyage? You know she landed to-day."

"No, ma'--Mary," said Matilda.

"The paper said she was so ill all the way across that she wasn't able to leave her stateroom once." Mary's voice was very sympathetic. "Why, she was so ill she couldn't leave the boat until after dark, hours after all the other pa.s.sengers had gone."

"I never knew mother to be seasick before," said Jack, in deep concern.

Judge Harvey said nothing, but his fine, handsome face was disturbed.

Jack noted the look, and, suddenly catching the Judge's hand, said with a burst of boyish frankness:--

"Uncle Bob, you're worried more than any of us! You know I've always liked you like a father--and--and here's hoping some day mother'll change her mind--and you'll be my father in reality!"

"Thank you, Jack!" the Judge said huskily, gripping Jack's hand.

Over in her corner, beneath her veil, Mrs. De Peyster flushed hotly.

They talked on about the distant Mrs. De Peyster, and she listened with keenest ears. They were all so sympathetic about her--sick--alone--in far-off Europe. So sympathetic--so very, very sympathetic!

As for Mr. Pyecroft, standing on guard beside her, he looked appropriately grave. But inside his gravity he was smiling. These people had no guess that in a way he was connected with the great Mrs. De Peyster of whom they talked--that "Miss Gardner" who was the companion to the ailing social leader in France was something more than just Miss Gardner. And he felt no reason for revealing his little secret.... Clara, the dear little Puritan, would be scandalized by this his wildest escapade--by his having used, after all and despite her prohibition, Mrs. De Peyster's closed house as a retreat; but when she came back from Europe, and he made her see in its proper light this gorgeous and profitable lark, she would relent and forgive him.

Why, of course, she would forgive him.

He was very optimistic, was Mr. Pyecroft; and the founder of his family must have been a certain pagan gentleman by the name of Pan.

CHAPTER XIV

THE ATTIC ROOM