That Affair at Elizabeth Part 11

Uneasiness changed to wonder, wonder to astonishment, as the details were gradually gleaned from the exclamations of the excited young women; tongues began to wag, innocently at first, then, inevitably, with a touch of malice, for the bride's action had been a direct affront to all these people. Many of them, usually well-bred, waited in the hope of catching a glimpse of the groom's face as he hurried away. Both he and Mrs. Lawrence had been protected from the reporters, but the decorator and some of the Lawrence servants had evidently made the most of their opportunities, for the papers had the details of the disappearance substantially as I had learned them. And n.o.body had been found who had seen the bride leave the house, or had caught a glimpse of her during her flight.

That was the gist of the information contained in the papers. Both of them gave s.p.a.ce to much speculation as to the reason for this remarkable event, but plainly both were wholly at sea and had no theory to fit the facts. So, finally, I folded them up, put them in my pocket, made a hasty toilet, and went in to dinner. That over, I again sought the reading-room and lighted a reflective cigar.

I had said to Mrs. Lawrence that the cause of her daughter's disappearance-the mystery underlying it-did not concern me; yet that was by far the most interesting feature of the case. To trace the girl must prove an easy task-indeed, I fancied it already as good as accomplished. But to probe the secret-ah, that would not prove so easy! There was no reason why I should attempt it, and yet I could not keep my mind from dwelling on it with a sort of fascination. For I knew it was no ordinary secret-it was something dark and terrifying-something beside which a woman's happiness and reputation had seemed a little thing.

Before I could hope to make any further progress in that direction, I realised that I needed to know more of the family-of its history and social standing. Besides, I must be armed cap-a-pie before I went to that interview which I had determined to seek, in the morning, with Marcia Lawrence.

"Beg pardon, sir," said a voice at my elbow, and looking up, I saw the hotel clerk standing there. "This is Mr. Lester, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I have a package here for you," he went on, and handed me a square envelope. "It was left here for you this afternoon."

"Oh, yes," I said; "thank you," and I slipped the envelope into my pocket. "You've had rather an exciting time here to-day," I added.

"You mean the wedding that didn't come off?" he asked, smiling. "It has torn the town wide open, and no mistake."

"So I judged from the papers. The Lawrences are pretty prominent, aren't they?"

"Yes; top-notchers; especially in church circles. I'll bet Dr. Schuyler is all broken up."

"Dr. Schuyler?"

"Pastor of their church-First Presbyterian-that big church just down the street yonder. They've been great pets of his."

"He was to have performed the ceremony?"

"Sure. They wouldn't have had anybody else. Nice old fellow, too. Besides, he's been their pastor for years."

Here was the source I had been looking for-the source from which I might draw detailed and accurate information, if I could only reach it.

"I suppose that house next to the church is the parsonage," I ventured. I had never seen the church, but it seemed a safe shot.

"Yes; the one this side of it."

I nodded.

"I thought so. Thank you for giving me the package," I added, and glanced at my watch and rose.

"Oh, that's all right, sir," he answered, and turned away to his desk.

As for me, I lost no time in starting out upon my errand. I would see Dr. Schuyler-I would put the case before him, and ask his help. It was nearly eight o'clock, doubtless well past his dinner hour, and I resolved to seek the interview at once.

Lights had sprung up along the street, casting long shadows under the trees which edged either side. The windows of the houses gleamed through the darkness, and here and there, where the blinds had not been drawn, I caught glimpses of families gathered together about a paper, with heads eagerly bent. From the dim verandas, I heard the murmur of excited gossip-and I knew too well what it was all about. To-night, this city, from end to end, could have but a single all-absorbing subject to discuss-to wonder at and chatter over with that insatiable curiosity which we inherit from the monkeys.

But I had not far to go. The tall, straight spire of a church told me that I had reached my destination, and I turned in at the gate of a house which was unmistakably the parsonage. The maid who took my card at the door returned in a moment to say that Dr. Schuyler was in his study and would see me. I followed her and found the clergyman seated beside a table upon which were lying the evening papers. A glance at them showed me what he had been reading, and his perturbed face bespoke great inward agitation. He was a small man of perhaps sixty years, with snow-white hair and beard and a delicate, intellectual face. He arose to greet me, my card still in his fingers, and then motioned me to a chair.

"Candidly, Mr. Lester," he said, "I was half-inclined to excuse myself. This has been a trying day for me. But I saw that you had come from New York."

"Yes, and on an errand which, I fear, may not be very welcome to you, Dr. Schuyler."

"Not connected with the deplorable affair of to-day, I hope?"

"Yes, sir; connected with that."

"But," and he glanced again at my card apprehensively, "you are not a-reporter?"

"Oh, no," I laughed. "I can easily guess how they've been hara.s.sing you. I'm acting for Mr. Curtiss," I added, resolving quickly that the best thing I could do was to tell him the whole story so far as I knew it, which I did, as briefly as possible. He heard me to the end with intent, interested face. "I think you'll agree with me, Dr. Schuyler," I concluded, "that my client is quite right in deciding to demand an explanation."

"Yes," he answered, after a moment's thought, "I suppose he is-I'm sure he is. It's the most extraordinary thing I ever heard of-and the most deplorable. Until this moment, I had hoped that they had gone away to be married elsewhere."

"Hoped?" I asked.

"Yes, hoped. I've seen them together, Mr. Lester, and it seemed to me an ideal attachment. I can conceive of nothing which could keep them apart. Has any explanation of it occurred to you?"

"Only one," I said, "that Miss Lawrence has been married before, but thought her husband dead, and discovered that he was still alive only at the last moment."

But the clergyman shook his head.

"You don't know Miss Lawrence?" he asked.

"No," I answered.

"You would see the absurdity of such a theory if you did."

"I fancied it might have happened when she was very young," I explained; "when she was abroad, perhaps. I've even pictured the man to myself as an adventurer, French or Italian, a man of the world, polished, without heart, perhaps even base at bottom-a man who would not hesitate to take advantage of her girlish innocence."

My companion smiled faintly.

"I see you have a lively imagination, Mr. Lester," he said. "Don't let it run away with you."

"She would not be the first to succ.u.mb to such a one," I retorted.

"No, nor the last, I fear. Have you worked out the rest of the story?"

"Granting the premises, the rest is easy enough. She soon found him out and took refuge with her mother. The scoundrel was bought off and disappeared. She supposed him dead; but at the last moment, he appeared again."

Dr. Schuyler had listened with half-closed eyes. Now he opened them and looked at me amusedly.

"It sounds like some of the yellow-backs I used to read in my unregenerate youth," he commented. "I fancy you must have read them too, Mr. Lester. Now I want you to dismiss that theory," he went on, more earnestly. "I tell you, once for all, it's ridiculous and untrue. Rest a.s.sured that whatever the secret is, it does not in any way reflect upon her."

"Then that leaves us all at sea," I pointed out. "There can be no question of her love for Curtiss."

"None whatever. As I said, I've seen them together, and I'm sure she loved him devotedly. Of his feeling for her you have, of course, been able to judge for yourself. I've looked forward to the wedding with much pleasure, for it seemed to me the least worldly one that I had ever been asked to consecrate. It is a singular coincidence, though--" He stopped suddenly and glanced about the room. "Of course, this conversation is between ourselves, Mr. Lester?"

"Certainly," I a.s.sented. "I would wish to have it so."

"With that understanding, I shall be glad to help you, if I can. I was about to say that it is a very singular coincidence that something of the same sort happened many years ago to Mrs. Lawrence."