The Bride of the Tomb and Queenie's Part 26

"What is the matter with Mrs. Vance?" asked she. "You seem to have frozen her into a statue."

"I am sure I cannot tell," he answered with an a.s.sumption of carelessness.

"But you barely spoke to each other. I am sure I thought you two were the best of friends--really intimate in fact. Yet you seemed on the most indifferent terms just now," said she, incredulously.

Lance smiled carelessly, and reached out for one of the roses in her lap.

"My dear little sister," said he, "who can answer for the vagaries of woman? Mrs. Vance has always been exceedingly friendly with me, but she seems to have taken an opposite whim just now. But it would not be fair to question her motives, would it? Men have to bear the caprices of women without complaint--do they not? I believe one of the best of the female poets claims _caprice_ as a _right divine_ of the fair s.e.x."

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Osgood says:

""Tis helpless woman's right divine, Her only right--caprice,'"

returned Ada, repeating the quotation with a very pretty emphasis.

"Then let us not question Mrs. Vance's right to exercise her divine prerogative. I dare not rebel--I must only submit. And, by the way, begging your pardon for changing the subject, will you ride with me this evening? I came expressly to ask you. I have my new phaeton and cream-white ponies--the ones I purchased for Lily's use," said he, with a smothered sigh.

She went to the window to look at them.

How beautiful, how proud, how thoroughbred were the restive creatures champing at their silver bits, impatient of the little groom's restraint--how exquisite the costly little phaeton with its luxurious cushions of azure satin, and the azure satin carriage-robe thickly embroidered with white lilies. The equipage was dainty enough for Queen Mab herself. Ada sighed as she thought of the beautiful form that had chosen the rest of the coffin rather than these downy cushions to recline upon.

"It is beautiful," she said, "rarely beautiful. Yes, I will ride with you in the park, Lance. Wait a minute until I get on my wrappings, for I believe it is a little chilly to-day."

She tripped away lightly. Lance looked after her with an affectionate glance.

"A dear, sweet girl," he thought to himself; "surely Mrs. Vance misunderstands her, for I am sure she is true and sweet and kind. How like she grows to Lily."

She came back presently, cloaked and heavily veiled.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Not quite," she answered. "I had forgotten to put my bouquets into the vases."

She tripped around and disposed of her flowers in the various vases that adorned the room, then came back to him.

"Now, I am ready," said she.

They went out, took their places in the dainty phaeton, the little groom in blue and silver sprang into his place, and they were whirled swiftly away.

From an upper window Mrs. Vance was watching for the young man's departure. She started as she saw him drive off with Ada beside him, and a lurid fire of rage and jealousy blazed in her heart.

"The fair-faced little devil!" she muttered, clenching her hands tightly together. "Oh! that I dared to murder her as I did that other one who came between me and him!"

She paced up and down, wild with contending pa.s.sions.

"I was wrong to leave them together," she thought, in bitter anger with herself. "He was glad, perhaps, that I came away and left them to an uninterrupted _tete-a-tete_. I over-reached myself that time; but, ah!

Ada Lawrence, woe be unto you if you win him from me!"

The postman's impatient rattling at the door-bell interrupted her angry mood. In a moment a maid rapped at the door, delivered a letter to her and went away.

Mrs. Vance had no correspondents usually. She guessed, with a sharp quiver of anger and fear, whence it came, and held it at arm's length a moment as if it had been a noxious reptile.

"The greedy old harpy," she muttered indignantly, tearing it open at last. "Must she bleed me again so soon?"

She tore the coa.r.s.e, yellow envelope into a hundred little bits, then angrily scanned the note in her hand. It was very brief, but amounted to an imperative summons from Haidee Leveret to come to the old house to-morrow and bring all the money she could raise.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Old Peter Leveret and Haidee, his wife, after much bickering and mutual recriminations, attended by more or less pummelling and hair pulling, had at last made an amicable adjustment of their difficulty regarding Mrs. Vance's secret.

Old Haidee, termagant and spit-fire though she was, found herself no match for the eternal reproaches and brutal usage of her thoroughly enraged husband, and eventually confessed herself the weaker vessel by yielding to the pressure of a stronger conjugal power and revealing the secret of her influence over Mrs. Vance, at the same time dividing her ill-gotten spoils with the incensed old ruffian.

It is needless to say that old Peter's greedy soul was not content with these ill-gotten gains. He felt that the beautiful widow had not paid, so far, a t.i.the of what was due to himself and Haidee as the fortunate possessors of so fatal a secret.

"I tell you, Haidee," said he, "the woman has got to come down heavily with the money, or I shall sell her secret to somebody who will pay a better price for it--perhaps to Mr. Lawrence or that young Darling."

"Yes, and get yourself into a fatal difficulty," retorted the wife contemptuously. "Let me tell you, Peter Leveret, you have more brute strength than I have, but all the sense we own between us is in the head that rests on my shoulders. Suppose you try to sell this secret to Lawrence or Darling, where is your evidence against Mrs. Vance? Did you see her commit the murder? Did I see her commit it? Did Doctor Pratt see her either? No; to all of these questions you have nothing to urge in support of your a.s.sertion except the bare suspicion of Doctor Pratt. And if you brought forward his name and got him into difficulty, why, he knows enough evil of us both to send us to the gallows to-morrow. Ah!

that word frightens you, does it? Well, Doctor Pratt would do it willingly if we got him into trouble. So I say to you be content with what we can wring out of the woman's fears, and let all else alone. She will prove a mine of wealth to us as long as we can make her believe that there was an actual eye-witness to her crime."

"Well, perhaps you are right, old woman," said Peter, dimly comprehending the indubitable force of her statements. "You were always more cautious than I was, Haidee. Now, don't understand me to imply that you have more sense than I have, for I don't admit it at all. I am more hasty than you, that is all. But I say, as I said before, Mrs. Vance has got to plank the money down more freely."

"But I have told you she has nothing of her own, stupid!" retorted Haidee, impatiently. "She is dependent on Mr. Lawrence for every penny she gets. We must be satisfied with our small gains now, and wait until she gets the rich husband she is angling for. Then we shall reap our golden harvest."

"Aye, aye; but, Haidee, write to the lady and tell her to come here to-morrow and bring all the gold she can lay her hands upon," said Peter with dogged persistency.

"So soon?" said Haidee, hesitatingly. Her greed was as great as her husband's; but she had a fair modic.u.m of caution and common sense. "It is but a little while since she gave me the jewels, old man."

"No matter. Write to her again, I say, or it will be the worse for you,"

scowled Peter, wrinkling up his heavy brows ferociously.

Accordingly, the note to Mrs. Vance was written and dispatched, and the pair of plotters awaited her coming impatiently. But they little antic.i.p.ated what fatal results to themselves would follow that imperative summons.

That letter awoke in Mrs. Vance a burning desire to be rid of the old couple, whose constant demands for money she would soon be entirely unable to meet.

She had a hundred dollars in gold that Mr. Lawrence had kindly presented to her that morning, with a jesting reference to a "new fall suit."

Her wardrobe needed no replenishing, and she could spare this sum to the rapacity of the old people; but she felt that no sooner would this be yielded to their greed than they would demand more.

And where was the next hush-money to come from? It was not probable that the banker would give her any more money before Christmas, and she could not ask him for more than what his own generosity bestowed on her.

She had no claim upon his beneficence whatever. These two old harpies would be down upon her a dozen times before she would have another penny to give them.

And as soon as they learned her inability to bribe them further, they would carry their fatal secret to Lancelot Darling or Mr. Lawrence.

Mrs. Vance looked these difficulties in the face fairly, and could see but one way out of them. The hideous old witch, and her still more hideous old mate, must _die_.