The Secret of the Sundial Part 14

CHAPTER XIV An Unexpected Meeting

"Better watch where you're going!" the man said gruffly.

"I-I beg your pardon," Madge stammered, unable to remove her eyes from his face.

For a moment they continued to stare, then the man moved on. Madge looked after him, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

"I've seen him before," she told herself tensely. "In Miss Swenster's garden."

Watching the retreating figure, she was convinced she had not been mistaken in her first hasty conclusion. The man was none other than the mysterious prowler. His build was the same; he had a similar way of walking: everything tallied.

"And that's not the only place I've seen him," she thought. "Let me think-"

Before her eyes flashed a mental picture of the photograph she had seen hanging in Miss Swenster's study. She recalled the youthful face, the regular, almost cla.s.sical features, a head of curly, golden hair.

"He's changed some with the years," she told herself, "but I'll bet a cookie it's John Swenster. I wonder if Miss Swenster knows he's in Claymore?"

Such a possibility seemed remote. Madge knew that Miss Swenster was still so distressed by the memory of her adopted son that his presence in the city was almost certain to disturb her usual calm manner. And during the past few days she had seemed no different than usual.

She wondered what had brought the man to Claymore. It was unlikely he had come to attend the auction sale or to see his mother. His secret trips to the garden suggested a deeper, more selfish purpose.

Madge was inclined to hurry back to the mansion to tell Miss Swenster the startling news. A minute's thought convinced her that such a course would be unwise.

"There's just one chance in a hundred that I'm mistaken," she reasoned.

"And if I should tell Miss Swenster her son is here when it's some other person, she might never get over the shock. No, I must be absolutely sure before I say a word to her."

She looked after the retreating figure. He was far up the street, walking swiftly, but she thought she could overtake him.

"I'll follow and see where he goes," she decided.

She soon saw that he was heading toward the business section of Claymore.

Rapidly cutting down the distance between them, she then kept just far enough behind to avoid suspicion.

As they reached the downtown section, the stranger walked faster, moving in and out to pa.s.s pedestrians hurrying home from work. Madge found it increasingly difficult to keep him in sight.

Then she lost him entirely.

"I don't see where he went unless he dodged in somewhere," she thought.

She gazed in through the window of a drug store but could not locate him.

The only other possibility was the Grand Hotel. She went in.

The lobby was crowded. Madge looked carefully about, observing no one who resembled the man she sought.

"I'll see if his name is on the register," she decided.

Before she could transfer the thought to action, an elevator discharged pa.s.sengers. Several of the men walked toward the main desk. And one of them was the stranger Madge had followed. He did not glance in her direction but moved directly to where the clerk was standing.

Madge slipped behind a pillar and waited.

"I'm checking out early this evening," she heard him say tersely. "I left my baggage upstairs but I'll not be using the room after six. Please charge me accordingly."

He pa.s.sed within a few feet of where Madge was standing, and walked out the front entrance.

"At least he'll not be snooping around the mansion any more," she told herself with satisfaction. "And judging from the crabby way he acts, he hasn't been very successful in his mission-whatever it is."

After the man's back had vanished through the revolving doors, she moved over to the desk, asking to see the register. She glanced over the first page of names and turned back. At last she came to it: "John Swenster, Chicago."

"Well, that proves I was right," Madge commented inwardly. "And now the problem is whether or not to tell Miss Swenster."

Emerging from the hotel she was astonished to see how dark it had grown.

Consulting her watch, she realized it was too late to find Silas Davies at the Ruggles'. Regretfully, she decided that she must let the work on the sundial go for that night.

"It's supper time now and Miss Swenster and Cara will be wondering what became of me," she thought uncomfortably. "Aunt Maude will be in my wool too if I don't scamper home."

A few minutes later, breathless from hurrying so fast, she let herself in the front gate of the mansion and rushed up the walk. Cara, who had been watching at a window for the past half hour, flung open the door.

"Where have you been all this time?" she demanded. "Didn't you bring the workman after all?"

"Sorry," Madge apologized, flashing her a significant look which Cara did not understand. "Other matters came up. Anyway, Mr. Davies was working at the Ruggles'. I imagine we can get him tomorrow."

Cara was disappointed and disclosed it. She brightened when Miss Swenster suggested that both girls remain for supper. It was not difficult to persuade Madge, for she felt that she should tell Miss Swenster what she had discovered, and she preferred time to lead up to the matter gradually.

The girls telephoned to their homes, receiving permission to remain. They helped Miss Swenster with the supper, setting the table, and taking great pains with the salad which was their own concoction.

It was nearly seven-thirty when they sat down to dine. For some reason, conversation lagged. Miss Swenster appeared unusually constrained though she made a studied attempt at cheerfulness. No one ate very much. It was in the minds of all that this likely would be their last supper together.

In a few days the mansion would be sold.

"I wish you weren't going away, Miss Swenster," Cara said presently. "It won't seem right for any other person to live in this lovely house."

Miss Swenster smiled, but tears shone in her eyes. She brushed them impatiently away.

"What a sentimental old fool I am! Here I've not lived in this house for eight years but now that I know I'm to lose it, I feel so desolate. It's almost as though I'm losing my last friend."

"You have a great many friends here in Claymore," Madge a.s.sured her, "only they're timid about coming to see you. I've heard folks say so."

"I suppose you're right," Miss Swenster agreed slowly. "There was a time when I didn't care to see people. I couldn't bear their sympathy. I drove them away."

She relapsed into a moody silence which neither of the girls ventured to break. Presently, she looked up and smiled apologetically.

"I shouldn't impose my troubles on you. I'm sure that at times my actions must have seemed very queer. I feel I owe you an explanation for certain things which likely are not clear."

"Your past is your own," Madge said kindly.

"Don't tell us anything that you dislike to bring up."