The Silver Butterfly Part 4

Penfield gazed at the fire through narrowed lids, then he shook his head.

"No," he said, "truly I know nothing. What I jumped at a while ago is something that you are bound to run across yourself. I'm not telling all that I know, but I'm willing to bet that within a very short time you will hear of The Veiled Mariposa, and that, too, from a most unexpected source."

"What are you driving at now?" cried Hayden. "Come, speak up. What's the use of being mysterious?"

"It amuses me, that's all," grinned Penfield. "But truly, Hayden, if I could be of any a.s.sistance to you I would. As I can not, at present, I shall just sit tight and look on, occasionally putting my finger just far enough in the pie to stir things up and make them merry." He rose and getting into his coat and hat sauntered toward the door.

"But, Horace"--Hayden started after him--"what do you mean by predicting that I shall soon hear of The Veiled Mariposa?"

But Penfield only grinned more inscrutably than ever and closed the door behind him.

Hayden glared irritably after his departing guest and then shook his fist in the direction Penfield had taken. Having thus relieved his feelings, he threw himself into a chair and moodily lighted a cigarette. He was suffering one of the swift reactions of the optimistic and mercurial temperament, which, if it suns itself upon the slope of Olympus pays for the privilege by an occasional sojourn in Avernus. He was disgusted with Penfield, with himself, with the world.

But wait, even in Avernus the darkness is sometimes penetrated by a ray of light. His quest, so far, had been fruitless. In the various cities of Europe where the Willoughbys had lived and where he had made the most patient investigations, he had discovered practically nothing; and yet, here in New York, he had seen Penfield, the imperturbable, literally jump when he had mentioned The Veiled Mariposa; and further, he had a.s.sured him that he would hear some word regarding it within a short time. Come!

Hayden cheered visibly. That was something, at any rate. Things were not so bad, after all. He was well out of Avernus and beginning to scale Olympus, and his mind reverted to the earlier and happier part of the evening.

Then he had met and talked with Marcia Oldham. Marcia! What a charming name! It was certainly a tremendous piece of luck that he had discovered it. Of course, he had been disturbed by Penfield's revelations and innuendoes. No one who took an interest in Miss Oldham could fail to be so. Nevertheless, Penfield's statements should always be thoroughly discounted. That was understood.

Robert mechanically lighted another cigarette, still deep in thought.

Penfield had spoken of the Oldham family fortunes. "Nothing left," he had a.s.serted, and yet they continued a manner of life which involved large expenditures. How could one account with some show of probability for these circ.u.mstances?

A number of hypotheses flashed through his brain. Could it not be possible that this strong, self-reliant girl might have been aware of certain resources of her father's; or might not some old friend greatly indebted to the father have come forward in the hour of need? That was not so incredible. Only, only, and this question recurred to him with an insistence diabolical and mocking. Why should a woman, young, beautiful, luxurious to the point of extravagance, preserve these mysteries? Aye, there was the rub.

And as he sat there in the fire-light, alone with his disturbing meditations, trying to find some solution of this haunting puzzle, he felt more strongly than ever the spell of her presence. He did not wish to throw it off, he would not have been able to do so if he willed. It seemed to him that he had but to lift his eyes to see her standing there in her black gown, the b.u.t.terflies shining in the fire-light. Again he looked into her sweet eyes, and he knew that from his soul he believed in her. That whatever circ.u.mstances entangled her they were not of her choosing, and that whatever mysteries enmeshed her the web was not of her weaving.

CHAPTER V

Some business matters connected with his profession occupied the greater part of Hayden's time for the next day or so; but in his first moments of leisure, he hastened to look up Kitty Hampton.

About five o'clock of a raw winter afternoon, he stopped at her house, intending under a pretense of a craving for hot tea to win Kitty to speech of her friend Marcia. Well-simulated shivers, a reference to the biting air, would secure his cousin's solicitude, then, at perhaps the third cup, he would in a spontaneous burst of confidence confess to a more than pa.s.sing interest. This would at once gain Kitty's warm if unstable attention, her impulsive sympathy, and----. At this moment, the severe and forbidding butler informed him that Mrs. Hampton was not at home, was out of town, and all further inquiries were met by a polite and non-committal "I don't know, sir."

Hayden turned away both disappointed and resentful. On the occasion of their walk, a few days before, Kitty had not mentioned to him any contemplated journey, and now, just as he was counting on enlisting her good offices, she had left him completely in the lurch, and all his plans for again meeting Marcia Oldham were, as he expressed it, up in the air.

To add to his general sense of disappointment and injury, he had had a brief line from Penfield saying that he had so far made no progress in some investigations he was making, but felt, nevertheless, that he was on the correct trail and hoped to turn up something within a short time.

Three or four days pa.s.sed, the end of the week arrived, and still Kitty had not returned. Hayden felt like a man on a desert island who watches ships pa.s.sing back and forth laden with merry pleasure-parties, too much absorbed in their own amus.e.m.e.nts or too indifferent to his sufferings to rescue him; and his sense of isolation and depression was greatly increased by the one, last, unnecessary, bitter drop in his cup--for the lady of his dreams had wantonly mocked him. Her promises had been idle as the wind. She had a.s.sured him that she would be anything but difficult to discover, had given the impression that he might chance to meet her at any moment, but the hopes she had held out were cheats, and she had succeeded either wilfully or by force of circ.u.mstances in very successfully eluding him. She had vanished as completely as if she had been that shadowy astral wraith they had jestingly discussed, and he was not only baffled and perplexed but wounded.

His pride, very sore pride at present, was touched, and he told himself that since she chose thus to withdraw he would certainly not make a definite and overt attempt to follow. Then, by way of adhering strictly to this very good resolution, he proceeded to accept every social invitation which came his way, went religiously to luncheons, dinners, dances, anything that offered. He even invaded shops and strolled up and down Fifth Avenue; but New York was empty of her. She had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.

One evening, just as he was really beginning to despair of ever seeing her again and feeling more dejected and miserable every minute in consequence, he stopped in at one of the theaters to see an act or two of a new play in which an English actress of great reputation, not only because of her beauty but also for the artistic quality of her acting, was appearing. To his own surprise, the first act interested him sufficiently to remain, a resolution that later he could not sufficiently commend, for, when the actress appeared in the second act, the street dress she had worn previously had been changed for a superb evening gown.

As she came forward to the footlights Hayden started as if he had received an electric shock and leaned eagerly forward fumbling for his gla.s.ses, for there upon her bosom, gleaming against the lace of her gown, was a great silver b.u.t.terfly glittering with diamonds, while about her beautiful shoulders fell a familiar chain of tiny, enameled b.u.t.terflies, azure, deep purple, yellow and orange, and strung together with jewels.

Hayden sat through the rest of the play in a daze. To his excited fancy there were b.u.t.terflies, b.u.t.terflies everywhere, the air seemed full of them. They served to bring up the image of Marcia Oldham very vividly before him. He turned now and again and carefully scanned the house, half believing that she was present and he might at any moment encounter her eyes. But no such luck awaited him, and his surprise was all the more marked when just as he was leaving the theater after the play was finished he felt a light touch on his arm and looked down to see the laughing face of Kitty Hampton.

"Kitty!" Hayden clutched her with such a grip that she winced. "Where have you been? Although I have daily beaten on your doors and rung you up on the telephone, I couldn't find a trace of you."

She laughed. "Who says I haven't well-trained servants! Come, drive home with me," stepping into her waiting electric brougham. "Warren will be there. He just got back this afternoon, and he will be so glad to have you. You see, I was becoming so bored and cross, and I got to hate the sight of everything and everybody to such an extent, that I just ran away from it all, down into the country; and the best part of it was, that I actually persuaded Marcia Oldham to go with me. Think of that! But I succeeded in convincing her that it was her duty to go with me, that I was really on the verge of an illness and needed her care. Marcia is strong on duty, you know. I tried my best to persuade her to do the play with me to-night, but she wouldn't. She said she had no end of things to look after.

"Oh, I am so glad I met you! It is sheer luck. You see there were some people to dinner, and afterward, there were enough for bridge without me, so I just slipped away without a word to anybody and hid myself in a box.

And I do hope you're hungry, Bobby. I am dreadfully. Nothing makes me so hungry as a play. Well, we'll all have some supper after a bit."

Hayden's heart sang. He had sought and sought and all his seeking had been vain, and here, by a mere chance, at an unlooked-for moment, the knowledge he had so ardently sought was his. He could afford to wait now; he leaned back comfortably and listened with an air of most eager interest to his cousin's chatter.

Kitty had quite recovered her spirits, and when they stopped before her door she was in the full tide of some gay reminiscences, and she continued her animated recital until they reached her drawing-room.

There were a number of people present who seemed just to have left the bridge-tables and were still discussing the game. Warren Hampton, a tall, quiet, rather elderly man, welcomed Hayden cordially. They had always been good friends, and this was the first time they had met for several years. The rest, Hayden had either met casually or had to make the acquaintance of. Among this latter group was Mrs. Habersham, mentioned by Penfield as one of Marcia Oldham's most loyal friends, and Hayden was Tremendously interested in discovering in her the dark woman with the rose-colored gown and the cerise wings in her hair with whom Marcia had talked that night at the opera.

Somewhat to his disappointment, he was not seated near her at the very jolly little supper which was served later, but was placed instead between Kitty and a sallow, angular, vivacious woman with an unbecoming blue fillet in her hair. He had been talking to Mrs. Habersham and Hampton, and had not really happened to glance at Kitty since they had entered the room, but after they were seated at the table, he turned to speak to her and was absolutely struck dumb.

He drew his hand across his brow as if to brush away the cobwebs in his brain. What was this? From what sort of an obsession was he suffering? He had been thinking so much of those b.u.t.terflies that he saw them wherever he looked; but, poor victim of delusion that he was, he could swear that on Kitty's breast, gleaming against the laces of her gown, was the same silver b.u.t.terfly which had earlier adorned the English actress, the same unique and beautiful chain of tiny, brilliant, enameled b.u.t.terflies. He felt an imperative desire to put out his finger and touch them, to ask Kitty if she really wore them, or if he but dreamed them.

"Bobby," murmured his cousin solicitously, "what on earth is the matter with you? You look as if you had just seen a ghost. Your eyes are popping out of your head, and you're staring at my b.u.t.terflies as if they positively frightened you."

He drew a long breath of relief. "They're enough to make any one's eyes pop out."

She touched the huge silver insect on her breast. "Are they not dreams?"

she said complacently. "One is simply n.o.body this winter unless one has them; and the beauty of it is they are so difficult to secure."

"Miss Oldham wears a set," he announced boldly.

"Oh, of course." She shot him a quick, rather surprised glance. "Have you met Marcia yet?"

"Yes--just met her, not very long ago."

"How odd that she didn't speak of it!" exclaimed Kitty. "But,"

enthusiastically, "isn't she a dear? Do you know, Bobby, I do not believe that there is any one in the world, with the possible exception of Warren, that I am half so fond of as I am Marcia? She is everything, the most all-around person you can imagine, and so gifted. She did the loveliest little water-color for me while we were away. I will show it to you some time."

At this moment, their conversation was interrupted by the lady with the blue fillet. She had not succeeded in getting even a hearing from the man on the other side of her. He showed a marked preference for his lobster in aspic, entirely ignoring the charms of her conversation and giving her very definitely to understand that he longed to be left to a silent contemplation and appreciation of the merits of the Hampton's chef.

"Oh, Kitty!" The blue fillet leaned across Hayden. "Bea Habersham was telling us that you had been to see this new fortune-teller. Is she really as good as Bea says?"

"Indeed she is!" cried Kitty, plunging into this new subject with her usual enthusiasm. "She's the most remarkable thing you ever heard of, and the beauty of it is that you don't have to go into any dens and caves to find her--none of the black holes where you tremble for your life and begin to fear that you'll never get out again. And she has the most charming studio."

"Bea said it was the dreamiest thing you ever saw and that she herself was a vision. Do you suppose she gets herself up that way really to conceal her ident.i.ty, or is it to arouse more interest and enthusiasm?"

"How does she get herself up?" asked Hayden, with, however, no particular interest in his tones.

"Tell him, Kitty. I haven't been fortunate enough to see her yet,"

replied the blue fillet--Mrs. Edith Symmes, by the way.

"Oh, it is too fascinating for anything." Kitty was eager to discuss her own particular find. "She is tall and graceful, oh, grace itself, and she wears a long black gown, Paris unmistakably, and"--Kitty threw great emphasis on this "and," and paused a moment for dramatic effect--"she wears a mantilla about her head, and a little black mask, with fringe falling from it so that even her mouth is concealed. It gives you the queerest creepy feeling when she comes into the room."

"How odd! How deliciously dreadful!" Mrs. Symmes shivered luxuriously.

"Do write or telephone her and make an appointment for me, Kitty, dear.