University of Virginia Library

15. XV

But after she had said good-by to the major at her uncle's door and had entered the hall, the happy look faded from Elizabeth's face, and was replaced by one of firm resolve. She foresaw a struggle, and with characteristic energy determined to have it over as quickly as possible.

She went into the familiar drawing-room, and a slight feeling of surprise came over her at finding it exactly as it had been in the spring. The furniture stood in its accustomed places; the same photographs looked at her from their silver frames; the same copy of Omar Khayyam lay on the table by the same vase, which was filled as of old with pink carnations. Everything was just as she had left it; but, in spite of its familiarity, a different spirit brooded over the room, subtly conveying an impression of suspense, of dread.

"Absurd!" thought Betty, with a little shake of her shoulders. "I'm getting abnormally imaginative! It's I who have changed!"

She heard a step in the hall, and Mrs. Crosby parted the portieres and walked into the room. In spite of the carefully shaded light, in spite of her elaborate mauve tea-gown and artistic make-up, Betty was shocked at her aunt's appearance.

"Aunt Maude," she exclaimed, deep concern in her voice, "you've been ill!"

Mrs. Crosby kissed the girl's cheek mechanically and dismissed the question with a wave of her jeweled hand.

"Come into the library," she said. "Your uncle is there."

They crossed the hall and entered the luxurious room. George Crosby rose from a deep chair by the fire and came slowly toward Betty. He kissed her affectionately and, turning back to the fire, dropped again into his seat.

He held out his hands to the blaze. They were thin and wrinkled, and twitched spasmodically, and in the light of the fire his face showed gray and haggard.

"You've been gone a long time, Elizabeth," began Mrs. Crosby in a curiously restrained voice. She had seated herself in the corner of a sofa, on the other side of the fire, and Betty sank down beside her. "Do you think you have been very kind to us?"

Betty moved uneasily, and did not answer her aunt's question.

"Your uncle has hardly slept or eaten since you left," Mrs. Crosby went on plaintively; " and I — " She paused significantly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Betty penitently. "I had no idea you would care!"

George Crosby turned his sunken eyes to her.

"Care?" he repeated dully.

What made you think we wouldn't care?" asked Mrs. Crosby reproachfully. "It has been a dreadful six weeks! I only hope you will never know such suffering and anxiety as you have caused us!"

Betty's lip trembled.

"Oh, Aunt Maude," she whispered, "I wasn't happy, either; but I couldn't stay — I had to do something!"

"You might at least have told us where you were. We had no idea, and it isn't safe for young girls — "

"Yes, I know, aunt. Believe me, I'm very sorry."

A silence fell on them, broken only by the crackling of the flames and the subdued snap of a log as it broke in the middle and parted in a shower of sparks.

"Where are you stopping?" asked Mrs. Crosby at last.

"With the Hunnewells."

"Oh!" Mrs. Crosby glanced furtively at the girl's pure profile as she gazed past her into the fire. "I can imagine that Mrs. Hunnewell is very happy over Beatrix's escape."

"Escape?" repeated Betty in a bewildered voice and with an inquiring look at her aunt.

"Yes — from her engagement to Fairfax Cary."

"Oh!" said Betty slowly. "That never existed."

"How do you know?" asked Mrs. Crosby sharply.

"Both Trixie and Fairfax told me," answered Betty. "I am going to marry Fairfax Cary," she added quietly.

"What?" exclaimed her uncle and aunt simultaneously.

A happy smile illumined the girl's face.

"Yes," she went on, the thrushlike lilt ringing in her voice, "he came to see me in France, and asked me to marry him."

"Was this after the murder?"

Betty nodded.

"Yes; he sailed early the following morning, before he knew about it."

"Before any one else knew about it," interposed Mrs. Crosby bitingly. "But of course he has absolved you of your promise now?"

Betty laughed.

"Oh, I refused to marry him when he asked me; but later I found that I loved him and couldn't live without him, so this afternoon I told him so."

"Where did you see him?" asked George Crosby.

"At the Tombs," replied Betty calmly. Uncle Tod took me."

"Tod Barry took you to the Tombs!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby incredulously.

Betty nodded, and again her face was illumined by a bright smile.

"So now we're engaged," she concluded happily at least I am to him. I suppose he isn't engaged to me, for he refuses to marry me!"

"I'm glad he has some sense of honor left!"

George Crosby sank back into his chair, a relieved expression stealing over his face. Betty's eyes dilated, but her voice was quiet and controlled as she replied:

"That's the trouble — he has an exaggerated sense of honor. If it were not for that we should know, or at least have a very definite idea, who Molly Delaney's murderer is. Fairfax knows who was with her while he was talking to Pat, but he won't tell!

A step had been coming along the hall, and when she finished speaking Betty looked up into Norman's livid face.

"Hello, Betty!" he exclaimed in a voice which he was evidently struggling to make sound natural. "So you've left your wounded soldiers?"

"Yes," answered Betty gravely, looking searchingly at the shrunken figure and restless, glittering eyes. "I thought just now I was needed more here."

"That nursing business has been run into the ground, anyway", observed Norman{sic} He lit a cigarette and inhaled a deep breath of the smoke. "Just a fad!"

"You wouldn't think so if you had ever been in one of those hospitals and seen the need!" retorted Betty quickly. "It's terrible! All that unspeakable agony — sorrow — death — "

The boy started nervously.

"Death!" he exclaimed passionately. "The whole world's gone mad on the subject! Can't we keep away from it?" He paced the room with quick, short steps. "It's got to a point where it's a morbid obsession with people. You hear it talked about wherever you go! You read it in every book, magazine, newspaper. It positively jumps at you from every street corner until your brain's fairly reeling! I should think at least in one's own home one could keep it out!"

He stopped at a mahogany chest that stood on a small table and, taking out a bottle, poured whisky into a glass. Raising the glass high above his head, his eyes burning feverishly, he exclaimed hoarsely: "To hell with death!" and gulped down the yellow liquid.

Norman!" exclaimed his mother in a horrified voice. "What is the matter with you? I've never seen any one change as you have in the past few weeks!" She looked meaningly at Elizabeth. "It's been like this ever since you left us at Newport!"

Norman dropped heavily into a chair by the table.

"Let's go away, mater, somewhere where it's warm and sunny. This beastly chill has got into my bones."

He shivered and drove his hands deep into his trouser-pockets.

"Come to the fire, dear," urged his mother. "Where would you like to go?"

Don't care, only let's start soon — tomorrow, if you can get off."

"Well, hardly to-morrow, dear; there isn't such desperate haste as all that, surely. The next day, perhaps." She considered thoughtfully for a moment and added: "We might go to the Hot Springs."

"For Heaven's sake, don't go where there are a lot of prying, gossiping people!" exclaimed Norman hastily. "Can't we take a sea trip to Rio, or some place like that?"

"Mercy!" expostulated Mrs. Crosby. "That's an interminable way off!"

"That's just what I want — an interminable way off. Come with us, Betty!"

Betty shook her head.

"No; I've important work to do here," she announced.

"What?"

The boy eyed her narrowly.

"I'm going to find Molly Delaney's murderer."

For a moment no one spoke, and a tense stillness settled over the room. Then, as if unable to bear it, Norman jumped up.

"Well, I wish you luck!" he said huskily and disappeared through the door.

"He's been like that ever since you refused to marry him," said Mrs. Crosby, looking reproachfully at the pale face beside her. "As I told you at Newport, you could have done everything in the world for him, Betty; and now there are times when I'm really anxious about him. Don't you think you could come with us on this trip? It might mean saving the boy from — " She stopped.

Betty stared into the many-colored flames as they darted up the chimney, a feeling of apprehension clutching at her heart. This, then, and not the worry over her disappearance, was the reason for the atmosphere of anxiety and suspense that hung over the household. But, in spite of the fact that her heart was swelling with sympathy, she could not bring herself to leave New York just now.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Maude," she faltered. "If you'll only postpone the trip a little I might, but now — it's absolutely impossible. You must see that."

She looked pleadingly at her aunt.

"Do you think yourself cleverer than the police?" asked her uncle suddenly.

Betty spread out her hands desperately.

"I don't know, Uncle George. I only know that I've got to stay and do what I can. You see, I have a feeling that I may be able to discover why father — "

"Why father what?" asked George Crosby sharply.

"Why people were so unkind to him just before he died, and how he came to make such unfortunate investments. It's all so confused and unexplainable now, and I do so want to straighten it out! You must understand how I feel, don't you, Uncle George?"

She turned to him, eager for his sympathy and indorsement; but George Crosby did not reply. He sank deeper into his chair and covered his eyes with his shaking hand.

The tall clock in the corner struck six in silvery tones, and Betty rose quickly.

"I must go," she announced hurriedly. "I had no idea it was so late!"

"Shall I order the motor for you?" asked her aunt.

"Oh, no, thank you, aunt. It's only a step to Trixie's."

She kissed them both and passed out into the hall. Norman came out of the drawing-room.

"I'll walk back with you," he said, taking his hat and gloves from the hall table.

He opened the door, and they stepped out into the sharp night air.

"Betty," he began, as soon as they reached the sidewalk, " I wouldn't get mixed up in this Fairfax Cary mess if I were you. It won't do any good; and you can't afford — no girl can — to have your name connected with a scandal like that."

Betty straightened herself stiffly.

"As I'm going to change my name to Cary before long, I'm naturally more anxious to get Fairfax out of this trouble than I am to guard the name of Crosby!" she retorted bruskly.

"Betty," exclaimed Norman, stopping abruptly and staring at her, "you're not you're not going to marry that — "

"I am," interposed Betty calmly; "so don't make too many derogatory remarks about your future cousin!"

"Well, if that's the case, I've nothing further to say!"

They walked on to the Hunnewells' house in silence, and Norman rang the bell. The door was opened, and with a hurried good night he raised his hat and ran down the steps, leaving Betty to enter the luxurious warmth.