Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 1 February 1895 — Page 11

4

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ROSENrEL

THE FACE OF

By 0HAKT.ES HOWARD MONTAGUE.

lOopjrtght, ISM, by Amerioaa Prw tioaj

[OONT1NUKD.]

Miss Maxey, dressed for the street, sat in one corner of the room, apparently preoccupied, though the unusual color in her cheeks was evidence enough that she was disturbed by more than ordinary emotions. The artist baxely noticed her. He was too much under the power of the new and contending feelings that filled his soul when Annette spoke to him to heed anything else, for Annette opened her heart to him and laid bare her sweet and forgiving nature as she never had done before. And she pleaded for the token of his regard for her which he was the least in the world desirous of granting. But what could he do under the spell of her presence? How could he say "No" even when the granting of her prayor would allow to slip through his fingers the first real key to the mystery of the sea road which he felt he had ever held? The beautiful face turned toward him so beseechingly, the dark eyes emphasized her words so eloquently that he had no power to resist.

She could not forget that Mr. Dye had brought her up, had given her a home that he stood to her in place of a father. She could not bear to think of his being I persecuted or molested on her account. If he would not speak, let him remain silent. The past was passed. Would not Mr. Maxey give her his promise not to follow up that dark matter further? Mr. Maxey did not want to, but for her sake Mr. Maxey would, and he (lid. "I promise you," he said at length. "I will detain him no louger. I will tell him that he is at liberty to go where he pleases, and that I do it for his daughter's sake." "Oh, no please don't tell him that. It is not necessary that he should know that I interceded for him. I would rather not." "Very well then," said Maxey. "So be it"

He left the room and dismissed Mr. Belfry from his post in the halL As he was holding the door open for the sly landlord to pass out, Miss Maxey swept by him on her way to the street, and as she went she flashed into her brother's face a look of mingled pity and contempt which made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. 'She thinks 1 have yielded to Annette too readily," he reflected, "and no doubt she is right. No doubt I have."

Still he could not retract his promise now. He went into the room where the somber man still sat. 'Mr. Dye, I have only one more question to ask you. Have you told me everything which you believe it is necessary for me as the guardian of Annette to know?" "Sir, I have nothing more to say. 'I have done, sir.''

Mr. Dye arose, calm and unmoved. now as he had been at first, smoothed off his hat with his glistening sleeve, put it upon his head and made the following speech: "I desire first, sir, to warn you, if you wish to retain me, to have me arrested. Necessity is a stern law. I must eat. If there is nothing for me here, I shall not remain here. I do not much think, in view of the manifold vicissitudes of life and the uncertainties of the appellations which control human events, that if you let me go today it is at all probable you will ever see me again." "You are at liberty to go where you will," said Maxey. "If you have told me the truth, there is no reason why' you should not. If you have lied to me, settle it with your conscience."

He opened the door. Mr. Dye said not a word. He made a profound stage bow, settled his hat more firmly on his head and stalked out. "And that is the end," thought the artist, with some bitterness, "of my experience as a detective.''

CHAPTER XI MISS MAXEY TRIES.

Miss Maxey went out of the house in Ballavoine place with no definite purpose in view. She was disappointed, vexed, even ofe'ended by what she considered Annette's misplaced sentiment and Maxey's want of firmness, but she was entirely unable to see what she could do to remedy the mischief. She had waited for Mr. Dye's coming from the day she know of Maxey's visit to Flood street with despairing impatience, and she had heard from the lips of Annette of his arrival in the house with an excitement which rendered her own absence from the interview with him an almost unbearable hardship. Now at last she felt the long delayed time had come when something of the mystery of the cruel affair on the sea road was to be cleared away.

Miss Maxey longed to see the light of day poured in upon this dark deed. It was a longing not born of curiosity alona All the sympathies of her broad and generous nature had been enlisted in the cause of the poor girl whom she had rescued from a nameless grave. Her outraged sense of justice made her aglow with a desire to know that the guilty had suffered for the wrong inflicted on a helpless girL The thought that the perpetrator of this dastardly crime was left free to go about, unchallenged and unmasked, among his fellow creatures was at times almost maddening to her. And to think that after all that had happened, on the very verge, it seemed to her, of the most important discoveries, the man who undoubtedly held the key of the whole matter the man, in all probability, who was himself the criminal for whom they sought, was, in order to satisfy the scruples of a too sensitive girl,, to be allowed to put himself out of their reach forever. This distressed her almost beyond endurance.

And in spite of all this she had come without a word of remonstrance or reproach. Impulsive Miss Maxey undoubtedly was, but she was quite capable of

putting

a

bridle upon ner tongue in

a

moment of anger, for the very reason that she distrusted her own power of self control. Not for the world would she have uttered a syllable that could by any possibility wound the sensitive spirit of Annette, and she did not dare trust herself to enter into an argument with her brother in her presence. So she had come out into the freer atmosphere of the street.

It was a cold, gloomy afternoon in January. The sky was dark and threatened snow. Miss Maxey was well wrapped up and rather enjoyed the crisp atmosphere. It was certainly an antidote for the fever within her.

She walked down the few paces which were necessary to take her to the high picketed fence that separated the street from the river. For a moment she looked out over the waste of whitened ice, and in that moment an idea came to her—out of so little do great things sometimes arise. If Miss Maxey had gone her customary way up the street into the main avenue, she would doubtless have wandered about the neighborhood till she had got the better of her emotions and have returned home, resigned to the inevitable, and so the part that she was to play in the unraveling of the sea road mystery would never have been. But at the moment when she looked out between the pickets the idea came to her that she might, by remaining where she was, get a better view of the somber Mr. Dye than she had been able to obtain in the house through a half opened door. It was only this and no more. All that followed came gradually and step by step.

Her brother had expressed his intention of dismissing Mr. Dye at once. The mysterious visitor ought by this time to be coming down the stairs and out into the street. She drew her veil over her face and turned toward the door. Almost at the same instant the woebegone hat, the shiny coat and all that appertained thereto emerged into the open air.

Mr. Dye did not look about him. His head did not seem to be capable of holding itself erect. His eyes were fixed on the ground. He plunged his hands deep into his coat pockets and set out with a slow and not exactly steady step toward the avenue. Almost involuntarily, certainly without reflecting upon what she did, Miss Maxey followed him at the same slow pace. When he reached the corner, he stopped and looked up and down the street, as if undecided which way he had better take. Miss Maxey slackened her pace lest she should overtake him.

After a momentary hesitation he made his decision. He took the way to the right. Was he going back to Flood street? His last movement would indicate that he was not, though the crookedness of the city streets might leave even this a matter of doubt. He went on in the same slow, unsteady, dejected manner. Presently he crossed the street, and turning into a branch thoroughfare went up toward the heart of the city. Miss Maxey followed, though she kept upon the other 6ide of the wav.

Then it was that the idea of "shadowing' him to the end and spying upon him so far as she could first came into the mind of the artist's sister. With a glow of excitement at her heart and a quickening breath, the deliberate project of playing the detective took form within her. It was novel, it was entic-

She drew her veil over her face and turned to ward the door. ing, and it fascinated lier. Still keeping the conspicuous form of the somber Dye in sight, she thought over the chances and dangers of such a project, and it did not take a great deal of reasoning to convince her that, except in a most limited sphere, her design was a wild one. It was all well now and hero at this time of day in an eminently respectable part of the city to continue as she had begun. There was no one to molest her or make her afraid. But how would it be if the somber Dye should betake himself to the less reputablo lanes and alleys of the metropolis? Would she dare to follow him even there? She did not know very much about such places, to be sure, but she had heard of them, and her courage failed her when she thought of them. Besides there were not many hours of daylight left. "No," she reflected "I cannot do everything as if I were a man, but I can at least go on until something occurs to turn me back."

And she went on. Again Mr. Dye passed into another street. There could be very little doubt about it now. He was going back to Flood street, or if not there to somo place in that locality. So he would go on till he came to tho door of house No. 40. He would pull the bell and walk in. The door would close behind him. And then what? Manifestly there would be nothing for her to do but to turn about and retrace her steps, no wiser than when she had set out, and having had her trouble for her pains. Such was the prospect.

Miss Maxey sauntered leisurely along upon the opposite side of tho way and some distance behind, trying not to appear to look at Mr. Dye at all. But this precaution was useless. Mr. Dye never looked around. Ho continued to drift on in the samo faltering, unenergetic, despondent fashion, with his hands in the

side pockets of his threadbare coat and hi§ head bent down. "He does not look like a very old man," thought Ellen, "but judging by his gait he must bo in feeble health."

They were now passing through a quiet side street which led down a gentlo declivity. There were not many podestrians, and out of the gloomy sky a few fine crystals of snow were leisurely finding their way to tho pavement.

Mr. Dye had traversed about half tho length of the street when Miss Maxey noticed a carriage containing two women, one of whom was driving, turning in from the avenue which ran to right angles with the bottom of the decline. The woman who drove was on tho sido toward Mr. Dye. Tho -Worses walked slowly up the hill.

Miss Maxey marked these facts only in a mechanical way until a sudden change in the manner of tho woman who drove attracted her attention. There was no doubt about it Tho driver was filled with strong emotions at the sight of Mr. Dye. The somber man's gaze was still downward. Ho had not noticed her, but the occupant of tho vehicle seemed to have concentrated her whole attention upon him. When she came opposite to him, she drew up with a sudden pull upon the reins. Then she bent over and seemed to call to him in a low voice.

Mr. Dye started out of his abstraction and looked up to find himself face to face with her. Even at the distance which intervened between herself and the scene Miss Maxey fancied she saw the man's sallow faco turn to a deadlier pallor and his jaw drop. He certainly staggered for an instant like a drunken man and then stood motionless in tho middle of the sidewalk, staring at the woman in the carriage. Tho woman spoke again and beckoned to him. At this Mr. Dye roused himself, threw a hasty glance over his shoulder in each direction, as if calculating the chances of flight and ended by stepping out into the street and entering into a conversation.

All this time Miss Maxey was coming nearer and nearer. If she could only hear one little sentence of what they were saying, she thought it would be some satisfaction to her, but unfortunately she was on the other side of the way, and she did not dare to cross over. She did not dare even to look unduly toward the point where all her interest was centered, for the reason that tho woman seemed to be suspicious of everything about her. Even in the midst of her conversation with Mr. Dye, which seemed to be conducted on her part with much earnestness and emphasis, she glanced up and down the street in a cautious, uneasy manner and looked at Ellen fixedly.

It was when she looked at her thus directly that Ellen first became aware of a vague and but half active impression that she did not see this face now for the first time. And yet how was it possible for her to have seen so striking a face and have forgotten the place and the circumstances? The same hasty scrutiny which showed her this showed her also that the woman was richly, even lavishly, attired, and that, though she might be between 30 and 40, she was still young, still fascinating. "Men would like her," thought the artist's sister, 'in spite of the cynicism and disdain that spoil the face forme." And thinking this she went on, vainly trying to simulate the passive sentiment that rose in her mind at the sight of this new countenance into active recollection.

As for the other occupant of the carriage, Ellen hardly noticed her. Yet she knew, in a mechanical way, that she was young, not more than 20, perhaps much less that she had a smiling, pretty face, of much the same type of beauty as the more mature features beside her.

As Ellen passed that point in the street where the vehicle stood her straining ears caught only six distinct words in a woman's voice: "It will admit of no delay."

Mr. Dye's response was inaudible. This was all that she, without betraying an interest in tho affair beyond that of a chance passer, was able to rescue out of tho whole conversation. She was so careful not to do this that she even refrained from looking around after she had passed the carriage. In truth, it was not until she had nearly reached the corner of tho street, and tho sound of wheels on tho hard stones warned her that tho carriage had started ahead, that she again ventured to satisfy her curiosity.

A rather curious state or arrairs presented itself to lier view when she turned. The carriage had indeed resumed its onward course in the same direction as before, but Mr. Dye had faced about and was preceding it upon the sidewalk a little distance in front. The snow was now beginning to fall more thickly, and Ellen felt that there was serious danger of losing sight of tho people in whom she was so greatly interested.

Undoubtedly when the carriage got to the top of the hill it would drive on at a much mere rapid rate. Slio quickened her footsteps and crossed the street so as to be upon the same sido with Mr. Dye. By this time the trio had reached the top of the declivity and were going down on tho other side. Ellen hastened forward, keeping as much as possiblo out of sight behind the occasional pedestrian. But before she reached the end of the thoroughfare all anxiety that the carnage would drive on out of her reach had left her. She began to understand the situation. Whoever the women in the carriage might be they were evidently afraid or ashamed of being seen in company with the forlorn Dye. And yet it was Very important that he should go along with them. They dared not take' him into the vehicle, so thoy had compromised the matter by causing him to walk a short distance in advance. Nobody would think that this woebegone ragamuffin who walked could have any possible connection with tho elegantly dressed ladies who rode.

Mr. Dye must know tho way, then, perfectly well. Undoubtedlv. for he

famed the corner without looking back, and tho vehicle in its succession promptly wheeled about into the same avenue. Ellen perceived this with an increasing glow at her heart and tho most bewildering speculations in her head.

Tho suowflakes camo more tliiokly, and tho young woman who had taken upon horself tho bold and masculino task of following the somber Dyo lcopt as close as sho dared to her unconscious victim lest somo significant circumstanco should escapo her observation. But no significant circumstanco occurred.

The carriago and the man went on steadily, without any further intercourse or interchange of any possible Bigns, through tho network of city streets to somo definite destination. 'This I can seo very clearly,'' thought Ellen. "But why, if this woman is so afraid of attracting observation, did sho not send this man about by another road and drive on at a natural paco? People must think it strango to see her walking her horse in the midst of a heavy snowstorm. Evidontly she mistrusts him. Evidently ho fe:u*s her. This is a most inexplicable affair."

The carriago at last turned into a broad avenue lined with elegant houses. It was, in truth, ono of tho most aristocratic streets of tho city, and tho house before which tho vehicle eventually stopped was not eclipsed by any of its noighbors.

Mr. Dyo had already mounted tho long flight of brownstone steps, had opened the outer door and gone in out of sight of anybody in tho street It was not to bo supposed that he had entered tho house, however, for all of these residences woro protected by double doors, separated by a vestibule. Mr. Dye, in all probability, was waiting in tho inner space for his fashionable patrons to como up and admit him. Almost at tho moment tho carriage wheels grated against the curbstones in front of tho house a serving man came up out of a door underneath the steps, and after helping tho ladies out got into the empty seat and drove away.

Miss Maxey tried not to have it so, but fate brought it about that sho came to the brownstone steps at tho very moment when these women were about to ascend them. She put as much space of sidewalk between herself and them as she conveniently could, but none the less she felt herself observed and knew, though sho kept her own eyes straight ahead, that tho elder woman at least was looking at her. Her sharp ear dotested a whisper a moment afterward, and she fancied that the possessor of the half remembered face was calling her companion's attention to her. Perhaps tho woman had recognized her and remembered to have seen her in the quiet street wliero they met Mr. Dye.

Ellen was aware of a slight trembling while sho was undergoing this inspection. But it was only a momentary affair. She went on quickly. Tho women passed up the steps, shaking their garments, and the door closed after them with a slam.

The snow fell in blinding, whirling eddies. From minute specks tho flakes had become large and feathery. It was impossible to see far in any direction. What was to be done?

Having reached this point, must Ellen Maxey turn about and go home? No, not yet She would wait a little while still—wait and see Mr. Dyo come out again. Yes, but where? She could not stand there in the street. She did not like to walk up and down before tho house. Where?

Then an interesting fact reached her through the whirl and tho maze of tho falling snow. There was a glaring placard in the window of tho house immediately adjoining that in which her interest centered. No window curtains made a background for this card, and big black letters announced that the premises were for sale.

Tho further fact that sho had seen the footman con.3 out of an area door beneath tho steps when tho carriage stopped was all that sho needed to induce an inspiration. Tho houses along here were extremely uniform. There was a similar door closing beneath the steps of tho unoccupied house. A plain wooden door sat in tho solid masonry and opened by a simple latch.

Miss Maxey descended a short flight of steps, approached this door and tried it To her intense satisfaction it yielded to lier touch. She pushed it open and went, in. Not a very comfortable plaeo, to bo sure. Dark, cold, disagreeable, this little space beneath tho steps, hardly fit for a tramp to sleep in!

Miss Maxey turned tlio knob of tho door leading fruin this area into the house. The door was fast. What matter, then, if it woro cold and dark? Sho was at least secure from observation, and if she had ransacked tho whole neighborhood in search of a convenient location from which to have watched the adjoining front steps she could not have secured a better than the one upon which sho had thus accidentally stumbled. She left tho entrance slightly unclosed that she might look out and sat down upon the wooden step with her back against the inner door.

The time passed, and tho snow felL It fell so thickly that it muffled tho sounds of footsteps in tho street above. People came and went. It grew dark. A boy with a patent torch lighted tho lamp in front of the brownstone steps. Miss Maxey's limbs were cramped and cold. It seemed as though tho minutes lengthened themselves to hours, the hours grew to bo days, and still there was no appearance of tho forlorn hat and tho threadbare coat upon tho neighboring throskolcL The carts rumbled in the street The man who had gone with tho horses came back. Tho snow fell on, and still no Dye.

If Miss Maxey's brain had not been so busy with exciting speculation and daring plans for tho future, if sho had not had so fascinating a problem to deal with in trying to locate the. faco of that elder woman who drove somewhere in her own uueventful past, the time would doubtless have seemed so long that sho would scarcely have had tho courage to

wait, but it taxes some costacies to break the endurance of such a girl as this.

It had grown qui to dark. Tho snow had ceased. Tho light which had been a sort of luminous whirl in front of tho brownstone steps burned out, clearly and steadily. It lighted up tho forlorn hat at last. Mr. Dyo was coining down

into the street Miss Maxey arose and crept to the door. Mr. Dyo camo toward her. His face was in tho shadow, and sho could not see tho expression of his features. But he staggered as ho walked—staggored almost like a drunkon man. He was muttering to himself as ho went along in an excited, incoherent way. One sentence only was fated to reaoh Miss Maxey's ears. It was this: "Of tho two I tlimk tho woman is the worst'

(TO UK CONTINTKD.)

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