A month later, I happened to hear talk of a fancy dress ball in honour of an Egyptian prince visiting America. He was a relative of the ex-Khedive, and being a handsome man with romantic eyes, was being made much of by more than one hostess. The ball was to be given by Mrs.
Gorst, a rich "climber," a lady who was, I heard from Teano, one of the hypnotist Rameses" devoted patients. She lived in the fashionable new Dominion Hotel, where the ball would take place. Her guests would dance, newspapers announced, in the "magnificent Arabian room, so congenial in its Eastern decorations to the taste of the princ.i.p.al guest, Prince Murad Ali."
It occurred to me that Dr. Rameses was certain to be one of these guests. I did not know Mrs. Gorst, but I knew some of her friends, and to get an invitation was "easy as falling off a log." As it was only a fancy dress affair, and no masks were to be worn, if Rameses were present I ought to recognise him. I hoped to make sure whether he was or was not the man with the scar, who had frightened Maida Odell at the theatre on the night when I met, fell in love, and--lost her. Since that night I had discovered Doctor Rameses" existence and had seen him more than once, but without the clue of the scar it was impossible to identify a man seen for a few seconds only. If Rameses" throat bore the mark, there could no longer be room for doubt, and I determined to lay hands on him if necessary.
How I was to manage this, I didn"t see: but that was a detail. I secured the card, and "phoned to my old hotel in New York for a room.
If I had dined there, everything that followed would have been different, but I went with the man who had got me invited (a friend of Odell"s) to dine at his club. There I stopped till it was time to go back and rig myself up as a Knight Templar: and taking my key from one of the clerks I was told that a young lady had called.
"A young lady?" I echoed. My thoughts created a white and gold vision of Maida, but the clerk"s next words broke it like a bubble.
"She was dressed as a nurse," he explained. "She wouldn"t give her name; said you"d not know it--but she mentioned that she"d called first at your Long Island hotel. When she told them there that her errand was urgent they consented to give this address."
"The errand was urgent!" I felt my blood leap. After all, the vision might not have been so far-fetched. What if this woman were the nurse from Sisterhood House--Anne Garth, whom I had seen come out of prison--Anne Garth with a message for me from Maida?
"What did you tell her?" I asked.
"Well," the clerk hedged, "she seemed anxious to know where she could find you--insisted it was a matter of life and death, so I suggested you might be at Mrs. Gorst"s ball for that Egyptian Prince."
My first impulse was of anger. The man was a fool, not to have known that I must come back to dress! But in a flash I realised that if he hadn"t known, it was my fault. I had left no word when I went out at a quarter to eight.
"I may see or hear from her later," I said, holding out a hand for my key. With it, the clerk gave me an envelope--one of the hotel envelopes, sealed and containing a thing which felt like a small account book. It was addressed in pencil, evidently in haste. Inside the flap I caught sight of something else hurriedly pencilled, luckily discovering it as I tore the envelope, to extract a black-covered note-book. "I was going to write a letter," I read, "but I fear I"m watched. This is the best I can do, unless they let me in at the ball."
There was no signature, not even an initial.
I went up to my room, and opened the book under the light of a reading-lamp. Its contents suggested a diary, with a number of disjointed notes dashed down in pencil (the same handwriting as that inside the envelope) with many blank s.p.a.ces.
"I never hoped for anything like this," were the only words on the first page, under the vague date, "Wednesday." On the next page was jotted: "It"s like heaven after h.e.l.l, and _she_ is an angel. I never saw anyone so beautiful or sweet. Would she be as kind if she _knew_?"
"This must mean Maida," my heart said. Certainly it could not refer to the Head Sister! But, after all, how did I _know_ that the "woman dressed like a nurse" was Anne Garth? So far, I merely surmised.
Eagerly I turned over the leaves. Often the writer spoke of herself, or of things that had no special meaning for me. Then came a note which held my eyes. "I"ve confessed to _her_ the truth. She says I was more sinned against than sinning. Heaven bless her! She has confided in me what is making her ill. The poor child suffers! I never heard of one as sane as she, having illusions. I suppose they _are_ illusions. She can have no enemies."
Again, on the next page: "She has told me her history. What a strange one! She _has_ enemies. But none of them can have got in here? I"m glad she has a love story. I pray it may have a happier end than mine."
A few blank leaves, and then: "There"s a room with a locked door over hers. n.o.body sleeps in it. I wonder why they keep it locked? I suppose it"s a coincidence. If they wished her harm why should they send for a nurse to take care of her, when she isn"t ill, except for dreams.... A beautiful thing she said last night. "I should die of horror if I didn"t make _his_ face come between me and the wicked face.
His love saves me." I envy her the _saving_ love! Through mine I was lost. I wish I were allowed to sleep in her room. _She_ wouldn"t ask, because she thought it cowardly, but I did, and was refused. I"m needed at night for the children"s room."
Further on, after more blanks: "It"s against the rules for men to come here, but I saw a man going upstairs--or a ghost. They say there _are_ ghosts in this house. A woman told me that the room over my sweet girl"s is haunted. That"s why it"s locked. I wonder if the man-ghost was going to it? I wish it hadn"t been dark in the hall, so I could have seen what he was like. He seemed a tall moving shadow."
Later: "I hope there"s nothing wrong with _my_ head! I was going to the room of our H.S. for orders. I thought the message was for me to tap at her door at nine o"clock, but before I had time to knock she came out and met me. She shut the door as she asked what I wanted--the first time she"s spoken sharply! But I caught one glimpse of the room inside. Opposite the door, there"s a picture of the desert by moonlight, and the Sphinx. It"s in a carved black frame, set in the middle of a bookcase. The frame is part of the bookcase. But as I looked into the room this time--I didn"t mean to look or spy--the picture of the Sphinx _wasn"t there_. It seemed to have opened out like a door of a cabinet, and behind it was a white s.p.a.ce with names and dates written in red. On top was a sign like an eye, and underneath I thought I saw the words, "I watch, I wait." Then came the dates. I can"t be sure what they were, but I think the first was 1865.
There was a General and a Captain, and a Madeleine or Margaret, all of the same name, which I _think_ was Annesley. Anyhow, there were three dates and four names, and opposite the fourth name--that of my beautiful girl--was a question mark. A black line had been drawn through the other names as if they were done with, but there was no line through hers.
"It"s queer how quickly one sees things--all in a flash. I"d only time to draw in my breath before the door of the room was closed, yet I kept the impression, as one goes on seeing the sun with one"s eyes shut.
Now, _could_ I have imagined the whole thing? I _did_ imagine things at night in my cell, but I _knew_ they weren"t there. They never seemed as real as this."
These notes, hastily pencilled, covered several of the blue-lined pages. There were more blanks; and then, in a shaky hand was written: "I"m frightened. I caught H.S. dropping something from a tiny bottle into the gla.s.s of milk on the tray I was getting ready to take upstairs. I"d turned my back to fetch a bunch of violets H.S. had brought in for me to put with the breakfast. I don"t know if she knew I caught her, but she said she put phosferine for a tonic into the milk twice a week, and asked if I approved. Perhaps I oughtn"t to say I "_caught_" her. Perhaps it"s all right. But if we had a cat in the house I"d have tried to make it drink the milk. I tasted it, and there was a faint bitter tang, yet phosferine would give that. I dared not drink more, because if anything were wrong, and I were ill or died, I couldn"t protect _her_. But I poured out the milk and got fresh, in another gla.s.s, when I was sure H.S. was back in her study with the door shut. This can"t go on. If anything is wrong, I mayn"t be able to save _her_. And the fear is getting on my nerves. Yet I can"t bear to give the poor child a warning. She has enough to worry about. All day this horrid thought has been in my head. Was _I_ chosen because if _she_ died, I could be blamed--a prison bird, with a black heart too full of evil to be reclaimed by kindness? If my darling girl will give me the name of the man who loves her and where he is, I"ll make some excuse to get a day off--perhaps to meet my brother Larry--and tell her lover what has been going on."
This was the last entry in the book, and it gave me the certainty for which I groped. The nurse must have come from the Sisterhood House and from Maida; and--Maida cared for me more than I had made her confess.
I could hardly wait to get to the ball. My first object in going was forgotten in anxiety to find Anne Garth, to hear all she"d meant to tell me when she called, and missed me. It was still important--more than ever important, perhaps--to identify Dr. Rameses as a conspirator against Maida; but I could no longer concentrate my thoughts upon him.
My fear was that Anne Garth might not have been admitted, lacking the card of invitation which every guest was asked to bring. But I judged that she would not give up easily. If her costume (which she might make pa.s.s as fancy dress) and her determination did not get her into the ballroom, I believed that she would think of some other plan.
Though the Dominion Hotel is new, its Arabian room is famous. It might be called "Aladdin"s Cave," so gorgeous are its glimmering gold walls, and the stage jewels which star the ceiling and the gilded carvings of its boxes. Even its drapery is of gold tissue, embroidered with jewelled peac.o.c.k feathers: its polished floor gleams like gold, reflecting thousands of golden lights, and its gold-framed panel-mirrors repeat again and again a golden vision. I was an early arrival, but there were many before me, because Prince Murad Ali had a reputation for un-oriental promptness, and lovers of pageants wished to see his entrance with his suite. If Doctor Rameses were present among the gorgeous groups scattered like bouquets about the ballroom, my most searching glances failed to pick him out. I had no intention of giving up the quest, however; and wishing to be independent I tried to evade my hostess"s offer of pretty partners who "danced like angels."
Unfortunately, as I thought, fortunately as it turned out, the lady conquered. I evaded a "Fox trot" on the plea that my wounded leg was too stiff: but I could not refuse to sit out with a countrywoman of mine, just over from England, who had "come to look on." We had known each other slightly at home, and I was obliged to sit through a dance telling Lady Mary Proudfit who people were.
"At least," I tried to console myself, "if Anne Garth or that brute Rameses comes along, I can see them."
But the crowd increased, and with many dancers on the floor it was difficult to distinguish faces. The Prince and his attendants arrived, magnificent as figures incarnated from the "Arabian Nights"; and the entrance of the princ.i.p.al guest was the signal for a charming surprise.
From hidden apertures in the carved ceiling, rose petals--pink and white and golden yellow--began to flutter down, light as snowflakes.
The great room was perfumed with attar of roses, and silver ribbon confetti, glittering like innumerable strands of spun gla.s.s, descended on the laughing dancers. My companion and I were la.s.soed by the fairy ropes, and looking up I was struck on the cheek with a rose thrown from a box.
The flower was thrown, not accidentally dropped. It came from a distance, aimed by a woman dressed as a nurse. She was sitting in a chair drawn close to the front of her box--a box in the second tier, close to the musicians" gallery--and was leaning on the ledge in order to take good aim. Behind her stood a tall man in chain armour, his visor so nearly covering his face as practically to mask it. He was bending over the nurse, as if to see where her rose fell.
Before I could grasp the flower it had fallen to the ground, and I had to stoop to pick it up. I was rude enough to have forgotten Lady Mary"s existence until--as I was unwinding the thread which bound a thin bit of paper to the stem--she exclaimed, "A melodrama, Lord John!
The jealous husband"s on your track. Be careful, or he"ll see that note--no, he"s gone from behind her now. Perhaps he"s coming down to you."
"Forgive me, Lady Mary," I said, "but this is serious. Not a love affair, I a.s.sure you, but it may be a vital matter. I must go to that box. I----"
"Don"t mind me!" She took the cue, and changed her teasing tone to friendly common sense. "Here comes a man I know. He"ll look after me.
Go along! Why, how odd! Your friend who threw the rose is pretending to be asleep--or she"s fainted!"
I glanced up from the note I had been reading while my companion talked. The nurse still leant on the broad ledge with its golden fringe, but she had laid her head on her arm. Her face I could not see.
I did not wait to make sure that Lady Mary had secured her friend in need: but semi-consciously I heard their greetings as I turned away.
The entrance to the boxes was outside the ballroom, and there might have been some delay in identifying the one I wanted, but for the note attached to the rose. Anne Garth bade me come quickly to Box 18, as she feared she had been followed. "I have a letter for you from _her_," was added as a further inducement.
On the door of each box was a number. I knew 18 was in the second tier, and hurried up the narrow stairway which led to that row, almost rudely pushing past a Harlequin and Columbine who were coming down.
Apart from them I had the stairs and corridor to myself. If the man in chain armour had altogether deserted Box 18, he had made haste to disappear--a fact so disquieting that I regretted not having smuggled Teano into the hotel to help. Being alone, I had to obey orders and go at once to the box, although I saw that keeping track of the man was equally important.
I knocked, and when no answer followed, opened the door of Number 18.
The nurse sat in the same position which Lady Mary had remarked, bending forward from her chair across to the broad ledge and leaning her whole weight on it, her head on her arm.
"Miss Garth?" I said, knowing now for certain it was she, as in looking up I had recognised the face seen outside Sing Sing prison. How she had recognised me would have been a puzzle, had I not conceitedly deduced that Maida had annexed a photograph given by me to Roger. But it was not important to solve this puzzle. "Miss Garth?" I repeated, raising my voice over the music.
No reply: and a p.r.i.c.kling cold as the touch of icicles shivered through my veins as I laid a hand on the grey-clad arm. It was responseless like her lips, and sick at heart I raised the limp figure in the chair.
The head in its long veil and close-fitting bonnet lolled aside, and there was no consciousness in the half-open eyes. The girl had fallen into a dead faint, or--she had been murdered, I could guess by whom.
But selfishly, my first thought was not for her. It was for the promised letter, and in her lap half concealed by the folds of her grey cloak--I found it: a blank envelope, unsealed, but evidently containing a sheet or two of paper.
"Thank G.o.d it"s not been stolen!" I muttered, and pocketing the envelope turned my thoughts to the thing which must next be done.
No wound was visible, not even a drop of blood to cover a pinp.r.i.c.k: but I could feel no beating of the heart; and the swift vanishing of the man in chain armour was ominous. I realised that, if the girl had died by violence, I might come under suspicion, unless I could quickly prove innocence. Needing my liberty in order to protect Maida, I could run no risk of losing it, and I realised that with Lady Mary Proudfit lay my best hope. There wasn"t a minute to waste; and without a glance at the letter I was dying to read, I peered through the sparkling of ribbon confetti and rose petals. What a mockery the brilliance was, and the gay ragtime melody in the musicians" gallery next door! Yet the bright veil had its uses. It was like a screen of shattered crystal hiding the tragedy in Box 18.
Lady Mary, as I hoped, sat where I"d left her. I beckoned. Surprised, but evidently pleased, she spoke to her companion, a British financier on government business in New York. Instantly they began to thread their way through the crowd, and less than five minutes brought them to the box.
"This lady had important news for me," I explained, "news of a dear friend she has been nursing. It was as important for others that the news shouldn"t reach my ears. I fear there"s been foul play, and I want a doctor. Everything must be done quietly--and the girl can"t be left alone. But the police must be called, if she turns out to be dead, and----"
"Oh, I can bear witness that her head dropped suddenly on her arm, while that man in chain armour bent over her--before you even left me.
He was in fearful haste to get away!" Lady Mary interrupted.
"h.e.l.lo, what"s this!" exclaimed the financial magnate, Sir Felix Gottschild, stooping to drag from under a chair, pushed against the wall, a peculiar bundle. "Here is chain armour--a whole suit, rolled up and tucked under the chair! By Jove, it tells a tale--what? You"ll be all right, whatever happens, Lord John. We"ll stop till you get back."