Black Oxen. Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton
pampered creatures and the amount of food they consume, and then of my half-starved friends in Austria, it makes me sick—sick!"
There being no reply to the axiomatic truth involved in these words, Clavering followed her silently into the library. The log fire was still burning and he hastily replenished it. They took their little supper standing and then seated themselves in easy chairs on either side of the hearth.
"Why don't you bring over your own servants?" he asked. "Time and democracy might ruin them, but meanwhile you would have comfort. Surely you brought your maid?"
"I've had no maid until now since the beginning of the war. I rarely left the hospital. Heaven knows where my other servants are. The young men were mobilized and those that returned alive were either killed in the revolution or turned revolutionists themselves. No doubt the new government would have turned Mary's palace in Buda Pesth into a tenement house if it had not still been a hospital. We left during the revolution and lived in Vienna. Servants with the virus of Bolshevism in their veins would be worse than these."
"Were you ever in danger?"
"Oh, many times," she said indifferently. "Who was not?"
"Was that what broke your cousin down?"
"That and the hard work in Vienna trying to relieve the distress—while half-starved herself. Of course we had almost no money until the United States Government restored our properties."
"Will she join you here when she is well?"
"No, Mary Zattiany will never be seen again."
"Ah? As bad as that? Her friends will be distressed. I understand they saw her abroad from time to time before the war—particularly Mrs. Oglethorpe. That old set is very loyal."
"Loyal! Oh, yes. They are loyal. Mrs. Oglethorpe was ready to give me over to the police. She seemed to think that I had murdered Mary—no doubt during the revolution, when it would have been quite easy. And she seemed to resent quite bitterly my resemblance to Mary in her youth—as if I had committed a theft."
"Probably it made her feel her age. I wonder you saw her."
"I was coming down the stairs as she crossed the hall. Be sure I would not have seen her if I could have avoided it."
"Why?" He left his seat restlessly and leaned against the mantelshelf. "That sounds impertinent. All my questions have been impertinent, I am afraid. But—I should warn you—I gather that both Mr. Dinwiddie and Mrs. Oglethorpe think there is something wrong—that is, unexplained."
"Really?" She looked intensely amused. "But that is interesting. Of course I knew of Mr. Dinwiddie's curiosity from Judge Trent—but I rather thought——"
"Oh, yes, you have floored him completely. But I fancy he's more curious than ever. I—I—wish you would confide in me. I might be better able to defend you if the necessity arose."
"Don't you believe I am what I represent myself to be?"
"It is a terrible thing to say to a woman like you, but——"
He expected her to rise in her majesty and order him to leave the house, but she merely smiled again and said:
"You forget Judge Trent. Do you think if I were an impostor he would vouch for me?"
"I believe you could make any man believe what you wished him to believe."
"Except yourself."
"Remember that a newspaper man—— However, I'll speak only for myself." He thrust his hands into his pockets and tried to summon his saturnine expression, but he had an uncomfortable feeling that he looked merely wistful and boyish and that this highly accomplished woman of the world was laughing at him. "For my own sake I want to know," he blurted out. "I haven't an idea why I suspect you, and it is possible that you are what you say you are. Certainly you are far too clever not to have an alibi it would be difficult to puncture. But I sensed something that first night … something beyond the fact that you were a European and did a curious thing—which, however, I understood immediately. … It was something more. … I don't think I can put it into words … you were there, and yet you were not there … somebody else seemed to be looking out of your eyes … even when Dinwiddie thought he had explained the matter. … "
"You mean when he assumed that I was the illegitimate daughter of Mary Zattiany. Poor Mary! She always wanted a daughter—that is, when her own youth was over. That is the reason she was so fond of me. Do you think I am Mary's bastard?"
"I did—I don't now. … I don't know what to think. … I have never lost that first impression—wholly."
She stirred slightly. Was it a movement of uneasiness? He was horribly embarrassed, but determined to hold his ground, and he kept his eyes on her face, which retained its expression of mocking amusement.
"But you think I am an adventuress of some sort."
"The word does not apply to you. There is no question that you are a great lady."
"Of course I might be an actress," she said coolly. "I may have been on the stage in Vienna when the war broke out, become accidentally associated with Countess Zattiany, won her confidence, owing to the extraordinary resemblance—our blood may have met and mingled in Cro-Magnon days—stolen her papers, led her to talk of her youth—of course every one knew Countess Zattiany's record in European Society—forged her power of attorney with the aid of an infatuated clerk, poisoned her—and here I am!"
He laughed. "Bully plot for the movies. That is a new angle, as they say. I hadn't thought of it. And a good actress can put over anything. I once heard a movie queen, who was the best young aristocrat, in looks and manner, I ever saw on the screen, say to her director—repeating a telephone conversation—'I says and he says and then I seen he hadn't heard me.'"
For the first time since he had known her she threw back her head and laughed heartily. Even her eyes looked young and her laugh was musical and thrilling.
Then she demanded: "And do you think I am an actress—who got an education somehow?"
"I think you are an actress, but not that sort. Your imaginative flight leaves me cold."
"Perhaps you think I had Mary's personality transferred and that it exists side by side with my own here in this accidental shell. There are great scientists in Vienna."
"Ah!" He looked at her sharply. "Button, button—I feel a sensation of warmth somewhere."
She laughed again, but her eyes contracted and almost closed. "I fear you are a very romantic young man as well as a very curious one."
"I deserved that. Well, I am curious. But not so curious as—interested."
"I hope you are not falling in love with me." Her deep voice had risen to a higher register and was light and gay.
"I am half in love with you. I don't know what is going to happen——"
"And you want to protect yourself by disenchantment?"
"Perhaps."
"And you think it is my duty … "
"Possibly I'd fall in love with you anyway, but I'd like to know where I stand. I have a constitutional hatred of mystery outside of fiction and the drama."
"Ah." She gazed into the fire. "Mr. Dinwiddie, no doubt, is making investigations. If he verified my story, would you still disbelieve?"
"I should know there was something back of it all."
"You must have been a good reporter."
"One of the best."
"I suppose it is that."
"Partly. I don't think that if you were not just what you are I'd care a hang. Other people's affairs don't excite me. I've outgrown mere inquisitiveness."
"That is rather beside the point, isn't it? It all comes