"Maybe--" Here she stopped, and grew suddenly grave. "Maybe he'll--No, I don't think he'd dare do that, but I've got to get Stephen, and I'll go for him this minute. Going's quicker than a letter, and I'll leave word down-stairs where I'm gone, so she'll know when she comes in, and I'll fix her coffee so she can get it."

Hurrying into her own room, she began changing her dress, putting on her shoes, taking her night cloak and big, flare bonnet from the hook behind the door, talking to herself as she moved.

"It's getting worse all the time, instead of getting better. G.o.d knows what's to become of her! She's most beat out now, and can't stand much more; and she's the best of the lot, except Mr. Felix, for she's clean inside of her, and only her heart is to blame--and that father of hers, Lord Carnavon, with his dirty pride, and this scoundrel she's wrecking her life on, and all the fine ladies at home who turned up their noses at her when half of them are twice as bad--oh, I know 'em--you can't fool Martha Munger! I've been too long with 'em. And this poor child who--Oh! I tell you this is a bad business, and it's getting worse--yes, it's getting worse. Rosenthal isn't going to stand losing that piece of lace, without its costing somebody some money. Stephen's got to come and be around evenings while I'm out. And I'll go with her to Rosenthal's and fetch her back home, so that man Dalton can't frighten the life out of her."

She put the coffee-pot where it would keep hot, and laid the cups and saucers ready for her mistress. This done, she shut the door, and made her way down-stairs. "Tell Mrs. Stanton when she comes in," she said to the old woman who acted as janitor, "that I've gone to see my brother, and that I'll be back just as soon as I can."

All hopes which had cheered Lady Barbara on her way to Rosenthal's, even when she climbed the long stairs and was ushered into Mangan's small office, died out of her heart when she saw the manager's face. She had antic.i.p.ated an outburst of anger, followed by a brutal tirade over her carelessness in wrapping up the mantilla with the other pieces and leaving it behind her the night before. Instead, he came forward to meet her--his lean, nervous body twitching with expectation.

"Well, this is something like! Didn't think you'd turn up for an hour.

Let's have it." This with a low chuckle--the nearest he ever got to a laugh.

"Something dreadful has happened, Mr. Mangan," she began, stumbling over her words, her knees shaking under her. "I thought I had wrapped the mantilla up with the pieces I brought you last night, but I see now that--"

"You thought! Say, what are you giving me? Ain't you got it?"

"I have not, and I don't know what has become of it. It was not in the box this morning, and--"

"IT WASN'T IN THE BOX THIS MORNING!" he roared. "See here, what kind of a d.a.m.n fool do you take me for?" He wheeled suddenly, caught her by the wrist, dragged her clear of the door, and shut it behind her.

"Now, Mrs. Stanton," he said, in cold, incisive tones, "let's you and I have this out, and I want to tell you right here that I believe you're lying, and I've been suspecting it for some time. Now, make a clean breast of it. You've p.a.w.ned it, haven't you?"

"I--p.a.w.n it? You think I--I won't allow you to speak to me in that way.

I--"

"Oh, cut that out, it won't wash here. Now, listen! I've got to get that mantilla, see? And I'm going to get it if I go through every p.a.w.n-shop in town with a fine-tooth comb. I orter to have had better sense than to let you take it out of the shop. Now open up, and I'll help you straighten out things. Where is it? Come, now--no side-tracking."

She had sunk down on the chair, her fingers tightly interlocked, his words stunning her like blows. Their full meaning she missed in her dazed condition. All she knew was that, in some way, she must defend herself.

"Mr. Mangan, will you please listen to me? I have not p.a.w.ned it, and I would never dream of doing such a thing. I can only think that some one has taken it from the box--I don't know who. I came to you the moment I discovered the loss. I thought perhaps I had wrapped it up with the other pieces I brought you last night, or that I had dropped it in the street on my way here. And, yet, none of these things seemed possible when I began to think about it. I will do all I can to pay for it. You can take its value from my work until it is all paid."

Mangan, who had been pacing the floor, hearing nothing of her explanation--his mind intent upon his next move--dragged a chair next to hers.

"Now, pull yourself together for a minute, Mrs. Stanton. I'm not going to be ugly. I'm going to make this just as easy as I can for you. You've got a lot of common sense, and you're some different from the women who handle our stuff. I've seen that, and that's why I've trusted you. Now, think of me a little. That mantilla don't belong to Rosenthal's. It belongs to a big customer who lives up near the Park, and who left it here on condition we had it mended on time. It's worth $250 if it's worth a cent, and it's worth a lot more to me, because I lose my job if I don't get hold of it to-day. It's a New Year's present and has got to be sent home to-night. Now, don't that make things look a little different to you? And now, one thing more, and I'm going to put it up to you, just between ourselves, and n.o.body will get onto it--n.o.body around here. If it's a matter of ten or fifteen dollars, I've got the money right here in my clothes. And you can slip out and I'll keep close behind, and you can go in and get it, and I'll bring it back here, and that's all there will be to it. Now, be decent to me. I've been decent to you ever since you come here. Ain't that so?"

Lady Barbara had now begun to understand. This man was accusing her of lying, if not of theft, while she sat powerless before him, incapable of speech. Once, as the horror of his suspicion rose before her, she felt a wild impulse to cry out, even to throw herself on his mercy--telling him her story and Martha's suspicions. Then the recollection of the cunning of the man, his vulgarity, his insincerity, slowly steadied her. Her secret must be kept, and she must not anger him further.

"Perhaps, Mr. Mangan, if you came with me to my rooms, and saw my old--"

she paused, then added softly, "the old woman I live with, and I showed you where the box is always kept and the way the door opens, perhaps you could help us to find out how it could have happened."

Mangan rose and pushed back his chair. "Well, you are the limit!" he gritted between his teeth. "I guess I'm in for it. The old man will be howling mad, and I don't blame him."

He walked to his desk, picked up his telephone, and, in a restrained voice, said: "Send Pickert up here. I'm in my office. Tell him there's something doing."

Lady Barbara rose from her chair and stood waiting. She did not know who Pickert was nor whether her pleading had moved Mangan, who had now resumed his seat at the desk, piled high with papers, one of which he was studying closely.

"And you don't think it will do any good if you come to my room?"

Mangan shook his head.

"And shall I wait any longer?" she continued. The words were barely audible. She knew her dismissal had come and that she must face another dreary hunt for new work.

Mangan did not raise his head. "Sit down. I'll tell you when I'm through."

The door opened and a thick-set man, in a brown suit and derby hat, stepped in.

Mangan wheeled his chair and fronted the two. "This woman, Pickert, is carried on our pay-roll as Mrs. Stanton. She's got a room off St. Mark's Place. Here's the number. About a week ago I gave her a lace mantilla to fix, something good--worth over $200--and every day she's been coming here with a new lie. Now she says she's lost it. She's either got it down where she lives or she's p.a.w.ned it. I've done what I could to save her, but she sticks to it. Better take some one from the office, down-stairs, with you. Maybe when she thinks it over she'll come to her senses. Take her along with you. I'm through."

As the man stepped forward, Lady Barbara sprang away from his touch.

"You do not mean you are going to let this man take me--Mr. Mangan, you must not, you shall not! You would not commit that outrage. Do you mean--?"

Pickert made a gesture of disgust, his fingers outspread. "Keep all that for the captain. It won't cut any ice here, and you'd better not talk.

Now come along, and don't make any fuss. If it's a mistake, you can clear it up at the station-house. I ain't going to touch you. You keep ahead until you get to the street-door. I'll be right behind, and meet you on the sidewalk."

Lady Barbara drew herself up proudly. "I won't allow it!" she cried; "what I told you--"

Pickert swaggered closer. "Drop that, will you? I got my orders. You heard 'em, didn't you? Will you go easy, or shall I have to--" and he half dragged a pair of handcuffs from his side pocket. "Now, you do just as I tell you; it'll all come right, and there won't n.o.body know what's goin' on. You get to hollerin' and mussin' up things and there'll be trouble, see? Open that door now, and walk out just as if everything was reg'lar."

Chapter XX

The routine of Felix's daily life had been broken this morning by the receipt of a letter. The postman had handed it to him as he crossed the street from Kitty's to Kling's, the tramp who was sweeping the sidewalk having pointed him out.

"That's him," cried the tramp. "That's Mr. O'Day. Catch him before he gets inside his place, or you'll lose him. Here, I'll take it."

"You'll take nothin'. Get out of my way."

"For me?" asked Felix, coloring slightly as the postman accosted him.

"Yes, if you're Mr. O'Day."

"I'm afraid I am. Thank you. If you have any others, bring them here to Mr. Kling's, where I can always be found during the day."

He glanced at the seal and the address, but kept it in his hands until he reached Kling's counter, where he settled into a chair, and with the greatest care slit the envelope with his knife. A year had pa.s.sed since he had received a letter, nor had he expected any.

He read it through to the end, turning the pages again, rereading certain pa.s.sages, his face giving no hint of the contents, folded the sheets, put them back in the envelope, and slid the whole into his inside pocket. After a little he rose, stood for a moment watching Fudge, who, now that Masie had gone to school, had taken up his customary place in the window, his nose pressed against the pane. Then, as if some sudden resolve had seized him, he walked quickly to the rear of the store in search of his employer.

Otto was poring over his books, his bald head glistening under the rays of the gas-jet, which he had lighted to a.s.sist him in his work, the morning being dark.

"I have been wanting to talk to you for some time, Mr. Kling, about Masie," he began abruptly. "I may be going home to England, perhaps for a few weeks, perhaps longer, and I should like to take her with me.

I have a sister who would look after her, and the trip would do her a world of good. I have been wanting to do this for a long time, but I am a little freer now to carry out the plan I had for her. And so I have come to propose it to you."

Otto listened gravely, his fat features frozen into calm. This clerk of his had made him many startling propositions, and every surrender had brought him profit. But turning over Beesving to him meant something so different that the father in him stood aghast. Yet his old habit of deference did not desert him when at last he spoke: