In a moment they were well under way and I ran back to the club-house and found Rosalind where I had left her.

"We must go at once," she said. "Father will be very anxious to know how it all came out."

"But what did you think of b.u.t.tons?"

"He's very nice," she said.

"Is that all? It doesn't seem conclusive, some way!"

"Oh, he's very kind and gentle, and anxious to please. But I felt like a criminal all the time."

"You seemed to be a very cheerful criminal. I suppose it was only the excitement that kept you going."

"Of course that was it! I was wondering what to call it. I'm afraid the Sisters at the convent would have a less pleasant word for it."

"Well, you are not in school now; and I think we have done a good night's work for everybody concerned. But tell me, did he make love acceptably?"

"I suppose that was what he was doing, sir," she replied demurely, averting her head.

"Suppose?" I laughed.

"Yes; you see, it was my first experience. And he is really very nice, and so honest and kind and gentle that I felt sorry for him."

"Ah! You were sorry for him! Then it's all over, I'm clear out of it.

When a woman is sorry for a man--tchk! But tell me, how did his advances compare with mine on those occasions when we met over there by St. Agatha's? I did my best to be entertaining."

"Oh, he is much more earnest than you ever could be. I never had any illusions about you, Mr. Donovan. You just amuse yourself with the nearest girl, and, besides, for a long time you thought I was Helen.

Mr. Gillespie is terribly in earnest. When he was talking to me back there in the corner I didn't remember at all that it was he who drove a goat-team in Central Park to rebuke the policeman!"

"No; I suppose with the stage properly set,--with the music and the stars and the water,--one might forget Mr. Gillespie's mild idiosyncrasies."

"But you haven't told me about Helen. Of course she saw through the trick at once."

"She did," I answered, in a tone that caused Rosalind to laugh.

"Well, you wouldn't hurt poor little me if she scolded you!"

We were on the pier, and I whistled to Ijima to bring up the launch.

In a moment we were skimming over the lake toward the Tippecanoe.

Arthur Holbrook was waiting for us in the creek.

"It is all right," I said. "I shall keep the papers for the present, if you don't mind, but your troubles are nearly over." And I left Rosalind laughingly explaining to her father how it came about that she had gone to the casino in a scarlet cloak but had returned in a blue one.

CHAPTER XXII

MR. GILLESPIE'S DIVERSIONS

Patience or Prudence,--what you will, Some prefix faintly fragrant still As those old musky scents that fill Our grandmas' pillows; And for her youthful portrait take Some long-waist child of Hudson's make, Stiffly at ease beside a lake With swans and willows.

--_Austin Dobson_.

In my own room I drew the blinds for greater security, lighted the desk-lamp and sat down before the packet Gillespie had given Rosalind.

It was a brown commercial envelope, thrice sealed, and addressed, "R.

Gillespie: Personal." In a corner was written "Holbrook Papers." I turned the packet over and over in my hands, reflecting upon my responsibility and duty in regard to it. Henry Holbrook, in his anxiety to secure the notes, had taken advantage of Gillespie's infatuation for Helen to make her his agent for procuring them, and now it was for me to use the forged notes as a means of restoring Arthur Holbrook to his sister's confidence. The way seemed clear enough, and I went to bed resolving that in the morning I should go to Henry Holbrook, tell him that I had the evidence of his guilt in my possession and threaten him with exposure if he did not cease his mad efforts to blackmail his sister.

I rose early and perfected my plans for the day as I breakfasted. A storm had pa.s.sed round us in the night and it was bright and cool, with a sharp wind beating the lake into tiny whitecaps. It was not yet eight o'clock when I left the house for my journey in search of Henry Holbrook. The envelope containing the forged notes was safely locked in the vault in which the Glenarm silver was stored. As I stepped down into the park I caught sight of Miss Pat walking in the garden beyond the wall, and as I lifted my cap she came toward the iron gate. She was rarely abroad so early and I imagined that she had been waiting for me.

The chill of the air was unseasonable, and in her long coat her slight figure seemed smaller than ever. She smiled her grave smile, but there was, I thought, an unusual twinkle in her gentle eyes. She wore for the first time a lace cap that gave a new delicacy to her face.

"You are abroad early, my lord," she said, with the delicious quaint mockery with which she sometimes flattered me. And she repeated the lines:

"Hast thou seen ghosts? Hast thou at midnight heard In the wind's talking an articulate word?

Or art thou in the secret of the sea, And have the twilight woods confessed to thee?"

"No such pleasant things have happened to me, Miss Holbrook."

"This is my birthday. I have crowned myself--observe the cap!"

"We must celebrate! I crave the privilege of dining you to-night."

"You were starting for somewhere with an air of determination. Don't let me interfere with your plans."

"I was going to the boat-house," I answered truthfully.

"Let me come along. I am turned sixty-five, and I think I am ent.i.tled to do as I please; don't you?"

"I do, indeed, but that is no reason. You are no more sixty-five than I am. The cap, if you will pardon me, only proclaims your immunity from the blasts of Time."

"I wish I had known you at twenty," she said brightly, as we went on together.

"My subjection could not have been more complete."

"Do you make speeches like that to Helen?"

"If I do it is with less inspiration!"

"You must stop chaffing me. I am not sixty-five for nothing and I don't think you are naturally disrespectful."

When we reached the boat-house she took a chair on the little veranda and smiled as though something greatly amused her.

"Mr. Donovan--I am sixty-five, as I have said before--may I call you--"

"Larry! and gladden me forever!"