The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him - Part 46
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Part 46

"This is the mother, Mrs. D'Alloi."

"Yes? Yes?"

Peter raised his eyes to Helen's and looked at her. Then he said quietly:

"And Watts--will tell you that--I am its father."

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

RUNNING AWAY.

The dramatic pause which followed Peter's statement was first broken by Mrs. D'Alloi, who threw her arms about Watt's neck, and cried: "Oh! my husband. Forgive me, forgive me for the suspicion!"

Peter turned to Celestine. "Madame," he said. "We are not wanted here."

He unlocked the door into the hall, and stood aside while she pa.s.sed out, which she did quietly. Another moment found the two on the sidewalk. "I will walk with you to your hotel, if you will permit me?"

Peter said to her.

"Certainly," Celestine replied. Nothing more was said in the walk of ten blocks. When they reached the hotel entrance, Peter asked: "Can you see me for a few moments?"

"Yes. Come to my private parlor." They took the elevator, and were but a moment in reaching that apartment.

Peter spoke the moment the door was closed. "Madame," he said, "you saw that scene. Spare his wife and child? He is not worth your anger."

"Ah, Ciel!" cried Celestine, emotionally. "Do you think so lowly of me, that you can imagine I would destroy your sacrifice? Your romantic, your dramatic, _mon Dieu!_ your n.o.ble sacrifice? Non, non. Celestine Lacour could never do so. She will suffer cruelty, penury, insults, before she behaves so shamefully, so perfidiously."

Peter did not entirely sympathize with the Frenchwoman's admiration for the dramatic element, but he was too good a lawyer not to accept an admission, no matter upon what grounds. He held out his hand promptly.

"Madame," he said, "accept my thanks and admiration for your generous conduct."

Celestine took it and shook it warmly.

"Of course," said Peter. "Mr. D'Alloi owes you an ample income."

"Ah!" cried Celestine, shrugging her shoulders. "Do not talk of him--I leave it to you to make him do what is right."

"And you will return to France?"

"Yes, yes. If you say so?" Celestine looked at Peter in a manner known only to the Latin races. Just then a side door was thrown open, and a boy of about twelve years of age dashed into the room, followed by a French poodle.

"Little villain!" cried Celestine. "How dare you approach without knocking? Go. Go. Quickly."

"Pardon, Madame," said the child. "I thought you still absent."

"Is that the child?" asked Peter.

"Yes," said Celestine.

"Does he know?"

"Nothing. I do not tell him even that I am his mother."

"Then you are not prepared to give him a mother's care and tenderness?"

"Never. I love him not. He is too like his father. And I cannot have it known that I am the mother of a child of twelve. It would not be believed, even." Celestine took a look at herself in the tall mirror.

"Then I suppose you would like some arrangement about him?"

"Yes."

Peter stayed for nearly an hour with the woman. He stayed so long, that for one of the few times in his life he was late at a dinner engagement.

But when he had left Celestine, every detail had been settled. Peter did not have an expression of pleasure on his face as he rode down-town, nor was he very good company at the dinner which he attended that evening.

The next day did not find him in any better mood. He went down-town, and called on an insurance company and talked for a while with the president. Then he called at a steamship office. After that he spent twenty minutes with the head of one of the large schools for boys in the city. Then he returned to his office.

"A Mr. D'Alloi is waiting for you in your private office, sir," he was told. "He said that he was an old friend and insisted on going in there."

Peter pa.s.sed into his office.

Watts cried: "My dear boy, how can I ever--"

He was holding out his hand, but Peter failed to take it, and interrupted him.

"I have arranged it all with Madame Lacour," Peter said coldly. "She sails on La Bretagne on Thursday. You are to buy an annuity for three thousand dollars a year. In addition, you are to buy an annuity for the boy till he is twenty-five, of one thousand dollars a year, payable to me as his guardian. This will cost you between forty and fifty thousand dollars. I will notify you of the amount when the insurance company sends it to me. In return for your check, I shall send you the letters and other things you sent Madame Lacour, or burn them, as you direct.

Except for this the affair is ended. I need not detain you further."

"Oh, I say, chum. Don't take it this way," cried Watts. "Do you think--?"

"I end it as suits me," said Peter. "Good-day."

"But, at least you must let me pay you a fee for your work?"

Peter turned on Watts quickly, but checked the movement and the words on his tongue. He only reiterated. "Good-day."

"Well, if you will have it so." Watts went to the door, but hesitated.

"Just as you please. If, later, you change your mind, send me word. I shan't cherish any feeling for this. I want to be friends."

"Good-day," said Peter. Watts pa.s.sed out, closing the door.

Peter sat down at his desk, doing nothing, for nearly an hour. How long he would have sat will never be known, if his brown study had not been ended by Rivington's entrance. "The Appeals have just handed down their decision in the Henley case. We win."

"I thought we should," said Peter mechanically.

"Why, Peter! What's the matter with you? You look as seedy as--"

"As I feel," said Peter. "I'm going to stop work and take a ride, to see if I can't knock some of my dulness out of me." Within an hour he was at the Riding Club.