The Million Dollar Mystery by Harold MacGrath (cool books to read .TXT) 📖

shadow, she did not observe the pallor of his face.

"If you will state exactly why you wish to see her, madam."

"You seem to possess authority?"

"Yes, madam, absolute authority."

Jones produced his document and presented it to her.

"There is no flaw in that," she agreed readily. "I wish to see the child. I have told you why."

"Very well, madam." Why had they not telegraphed the child, even on the train, to return to Farlow's. He knew nothing of this woman, whether she was an enemy or a friend. He conducted his unwelcome guest into the library.

"How did you know that she was here?" suddenly.

But she was ready. "I did not. But the death of Mr. Hargreave brought me. And that youthful hat in the hall was a story all its own. Later I shall show you some papers of my own. You will have no cause to doubt them. They have not the legal power of yours, but they would find standing in any court."

Jones turned and went in search of Florence.

The countess lost no time in beginning her investigations, but she wasted her time. There was no secret panel in evidence.

"Who is she?" asked Florence as she looked at the card. "Did my father know countesses?"

"Yes," said Jones briefly. "Be very careful what you say to her. Admit nothing. She claims to be a cousin of your mother. Perhaps."

"My mother?" Without waiting for any further advice from Jones, whom Florence in her young years thought presuming upon his authority, she ran downstairs to the library. Her mother, to learn some facts about the mother of whom she knew nothing!

"You knew my mother?" she cried without ceremony,

Jones heard the countess say: "I did, my child; and heaven is witness that you are the exact picture of her at your age. And I knew your father."

Jones straightened, his hands shut tightly.

"Tell me about my father!"

The countess smiled. It was Katrina. Pushkin come to life, the same impulsiveness. "I knew him but slightly. I was a mere child myself when he used to pinch my cheeks. I met him again the other night, but he did not recognize me; and I could not find it in my heart to awaken his memory in a public restaurant."

Presently Jones came in to announce that two detectives requested to see Florence. The two men entered, informing her that they had been instructed to investigate the disappearance of Stanley Hargreave.

"Who are you, miss?"

"I am his daughter."

"Ah!"

One of the detectives questioned Florence minutely, while the other wandered about the rooms, feeling the walls, using the magnifying glass, turning back the rugs. Even the girl's pretty room did not escape his scrutiny. By and by he returned to the library and beckoned to his companion. The two conferred for a moment. One chanced to look into the mirror. He saw the bright eyes of the countess gazing intelligently into his.

THE PEACEFUL BUTLER ENTERED INTO THE FIELD OF ACTION
THE PEACEFUL BUTLER ENTERED INTO THE FIELD OF ACTION

"I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to accompany us to the station, miss."

"Why?"

"Some technicalities. We must have some proof of your right to be in this house. So far as we have learned, Hargreave was unmarried. It will take but a few minutes."

"And I will accompany you," said the countess. "We'll be back within half an hour. I'll tell them what I know."

Jones, in the hall, caught sight of the reporter coming up the steps. Here was some one he could depend upon.

"Why, Mr. Norton!"

The reporter eyed the countess in amazement.

"You look surprised. Naturally. I am a cousin of Miss Florence's mother. You might say that I am her aunt. It's a small world, isn't it?" But if wishing could poison, the reporter would have died that moment.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" one of the detectives demanded.

"I am going to ask that very question of you," said Norton urbanely.

"We are from headquarters," replied one, showing his badge.

"What headquarters? What are they asking you to do?" he said to Florence.

"They say I must go to the police station with them."

"Not the least in the world," laughed the reporter. "You two clear out of here as fast as your rascally legs can carry you. I don't know what your game is, but I do know every reputable detective in New York, and you don't belong."

"Good heavens!" exclaimed the countess; "do you mean to say that these men are not real detectives?"

"This girl goes to the police station, young man. So much the worse for you if you meddle. Take yourself off!"

"All in good time."

"Here, Jenner, you take charge of the girl. I'll handle this guy. He shall go to the station, too."

What followed would always be vividly remembered by Florence, fresh from the peace and happiness of her school life. Norton knocked his opponent down. He rose and for a moment the room seemed full of legs and arms and panting men. A foot tripped up Norton and he went down under the bogus detective. He never suspected that the tripping foot was not accidental. He was too busy.

The other man dragged Florence toward the hall, but there the peaceful butler entered into the field of action with a very unattractive automatic. The detective threw up his hands.

The struggle went on in the library. A trick of jiu-jutsu brought about the downfall of Norton's man, and Norton ran out into the hall to aid Jones. He searched the detective's pockets and secured the revolver. The result of all this was that the two bogus detectives soon found themselves in charge of two policemen, and they were marched off to the station.

"Your advent was most providential, Mr. Norton," said Jones in his usual colorless tones.

"I rather believe so. Why don't you pack up and clear out for a while?"

"I am stronger in this house than elsewhere," answered the butler enigmatically.

"Well, you know best," said the reporter.

The countess was breathing rapidly. No, on second thought she had no wish to throw her arms about the reporter's neck and kiss him.

CHAPTER III

The countess did not remain long after the departure of the police with the bogus detectives. It had been a very difficult corner to wriggle out of, all because Braine had added to his plans after she had left the apartment. But for the advent of the meddling reporter the coup would have succeeded, herself apparently perfectly innocent of complicity. That must be the keynote of all her plans: to appear quite innocent and leave no trail behind her. She had gained the confidence of Florence and her companion. And she was rather certain that she had impressed this lazy-eyed reporter and the stolid butler. She had told nothing but the truth regarding her relationship. They would find that out. She was Katrina Pushkin's cousin. But blood with her counted as naught. She had room in her heart but for two things, Braine and money to spend on her caprices.

SHE HAD GAINED THE CONFIDENCE OF FLORENCE
SHE HAD GAINED THE CONFIDENCE OF FLORENCE

"How long has your highness known Mr. Braine?" asked the reporter idly, as he smoothed away all signs of his recent conflict.

"Oh, the better part of a year. Mr. Hargreave did not recognize me the other night. That was quite excusable, for when he last saw me I was not more than twelve. My child," she said to Florence, "build no hopes regarding your mother. She is doubtless dead. Upon some trivial matter—I do not know what it was—she was confined to the fortress. That was seventeen years ago. When you enter the fortress at St. Petersburg, you cease to be."

"That is true enough."

"I did not recall myself to your father. I did not care at that moment to shock him with the remembrance of the past. Is not Mr. Braine a remarkable man?" All this in her charming broken English.

"He is, indeed," affirmed Norton. "He's a superb linguist, knows everybody and has traveled everywhere. No matter what subject you bring up he seems well informed."

"Come often," urged Florence.

"I shall, my child. And any time you need me, call for me. After all, I am nearly your aunt. You will find life in the city far different from that which you have been accustomed to."

She limped down to her limousine. In tripping up Norton he had stepped upon her foot heavily.

"She is lovely!" cried Florence.

"Well, I must be on my way, also," said Norton. "I am a worldly-wise man, Miss Florence. So is Jones here. Never go any place without letting him know; not even to the corner drug store. I am going to find your father. Some one was rescued. I'm going to find out whether it was the aviator or Mr. Hargreave."

Jones drew in a deep breath and his eyes closed for a moment. At the door he spoke to the reporter.

"What do you think of that woman?"

"I believe that she told the truth. She is charming."

"She is. But for all her charm and truth I can not help distrusting her. I have an idea. I shall call up your office at the end of each day. If a day comes without a call, you will know that something is wrong."

"A very good idea." Norton shook hands with every one and departed.

"What a brave, pleasant young man!" murmured Susan.

"I like him, too; and I'd like him for a friend," said the guileless girl.

"It is very good to have a friend like Mr. Norton," added Jones; and passed out into the kitchen. All the help had been discharged and upon his shoulders lay the burden of the cooking till such time when he could reinstate the cook.

There was a stormy scene between Braine and the countess that night.

THERE WAS A STORMY SCENE BETWEEN BRAINE AND THE PRINCESS
THERE WAS A STORMY SCENE BETWEEN BRAINE AND THE PRINCESS

"Are you in your dotage?" she asked vehemently.

"There, there; bring your voice down a bit. Where's the girl?"

"In her home. Where did you suppose she would be, after that botchwork of letting me go to do one thing while you had in mind another? And an ordinary pair of cutthroats, at that!"

"The thought came to me after you left. I knew you'd recognize the men and understand. I see no reason why it didn't work."

"It would have been all right if you had consulted a clairvoyant."

"What the deuce do you mean by that?" Braine demanded roughly.

"I mean that then you would have learned your friend the reporter was to arrive upon the scene at its most vital moment."

"What, Norton?"

"Yes. The trouble is with you, you have been so successful all these years that you have grown overconfident. I tell you that there is a desperately shrewd man somewhere back of all this. Mark me, I do not believe Hargreave is dead. He is in hiding. It may be near by. He may have dropped from the balloon before it left land. The man they picked up may be Orts, the aeronaut. The five thousand might have been his fee for rescuing Hargreave. Here is the greatest thing we've ever been up against; and you start in with every-day methods!"

"Little woman, don't let your tongue run away with you too far."

"I'm not the least bit afraid of you, Leo. You need me, and it has never been more apparent than at this moment."

"All right. I fell by the wayside this trip. Truthfully, I realized it five minutes after the men were gone. The only clever thing I did was to keep the mask on my face. They can't come back at me. But the thing looked so easy; and it would have worked but for Norton's appearance."

"You all but compromised me. That butler worries me a little." Her expression lost its anger and grew thoughtful. "He's always about, somewhere. Do you think Hargreave took him into his confidence?"

"Can't tell. He's been watched straight for forty hours. He hasn't mailed a letter or telephoned to any place but