Part 42 (1/2)
He instantly summoned the servants, and took them to task for their negligence.
Both the cook and the chambermaid avowed that no one but the gas-man had entered or gone out by the area door that afternoon.
But, upon questioning them closely, Emil Correlli ascertained that the outer door had been left unfastened ”just a moment, while the man went to the meter, to take the figures.”
A close search revealed the fact that the key to the stairway door was missing, and, putting this and that together, the keen-witted man reasoned out just what had happened.
He believed that Giulia had stolen in through the area door close upon the heels of the gas-man; that she had found the key, unlocked the stairway-door, and made her way up to the library to seek an interview with him--he did not once suspect her of having seen Edith--while Edith, upon reconnoitering and finding the back way clear, had taken advantage of the situation and flown.
He was almost frantic with mingled rage and despair.
He angrily berated the servants for their carelessness, and vowed that he would have them discharged; then, having exhausted his vocabulary upon them, he went back to the library, wrathfully cursing Giulia for having forced herself into his presence to distract his attention, and thus allow his captive an opportunity to escape.
Mr. and Mrs. G.o.ddard returned about this time, both looking as if they also had met with some crus.h.i.+ng blow, for the former was white and haggard, and the latter wild-eyed, and s.h.i.+vering from time to time, as if from a chill.
Both were apparently too absorbed in some trouble of their own to feel very much disturbed by the flight of Edith, although Mr. G.o.ddard's face involuntarily lighted for an instant when he was told of her escape.
Emil Correlli flew to the nearest telegraph office and dashed off a message to a New York policeman, with whom he had had some dealings while living in that city, giving him a description of Edith, and ordering him, if he could lay his hands upon her, to telegraph back, and then detain her until he could arrive and relieve him of his charge.
He reasoned--and rightly, as we have seen--that Edith, would be more likely to return to her old home, where she knew every crook and turn, rather than to seek refuge in Boston, where she was friendless and a comparative stranger.
A few hours later he received a reply from the policeman, giving him an account of his adventure with Miss Edith Allandale and her escort.
”By heavens, she shall not thus escape me!” he exclaimed; and at once made rapid preparations for a journey.
Half an hour afterward he was on the eleven o'clock express train, in pursuit of the fair fugitive, in a state of mind that was far from enviable.
CHAPTER XXVII.
MRS. G.o.dDARD BECOMES AN EAVESDROPPER.
When, after her interview with Edith, Mrs. G.o.ddard went out to make her call, leaving her brother to keep watch and ward over their fair captive, she proceeded with all possible speed to the Copley Square Hotel, where she inquired for Mrs. Stewart.
The elevator bore her to the second floor, and the pretty maid, who answered her ring at the door of the elegant suite to which she had been directed, told her that her mistress was engaged just at present, but, if madam would walk into the reception-room and wait a while, she had no doubt that Mrs. Stewart would soon be at liberty. ”Would madam be kind enough to give her a card to take in?”
Mrs. G.o.ddard pretended to look for her card-case, first in one pocket of her wrap, then in another.
”Ah!” she exclaimed, ”I must have left my cards at home! How unfortunate! But it does not matter,” she added, with one of her brilliant smiles; ”I am an old acquaintance, and you can simply announce me when I am admitted.”
The girl bowed and went away, leaving the visitor by herself in the pretty reception-room, for she had been told not to disturb her mistress until she should ring for her.
Mrs. G.o.ddard looked curiously around her, and was impressed with the elegance of everything in the apartment.
Exquisite paintings and engravings graced the delicately tinted walls; choice statuettes, bric-a-brac, and old-world curios of every description, which she knew must have cost a small fortune even in the countries where they were produced, were artistically arranged about the room.
There was also an air of refinement and rare taste in the draperies, carpets, and blending of color, which proclaimed the occupant of the place to be above the average lady in point of culture and appreciation of all that was beautiful.
Impressed with all this, and looking back to her meeting with Mrs.