Part 14 (1/2)
”Not lately; there was a Tim Donovan who had a pull in the subway excavation--he was a Tammany man--but he died, and was never married.
There may have been others, of course, but I had tab on most of them.
Did she mention his name, Beaton?”
”No; anyhow, I don't remember.”
”What's the girl look like?”
”Rather slender, with brown hair, sorter coppery in the sun, and grey eyes that grow dark when she's interested. About twenty-three or four, I should say. She's a good-looker, all right; and not a bit stuck up.”
”Did you get her full name?”
”Sure; it's on the register--Stella Donovan.”
Enright lowered his feet to the floor, a puzzled look un his face, his teeth clinched on his cigar.
”Hold on a bit till I think.” he muttered. ”That sounds mighty familiar--Stella Donovan! My G.o.d, I've heard that name before somewhere; ah, I have it--she's on the New York _Star_. I've seen her name signed to articles in the Sunday edition.” He wheeled and faced Miss La Rue.
”Do you remember them?”
”No; I never see the _Star_.”
”Well, I do, and sometimes she's d.a.m.n clever. I'll bet she's the girl.”
”A New York newspaperwoman; well, what do you suppose she is doing out here? After us?”
Enright had a grip on himself again and slowly relit his cigar, leaning back, and staring out the window. His mind gripped the situation coldly.
”Well, we'd best be careful,” he said slowly. ”Probably it's merely a coincidence, but I don't like her lying to Beaton. That don't look just right. Yet the _Star_ can't have anything on us: the case is closed in New York; forgotten and buried nearly a month ago. Even my partner don't know where I am.”
”I had to show John the telegram in order to get some money.”
”You can gamble he won't say anything--there's no one else?”
”No; this game ain't the kind you talk about.”
”You'd be a fool to trust anybody. So, if there's no leak we don't need to be afraid of her, only don't let anything slip. We'll lay quiet and try the young lady out. Beaton here can give her an introduction to Miss La Rue, and the rest is easy. What do you say, Celeste?”
”Oh, I'll get her goat; you boys trot on now while I tog up a little for dinner; when is it, six o'clock?”
”Yes,” answered Beaton, still somewhat dazed by this revealment of Miss Donovan's actual ident.i.ty. ”But don't try to put on too much dog out here, Celeste; it ain't the style.”
She laughed.
”The simple life, eh! What does your latest charmer wear--a skirt and a s.h.i.+rtwaist?”
”I don't know; she was all in black, but looked mighty neat.”
”Well, I'll go her one better--a bit of Broadway for luck. So-long, both of you, and, Enright, you better come up for me; Ned, no doubt, has a previous engagement with Miss Donovan.”
Mr. Enright paused at the door, his features exhibiting no signs of amus.e.m.e.nt.