Part 8 (1/2)
”'Billie'?” repeated North sharply. ”A derivative, no doubt. That is significant. I should like very much to see this Miss 'Billie'----”
”Then you've only got to turn your head!” A clear young voice sounded from the doorway, and the attorney wheeled to confront the object of his quest.
”Lord, Billie, where'd you vamoose to? The whole town's been askin'
for you for the last three days!” Jim remembered his manners. ”This is Mr. North. He's a lawyer and he says he's got some news for you.”
Billie shook hands gravely.
”Pleased to meet you, Mr. North.”
”And I to meet you, my dear young lady. I have had a long search for you.”
”Do you mean----” her eyes were wide--”that you've come all the way down here just to see me?”
He smiled.
”I have been searching for you for more than two years. There are some questions I must ask you. Can we talk here privately without interruption, Mr. Baggott?--No, don't go!” as Jim started for the door.
”As the chief executor of--ah, Gentleman Geoff, you are presumably this young lady's de-facto guardian and your presence is imperative.”
Considerably impressed, Jim turned a chair around and seated himself astride it, folding his arms across the back.
”Fire away. I'm listening,” he said briefly.
”Has this news anything to do with Dad?” asked Billie.
”Partly, my dear. It concerns you, princ.i.p.ally; you, and your antecedents.” North took a sheaf of papers from his pocket, and produced a fountain pen. ”Did you ever hear of a place called Topaz Gulch?”
”Yes. Dad and I were there when I was a little girl. There was a big fire; I can just remember seeing it. We left soon after, I think.”
”And then where did you go?” The lawyer made rapid notes as he quizzed her, and Billie stared in growing wonder.
”Oh, we just traveled. I can recall a lot of places, but not their names; mining camps, and cattle towns and farming centers. Then we came here, when the boom first started, and Dad built the Blue Chip----”
The lawyer nodded as she faltered.
”That will do, I think. We can go into the details more exhaustively later, but I am convinced that you are indeed the young woman in the case. But first, can you tell me anything of your mother?”
”Dad said she died a long time ago.” Billie's voice was very low. ”I don't remember her at all, unless----”
”Unless what?” North urged her, not unkindly. ”Think, please.”
”It seems to me there was someone, when I was very little, who sang always. There was one song; I should know it again if I heard it, but it won't come to me now.”
”Aha!” The lawyer cleared his throat. ”That confirms it. I am going to tell you, and your good friend here, a story. It goes rather far back, but I shall ask you to be patient for it concerns you vitally.
Some twenty years ago there lived in New York City a noted financier, Giles Murdaugh. You do not recall having heard the name?”
Billie shook her head mutely and North went on:
”Giles Murdaugh was a very wealthy man, a power in the world of finance. He was a widower and his only living relatives were his son, Ralph, and a niece. At the time I mention, Ralph was a young man, just out of college. He fell in love with a--a young person who was not his equal socially; in fact, she earned her living by singing and dancing upon the stage of a music-hall. She was a most respectable, most exemplary young woman,” he added hastily, ”but Giles Murdaugh was violently opposed to the union. Her name was Violet Ashton.”