Part 17 (1/2)
Willa eagerly followed his eyes. Why had she not guessed? He had spoken only of ”Edna” to her, but the likeness was unmistakable; the same smooth brown hair, clear-cut profile with the firm, rounded chin and frank, steady, laughing eyes. She remembered vaguely having been presented, but the conventional tone of the other's greeting had awakened no memories. Willa drew a deep breath.
”I'd like to really know her,” she said wistfully.
”She's a rattling good sort; you'll like her, when you do.--I say, was Wiley anywhere around when that raid took place?”
”I don't know.” The eager light faded from Willa's eyes. ”Why?”
”Oh, well, I can't just imagine him doing what Thode did, that's all.
But perhaps I shouldn't have said that. Even if you haven't met him yet, you will probably see a great deal of him when he returns.”
”How do you mean?” Her tone was oddly constrained, but Winnie was impervious to subtleties.
”I really haven't any right to discuss it since it hasn't been announced, but I thought you knew.” He nodded toward the group of callow youths who surrounded Angelica. ”It's an open secret that he's going to marry your cousin.”
Still later, as the two Norths rode homeward, the older turned a speculative eye on his son.
”Win, how did you meet Miss Murdaugh?--Don't look at me like that, you young pirate! I mean the first time. I overheard some of your conversation before dinner.”
”I refuse to answer, not on the ground that it would incriminate either the lady or myself, but merely because it is against the rules of the game.” Winnie responded glibly, throwing an affectionate arm across his father's shoulders. ”Governor, she's a peach of a girl!”
”She is a most extraordinary young woman.” Mason North agreed, with conviction. ”Fine-looking, too; I don't believe I noticed it before to-night. You seemed to be getting on famously with her later in the evening. Except when she is angry, I have never seen her so animated.”
”Yes.” Winnie sobered. ”We were talking about another fellow.”
CHAPTER X
AN ACE IN THE HOLE
November was well advanced, and the first snow of the season was falling when Starr Wiley reappeared in New York. His coming was unheralded, but Harrington Chase was on hand when the train crawled into the station at midnight and the two partners repaired to the room of the returned wanderer, where they held an absorbing conference until the small hours.
Nevertheless, Wiley was stirring bright and early. He appeared thinner than a month or two previous, and he was tanned as with much roughing it on the open trail; his eyes, too, were clear, but there was an odd, furtive droop to their lids which had not been noticeable before.
Abstractedly he drank his coffee, and then, ignoring the tray piled high with its acc.u.mulation of mail which his valet had placed on the table, he drew his lounging-robe about him and picked up the telephone.
When his number was connected a respectful male voice replied to the summons.
”Mr. Halstead. Mr. Vernon Halstead, please. . . . Well, wake him, then. . . . I can't help that, it's important.”
There was a full minute's pause and then a querulous, sleepy voice grumbled over the wire.
”That you, Vernie? This is Starr. . . . Just last night. . . . No, you won't, either, you're not supposed to know I'm in town till someone else tells you later in the day, do you understand? . . . The racket is this: I've got to see you at once, privately. I'll wait here just twenty minutes for you. . . . Yes, you can and you will! You seem to forget, my friend, that I hold the whip hand. . . . No hard feelings, Vernie, but you know what's in store for you if you don't do what you're told. . . That's better! In twenty minutes? Right!”
Willa, meantime, had plowed her way through the slush in the Park on her early morning canter, and surrendered herself listlessly to the hands of her hair-dresser. A morning musicale, a luncheon, four teas, a dinner, opera and a dance formed the program of the day before her and she quailed in spirit. The novelty of the first few weeks following her initial dinner party had worn off, and greater ease and familiarity with the social round brought with it only an added restlessness and contempt.
There had been no clash, of late, between her will and that of the wary Mrs. Halstead, but the latter watched her every move with argus eyes and directed each detail of the day so implacably that Willa had followed the line of least resistance, save in one particular: she still slipped away at odd moments and left no trail.
Mrs. Halstead was therefore suspicious when, after the luncheon, Willa pleaded a headache, and announced flatly that she would take a siesta in lieu of attending the receptions.
”But, my dear, surely you will make an effort to put in an appearance, at least at the Allardyce's. I am particularly anxious that you make an impression there; they are most exclusive, and if they take you up your position is a.s.sured. You cannot afford to miss this opportunity.”