Part 33 (1/2)
”It is the jorobadito, Jose, who has disappeared now!”
”What?” Willa faltered. ”You mean that Jose has gone also? It cannot be, Senora Rodriguez! There must be a mistake! He would not go unless he were abducted!”
”No, Senorita; there was no abduction!” the Spanish woman cried. ”The little Jose was all of yesterday most thoughtful. Scarcely could I arouse him to eat, and as his fever abated I allowed him to sit in the sun upon the gla.s.s-enclosed back porch and did not urge upon him the medicine he hates. Last night as he went to bed he kissed my hand quite suddenly, a thing he has not done before, though always was he courteous. This morning he was gone as the old Senora went, without warning.--Senorita, I am a poor woman, but I would give half I possess to have the pobrecito back for he is frail and weak to be alone in this great city and he has not a peso with him. Moreover, he brought me luck. What can I do, Senorita, to find him once more?”
Willa cut the woman's protestations short, and, calling up the garage--their prearranged rendez-vous--instructed Dan to meet her at the bridge.
Intent on the new calamity, she gave no heed as to the probability of having been overheard by Angie, but hurriedly departed.
The deeply concerned Dan broke all records and narrowly escaped arrest in getting her to the Rodriguez home, but nothing further could be elicited from its dismayed chatelaine. Her sincerity, however, was self-evident; she could have had no hand in the disappearance of the little hunchback.
The day was spent in a feverishly renewed search which brought no surcease of anxiety and at its end Willa dragged herself with leaden feet to her room. Her head seemed bursting and she shook as with an ague as she dressed for the tedious dinner and the still more tedious game of bridge which was the program of the evening. She dared not absent herself, explanations enough would be demanded of her for the day's broken engagements, but she looked forward to the hours ahead with a dread foreboding which she could not name.
It was merely nerves, she a.s.sured herself; she was worn-out mentally and physically with the continued strain and ceaseless effort and she forced her thoughts resolutely away from the false but ecstatic happiness which might have been hers on that evening save for the discovery of Kearn Thode's perfidy.
The arrival of the expected guests commanded her descent to the drawing-room, dinner somehow dragged through its almost interminable length and the bridge-tables were made up, when a diversion occurred.
The door-bell pealed, and Welch obeyed its summons, then came and called Ripley Halstead quietly from his place. No premonition warned Willa, even when her cousin returned visibly perturbed and excused himself for the evening, pleading an unantic.i.p.ated business conference.
The tables were readjusted and the game went on to its close. Then came supper, and when the last of the guests had departed the hands of the clock were on the stroke of twelve and Willa turned with a sigh of relief to ascend to her room.
Midway the stairs, she was halted by hearing her name called in strange, stunned accents, and, turning, saw Ripley Halstead standing in the library door, regarding her with dazed, half-incredulous eyes, as though she were a changeling.
Instantly the truth came to her, and with head held high and a slight scornful smile upon her lips she descended and approached him.
The long table in the center of the library was strewn with large legal-looking doc.u.ments, and beside it sat Mason North, his rotund body sagged in the chair, his good-natured face drawn and haggard. Opposite him stood Starr Wiley, his bruised lips twisted into a leer of triumph.
The girl looked gravely from one to the other and then turning to her cousin, waited submissively for him to speak.
”Willa, my dear----” he paused, clearing his throat nervously--”I have something to tell you which will be a painful shock to you. It has utterly unnerved me. I--I would not have dreamed that such an astounding discovery could come to pa.s.s and at this late date it is particularly distressing----”
”Better permit me to tell her, Ripley.” Mason North rose heavily to his feet and stood with one pudgy hand braced upon the table as if for support. ”The mistake was mine in too eagerly grasping the obvious as proof.--My dear Wil--my dear girl, I am profoundly grieved, but it has been brought to our attention that--that there are grave doubts as to your ident.i.ty! In fact, belated but seemingly irrefutable doc.u.mentary evidence appears to prove that you--you are not Willa Murdaugh!”
The girl stood like a statue, but from behind her Mrs. Halstead gasped convulsively, and there came a little squeal in Angie's treble tones.
”Sit down, my dear.” Ripley Halstead drew forward a chair and Willa sank obediently into it, her eyes never leaving those of the attorney.
The others came in and seated themselves unbidden; all but Vernon. He took up his stand behind Willa's chair and for a moment his hand brushed her shoulder as if to a.s.sure her of his presence in case of need.
”It is only just that an immediate and detailed explanation be made to you,” North continued. ”I am sure it is unnecessary for me to express my regret and sympathy, but I want you to realize that I am as entirely at your service in every way as I was prior to this discovery.
”When I found you in Limasito and retraced your history from the time the man known as 'Gentleman Geoff' adopted you supposedly in Topaz Gulch, I overlooked one significant phase in his peregrinations. Willa Murdaugh's parentage and the circ.u.mstances of her birth were in every particular as I have told you; Ralph Murdaugh died when the baby was two years old, his wife lost her life in a fire two years later and the child was actually adopted by Gentleman Geoff and taken with him on his wanderings.
”Now it has transpired that the first heavy snow of the following winter caught him midway between two mining camps far up in the Rockies, near Flathead Lake, Montana. Does that name recall any memories to you?”
Willa shook her head, mutely, and the attorney after a moment's pause went on:
”It is scarcely likely that it would, for you yourself could have been no more than five years old at the time. However, Gentleman Geoff and the little Willa were lost in the blizzard, and, after suffering untold horrors, he finally made his way to the cabin of a trapper, named----”
he hesitated and glanced down at the papers beneath his hand--”named Frank Hillery. This trapper Hillery's wife had run away with another man some years before, leaving him with a little daughter on his hands, a child of about five years, called Louise.”