Part 34 (1/2)

It consisted of the marriage-certificate of Frank Hillery and Louise Henson, dated December 12, 1895; the birth-certificate of Louise Francis Hillery, October 3, 1897, several maps of the Flathead Lake territory with trails marked upon them in red ink, the death-certificate of Frank Hillery, dated April 16, 1916, and a huge sheet of foolscap paper scrawled with labored characters in wavering lines. At the bottom two signatures were appended, the first in the same painstaking hand as the body of the doc.u.ment, but at the second Willa's breath caught again in her throat and her eyes blurred.

The letters before her, in the same angular heavily down-stroked writing she knew so well, formed the name of Gentleman Geoff, but a word had been added; one that she had never seen or heard before. Abercrombie!

Gentleman Geoff Abercrombie!

Had that been indeed the unmentioned surname of the man who had reared her as his own? Why, then, had he, who had given her all else, not given her, too, the name to bear?

The doc.u.ment set forth in brief that Frank Hillery, being of sound mind and sole guardian of his daughter, Louise Frances, did give her to Geoffrey Abercrombie, known as ”Gentleman Geoff,” for absolute adoption; the said Gentleman Geoff promising to bring her up in all ways as his own child and to leave her whatever he might die possessed of. It was dated March 12, 1902.

”You will permit me to have photographic copies of each of these papers, Mr. North?” Willa asked, when the last had been laid aside.

”Certainly, my child.” The attorney's voice was suspiciously husky.

”Allow me to a.s.sure you that there will be no hurry, of course. It will take some weeks to verify and substantiate this evidence, and in the meantime----”

”Willa shall remain with us, of course,” Ripley Halstead said with deep feeling. ”This is a most unwelcome revelation to me, I may say to all of us. We have grown greatly attached to Willa and come to look upon her as quite one of ourselves.--There is no reason, my dear, why you should not stay on indefinitely. I am sure my wife will be glad to second me in this.”

”Of course.” Mrs. Halstead spoke through tightened lips. ”This has been a most regrettable mistake, and one which will entail a hideous amount of notoriety, but that cannot be helped now. It is an almost overwhelming shock, but it explains many things which I have found incomprehensible.

After all, this poor young girl is the worst sufferer, and she will be welcome here as long as she cares to stay.”

Angie gasped, but made no comment and it was Vernon alone who echoed his mother's a.s.surance in sincere enthusiasm.

”Thank you,” Willa said simply. ”You are all more than kind, but you realize, of course, that I should feel like an interloper; my place is no longer here.”

”But, my dear, it will not do to be too hasty! Suppose that these doc.u.ments are not--suppose no mistake was made in the original identification----?” The attorney was halted by her steady gaze.

”Mr. North, you are convinced already. Why delay the inevitable?” She rose. ”However, we won't discuss it further now, if you don't mind.

I--I feel very tired.”

”Of course, dear child! We have kept you up till an unconscionable hour!” Mason North approached her with outstretched hand. ”Remember that you will always find a friend in me. Come to me at any time.”

”Thank you. May I send for the photographic copies of the doc.u.ments to-morrow?” Willa turned to the others in a grave dignity not without its pathos. ”You have all been very good to me; whatever happens I shall never forget that. I wish now that I had been more amenable to your advice and suggestions, but it is too late to think of that. Good-night.”

Her head was still high as she walked to the door, but when it had closed behind her, she paused trembling as though suddenly bereft of her strength.

In the silence, Angie's querulous tones rose sharply from the other side of the door.

”I felt all along that something was wrong! I knew that wild uncouth thing couldn't be a Murdaugh, in spite of the common mother----”

Willa put her hands to her ears and fled madly up the stairs to her room where she sank limply upon the couch. Exhausted in mind and body with the storm of emotion which had swayed her and the strain of the protracted effort of self-control, she fell asleep at last with one determination firmly fixed in her mind. The roof which had reluctantly sheltered her should do so no longer.

She awakened in the early morning and lay for a moment in drowsy bewilderment before full realization came. Then she sprang from her bed, dressed hastily in her plainest clothes, and, packing a small bag with necessities, stole softly down the stairs.

She s.h.i.+vered as she let herself out into the cold, bleak morning. As yet no plan had formed in her mind save to find a temporary abode in some quiet neighborhood until the search for Tia Juana was ended in some conclusive fas.h.i.+on. That was still the first of the duties confronting her and the change in her fortunes did not swerve her an iota from the charge she had laid upon herself. Later there would be two points to be achieved; the one which had actuated her from the beginning, and another which was even now beating upon her consciousness.

When Dan Morrissey came whistling into the garage an hour later, he stopped short in amazement at the sight of his employer seated just inside the entrance with her bag at her feet.

”Good-morning, Dan. Is the car in order?”

”Yes, Miss. Good-morning.” He stared blankly, and then with a start he recovered himself. ”Just a minute, Miss! I'll have her out in no time.”