_ CHAPTER IX
OSCAR PRESSES FORWARD AND MAKES SOME STARTLING DISCOVERIES--ALSO ENCOUNTERS A CONTINUOUS LINE OF ADVENTURES.
Dudie Dunne did not know whether to believe the girl's statements or not. He was compelled to admit a partial verification, as he certainly had seen her struggling in the hands of a man, and again there was no need for her to announce the fact that Argetti was a criminal unless she spoke the truth. He stooped down and picked up the glittering object from the ground. It proved to be a small miniature that could be worn on a watch chain. He drew his little mask lantern, flashed its light on the painted face, and uttered a cry of amazement. It was a most thrilling revelation that came to him. It was beyond all question the face of Alphonse Donetti. It had probably been torn off his guard chain during his struggle with the girl. He was a confederate of Argetti. He was a would-be assassin. Alas! he had no cheerful news for poor Alice Frewen, but he was verging toward a startling discovery, leading up to a clue to the solution of the Roman robbery and murder.
"What is it?" asked the girl.
"It's a miniature."
"Let me see it."
Oscar held the light on the picture so the girl could see it. She looked at it intently and said:
"He is one I never saw before, but he is undoubtedly a confederate, and he believes I betrayed Argetti. It is a wonder he did not attack you."
"He merely sought to revenge his pals on you; but now what shall we do?"
"I must flee away."
"No, you will go with me. I will find a home for you."
As the detective spoke he flashed the light of his lantern square on the girl's face. Hers was indeed a remarkable face. She was very beautiful, and there was an expression upon it which Oscar, despite his discerning powers, could not interpret.
"Do you wish me to go with you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You have done me a service and in so doing have run yourself into peril. I must see that no harm comes to you."
"You may intend to use me as a witness."
"It is possible."
"Then I cannot go with you. I will never turn against that man."
"Are you under any obligations to him?"
"He never abused me. He was fond of me--treated me with great kindness, although he is a very desperate man. No, you must be satisfied with what service I have done you; I can never turn witness against him. I trust to your generosity to save me this trial."
"I will promise not to call upon you as a witness."
"I had long determined to flee away. I was not satisfied with my life with that man, although I cannot complain of his treatment. He gave me plenty of money, bought me expensive clothing, gave me jewels. He claims I am his niece; I do not believe it is a true claim."
"You say he gave you jewels?"
"Yes."
"Then he must have money."
"He is rich."
"How it is he lives in such miserable quarters?"
"That is a hiding place. He dwells there to hide his identity, but he has an elegant residence in New York. It is only within the last few weeks that he took up his abode in those miserable quarters where you found me."
"You were disposed to act as his confederate when I first met you."
"Yes, but I relented and I tried to give you warning; you would not heed me."
Our hero recalled the warning words, and she continued:
"I suddenly resolved to carry out my design and flee away. I wished to save your life, for I believed you were in peril. When you passed our house he looked from the window and concluded you were searching for him. He evidently within the last few weeks has feared pursuit. I acted under his instructions. I did not dare refuse, but I did seek to save you. Then I concluded you were perfectly able to take care of yourself. The result proves my conclusion correct."
Our hero had obtained a great deal of suggestive information, but a little discovery had caused him considerable discomfort. He had hoped to reach a different result in his investigations concerning Alphonse Donetti. He feared now that the very worst construction must be placed upon his character and career.
"Where is the house of Argetti in New York located?" he asked.
"I cannot tell you."
"You do not know?"
"I know, yes, for in that house are many articles of great value belonging to me."
"Presents from Argetti?"
"Yes."
"I am afraid it is dangerous property for you to claim."
"I shall never claim anything except the money. I will need that when I flee."
"Where will you go? Will you return to Italy?"
"No, I dare not go there."
"And your money is in that house?"
"Yes."
"Let me see. We will go to New York at once, and you shall go and get the money and then report back to me."
"No, I shall not go there to-night."
"Why not?"
The girl made no answer.
The detective again meditated; he recognized that he had a very bright and shrewd person to deal with, and he said:
"Very well, then return to your humbler home to-night, and I will call out and see you to-morrow."
"No, I will not return there."
"Why not?"
"I dare not. The attack upon me proves that I am under suspicion. Argetti's friends would not spare me."
"Do his neighbors know his character?"
"No."
"Did he have visitors at the house where I first met you?"
"No."
"Then how do you know he has those confederates?
"They called upon him frequently at his home in New York. They must have warned him of danger."
"You can return to your late home. Argetti will not return to that house. I shall take him to New York as a prisoner."
"Then I must disappear at once."
"Will you meet me to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"I will meet you to-morrow night."
"In New York?"
"Yes."
"Very well, meet me at ----." Our hero named a place and said he would walk back with her. She asked to be permitted to proceed alone.
"Very well, I shall remain here until morning to watch my prisoner, but to-morrow night I will meet you in New York at the place named."
"I will meet you," said the girl.
The reader will learn later on why our hero was apparently so slack in permitting the girl, under all the circumstances, to go away alone. She started off and he returned to the cabin. Once inside he determined to take great chances. He did not remain in the cabin, but returned by a straight cut across the meadows to the vicinity of the row of houses where Argetti had his home. His wisdom was justified. He saw the girl enter the house. He lay round and later saw her come forth, although it was after midnight. He had worked a transform and started on the track. She took the cars for New York; he rode with the engineer on the engine of the elevated train. She did not see him when she reached the ferry. He crossed with her and on the New York side luck favored him. He met a brother detective. He had just time to give the latter some directions, and he fell to the girl's trail again. He had made up his mind as to the course he would take, and again his conclusions were justified in the most startling manner. He had anticipated her design and in following her he had been compelled to be very careful, for he speedily discerned that she was on the watch against being followed. She evidently suspected that she would be, and Oscar had lain very close in order to avoid observation, but he was delighted at the prospect of witnessing the verification of his suspicions. The girl finally arrived in front of a very nice house--one of those narrow houses to be found uptown in New York in very stylish neighborhoods. The detective was actually compelled to throw himself at full length beside the curb in order to avoid observation, and he actually crept forward like a huge snail, for the girl was very cute and careful in ascertaining whether she was being followed or not. At length our hero's patience and endurance were rewarded; he saw the girl ascend the stoop of a house, produce a key and enter; and he then knew that she had returned to the lodging place back of Brooklyn--to Argetti's poorer quarters--for the very purpose of getting this key. She passed inside the house, and then Dunne rose to his feet, ran forward and darted down to the basement door of the house. Once under the stoop it took him but a little time to open the door, and he too passed inside the house. He did not stop to take observations, but hastened up the stairs, and in the rear room on the second floor he saw the glimmer of a light. It was a critical moment, but he was a winner. He made no hesitation in entering the room. He did not stop to watch the girl. He was fully satisfied in having located the house. He felt he could trust himself for all other discoveries. He peeped into the room and beheld the girl standing before a mirror, and for the first time only realized how singularly beautiful she was. He stepped into the room; the girl was so intent gazing at her beautiful self in the mirror she did not hear his entrance, but suddenly as she beheld his reflection in the glass she uttered a suppressed scream and turned and faced him with the startled exclamation, "You here!"
"Yes."
"This is treachery."
Oscar smiled and said:
"Do not use so harsh a term."
"It is indeed treachery; you were to meet me to-morrow night."
"Yes, and I will. I did not
meet you this time, I followed you."
"You now have sealed my doom. They will follow me to the end of the world. They will know beyond all question that I am a traitress, or they will assume so."
"I repeat, you need not fear these men."
"I do not see how you succeeded in following me. I thought it possible and I watched; you were very clever."
"Cleverness comes in the way of business with me."
"What did you do with Argetti?"
"He will be in jail ere sunrise."
"Then ere sunrise I must be as far from New York as I can get."
"You will not get far."
"I will not get far?"
"No."
"What do you mean?" demanded the girl, her face assuming a ghastly hue.
"You are not the master of your own movements."
The look that overspread the beautiful girl's face was pitiful to behold, and she exclaimed in a tone of heartbreaking sadness:
"Then you have betrayed me."
"No, I have not betrayed you. I have simply made you my prisoner."
"I am your prisoner?"
"Yes."
Our hero spoke in a stern voice.
There came a look of agony to the girl's face as she murmured:
"It is as I feared; it is all over."
As she spoke she drew something from the bosom of her dress and was carrying it to her lips, but the detective was too quick for her. He leaped forward and seized her wrist. She sought to struggle, but in his powerful grasp her struggles soon ceased, and as she stood pale, trembling and helpless, she said:
"Please let me die."
"Why do you wish to die?"
"I do not want to live."
"Answer me one question: are you a criminal, and do you fear to live?"
"I am not a criminal. What I told you was the truth."
"Then why do you wish to die?"
"Better die now and at once rather than endure the agonies of constant suspense. Let me die, and I will but anticipate the dagger of the assassin."
"What is your name?"
"What difference does it make to you?"
"Tell me."
"My name is Caroline Metti."
"Caroline, if what you told me earlier in the night was the truth this is the most fortunate night of your life; you have more reason to desire to live now than you ever had before."
"Do not mock and taunt me."
"I am neither mocking nor taunting you. I am telling you the truth."
"I do not understand what you mean."
"You will have different surroundings the rest of your life. You have won my interest and sympathy."
"And yet you have made me your prisoner."
"Only to save you against yourself. I would not bring harm to a hair of your head. I desire to save your life and your soul."
"Why?"
"Because I believe you are an unfortunate person and that you mean well, and now as far as these men are concerned you are free from them forever, I care not how many there are of them. Argetti is doomed, and every one of his friends, including the man who assailed you, will either be captured or driven from the country. A way will be provided for you to support yourself in independence. That is what I mean, and now I have something to tell you. I will be compelled to treat you as a prisoner for a little while. I do not wish to make you a party in any way to what I propose to do."
The girl appeared perplexed when our hero put handcuffs on her wrists, and after a moment in a very disconsolate tone she said: "I am not deceived; I know I am doomed. Very well, proceed. The time will come when I will have a chance to free myself." _