_ CHAPTER VI. A REMARKABLE MEETING
When Jack Gardner returned to the dining-room after his interview with Radnor, he was vaguely troubled, notwithstanding the fact that he was also highly amused. There were elements associated with the thing he had just done that might stir up unpleasant consequences. His inordinate love for a practical joke had led him into it willingly, and he had thought he saw in this affair the best and greatest joke he had ever attempted to perpetrate. But he began to understand that there was a tragic element to it which he could not deny to himself; and, when he was in the act of resuming his chair beside Beatrice, he was more than half-inclined, even then, to rush from the building in the pursuit of Burke Radnor, and to withdraw the whole story that he had given to the newspaper man.
When, a few moments later, Radnor's card was brought to Duncan, the sense of impending disaster was stronger than ever upon Gardner, and he watched the departure of the young millionaire with many misgivings, not one of which he could have defined in words. But he watched the doorway through which Duncan passed, and, during the interval that ensued, he was very palpably disturbed and uneasy. He had recognized the card, although he had been unable to see the name that was engraved upon it. He had not supposed that Radnor would so quickly pursue his investigation of the story, and it had not even remotely occurred to the young copper-king, that the newspaper man would dare to go so far as to seek an immediate interview with Duncan. Even had the man selected Beatrice, it would not have been quite so bad.
Nobody knew Duncan better than did Jack Gardner, and he realized what a strong and stirring effect this fake-story, as made up between himself and Beatrice, might have upon one who was such a stickler for certain forms as he knew Duncan to be. His impulse was to follow his friend from the room, but he resisted it, although he did keep his gaze spasmodically fixed upon the door by which Roderick must reenter the dining-room.
Gardner was the first of the party to discover him, when he did return, and was quick to see that something unusual had happened during the interval outside, which had been all too short to have been fruitful of any other result than violence of some sort. He saw, by the set expression of his friend's face and by the pallor upon it, that something had gone wrong, and he started to his feet and moved rapidly forward, so that he met Duncan half-way between the entrance and the table where Beatrice and Sally Gardner were now left alone together. He grasped his friend by the arm, and drew him aside, saying rapidly, as he did so:
"For God's sake, Dun, what has happened? Tell me quickly."
Roderick Duncan looked down calmly, and without change of expression upon Gardner, for he was considerably taller than his friend; and he said, slowly, in reply:
"Without answering your question, Jack, I wish to ask you one. Was it Burke Radnor whom you were called out to meet, a little while ago, in the reception-room?"
Not thinking of the possible consequences of his response, Gardner admitted, hastily, that it had been Radnor, and Duncan asked another question.
"Did Radnor question you about a marriage-ceremony that is supposed to have taken place between Beatrice Brunswick and myself, to-night?"
"Well, you see--"
"Answer me yes, or no, Jack, if you please."
"Well, then, he did."
"Have you any idea, Jack, where he obtained the nucleus for such a story?"
Gardner hesitated, and Duncan from his greater height, bent forward quickly, and with a strong grip, seized the young copper-king by the shoulder.
"Jack Gardner," he demanded, "did you, at the instigation of Beatrice, concoct that story? Have I you to thank for it? You need not answer, Jack. I can read the reply in the expression of your face." He withdrew his hand from its detaining grasp upon his friend, and took a half-step backward; then, he added: "Jack, if we were anywhere else than in a public dining-room, I should resent what you have done bitterly--and by actions, not words. As it is, I demand that you instantly seek, and find, Burke Radnor, and retract whatever you have said, or inferred, during your conversation with him. I warn you, Gardner, that if one single line appears in any of the papers to-morrow morning on this subject I'll find a way to resent it, which will make you regret, all your life, your nameless conduct of to-night."
Gardner turned decidedly pale, not because of any physical fear he felt of Duncan, but in dread of the possible consequences of what he had permitted himself to do.
"Where is Radnor, now?" he exclaimed, quickly.
"I left him half-conscious, on the floor of the reception-room," replied Duncan, calmly. "I knocked him down."
"Good God!" exclaimed Gardner; and he turned and rushed away with precipitate haste.
Duncan went on toward the table at which Beatrice and Sally were seated, but as he approached it, a desire to hear the sound of Patricia's voice possessed him, and he turned abruptly toward that other table, occupied by Stephen Langdon, with his daughter and the lawyer.
Devoting a careless nod to the two men, Duncan addressed his fiancee, speaking loudly enough so that her companions might hear.
"Patricia," he said, "will you do me a very great favor? It is of vital importance, otherwise I would not ask it."
"Indeed?" she replied, raising her big, dark eyes to his. "Your question and your manner as well imply something that is almost tragic, Roderick. What is it that you wish me to do?"
"A very little thing, Patricia. Will you, for a moment, accompany me to the table where Beatrice and Sally Gardner are dining?"
"Why, most certainly," she replied. "You give a very big reason for a very small thing, don't you? Of course, I will go to them." She left her seat instantly, and crossed to the other table; Duncan followed, closely. Patricia accepted the chair that Jack Gardner had occupied, which Duncan drew out for her. Then, he resumed his own. As soon as they were seated, the young millionaire, drawing his chair a bit closer, said, addressing them, generally:
"I have something to say which I wish each of you to hear. To-night, a rumor has been started, somehow, that Miss Brunswick and I were married an hour or so ago, at the Church of the Transfiguration." Patricia gave a slight start, but he continued, unheedingly: "A certain newspaper man, Radnor by name, has already sought to interview me, and he went so far as to insist that he was positive in his assertions as to such a ceremony having taken place. Of course, Beatrice and I both know it to be untrue, and I now make this statement in order to warn you all of what may possibly appear in the morning papers; that is all I have to say on the subject."
Beatrice had flushed hotly at the beginning of his statement, and, while he continued, she turned deadly pale. Sally, who it will be remembered had not been taken into the confidence of the intriguers, laughed. Patricia was the only one who appeared to be unmoved by the announcement, but she kept her eyes fixed upon the face of her friend, and she correctly interpreted the changing colors and expressions of Beatrice Brunswick's face.
Whatever might have been the consequences of Duncan's announcement and Miss Brunswick's emotions, her conscious blushes and subsequent pallor, it was interrupted by the sudden and swift return of Gardner, who exclaimed, excitedly:
"Sally, I want you right away; and you, too, Beatrice. It's almost a matter of life and death. Never mind the supper--we can have one some other time. Duncan, you won't mind, will you, if I take them away?" He leaned forward and added, in a whisper: "I am carrying out what you asked me to do, and I need their help." Then, straightening himself, he addressed Patricia: "You will excuse us all, won't you? Come, Sally; for heaven's sake, make haste! There isn't a moment of time to lose."
Sally Gardner had never seen her husband in quite such a state of excitement, but as she was one of the kind that is always ready for anything in the shape of adventure, and scented one here, she lost no time in complying with his request. Beatrice's expression was first of amusement; then, of comprehension. Almost before any of the party fully realized what had happened, Jack Gardner and his companions were gone. Patricia and Roderick Duncan were alone at the table.
She turned her expressive eyes toward him and regarded him closely, but in silence, for a moment. Then, in a low tone, she inquired:
"May I ask if you understand this amazing succession of incidents? To me, it is entirely incomprehensible. If you can explain it, I wish you would do so."
"I am afraid, Patricia, that it cannot be explained--that is, any farther than I've already done so," he replied.
"Who is responsible for this remarkable story you say the newspaper man asked you about?"
Duncan hesitated. Then, he replied:
"When Beatrice and I left the opera-house to-night, we entered a taxicab, and we did drive as far as the iron gateway that admits one to the Church of the Transfiguration. We did not enter; in fact, we did not leave the cab at all. It is possible, though hardly probable, that we were followed by some reporter."
"But why did you drive to the Church of the Transfiguration, at all?" she asked him, with a smile upon her face that had something of derision in it, for she plainly saw that Duncan was floundering badly in his effort to explain. When he hesitated for a suitable reply, she continued: "Why, may I ask, did you leave the box at the opera-house, in such a surreptitious manner? It seems to me that the Church of the Transfiguration was an odd destination for you to have selected, when you did leave it, with Beatrice for a companion. Or was there a pre-arrangement between you. Was it her suggestion, or was it yours, Roderick?"
"It was mine," he replied; and he could not help smiling at the recollection of it, even though the present moment was filled with tragic possibilities.
"It seems to amuse you," she told him.
"It does--now."
"Had you, for the moment, forgotten that you were under contract with me, for Monday morning?"
Instead of replying at once, he leaned forward half-across the table toward her, and, fixing his gaze steadily upon her, said, with low earnestness:
"Patricia, for God's sake, let us cease all this fencing; let us put an end to this succession of misunderstandings. You know how I love you! You know--"
"I know that this is a very badly chosen time and place for you to make such declarations, or for me to listen to them. Will you come back with me now to the other table, and join Mr. Melvin and my father? People have begun to observe us. If these rumors bear any fruits, such a course seems to me to be the best one to adopt, under the circumstances."
She arose without awaiting his reply, and he followed her.
"Melvin," he said to the lawyer, as soon as he was seated at the other table, "Miss Langdon will agree with me, I think, that it is quite necessary I should accompany you to your home when we leave this place, in order to examine with you certain papers which you have drawn, or are to draw, at her request. Have I your permission, Patricia?" he added.
"I see no objection, if that is what you mean," Patricia replied; "although I think it would be better that we should all drive together to Mr. Melvin's house for the papers--"
"I have them here, in my pocket," the lawyer interrupted her.
"So much the better, then," Patricia continued, rapidly. "I think the best arrangement, all circumstances considered, would be to go together to my father's house, so that all the interested parties may be present at the interview."
Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, this was agreed upon, and in due time the four were grouped in the library of the Langdon home, where Malcolm Melvin, with the notes he had made that afternoon before him, began in a monotonous voice to read the stipulations of the document upon which Patricia Langdon had decided that she could rely, to supply a soothing balm for her wounded pride. It was a strange gathering to assemble at two o'clock in the morning, but none of them, save possibly the lawyer, seemed cognizant of the curious aspect of the meeting. _