It was three days later when he was at his office that a
telegram came from Mrs. Dale, which read, "I depend on you, on the
honor of a gentleman, to ignore any message which may come from my
daughter until I see you."
Eugene was puzzled, but fancied that there must be a desperate
quarrel on between Suzanne and her mother, wherever they were, and
that it was probable that he would hear from her now. It was his
first inkling as to her whereabouts, for the telegram was sent off
from Three Rivers, in Canada, and he fancied they must be near
there somewhere. The place of despatch did him no good from a
material point of view, for he could neither write nor pursue
Suzanne on the strength of this. He would not know where to find
her. He could only wait, conscious that she was having a struggle,
perhaps as severe, or possibly more so, than his own. He wandered
about with this telegram in his pocket wondering when he should
hear—what a day should bring forth, and all those who came in
contact with him noticed that there was something wrong.
Colfax saw him, and asked: "What's the matter, old man? You're
not looking as chipper as you might." He fancied it might be
something in connection with the Blue Sea Corporation. He had
heard, after he had learned that Eugene was in it, that it would
take much more money than had been invested to date to make it a
really successful seaside proposition according to the original
outlines, and that it would be years before it could possibly yield
an adequate return. If Eugene had put much money in it, he had
probably lost it or tied it up in a most unsatisfactory way. Well,
it served him right for trifling with things he knew nothing
about.
"Oh, nothing," replied Eugene abstractedly. "I'm all right. I'm
just a little run down physically. I'll come round."
"You'd better take a month or so off and brace up, if you're not
in shape."
"Oh, not at all! Not now, anyhow."
It occurred to Eugene that he might use the time to advantage a
little later and that he would claim it.
They proceeded to business, but Colfax noticed that Eugene's
eyes were specially hollow and weary and that he was noticeably
restless. He wondered whether he might be going to break down
physically.
Suzanne had drifted along peacefully enough considering the
nature of the feeling between her and her mother at this time.
After a few days of desultory discussion, however, along the lines
now so familiar, she began to see that her mother had no intention
of terminating their stay at the time agreed upon, particularly
since their return to New York meant, so far as Suzanne was
concerned, her immediate departure to Witla. Mrs. Dale began at
first to plead for additional delay, and later that Suzanne should
agree not to go to New York but to Lenox for a season. It was cold
up here already now, though there were still spells of bright warm
summery or autumn weather between ten and four in the day, and
sometimes in the evening. The nights usually were cold. Mrs. Dale
would gladly have welcomed a compromise, for it was terribly
lonely, just herself and Suzanne—after the gaieties of New York.
Four days before the time of her proposed departure, Mrs. Dale was
still obdurate or parleying in a diplomatic way, and Suzanne,
disgusted, made the threat which caused Mrs. Dale to wire
distractedly to Eugene. Later, she composed the following, which
she gave to Gabrielle:
"
DEAR EUGENE
—If you love me, come and get me. I have told mama that if she
did not keep her word to return with me to New York by the
fifteenth, I would write to you and she is still obstinate. I am at
the Cathcart Lodge, While-a-Way, eighteen miles north of Three
Rivers, here in Canada. Anyone can show you. I will be here when
you come. Do not try to write to me as I am afraid I should not get
it. But I will be at the Lodge."With love,
"
SUZANNE.
"
Eugene had never before received a love appeal, nor indeed any
such appeal from any woman in his life.
This letter reached him thirty-six hours after the telegram
arrived, and set him to planning at once. The hour had struck. He
must act. Perhaps this old world was now behind him forever. Could
he really get Suzanne, if he went to Canada to find her? How was
she surrounded? He thrilled with delight when he realized that it
was Suzanne who was calling him and that he was going to find her.
"If you love me, come and get me."
Would he?
Watch!
He called for his car, telephoned his valet to pack his bag and
bring it to the Grand Central Station, first ascertaining for
himself the time of departure, asked to talk to Angela, who had
gone to Myrtle's apartment in upper Seventh Avenue, ready at last
to confess her woes to Eugene's sister. Her condition did not
appeal to Eugene in this situation. The inevitable result, which he
thought of frequently, was still far away. He notified Colfax that
he was going to take a few days rest, went to the bank where he had
over four thousand dollars on deposit, and drew it all. He then
went to a ticket office and purchased a one-way ticket, uncertain
where his actions would take him once he saw Suzanne. He tried once
more to get Angela, intending boldly to tell her that he was going
to seek Suzanne, and to tell her not to worry, that he would
communicate with her, but she had not returned. Curiously, through
all this, he was intensely sorry for her, and wondered how she
would take it, if he did not return. How would the child be
arranged for? He felt he must go. Angela was heartsick, he knew
that, and frightened. Still he could not resist this call. He could
not resist anything in connection with this love affair. He was
like a man possessed of a devil or wandering in a dream. He knew
that his whole career was at stake, but it did not make any
difference. He must get her. The whole world could go hang if he
could only obtain her,—her the beautiful, the perfect!
At five-thirty the train departed, and then he sat as it rolled
northward speculating on what he was to do when he got there. If
Three Rivers were much of a place, he could probably hire an
automobile. He could leave it some distance from the lodge and then
see if he could not approach unobserved and signal Suzanne. If she
were about, she would no doubt be on the lookout. At a sign she
would run to him. They would hurry to the automobile. The pursuit
might quickly follow, but he would arrange it so that his pursuers
would not know which railroad station he was going to. Quebec was
the nearest big city, he found by studying the map, though he might
return to Montreal and New York or Buffalo, if he chose to go west
he would see how the train ran.
It is curious what vagaries the human mind is subject to, under
conditions of this kind. Up to the time of Eugene's arrival in
Three Rivers and after, he had no plan of campaign, or of future
conduct beyond that of obtaining Suzanne. He did not know that he
would return to New York—he did not know that he would not. If
Suzanne wished, and it were best, and they could, they would go to
England from Montreal, or France. If necessary, they could go to
Portland and sail. Mrs. Dale, on the evidence that he had Suzanne
and that of her own free will and volition, might yield and say
nothing, in which case he could return to New York and resume his
position. This courageous stand on his part if he had only followed
it might have solved the whole problem quickly. It might have been
the sword that would have cut the Gordian Knot. On the train was a
heavy black-bearded man, which was always good luck to him. At
Three Rivers, when he dismounted from the train, he found a
horseshoe, which was also a lucky sign. He did not stop to think
what he would do if he really lost his position and had to live on
the sum he had with him. He was really not thinking logically. He
was dreaming. He fancied that he would get Suzanne and have his
salary, and that somehow things would be much as they were. Of such
is the logic of dreams.
When he arrived at Three Rivers, of course the conditions were
not what he anticipated. It is true that at times, after a long
continued period of dry weather, the roads were passable for
automobiles, at least as far as While-a-Way, but the weather had
not recently been entirely dry. There had been a short period of
cold rain and the roads were practically impassable, save for
horses and carryalls. There was a carryall which went as far as St.
Jacques, four miles from While-a-Way, where the driver told him he
could get a horse, if he wanted one. The owner of this hack line
had a stable there.
This was gratifying to him, and he decided to make arrangements
for two horses at St. Jacques, which he would take to within a
reasonable distance of the lodge and tie in some spot where they
would not be seen. Then he could consider the situation and signal
Suzanne; if she were there on the lookout. How dramatic the end
would be! How happy they would be flying together! Judge then his
astonishment on reaching St. Jacques to find Mrs. Dale waiting for
him. Word had been telephoned by her faithful representative, the
station agent at Three Rivers, that a man of Eugene's description
had arrived and departed for While-a-Way. Before this a telegram
had come from New York from Kinroy to the effect that Eugene had
gone somewhere. His daily habits since Mrs. Dale had gone away had
been under observation. Kinroy, on his return, had called at the
United Magazines Corporation and asked if Eugene was in the city.
Heretofore he had been reported in. When on this day he was
reported as having gone, Kinroy called up Angela to inquire. She
also stated that he had left the city. He then wired his mother and
she, calculating the time of his arrival, and hearing from the
station agent of his taking the carryall, had gone down to meet
him. She had decided to fight every inch of the way with all the
strategy at her command. She did not want to kill him—had not
really the courage to do that—but she still hoped to dissuade him.
She had not been able to bring herself to resort to guards and
detectives as yet. He could not be as hard as he looked and acted.
Suzanne was bedeviling him by her support and communications. She
had not been able to govern there, she saw. Her only hope was to
talk him out of it, or into an additional delay. If necessary, they
would all go back to New York together and she would appeal to
Colfax and Winfield. She hoped they would persuade him to reason.
Anyhow, she would never leave Suzanne for one moment until this
thing had been settled in her favor, or brutally against her.
When Eugene appeared she greeted him with her old social smile
and called to him affably: "Come, get in."
He looked at her grimly and obeyed, but changed his manner when
he saw that she was really kindly in her tone and greeted her
sociably.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"Oh, quite well, thank you!"
"And how is Suzanne?"
"All right, I fancy. She isn't here, you know."
"Where is she?" asked Eugene, his face a study in defeat.
"She went with some friends to visit Quebec for ten days. Then
she is going from there to New York. I don't expect to see her here
any more."
Eugene choked with a sense of repugnance to her airy
taradiddles. He did not believe what she was saying—saw at once
that she was fencing with him.
"That's a lie," he said roughly, "and it's out of the whole
cloth! She's here, and you know it. Anyhow, I am going to see for
myself."
"How polite you are!" she laughed diplomatically. "That isn't
the way you usually talk. Anyhow, she isn't here. You'll find that
out, if you insist. I wouldn't advise you to insist, for I've sent
for counsel since I heard you were coming, and you will find
detectives as well as guards waiting to receive you. She isn't
here, though, even at that, and you might just as well turn round
and go back. I will drive you over to Three Rivers, if you wish.
Why not be reasonable, now, and avoid a scene? She isn't here. You
couldn't have her if she were. The people I have employed will
prevent that. If you make trouble, you will simply be arrested and
then the newspapers will have it. Why not be reasonable now, Mr.
Witla, and go on back? You have everything to lose. There is a
train through Three Rivers from Quebec for New York at eleven
tonight. We can make it. Don't you want to do that? I will agree,
if you come to your senses now, and cause me no trouble here, to
bring Suzanne back to New York within a month. I won't let you have
her unless you get a divorce and straighten things out with your
wife, but if you can do that within six months, or a year, and she
still wants you, you can have her. I will promise in writing to
withdraw all objection, and see that her full share of her property
comes to her uncontested. I will help you and her socially all I
can. You know I am not without influence."
"I want to see her first," replied Eugene grimly and
disbelievingly.
"I won't say that I will forget everything," went on Mrs. Dale,
ignoring his interpolated remark. "I can't—but I will pretend to.
You can have the use of my country place at Lenox. I will buy out
the lease at Morristown, or the New York House, and you can live in
either place. I will set aside a sum of money for your wife, if you
wish. That may help you obtain your release. Surely you do not want
to take her under the illegal condition which you propose, when you
can have her outright in this brilliant manner by waiting a little
while. She says she does not want to get married, but that is silly
talk, based on nothing except erratic reading. She does, or she
will, the moment she comes to think about it seriously. Why not
help her? Why not go back now and let me bring her to New York a
little later and then we will talk this all over. I shall be very
glad to have you in my family. You are a brilliant man. I have
always liked you. Why not be reasonable? Come now and let's drive
over to Three Rivers and you take the train back to New York, will
you?"