But all this was superficial. The Adamses, between themselves, decided that Miss Austin was more deeply mysterious than was shown by her disinclination to make friends. They concluded she was transacting important business of some sort, and that her sketching of the winter scenery, which she did every clear day, was merely a blind.
Though Mrs. Adams resented this, and urged her husband to send the girl packing, Old Salt demurred.
Shes done no harm as yet, he said. Shes a mystery, but not a wrong one, s fars I can make out. Let her alone, mother. Ive got my eye on her.
Ive got my two eyes on her, and I can see moren you can. Why, Salt, that girl dont hardly sleep at all. Night after night, she sits up looking out of the window, over toward the college buildings
How do you know?
I go and listen at her door, Mrs. Adams admitted, without embarrassment. I want to know what shes up to.
You cant see her.
No, but I hear her moving around restlessly, and putting the window up and down and Miss Bascom her rooms cornerways on the ell, she says she sees her looking out the window late at night most every night.
Miss Bascoms a meddling old maid, and Id put her out of this house before I would the little girl.
Of course you would! Youre all set up because she makes so much of you
Oh, come now, Esther, you cant say that child makes much of me! I wish she would. Ive taken a fancy to her.
Yes, because shes pretty in a gipsy, witch-like fashion. What men see in a pair of big black eyes, and a dark, sallow face, I dont know!
Not sallow, Old Salt said, reflectively; olive, rather but not sallow.
Oh you! exclaimed Mrs. Adams, and with that cryptic remark the subject was dropped.
Gordon Lockwood, secretary of John Waring, had a room at the Adams house. But as he took no meals there save his breakfasts, and as he ate those early, he had not yet met Anita Austin.
But one Saturday morning, he chanced to be late, and the two sat at table together.
An astute reader of humanity, Lockwood at once became interested in the girl, and realized that to win her attention he must not be eager or insistent.
He spoke only one or two of the merest commonplaces, until almost at the close of the meal, he said:
Can I do anything for you, Miss Austin? If you would care to hear any of the College lectures, I can arrange it.
Who are the speakers?
She turned her eyes fully upon him, and Gordon Lockwood marveled at their depth and beauty.
Tonight, he replied, Doctor Waring is to lecture on Egyptian Archaeology. Are you interested in that?
Yes, she said, very much so. Id like to go.
You certainly may, then. Just use this card.
He took a card from his pocket, scribbled a line across it, and gave it to her. Without another word, he finished his breakfast, and with a mere courteous bow, he left the room.
Miss Austins face took on a more scrutable look than ever.
The card still in her hand, she went up to her room. Unheeding the maid, who was at her duties there, the girl threw herself into a big chair and sat staring at the card.
The Egyptian Temples, she said to herself, Doctor John Waring.
The maid looked at her curiously as she murmured the words half aloud, but Miss Austin paid no heed.
Go on with your work, Nora, dont mind me, she said, at last, as the chambermaid paused inquiringly in front of her. I dont mind your being here until you finish what you have to do. And I wish youd bring me a Corinth paper, please? There is one, isnt there?
Oh, yes, maam. Twice a week.
Nora disappeared and returned with a paper.
Mr. Adams says you may have this to keep. Its the newest one.
The girl took it and turned to find the College announcements. The Egyptian Lecture was mentioned, and in another column was a short article regarding Doctor Waring and a picture of him.
Long the girl looked at the picture, and when the maid, her tasks completed, left the room, she noticed Miss Austin still staring at the fine face of the President-elect of the University of Corinth.
After a time, she reached for a pair of scissors, and cut out the portrait and the article which it illustrated.
She put the clipping in a portfolio, which she then locked in her trunk, and the picture she placed on her dresser.
That night she went to the lecture. She went alone, for Gordon Lockwood did not reappear and no one else knew of her going.
Shall I have a key, or will you be up? she asked of Mrs. Adams, as she left the house.
Oh, well be up. The round, shrewd eyes looked at her kindly. Youre lucky to get a ticket. Doctor Warings lectures are crowded.
Good night, said Miss Austin, and went away.
The lecture room was partly filled when she arrived, and her ticket entitled her to a seat near the front.
Being seated, she fell into a brown study, or, at least, sat motionless and apparently in deep thought.
Gordon Lockwood, already there, saw her come in, and after she was in her place, he quietly arose and went across the room, taking a seat directly behind her.
Of this she was quite unaware, and the student of human nature gave himself up to a scrutiny of the stranger.
He saw a little head, its mass of dark, almost black hair surmounted by a small turban shaped hat, of taupe colored velvet, with a curly ostrich tip nestling over one ear.
Not that her ears were visible, for Miss Austin was smartly groomed and her whole effect modish.
She had removed her coat, which she held in her lap. Her frock was taupe colored, of a soft woolen material, ornamented with many small buttons. These tiny buttons formed two rows down her back, from either shoulder to the waist line, and they also formed a border round the sailor collar.
They were, perhaps, Lockwood decided, little balls, rather than buttons, and he idly counted them as he sat watching her.
He hoped she would turn her head a trifle, but she sat as motionless as a human being may.
He marveled at her stillness, and impatiently waited for the lecture to begin that he might note her interest.
At last Doctor Waring appeared on the platform, and as the applause resounded all over the room, Lockwood was almost startled to observe Miss Austins actions.
She clasped her hands together as if she had received a sudden shock. She if it hadnt seemed too absurd, he would have said that she trembled. At any rate she was a little agitated, and it was with an effort that she preserved her calm. No one else noticed her, and Lockwood would not have done so, save for his close watching.
Throughout the lecture, Miss Austins gaze seemed never to leave the face of the speaker, and Lockwood marveled that Waring himself was not drawn to notice her.
But Warings calm gaze, though it traveled over the audience, never rested definitely on any one face, and Lockwood concluded he recognized nobody.
Miss Mystery! Gordon Lockwood said to himself. I wonder who and what you are. Probably a complex nature, psychic and imaginative. You think it interesting to come up here and pretend to be a mystery. But youre too young and too innocent to be Im not so sure of the innocent, though, and as to youth, well, I dont believe youre much older than you look any way. And youre confoundedly pretty beautiful, rather. Youve too much in your face to call it merely pretty. Ive never seen such possibilities of character. Youre either a deep one or your looks belie you.
Lockwood heard no word of the lecture, nor did he wish to; he had helped in the writing of it, and almost knew it by heart anyway. But he was really intrigued by this mysterious girl, and he determined to get to know her.
He had been told, of course, of the futile attempts of the other boarders to make friends with her, but he had faith in his own attractiveness and in his methods of procedure.
Pinky Payne, too, had told of the interview he had on the bridge. His account of the girls beauty and charm had first roused Lockwoods interest, and now he was making a study of the whole situation.
Idly he counted the buttons again. There were thirteen across the collar. The vertical rows he could not be sure of as the back of the seat cut off their view.
Thirteen, he mused; an unlucky number. And the poor child looks unlucky. Theres a sadness in her eyes that must mean something. Yet theres more than sadness, theres a hint of cruelty, a possibility of desperate deeds.
And then Lockwood laughed at himself. To romance thus about a girl to whom he had not said half a dozen sentences in his life! Yet he knew he was not mistaken. All that he had read in Anita Austins face, he was sure was there. He knew physiognomy, and rarely, if ever, was mistaken in his reading thereof.
After the lecture was over, Miss Austin went home as quickly as possible.
Lockwood would have liked to escort her, but he had to remain to report to Doctor Waring, who might have some orders for him.
There were none, however, and after a short interview with his employer, Gordon Lockwood went home.
As he went softly upstairs to his room in the Adams house, he passed the door of what he knew to be Miss Austins room. He fancied he heard a stifled sob come from behind that closed door, and instinctively paused to listen a moment.
Yes, he was not mistaken. Another sob followed, quickly suppressed, but he could have no doubt the girl was crying.
For a moment Lockwood was tempted to go back and ask Mrs. Adams to come and tap at the girls door.
Then he realized that it was not his affair. If the girl was in sorrow or if she wanted to cry for any reason, it was not his place to send someone to intrude upon her. He went on to his own room, but he sat up for a long time thinking over the strange young woman in the house.
He remembered that she had paid undeviating attention to the lecture, quite evidently following the speaker with attention and interest. He remembered every detail of her appearance, her pretty dark hair showing beneath her little velvet toque, the absurd buttons on the back of her frock.
That will do, Gordon, old man, he told himself at last. Better let her alone. Shes a siren all right, but you know nothing about her, and youve no reason to try to learn more.
And then he heard voices in the hall. Low of tone, but angry of inflection.
She threw it away! Miss Austin was saying; I tell you she threw it away!
There, there, came Mrs. Adams placating voice, what if she did? It was only a newspaper scrap. She didnt know it was of any value.
But I want it! Nora has no business to throw away my things! She had no reason to touch it; it was on the dresser standing up against the mirror frame. What do you suppose she did with it?
Never mind it tonight. Tomorrow we will ask her. Shes gone to bed.
But Im afraid she destroyed it!
Probably she did. Dont take on so. What paper was it?
The Corinth Gazette.
The new one?
I dont know. The one she brought me this afternoon.
Well, if she has thrown it away, you can get another copy. What was in it that you want so much?
Oh, nothing special.
Yes, it was. Mrs. Adams curiosity was aroused now. Come, tell me what it was.
Well, it was only a picture of Doctor Waring, the man who lectured tonight.
Such a fuss about that! My goodness! Why, you can get a picture of him anywhere.
But I want it now.
An obstinate note rang in the young voice. Perhaps Miss Austin spoke louder than she meant to, but at any rate, Lockwood heard most of the conversation, and he now opened his door, and said:
May I offer a photograph? Would you care to have this, Miss Austin?
The girl looked at him with a white, angry face.
How dare you! she cried; how dare you eavesdrop and listen to a conversation not meant for your ears? Dont speak to me!
She drew up her slender figure and looked like a wrathful pixie defying a giant. For Lockwood was a big man, and loomed far above the slight, dainty figure of Miss Mystery.
He smiled good-naturedly as he said, Now dont get wrathy. I dont mean any harm. But you wanted a picture of Doctor Waring, and Ive several of them. You see, Im his secretary.
Oh, are you! His private secretary?
Yes his confidential one, though he has few confidences. Hes a public man and his life is an open book.
Oh, it is! The girl had recovered her poise, and with it her ability to be sarcastic. Known to all men, I suppose?
Known to all men, repeated Lockwood, thinking far more of the girl he was speaking to than of what he was saying.
For, again he had fallen under the spell of her strange personality. He watched her, fascinated, as she reached out for the picture and almost snatched at it in her eagerness.
Mrs. Adams yawned behind her plump hand.
Now youve got your picture, go to bed, child, she said with a kind, motherly smile. Ill come in and unhook you, shall I?
Obediently, and without a word of good night to Lockwood, Anita turned and went into her room, followed by Mrs. Adams. The good lady offered no disinterested service. She wanted to know why Miss Austin wanted that picture so much. But she didnt find out. After being of such help as she could, the landlady found herself pleasantly but definitely dismissed. Outside the door, however, she turned and reopened it. Miss Mystery, unnoticing the intruder, was covering the photograph with many and passionate kisses.
CHAPTER IV
A BROKEN TEACUP
Ill tell her youre here, but Im noways sure shell see you.
Mrs. Adams stood, her hand on the doorknob, as she looked doubtfully at Emily Bates and her nephew.
Why not? asked Mrs. Bates, in astonishment, and Pinky echoed, Why not, Mrs. Adams?
Shes queer. Mrs. Adams came back into the room, closed the door, and spoke softly. Thats what she is, Mrs. Bates, queer. I cant make her out. Shes been here moren a week now, and I do say she gets queerer every day. Wont make friends with anybody, wont speak at all at the table, never comes and sits with us of an afternoon or evening, just keeps to herself. Now, that aint natural for a young girl.
How old is she?
Nobody knows. She looks like nineteen or twenty, but she has the ways of a woman of forty, as fars having her own ways concerned. Then again, shell pet the cat or smile up at Mr. Adams like a child. I cant make her out at all. The boarders are all fearfully curious thats one reason I take her part. Theyre a snoopy lot, and I make them let her alone.
You like her, then?
You cant help liking her, yet she is exasperating. You ask her a question, and she stares at you and walks off. Not really rude, but just as if you werent there! Well, Ill tell her youre here, anyway.
It was only by his extraordinary powers of persuasion that Pinky Payne had won his aunts consent to make this call, and, being Sunday afternoon, the recognized at-home day in Corinth, they had gone to the Adams house unannounced, and asked for Miss Austin.