Five Fatal Words (24 page)

Theodore's thin face showed traces of the night's experience. He was suffering an evident reaction. For a few splendid hours after his discovery of the change in his horoscope, and after the appearance of the sign across the street, he had been carried by an inner psychological wave almost to ecstasy. Then the coming of the meteorite--or what he believed to be a bit of cosmic material--into his room at first frightened him but immediately afterward raised him to almost hysterical exaltation. But now, morning had come with the disillusionments which accompany light; and he was feeling himself again an old man. Accustomed worries and apprehension sat upon him again, small distractions beset him and he had fallen headlong from the pinnacle of grandiose excitement which had sustained him in the night.

He greeted Melicent moodily. "Good morning, Miss Waring."

"Good morning, Mr. Cornwall." She sat down and asked the butler for grapefruit.

"I hope, after I left, you had a quiet night."

His eyes rested on her with uncanny inspection. "Quiet? Did you expect it to be quiet?"

"Nothing more happened, did there?" she inquired.

"Happened? Oh, you mean externally; no, nothing more happened externally. There were no more--manifestations. But you scarcely expected that I spent the rest of the night in sleep."

"No," admitted Melicent soothingly. "Of course you couldn't. You have communicated, now, with Miss Loring?"

"She has been here--and gone," Theodore replied briefly. "It was senseless of Donald to have prevented me calling her in the night. She would have come gladly. No case ever has interested her like mine," said Theodore, with a resurgence of the pride which had sustained him in the night.

"I can understand that," said Melicent.

"Even before the meteorite arrived, my situation, in respect to the stars, was most unusual. The arrival of the meteorite has made it unique in her experience. She came here at once, as soon as I phoned her, finally. I have told her all; and she has gone for more counsel."

"I see. Then she will tell you what to do?"

"She has told me, in general, already. The wide aspect of my course is absolutely clear. Only details remain to be filled in."

The swinging door thudded and both of them were silent until Melicent's grapefruit had been placed in front of her and the butler had once more left the room.

Then the girl said: "May I ask what the aspect is?"

"Certainly. I shall leave town to-day."

"Leave New York?"

"Exactly."

"For what place?"

He shrugged. "That is what will later be told me; but to-day I depart. I am going far and fast. The meteorite could have no other meaning. 'You cannot stay safe by staying where you are,' it said to me plainly. 'Travel.' Moreover, this is in complete keeping with the recent reading of my stars, as you know--'take matters into your own hands,' they said. 'You can save yourself only by being rash, never by being careful.'" He spoke the words confidently, almost arrogantly, but his glance at Melicent was disturbed with doubt.

She ate some of her grapefruit and then said, "Donald's gone out, I understand."

"Yes."

"What does he think of your traveling?"

"He thinks it's an excellent idea. He has offered to accompany me. He will do so."

"Oh!" It escaped her with unconscious poignancy. Donald was going away with his uncle. She, undoubtedly, would remain or go elsewhere with Hannah Cornwall and Lydia. It was plain that Theodore and Donald were traveling alone.

If Theodore noticed her exclamation, he did not betray it; he was completely immersed in his own fates.

"Donald is out investigating the sign," Theodore continued, glancing out the window opposite which the electric sign, so alarming at night, stood in the sunlight a scant framework of wood and metal with its device barely legible. "Also, he has taken my meteorite with him," said Theodore. "There was considerable discussion about it here this morning. My sisters, as usual, took opposite sides."

"Then you told them about it?"

"After their breakfast. Donald wished them left undisturbed as long as possible. I could eat no more than I could sleep, until Miss Loring knew. Hush, here is my sister Hannah now."

Melicent, following his eyes, looked behind her; and there was Hannah Cornwall.

She stood straight, as always, but never since Melicent had known her was she so aged and gray. There were brown blotches on her skin and her eyes wavered from the other two. When Melicent had first met her, she had possessed the fierce resolution of a strong woman who stands on the threshold of age; now she was shaken, demoralized. She came to the table unsteadily and took refuge in a chair. The butler appeared and solicitously inquired her wants. "Nothing," she murmured absently. "Nothing; nothing at all."

The butler asked Melicent if she would like cereal or eggs, but Melicent had no appetite, and she began to drink her cup of coffee. Miss Cornwall stared into space, drank half a glass of milk which Theodore placed before her, and said at last to Melicent, "I am sorry I was so harsh last night. I did not know what had happened. But you should not have kept it from me. I hope I haven't offended you."

"Of course not," said Melicent.

Hannah turned to her brother. "Have you heard yet from Donald?"

"No; nothing."

"I will wait word from you in my room, Theodore."

She arose.

Melicent arose also and Miss Cornwall said: "You need not come now, unless you prefer."

She disappeared; Melicent remained and was with Theodore when Donald returned; and he made his report to his uncle in her presence.

"I've looked up that sign. There is no firm called Davis, Evans and Taylor in the city. The hat manufacturers have never heard of them. The people who rented the space on the top of the building across the street did it through an agent. The agent is an individual who erects and leases electric signs as part of his business. He tells me that a few days ago an individual appeared who said that a new firm, Davis, Evans and Taylor, were to open a hat store in this neighborhood and they wanted a sign erected in a conspicuous place immediately. It was a rush order. This roof was selected, the design of the sign approved and the whole thing paid, in advance, for cash. The agent did not question the transaction, as it was all paid in advance; and he was used to all sorts of queer things being done for advertising.

"He was beginning to get curious, however, as he heard no more from the people and he could not trace the firm. However, he had been paid so he rushed up the sign and turned it on, as we know. After my talk with him, however, the sign will not burn to-night."

"What good will that do?" demanded Theodore.

"No good, I suppose. However, we have found out that the presence of the sign here--and its legend--can hardly be said to be merely an accident or coincidence."

"Hardly," agreed Theodore. "You have been able to trace only one person who could be connected with establishment of a sign of that design in that place. You spoke of him as an individual. Did you get his description?"

"I got a description," said Donald. "But not of a 'him'; it was of a girl. She represented herself as the secretary of Mr. Davis. She was a girl about twenty-five whose description would be answered by any of a dozen girls on any floor of any big building in New York. There is absolutely no way of tracing her--or her friends."

"However," pronounced Theodore, dismissing this. "However, it was all a matter of mere human agency. A young woman ordered and paid for it, you say; and then she disappeared. Undoubtedly she acted for others; undoubtedly. My meteorite is quite another matter. What have you done about that, Donald; what have you learned about my messenger from my stars?"

"We will soon know about that," Donald assured him.

"I took it up to Columbia University to the department of geology and mineralogy where the professors, who saw it, pronounced it apparently a meteorite. They can tell for certain after making tests. You know," Donald continued more directly to Melicent, "there are distinctive characteristics about meteoric metal which cannot be duplicated or counterfeited on earth. Iron from the sky differs minutely but definitely from any terrestrial material. We ought to know within an hour or two whether we are dealing," he hesitated a moment, "with heaven or with hell."

Theodore made no comment on this; he arose soon after receiving this report and betook himself to his own room; and Melicent did not yet seek Miss Cornwall. She wanted to talk alone with Donald; but Lydia now prevented this by appearing, from her suite, wheeled in her chair by her faithful and assiduous Ahdi Vado. They were conversing as they came down the hall and Hannah Cornwall evidently hearing them, came from her room and followed them in.

Lydia sat, ponderous and asthmatic, but smiling and bland; and behind her stood the inscrutable Hindu.

"Where is your uncle?" Lydia inquired of her nephew.

"In his room, deciding what he will take with him," said Donald.

"When does he go away?"

"To-day."

"I have been concentrating on his situation. Ahdi Vado and I. Of course we also will go away. We will return to Egypt. I think it has done me good to come back to the States, although I did want you dreadfully to come to Egypt with me for the winter, Hannah. You'd enjoy it there. I would not suggest such a thing to Theodore. Ahdi agrees with me that, in his mood, it would do nothing for him. Don't you, Ahdi?"

At the mention of his name, the Hindu bowed. She turned her large head and looked at him steadily. Then she addressed the others again. "I prefer Egypt. Ahdi Vado infinitely prefers it. He has accompanied me here only at great personal discomfort and risk. He detests cold weather."

"My blood," said Ahdi gently, "is not suitable to it."

"He catches cold," Lydia explained.

"It is very regrettable."

"What are you doing, Donald?"

"I'm going with Uncle Theodore," Donald announced.

Hannah swung about quickly. "What's that? No one said anything about your going, Donald."

"Uncle Theodore has," retorted Donald. "He asked me to go with him; I agreed."

"Why shouldn't they go together, Hannah?" Lydia inquired.

"They shouldn't; that's all," said Hannah stubbornly.

Her sister scrutinized her from underneath her puffy eyelids. "My dear Hannah, the world doesn't swing about at your dictum. It is a very good plan, Theodore and Donald traveling together; is it not, Ahdi?"

"Excellent," replied the Hindu. "Completely in accord."

"In accord with what?" demanded Hannah acidly.

"With cosmic considerations," replied Ahdi Vado placidly. "Nothing occurs unconsidered by the cosmic consciousness. There is no accident; no caprice in the cosmos. There is only imperfect understanding on our part. A meteorite, I am told, struck in his room last night. An extremely rare occurrence; one, then, of extreme significance. No one could ignore it."

"No," agreed Donald. "That's certainly right."

"Hush!" ordered Hannah. "Hush!"

"Why?"

"I heard the telephone bell a moment ago; your uncle is talking. It is probably that fool Loring woman." It was, as Theodore proclaimed a few minutes later when he joined the family council in his living-room.

"I know exactly what I must do!" he announced. "I am to travel rapidly in this country, not abroad. I must keep on the move for ten days; and then return here. I will leave at once for the west."

Hannah raised her voice in protest. "It isn't safe! It isn't safe for you to step into the corridor. It isn't safe for you to ride in the car. And you will take Donald with you. If both you men go, you will leave us alone, helpless--"

Theodore's sense of responsibility for his two sisters and Melicent was slight. His stars did not order their lives, or their deaths. They had stars of their own to guide them.

He would follow his--especially since a shred of a star had struck in his room last night.

"It has to be that way, Hannah," he replied simply. "Moreover, I know even the details of what I ought to do."

"A false start will be made from the doors of this apartment; but I will make the trip down in the freight elevator. Three taxicabs will carry out my baggage, and a private car, never before in my possession, will convey me away."

"Exactly where are you going?"

"No one will know that but myself."

"And Priscilla Loring!" jibed Hannah.

"That is the same thing," retorted Theodore confidently; and sister and brother confronted each other.

There was a long silence. To Melicent's surprise, it was broken by Ahdi Vado.

"There has been great tribulation in your family. Great danger still threatens it, but courage and right shall prevail." His voice was sweet and gentle and his luminous dark eyes regarded each one of them in turn. "It is not for me to express my private sympathies but I work for all of you."

"You are comforting," Lydia said.

Hannah regarded the Hindu gravely. "I have always wished I could trust to right to prevail, but I can't."

"Perhaps you have not been willing to abandon yourself to the general goodness."

Hannah shook her head. "You seem to make the old age of my sister happy, Mr. Vado. I will be grateful to you for that."

It was another of Hannah's rare concessions to human relationships. The Hindu appeared to appreciate it and to reflect upon it. Melicent thought about him for a little while. He was never obsequious and yet never proud. She had had no feeling of any sort about him. At first his costume had been a, little absurd, but he did nothing to bother others and never trespassed upon their rights, and his occasional remarks expressed with such solemnity and such deep conviction that he made himself easy to accept and simple to tolerate. She was even occasionally able to understand Lydia's confidence in him. He was a man to whom the world of matter, the world of blood, was foreign. He lived entirely with his dreams and of their nature one could only guess.

Hannah must have felt that there could be no further purpose in a family conflict.