Dangerous Ground: or, The Rival Detectives. Lynch Lawrence L.

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      “Have you been to Papa’s room, Daisy? You know we must not let him feel lonely to-night.”

      “Exceeding thoughtfulness,” mutters Alan Warburton to himself, as he turns to resume his domino. Then aloud, to his sister-in-law, he says:

      “I have just visited my brother’s room, Mrs. Warburton; he wished to see you for a moment, I believe. Daisy, will you come with me?”

      He extends his hand to the child, who gives a willful toss of the head as she replies, clinging closer to her stepmother the while:

      “No; I going to stay with my new mamma.”

      As Alan Warburton turns away, with a shade of annoyance upon his face, he meets the mirthful eyes of Carmen, and is greeted by a saucy sally.

      “What a bear you can be, Alan, when you try your hand at domestic discipline. Put on your domino and your dignity once more. You look like a school boy who has just been whipped.”

      “Ah, Winnie,” he says seriously, coming close to her side and seeking to look into the blue, mocking eyes, “no need for me to see your face, your sweet voice and your saucy words both betray you.”

      “Just as your bad temper has betrayed you! It’s a pity you can’t appreciate Millie, sir; but then your sense of the ridiculous is shockingly deficient. There goes a waltz,” starting forward hastily.

      “It’s my waltz; wait, Winnie.”

      But the laughing girl is half way down the long drawing-room, and he hurries after, replacing his mask and pulling on his domino as he goes.

      Then Leslie Warburton, with a sigh upon her lips, draws the child again toward her and says:

      “You may wait here, Millie; I will take care of Daisy for a short time. And, Millie, remember in future when Mr. Warburton addresses you, that you are to answer him respectfully. Come, darling.”

      She turns toward the entrance, the child’s hand clasped tightly in her own, and there, directly before her, stands a figure which she has longed, yet dreaded, to meet – the Goddess of Liberty.

      With a gasp of surprise, and a heart throbbing with agitation, Leslie Warburton hurriedly replaces her mask and turns to Millie.

      “Millie, on second thought, you may take Daisy to her papa’s room, and tell him I will be there soon. Daisy, darling, go with Millie.”

      “But, Mamma, – ”

      “There, there, dear, go to papa now; mamma will come.”

      With many a reluctant, backward glance, Daisy suffers herself to be led away, and then the Goddess of Liberty advances and bows before the lady of the mansion.

      “I am not mistaken,” whispers that lady, glancing about her as if fearing an eavesdropper; “you are – ”

      “First,” interrupts a mellow voice from behind the starry mask, “are you Mrs. Warburton?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then I am Richard Stanhope.”

      CHAPTER VIII.

      VERNET “CALLS A TURN.”

      Leslie Warburton had replaced her mask, but the face she concealed was engraven upon the memory of her vis-a-vis.

      A pure pale face, with a firm chin; a rare red mouth, proud yet sensitive; a pair of brown tender eyes, with a touch of sadness in their depths; and a broad low brow, over which clustered thick waves of sunny auburn. She is slender and graceful, carrying her head proudly, and with inherent self-poise in gait and manner.

      She glances about her once more, and then says, drawing still nearer the disguised detective:

      “I have been looking for you, Mr. Stanhope, and we have met at a fortunate moment. Nearly all the guests have arrived, and everybody is dancing; we may hope for a few undisturbed moments now. You – you have no reason for thinking yourself watched, or your identity suspected, I hope?”

      “None whatever, madam. Have you any fears of that sort?”

      “No; none that are well grounded; I dislike secrecy, and the necessity for it; I suppose I am nervous. Mr. Stanhope,” with sudden appeal in her voice, “how much do you know concerning me, and my present business with you?”

      “Very little. During my drive hither with Mr. Follingsbee, he told me something like this: He esteemed you very highly; he had known you for years; you desired the services of a detective; he had named me as available, and been authorized by you to secure my services. He said that he knew very little concerning the nature of your business with me, but believed that all that you did would be done wisely, discreetly, and from the best of motives. He pointed you out to me when we entered the house. That is all, madam.”

      “Thank you. Mr. Follingsbee is, or was, the tried friend, as well as legal adviser, of my adopted father, Thomas Uliman, and I know him to be trustworthy. When he spoke of you, Mr. Stanhope, he knew that I desired, not only a skillful detective, but a true-hearted man; one who would hold a promise sacred, who would go no further than is required in the matter in hand, and who would respect an unhappy woman’s secret – should it become known to him.”

      Her voice died in her throat, and Stanhope rustled his garments uneasily. Then she rallied and went on bravely:

      “Mr. Follingsbee assured me that you were all I could desire.”

      “Mr. Follingsbee does me an honor which I appreciate.”

      “And so, Mr. Stanhope, I am about to trust you. Let us sit here, where we shall be unobserved, and tolerably secure from interruption.”

      She turns toward the divan behind the screen and seats herself thereon, brushing aside her glittering drapery to afford the disguised detective a place beside her.

      He hesitates a moment, then takes the proffered seat and says, almost brusquely:

      “Madam, give me my instructions as rapidly as possible; the very walls have eyes sometimes, and – I must be away from here before midnight.”

      “My instructions will be brief. I will state my case, and then answer any questions you find it necessary to ask.”

      “I shall ask no needless questions, madam.”

      “Then listen.” She nerves herself for a brave effort, and hurries on, her voice somewhat agitated in spite of herself. “For three months past I have been conscious that I am watched, followed, spied upon. I have been much annoyed by this espionage. I never drive or walk alone, without feeling that my shadow is not far away. I begin to fear to trust my servants, and to realize that I have an enemy. Mr. Stanhope, I want you to find out who my enemy is.”

      Behind his starry mask, her listener smiled at this woman-like statement of the case. Then he said, tersely:

      “You say that you are being spied upon. How do you know this?”

      “At first by intuition, I think; a certain vague, uneasy consciousness of a strange, inharmonious presence near me. Being thus put on my guard and roused to watchfulness, I have contrived to see, on various occasions, СКАЧАТЬ