no, dear; it’s – it’s all right. That foolish teacup upset my nerves. I’ll go off by myself for a few moments.”
Somewhat abruptly, he left the room and went back to his study.
Listening intently, Mrs. Bates heard him lock the door on the inside.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning to Anita, “but I know you’ll forgive Doctor Waring. He is under so much strain at present, and a foolish accident, like the broken teacup, is enough to give him a nervous shock.”
“I know,” said the girl, sympathetically. “He must be very busy and absorbed.”
She spoke, as she often did, in a perfunctory way, as if not interested in what she was saying. Her glance wandered and she bit her red lower lip, as if nervous herself. Yet she was exceedingly quiet and calm of demeanor, and her graceful attitudes betokened only a courteous if disinterested guest.
Gordon Lockwood immediately followed his chief and tapped at the locked study door.
“All right, Lockwood,” Waring recognized the knock. “I don’t want you now. I’ll reappear shortly. Go back to the tea room.”
Willingly, Lockwood went back, hoping to have a chance for conversation with Miss Mystery.
She was chatting gayly with Helen Peyton, Pinky and Mrs. Tyler.
To Lockwood’s surprise, Miss Austin was really gay and merry and quite held her own in the chaff and repartee.
Yet as Lockwood noted her more closely, his quick perception told him her gayety was forced.
The secretary’s ability to read human nature was almost uncanny, and he truly believed the girl was making merry only by reason of her firm determination to do so.
Why? He wondered.
Gordon Lockwood was a rare type of man. He was possessed of the most impassive face, the most immobile countenance imaginable. He never allowed himself to show the slightest excitement or even interest. This habit, acquired purposely at first, had grown upon him until it was second nature. He would not admit anything could move him, could stir his poise or disturb his equanimity. He heard the most gratifying or the most exasperating news with equal attention and equal lack of surprise or enthusiasm.
Yet, though this may sound unattractive, so great was Lockwood’s personality, so responsive and receptive his real nature beneath his outer calm, that all who really knew him liked him and trusted him.
Waring depended on him in every respect. He was more than a secretary to his employer. He was counselor and friend as well.
And Waring appreciated this, and rated Lockwood high in his esteem and affection.
Of course, with his insight, Gordon Lockwood could not be blind to the fact that both Mrs. Peyton and her daughter would be pleased if he could fall a victim to the charms of the fair Helen. Nor could he evade the conviction that Mrs. Peyton herself had entertained hopes of becoming mistress of the Waring home, until the advent of Emily Bates had spoiled her chances.
But these things were merely self-evident facts, and affected in no way the two men concerned.
The Peytons were treated with pleasant regard for both, and that ended the matter so far as they were concerned.
The subject had never been alluded to by Waring or Lockwood, but each understood, and when the Doctor’s marriage took place, that would automatically end the Peytons’ incumbency.
And now, Gordon Lockwood smiled patronizingly at himself, as he was forced to admit an unreasonable, inexplicable interest in a slip of a girl with a dark, eerie little face and a manner grave and gay to extremes.
For Anita was positively laughing at some foolishness of Pinky Payne’s. Still, Lockwood concluded, watching her narrowly, yet unobserved, she was laughing immoderately. She was laughing for some reason other than merriment. It verged on hysterical, he decided, and wondered why.
He joined the group of young people, and in his quiet but effective way, he said:
“You’ve had enough foolery for the moment, Miss Austin, – come and talk to me.”
And to the girl’s amazement, he took her hand and led her to a davenport on the other side of the room.
“There,” he said, as he arranged a pillow or two, “is that right?”
“Yes,” she said, and lapsed into silence.
She sat, looking off into vacancy, and Lockwood studied her. Then he said, softly:
“It’s too bad, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Anita sighed, and then suddenly; “what do you mean? What’s too bad?”
“Whatever it is that troubles you.” The deep blue eyes met her own, but there was no sign of response or acquiescence on the girl’s face.
“Good-by,” she said, rising quickly, “I must go.”
“Oh, no, – don’t go,” cried Pinky, overhearing. “Why, you’ve only just come.”
“Yes, I must go,” said Miss Mystery, decidedly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Bates, and thank you for bringing me. Good afternoon, Mrs. Peyton.”
Including all the others in a general bow of farewell, the strange girl went to the front door, and paused for the attendant Nogi to open it.
Door-tending the assistant butler understood, and he punctiliously waited until Miss Austin had buttoned her gloves and had given an adjusting pat to her veil, after a fleeting glance in the hall mirror.
Then he opened the door with an obsequious air, and closed it behind her departing figure.
But it was immediately flung open again by Pinky Payne, who ran through it and after the girl.
“Wait a minute, Miss Austin. How fast you walk! I’m going home with you.”
“Please not,” she said, indifferently, scarcely glancing at him.
“Yep. Gotto. Getting near dusk, and you might be kidnapped. Needn’t talk if you don’t want to.”
“I never want to talk!” was the surprising and crisply spoken retort.
“Well, didn’t I say you needn’t! Don’t get wrathy – don’t ’ee, don’t ’ee – now, – as my old Scotch nurse used to say.”
But Miss Mystery gave him no look, although she allowed him to fall into step beside her, and the two walked rapidly along.
“How’d you like the looks of the Doctor?” Pinky asked, hoping to induce conversation.
“I scarcely saw him.”
“Oh, you saw him, – though you had small chance to get to know him. Perfect old brick, but a little on edge of late. Approaching matrimony, I suppose. Did you notice his ruby stickpin?”
“Yes; it didn’t seem to suit him at all.”
“No; he’s a conservative dresser. But that pin, – it’s a famous gem, –
