Read Ebook: The official chaperon by Lincoln Natalie Sumner Frederick Edmund Illustrator McMein Neysa Illustrator

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Ebook has 386 lines and 16169 words, and 8 pages

. Fordyce?" he asked, passing on the Admiral's question.

"That you gave the unsigned codicil to Miss Langdon who, following instructions, placed it in the safe where the Admiral found it the next morning. Sam knocked the signed paper into the gutter, and it went down the sewer."

"Could you make out any writing on the paper as it fell, Mr. Fordyce?"

"Unfortunately, no; the paper resembled an ordinary letter size typewriting sheet, folded three times. It spread open and fell writing down."

"The codicil was written on ordinary typewriting paper such as you describe," admitted Alvord. "It was the only kind Miss Langdon had here. Still, that's slim proof to back your theory, Mr. Fordyce."

"But it will hold," Duncan's elation could be read in his animated expression and excited manner. "I'm willing to face any court, and I'll win my case...."

"And that scamp, Chichester Barnard, will win his hundred thousand after all," groaned the Admiral.

"TOUJOURS SANS TACHE"

ON leaving Duncan sitting in his roadster before the apartment house, Marjorie had every intention of slipping into the Portland through the drug store. Once safely inside the building she would take refuge in a friend's apartment and there fight out her problems alone. The desire to confide in Duncan, to beg his assistance was overmastering. She dared not trust herself longer in his presence. In her doubt and agony, and longing for his sympathy, she might betray her passionate love for him. A touch of his hand ... one look from his dear eyes.... Marjorie resolutely kept her face turned toward her goal. Duncan's affection for his sister was deep and abiding ... he would never believe evil of Janet.

Marjorie strangled a sob as she stumbled into the drug store, and for a second she struggled gamely for composure, but the close atmosphere of the room combined with her overstrung state, upset her completely. She stepped appealingly toward the clerk to ask him for a glass of water, but he was busy with some drugs and did not observe her half-fainting condition. Swinging dizzily about, she made blindly for the door, her one instinct to get away from Duncan. With her last remaining strength she pulled open the heavy door and stepped outside. The cold fresh air revived her somewhat, but her confusion of mind was added to by discovering she was standing in busy Fourteenth Street instead of the quiet lobby of the apartment-hotel. She had walked out of the wrong door. Before she could retrace her footsteps, Chichester Barnard stepped to her side.

"What good fairy sent you here?" he exclaimed gaily. "I was just going back to my office." His smile was very winning, but Marjorie was too spent to attempt reply. Her silence claimed his attention, and his startled eyes swept her livid face in consternation. "Good Heavens! Marjorie, what are you doing in the street in this condition?" he turned and hailed a livery carriage from which a passenger had just alighted. "Engaged?" he inquired of the negro driver.

"No, suh."

"Jump in, Marjorie," but she hung back, striving to articulate, then the world turned black, and she hung limp upon his arm.

Some hours later Marjorie stirred, sat more erect, and rubbed her eyes and forehead vigorously. The shadows of the late afternoon were lengthening, and she had some difficulty in focusing the objects about her, and eyed her unfamiliar surroundings in complete mystification.

"Feeling better, Marjorie?" asked Barnard's voice from the depths of an easy chair across the room from her, and he rose and switched on the electric lamp.

"Where--where--am I?" she demanded. Not pausing for an answer she picked up a tumbler of cold water standing on a table at her elbow, and drank thirstily. Her throat felt parched and dry.

"In my rooms," replied Barnard easily. The tumbler slipped and broke on the polished floor, as Marjorie faced him.

"How dare you bring me here? Have you no regard for my reputation?" He changed color at her tone and words, but curbed his own temper admirably.

"I had not thought of that," she conceded. "I have a dim recollection of driving on and on."

"So we did. I put you in the cab intending to go at once to your home; then a glimpse of your face convinced me that while you looked frightfully ill, you were really only suffering from collapse. I told the coachman to drive up and down the back streets, forced you to drink a little whiskey which I had in my flask, and that, and the cold wind, gradually brought you around. These rooms of mine are on the ground floor, and I slipped you in here unnoticed."

Marjorie studied him covertly as the events of the morning slowly recurred to her. Had he been in the Fordyce house when Janet testified before the Calhoun-Coopers and Mr. Fordyce that she had seen her steal the pearl necklace?

"Why did you not take me back to the Fordyces?" she asked.

"That occurred to me," admitted Barnard, "but to be quite frank I thought that your arriving there with me in the condition you were in would cause adverse criticism. The same consideration deterred me from taking you to a hospital."

"I may not have been wise," he broke in, "but I was greatly alarmed. I at first feared that you were dead as you lay there in the carriage. At the thought my whole world crumbled to dust," his voice vibrated with emotion. "I never realized how much you were to me until I thought I had lost you...." he faltered and broke down, moved beyond himself by his passion. He dropped on his knee beside her--"Best beloved!"

She shrank back under his touch. "Don't, don't Chichester," she implored. "I am not strong enough for more scenes," and hysterical sobs wracked her from head to foot. Barnard stood up and watched her in growing concern until she regained some semblance of self-control. "It's a relief to cry," she stammered.

"My own sweetheart," he murmured fondly. "Would to heaven I could bear your sorrows for you. Won't you tell me what is troubling you?"

Marjorie paused; would Barnard take her word against Janet's? Her loyal trust in him had made her at first slow to believe he was seriously courting Janet, but once convinced of his double dealing, indignation and contempt had supplanted all warmer feeling for him. Barnard still kept up the pretense of his affection for her, but was it likely he would take her part against Janet? She rose and moved unsteadily across the room that she might get a better look at him, and study his expression.

"Sit, here, Marjorie," Barnard patted the sofa invitingly, but she declined, and he stepped to her side. "How often have I pictured you here," he said softly, glancing about the comfortable room. "Little girl, I long for you always."

"Don't Chichester," she threw out her hand beseechingly. "Drop this sham--be honest with me...."

"You doubt me?" in hurt surprise. "You, my darling, for whom I would sacrifice so much to win!"

"All that is past...."

"It is not," he broke in vehemently. "I have learned my lesson this afternoon; I shall never give you up, never." He spoke as if making an unalterable vow with himself, and she watched him uneasily. "Give me a little encouragement, take back your harsh words," he whispered and with a movement so swift that she could not avoid it, he slipped his arm about her waist. Swayed by his physical charm, she permitted him to draw her closer, but before his lips touched hers, Duncan's face leaped out of the shadows of memory, and she pushed Barnard from her.

"Stop!" In her endeavor to render her voice steady, she made it hard. "I am in no mood for love scenes, Chichester."

A gleam of fury lighted Barnard's eyes as he seized her arm.

"Has Duncan Fordyce come between us?" he demanded. "Answer!"

"Have you lost your senses?" Her cold fury matched his blazing wrath. "I took you for a gentleman; no gentleman browbeats a woman!"

"Will you answer my question?" paying no attention to her gibe.

"What if I say yes?" Marjorie had seldom looked so beautiful; cheeks pink and eyes bright with feverish excitement. Tall and slim and graceful, she faced the jealous man with undaunted spirit.

"Are you the only one who can--flirt?" she asked, half drawn by his personal magnetism, and half repelled by his manner.

Marjorie stood frozen; every vestige of color stricken from her face. "Explain your meaning." The words were little more than a whisper.

"You destroyed the signed codicil in which Aunt Margaret Lawrence revoked her bequest to me...."

"Chichester!" Her voice was poignant with outraged feeling. "You dare to think me a thief!"

"No, no, my darling, only a loyal woman--a woman who has the courage of her affections--how I love you, Marjorie!" His voice lingered on her name.

"How you insult me, you mean!" With a violent wrench Marjorie tore herself free from his grasp, and turning, gathered up her belongings. "Let me pass," as he planted himself in front of her.

"Where to?"

"That is no longer your business."

"Suppose I won't let you go?"

Marjorie flinched; it was a new Barnard confronting her. Gone was the suave courtly lover, and in his place stood the primeval man, his baser passions roused. And she had once believed she cared for him. The thought stung.

"Drop this melodrama, Chichester," she said cuttingly. "Your conduct has effectually killed whatever affection or respect I had for you."

"You are wrong; I have been too patient with your whims and fancies. Hereafter I take what I want." Barnard laughed recklessly. "Women do not usually refuse me; they like masters."

"Do not class me with your associates," she answered with scornful emphasis. "If you come any nearer me, Chichester, I shall scream for help."

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