                     THAT AFFAIR AT ELIZABETH

                       BY BURTON E. STEVENSON

    AUTHOR OF "THE MARATHON MYSTERY," "THE HOLLADAY CASE," ETC.


    NEW YORK
    HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
    1907

    COPYRIGHT, 1907,
    BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

    _Published October, 1907_

    THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS
    RAHWAY, N. J.




CONTENTS


I. AN URGENT SUMMONS

II. A BRIDE'S VAGARY

III. THE LOVER'S STORY

IV. A STRANGE MESSAGE

V. DEEPER IN THE MAZE

VI. AN ASTONISHING REQUEST

VII. TANGLED THREADS

VIII. THE PATH THROUGH THE GROVE

IX. THE OLD SORROW

X. THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHT

XI. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

XII. WORD FROM THE FUGITIVE

XIII. PURSUIT

XIV. RECALLED TO THE FRONT

XV. A BATTLE OF WITS

XVI. THE SECRET OF THE CELLAR

XVII. A TRAGEDY UNFORESEEN

XVIII. A NEW TURN TO THE PUZZLE

XIX. UNDER SUSPICION

XX. AN APPEAL FOR ADVICE

XXI. CROSS-PURPOSES

XXII. LIGHT AT LAST!

XXIII. THE STORY

XXIV. THE SECRET

XXV. THE REVELATION

XXVI. THE RETURN

XXVII. THE CURTAIN LIFTS




THAT AFFAIR AT ELIZABETH




CHAPTER I

An Urgent Summons


"That seems to be all right, Lester," said Mr. Royce, and handed the
papers back to me. "I'll be mighty glad when we get that off our hands."

So, I knew, would the whole force of the office, for the case had been
an unusually irritating one, tangling itself up in the most unexpected
ways, until, with petitions and counter-petitions and answers and
demurrers and what not, we were all heartily tired of it. I slipped the
papers into an envelope and shot them into a pigeon-hole with a sigh of
relief.

"I think that'll end it," I said. "I don't see how there can be any
further delay."

"No," agreed our junior, "neither do I. Are the papers in the Griffin
case ready?"

"Not yet; I doubt if they will be ready before this afternoon."

"Well, they can wait," he said, and glanced at his watch. "I want to
catch the ten-ten for Elizabeth."

"For Elizabeth?"

"Yes. I know it's a mighty awkward time for me to leave, but it's an
engagement I've got to keep. You've heard me speak of Burr Curtiss?"

"Yes," I said; "I seem to remember the name."

"He's been one of my best friends for the past ten years. I met him
first at Yale, and a liking sprang up between us, which grew stronger as
time went on. I played a sort of second fiddle to him, then, for he was
president of the class in his senior year and was voted the most popular
man in it. He came to New York, as soon as he was graduated, and got a
place on the construction staff of the Pennsylvania road. He was
assigned to one of the western divisions, and I didn't see anything of
him for two or three years, but finally he was recalled, and we used to
hobnob at the University Club. Since my marriage, he comes around to
smoke a pipe with me occasionally and talk over old times. He's a social
fellow, likes companionship, and, my wife says, is just the man to make
a woman happy; so when he wrote me a note, two months ago, announcing
his engagement, we were naturally curious concerning the woman in the
case--for his ideals were high--too high, I always told him."

Mr. Royce paused and sat for a moment smiling out the window at the grey
wall of the building opposite.

"I remember it was one evening early last winter," he went on at last,
"that Curtiss happened in and, as we sat smoking together, our talk
somehow turned to women. It was then I learned what an idealist he was.
The woman to win his heart must be accomplished, of course; witty,
knowing the world, and yet unsoiled by it, capable of original thought,
of being her husband's intellectual companion--so much for the mental
side. Physically--well, physically he wanted a Venus de Milo or Helen of
Troy, nothing less. I laughed at him. I pointed out that beautiful women
are seldom intellectual. But he was obdurate. He protested that he would
capitulate on no other terms. I retorted that, in that case, he would
probably remain a bachelor."

"But," I remarked, "it seems to me that this friend of yours is a trifle
egotistical. What has he to offer in exchange for such perfection?"

"Well," said Mr. Royce slowly, "it would be a good bargain on both
sides. Given such a woman, I could fancy her longing for such a man as
Curtiss, just as he would long for her. I've told you something of his
mental calibre--physically, he's the handsomest man I ever saw. And it
seems to me he gets handsomer every year. In our college days, he was
rather too stout, too girlish-looking, but hard work and contact with
the world have rubbed all that away. George!" he added, "the children of
such a pair would be fit for Olympus!"

"And did he find her?" I asked, curious for the rest of the story.

"After I got his note," said my companion, "I hunted him up at his
apartments as soon as I could. He let me in himself, got out his cigars,
and sat down opposite me fairly beaming. I looked him over--I had never
before seen a man who seemed so supremely happy.

"'So,' I asked at last, 'you've found her?'

"'Yes,' he said; 'yes.'

"'The woman you were looking for?'

"'The very woman.'

"'That impossible ideal?'

"'An ideal, yes; but not impossible, since she exists in the flesh and I
have found her.'

"'Well, you're a lucky dog,' I said. 'Tell me about her.'

"So he told me--quite a Laura Jean Libbey story. She was everything, it
seemed, that could be desired in a woman.

"'And beautiful?' I asked him.

"For reply, he brought out a photograph from his desk. I tell you,
Lester, it fairly took my breath away. I felt as though I were looking
at a masterpiece--say Andrea del Sarto's Madonna. And I would as soon
have thought of marrying the one as the other. It was like snatching a
star down out of heaven.

"Curtiss was leaning back in his chair watching me, and he smiled as I
looked up.

"'Well?' he asked.

"I went over and shook hands with him--I couldn't find words to tell him
what I felt.

"'But where has she been?' I demanded. 'How does it happen she was left
for you?'

"'She's been abroad for five or six years,' he explained.

"'That's no answer,' I said. 'Why isn't she a queen, then; or a duchess,
at least?'

"'She's had chances enough, I dare say,' and he smiled at my enthusiasm.
'I agree with you that she's worthy to wear a crown; but then, you see,
she has ideals, too. Perhaps none of the kings she met measured up to
them.'

"'And you did?'

"'She's good enough to think so.'

"I had been idling over the photograph, and my eyes happened to fall
upon some lines written across the back--I didn't know them, then, but
I've looked them up, since:--

          'My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,
    Parched the pleasant April herbage and the lark's heart's outbreak
      tuneless,
    If you loved me not!'

"I tell you, Lester," and there was a little break in our junior's
voice, "I was overwhelmed. You know, love--passion--the real thing the
poets write about--has grown mighty rare in this world. We're too
commercial for it, I suppose; too much given to calculating chances. But
here I was, face to face with it. Well, I was unequal to the
situation--I didn't know what to say, but he helped me.

"'The date hasn't been set, yet,' he said, 'but it will be some time in
June; and the reason I'm telling you all this is that I'm going to ask a
favour of you. It's to be a church wedding and I want you to be best
man. I hope you won't refuse.'

"I was glad of the chance to be of service and told him so," concluded
Mr. Royce, glancing again at his watch and rising hastily. "The
wedding's to be at noon to-day. You see I'm cutting it rather fine. I'd
intended to go down yesterday afternoon, but that Barnaby petition upset
my plans. I'll be back to-night or in the morning at the latest. In the
meantime, if anything imperative turns up, a telegram to the Sheridan
House at Elizabeth will catch me."

"Very well," I replied and made a note of the address. "But don't worry
about the work here. I'll get along all right."

"Of course you will," he agreed, and an instant later, the door closed
behind him.

But more than once in the course of the morning, I was inclined to think
that I had spoken too confidently. Mr. Graham, our senior partner, had
broken down about a month before, under a stress of work which had been
unusual, even for our office, and had been ordered away for a long
vacation; one or two members of the office force had resigned to accept
other positions, and the task of filling their places was one which
required thought and care; so for the time being, we were extremely
short-handed.

That morning, perversely enough, it seemed to me that the work piled up
even more rapidly than usual, and it was not until the mellow chimes of
Trinity, marking the noon hour, floated through the open window, that I
succeeded in clearing away the most pressing portion of the morning's
business, and leaned back in my chair with a sigh of satisfaction. That
Marjoribanks case was now ours; Mr. Royce would approve....

No doubt, at this very moment, he was before the altar of the Elizabeth
church, listening to the low responses. I had only to close my eyes to
picture the scene--the dim, flower-decked interior; the
handsomely-gowned, sympathetically-expectant audience; the bride,
supremely beautiful in her veil and orange blossoms, her eyes downcast,
the warm colour coming and going in her cheeks....

"Telegram, sir," said a voice, and I swung around to find the office-boy
at my elbow. "For you, sir," he added.

I took the yellow envelope and tore it open absently, my mind still on
the vision my fancy had conjured up. Then, as my eyes caught the words
of the message, I sat bolt upright with a start. It read:

     "Come to Elizabeth by first train. Don't fail us."

     "ROYCE."




CHAPTER II

A Bride's Vagary


Two minutes later, I was speeding downward in the elevator, having
paused only long enough to give a word of instruction to the head clerk.
A glance at my watch showed me that if I would catch the 12.38, I had no
time to lose; but luckily a cab was passing at the moment, and I jumped
aboard the boat for Jersey City just as the gates were closing.

Not until I was safely aboard the train did I give myself time to
conjecture what this imperative summons meant, but during the half-hour
run to the little New Jersey city, I had ample time to try to puzzle it
out.

One thing was quite certain--it was no ordinary emergency which had
moved Mr. Royce to summon me from the office at a time when I was so
badly needed there. I got out the telegram again, and read it, word by
word. It affected me as a wild cry for help would have done, at
midnight, in some lonely place--and it was just that--a wild cry for
help! But why had he needed aid, when he himself was so clear-sighted,
so ready-witted, so fertile of resource? What was this astounding
occurrence which confronted him, this crisis so urgent and over-whelming
that it had shaken and startled him out of his self-control? The message
itself was proof of his deep excitement. Apparently he had wired for me
instinctively, finding himself suddenly in the toils of some dilemma,
which left him dazed and nerveless.

Ever since the time when I had succeeded, more by luck than anything
else, in discovering the whereabouts of Frances Holladay, and solving
the mystery of her father's death, our junior partner had conceived a
tremendously exalted opinion of my abilities as an untangler of abstruse
problems, and never lost an opportunity of referring to me such as came
in his way. Every firm of practising lawyers knows how frequently a case
hinges upon some puzzling point of evidence--how witnesses have a way of
disappearing--and Graham & Royce had their full share of such perplexing
tangles. It had come to be one of the unwritten rules of the office that
such points should be referred to me, and while I was by no means
uniformly successful in solving them, I always took a lively pleasure in
the work. It was no doubt that habit which had caused our junior to turn
to me in this emergency. I could guess how terrifying it must have been
to overwhelm so completely a man so well-balanced and self-controlled--I
could almost see the trembling hand with which he had penned the
message.

So it was with a certain quickening of the pulse that I stepped from the
train at the triangular Elizabeth station, and an instant later, Mr.
Royce had me by the hand.

"I've a carriage over here, Lester," he said, drawing me toward it, and
I noticed that he was fairly quivering with excitement. "I thought you
could make this train," he added, as we took our seats and the driver
whipped up smartly. "I knew you wouldn't lose any time, and I can't tell
you how glad I am to have you here. Curtiss is all broken up--doesn't
know which way to turn. Neither do I. I had just sense enough to send
you that wire."

"I thought it was a mystery of some sort," I said, beginning to tingle
in sympathy with him. "What has happened?"

"The bride-to-be has disappeared," answered Mr. Royce simply;
"vanished--skipped out!"

For a moment, I scarcely understood. It seemed preposterous to suppose
that I had heard aright.

"Disappeared!" I echoed helplessly. "Skipped out!"

"Yes, skipped out!" and Mr. Royce crushed his unlighted cigar savagely
in his fingers and hurled it through the carriage window. "I haven't the
slightest doubt that she deliberately ran away."

The sight of his emotion calmed me a little.

"At the last moment?" I questioned.

"Practically at the last moment--less than an hour before the time set
for the ceremony. She was getting ready for it--was in her
wedding-dress, in fact. I tell you, Lester----"

"Wait," I said, putting out a restraining hand. "Begin at the beginning.
What's her name?"

"Marcia Lawrence."

"And she's the 'ideal' Curtiss imagined he'd found?"

"Yes," said Mr. Royce slowly, "and so far as I can judge from what I've
seen and heard, she really was as nearly perfect as any woman can be."

"Yet she 'skipped out'!"

"That's why I'm so upset--she was the last woman in the world to do such
a thing!"

"Tell me about her," I said.

"I don't know very much; but I do know that she wasn't a mere
empty-headed chit. She was an accomplished and cultured woman. I've
already told you how her beauty affected me."

I paused a moment to consider it--I was fairly nonplussed. It seemed
incredible that such a woman should, under any conceivable
circumstances, deliberately desert her lover at the altar!

"And in her wedding-gown!" I murmured, half to myself.

"Yes, in her wedding-gown!" repeated our junior, passing his hand
feverishly across his eyes. "It's unbelievable! It's--I can't find any
word to describe it. I can scarcely believe I'm awake."

"Perhaps she found she didn't love him," I suggested.

"At the last moment?"

"Stranger things have happened."

"I don't believe it!' A woman like Marcia Lawrence knows her own heart
before she goes that far!"

"Suppose we say sudden insanity?"

"Well-balanced women don't go mad merely because they're going to get
married."

"Then she didn't run away," I said.

Mr. Royce looked at me quickly.

"You mean----"

But the carriage stopped with a jolt and the driver jerked open the
door.




CHAPTER III

The Lover's Story


I paused, as soon as we reached the pavement, for a look about me. We
were evidently in the fashionable quarter of the town. The street was
wide, well-kept, and shaded by stately elms. The houses which stretched
away on either hand had that spaciousness, that air of dignity and
quiet, which bespeaks wealth and leisure. Here was no gaudy
architecture, no flamboyant flourish of the newly-rich; rather the
evidence of families long-settled in their present surroundings and
long-accustomed to the luxuries of a cultured and generous existence.

But it was to the house directly before us that I gave the closest
scrutiny. It was a large one, two-storied, with a wide veranda running
across the entire front. It stood well back from the street, and was
sheltered on each side by magnificent trees. The grounds seemed to be
very extensive and were beautifully kept. Along the pavement, a curious
crowd was loitering, kept in motion by a policeman, but staring at the
house as though they expected to read the solution of the mystery in its
inexpressive front.

Mr. Royce nodded to the officer, and we passed through the gate. As we
went up the walk, I noticed that the blinds were closely drawn, as
though it were a house of mourning--and, indeed, dead hopes enough lay
there!

A maid admitted us, and when my companion inquired for Mr. Curtiss, led
the way silently along the hall. In the dim light, I could see the
decorations of palms and wreaths of smilax, relieved here and there by a
mass of gorgeous bloom, and through a door to the right I caught a
glimpse of many tables, set ready for the luncheon which was never to be
eaten. There was something ghostly about the deserted rooms--something
chilling in the thought of this arrested gaiety, these hopes for
happiness so rudely shattered. It recalled that vision which had so
astonished poor Pip--the vision of Miss Havisham, decked in her yellow
wedding finery, sitting at her gilded dressing-table in the darkened
room, with the bride-cake cobwebbed and mouldy, and the chairs set ready
for the guests who were never to arrive. Only here, I reflected, the
clocks should be stopped at noon, not at twenty minutes to nine!

We turned into a room which I saw to be the library, and a man sprang up
as we entered.

"Royce!" he cried, and there was in his tone such an agony of entreaty
that I knew instantly who he was.

"No; no news, Burr," said our junior; "but here's Mr. Lester, and if any
one can suggest a solution of this mystery, I'm sure he can. Lester,
this is Burr Curtiss."

As I shook hands with him, I told myself that Mr. Royce's description
had been well within the truth. I could join with him in saying that I
had never seen a handsomer man or a more attractive one, though in his
eyes, as I met them, misery and anxiety were only too apparent.

"It was very kind of you to come, Mr. Lester," he said.

"Not at all," I protested. "I only hope I can be of some service."

"Royce has told you----"

"Only the bare facts," I said. "I'd like to have all the details of the
story, if you'll be so kind as to give me them."

"Certainly," he assented instantly, as we sat down. "That's what I wish
to do--I know how important details are."

He paused for a moment, to be sure of his self-control, and I had the
