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The compromising documents disappeared within the warm hollow of her muff, and with a last glance around, Mrs. Marteen unlocked the door and descended to the street, where her walnut-brown limousine awaited her.
But they threatened me with nerves fancy that nerves! And never having had an attack of that sort, of course I'm terrified. I shall leave my butterfly in good hands, however. My sister is to take my place; and I sha'n't be gone long, you know." "We hope not, don't we, Dorothy? What boat do you honor, and what date?" Mrs. Marteen hesitated. "I'm not sure. The Bermudian sails this week.
"What else am I here for?" retorted the little Marteen, and though he too laughed, a thrill of triumph ran through the laugh. "It just needed that shot to round all off. I was so afraid that we should not hear it, that it might never be fired. Now it will never be known, if your men keep silent, whether they sunk their cargo or were sunk with it on board."
Marteen, sitting erect in the bed, held out rigid arms as if in desperate appeal. The terrified maid stood by, wringing her hands. "Gard!" she called. "Marcus Gard! help me! Tell me I'll believe you I'll believe you will you tell me the truth!" Her strength left her suddenly, and as the physician placed a supporting arm about her, she sank back, her eyes closed wearily.
The long journey north was over at last. The weary days and nights of hurried travel. Only a moment more and the familiar sights and sounds of the great city would greet her once again. She was going home to what? Mrs. Marteen did not dare to picture the future.
Marteen decided to try her own will and speak. "Thank you " her lips spoke, and she felt elated. She made another effort. "Thank you very much; it's most refreshing. No no toast now but is there some more tea?" She drank it greedily and lay back upon the pillows with a sigh. Images were forming; memories were coming back now scraps of things. There was a young girl whom she loved dearly.
The links in the chain of evidence were now complete, but more than diplomacy would be required in order to bring about the legal closing of the affair without precipitating a scandal. Gard's own hasty actions led back to his fear for Mrs. Marteen, that in turn involved the cause of that suspicion.
He rose, tubbed and breakfasted, and went, as was his wont, to his sister's sitting room. "Well, Polly," he roared through the closed doors of her bedroom, "up late, as usual, I suppose! Well, I'm off. By the way, we aren't using the opera box next Monday night; lend it to Mrs. Marteen. That little girl of hers is coming out, you know, and we ought to do something for 'em now and again.
It consisted of three square and bulky metal cases, bound together by the chain. "We have it, my friend Marteen," whispered José Medina, with a laugh of sheer excitement. He was indeed hardly less stirred than Hillyard himself. "Not for nothing did the little Marteen lead the horse across the beach of Benicassim. Now we will row back quickly.
The sense of impending disaster, that had withdrawn for the moment, overwhelmed him once more. He entered his own home absently, listened, abstracted, to the various items Saunders thought important enough to mention, dismissed him, and turned wearily to a pile of personal mail. His eye caught a familiar handwriting on a thick envelope. From Mrs. Marteen evidently postmarked St. Augustine.
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