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Was there a deeply laid plot back of all these preparations involving both Willoughby and his sister? What was it Hawley was scheming about so carefully, holding this boy deserter in one hand, while he reached out the other after Christie Maclaire? Surely, the man was not working blindly; he must have a purpose in view.
"I remember; it contained the note the man brought to me from Hawley; he had written it that way." She crossed the room, sinking down into a chair facing him. "And you have actually confused me with Christie Maclaire all this while? Have never known who I was?" He shook his head. "I told you to call me Hope; that is my name I am Hope Waite."
What is it you are thinking about?" She took a deep breath, standing now directly facing him in the light. "Of playing Miss Maclaire to-night," she said quickly. "Of taking her place, and learning what it is of so much importance Hawley has to report. Don't you think it might be done?" The sheer audacity of this unexpected proposal left him speechless.
Besides, in the light of Waite's application to the sheriff for assistance, it was comparatively easy to conceive of a valid reason why Hawley should vanish, and desire, likewise, to take Miss Maclaire with him. But there was no apparent occasion for his forcible abduction of Hope.
Did he already realize that the girl he had first met on the stage coach, and later inveigled into the desert, was Hope, and not the music hall artist? He, of course, fully believed her to be Christie Maclaire at that time, but something might have occurred since to change that belief. Anyhow, the man was not now seeking Hope, but the other.
He did discover that the father had taken the child to St. Louis and left her there with a woman named Raymond, but after the woman died the girl completely disappeared." "Then Miss Maclaire is Hope Waite's half-sister?" "That's the way it looks now." "And Hawley merely happened to stumble on to the right party?" "Sure; it's clear enough how that came about.
The nature of the mistake was becoming apparent, and Keith's gray eyes smiled as they looked into the depths of the brown. "Your message had rather an amusing result," he said, "as the doctor informed me that Miss Christie Maclaire was the one who desired my presence." "Miss Maclaire!" her voice exhibiting startled surprise. "Why why oh, I did forget; I never told him differently.
No sooner had Miss Maclaire vanished than Keith's thoughts turned toward Hope Waite. She would need someone in her loneliness to take her mind from off her brother's death, and, besides, much had occurred of interest since the funeral, which he desired to talk over with her.
Evidently no attempt had been made at concealment, and this served to convince the pursuers that Hawley still believed his captive to be Miss Maclaire, and that her disappearance would not be suspected until after nightfall. In that case the trail could not be discovered before the following morning, and with such a start, pursuit would be useless.
It is such a strange thing; I cannot account for it both those men mistook me for her, and and I let them. I didn't care who the man Hawley supposed me to be, but I intended to have told Mr. Keith he was mistaken. I don't know why I didn't, only I supposed he finally understood. But I want you to believe, Mrs. Murphy I am Hope Waite, and not Christie Maclaire."
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