“But the trouble it will involve,” protested Mr. Franklin.
“Is just what I need to allay my excitement,” I responded. “I shall be glad to offer them rooms for the night. If they are equally glad to accept them—”
“They must be!” the old gentleman declared. “I can’t go running round with them hunting up rooms tonight. Miss Butterworth is very good; go find the girls, Franklin; let me have them off my mind, at least.”
The young man bowed. I bowed, and was slipping at last from my place by the stairs when, for the third time, I felt my dress twitched.
“Are you going to keep to that story?” a voice whispered in my ear. “About the young man and woman coming in the night, you know.”
“Keep to it!” I whispered back, recognizing the scrub-woman, who had sidled up to me from some unknown quarter in the semi-darkness. “Why, it’s true. Why shouldn’t I keep to it.”
A chuckle, difficult to describe but full of meaning, shook the arm of the woman as she pressed close to my side.
“Oh, you are a good one,” she said. “I didn’t know they made ’em so good!” And with another chuckle full of satisfaction and an odd sort of admiration I had certainly not earned, she slid away again into the darkness.
Certainly there was something in this woman’s attitude towards this affair which merited attention.
CHAPTER V
“THIS IS NO ONE I KNOW”
I welcomed the Misses Van Burnam with just enough good-will to show that I had not been influenced by any unworthy motives in asking them to my house.
I gave them my guest-chamber, but I invited them to sit in my front room as long as there was anything interesting going on in the street. I knew they would like to look out, and as this chamber boasts of a bay with two windows, we could all be accommodated. From where I sat I could now and then hear what they said, and I considered this but just, for if the young woman who had suffered so untimely an end was in any way connected with them, it was certainly best that the fact should not lie concealed; and one of them, that is Isabella, is such a chatterbox.
Mr. Van Burnam and his son had returned next door, and so far as we could observe from our vantage-point, preparations were being made for the body’s removal. As the crowd below, driven away by the policemen one minute, only to collect again in another, swayed and grumbled in a continual expectation that was as continually disappointed, I heard Caroline’s voice rise in two or three short sentences.
“They can’t find Howard, or he would have been here before now. Did you see her that time when we were coming out of Clark’s? Fanny Preston did, and said she was pretty.”
“No, I didn’t get a glimpse—” A shout from the street below.
“I can’t believe it,” were the next words I heard, “but Franklin is awfully afraid—”
“Hush! or the ogress—” I am sure I heard her say ogress; but what followed was drowned in another loud murmur, and I caught nothing further till these sentences were uttered by the trembling and over-excited Caroline: “If it is she, pa will never be the same man again. To have her die in our house! O, there’s Howard now!”
The interruption came quick and sharp, and it was followed by a double cry and an anxious rustle, as the two girls sprang to their feet in their anxiety to attract their brother’s attention or possibly to convey him some warning.