Читать книгу Leonie, the Typewriter - Wenona Gilman - Страница 5

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"Ask Pyne not to keep me waiting. I am in a great hurry!"

The speaker was an elderly man of unusually fine presence, a strong cast of countenance, and a manner that bespoke him a man born to command, a trifle dictatorial and overbearing perhaps, but just to the last degree, save where his overweening pride was concerned. He did not even glance about him, but sat down in a preoccupied way that would have told an observer how deeply he was thinking.

"Good-morning, Mr. Chandler!" Lynde exclaimed, entering the room where he sat. "Is not this charming weather?"

"Yes; but I have not come to you to talk about the weather," answered the elder man testily. "The fact is, a most infernally unpleasant thing has been going on at my house for some time, and I have borne it just as long as I can. I have come to you for your advice."

He paused and looked at Lynde, but the latter did not speak, returning the glance in interested silence.

"For some time past," he continued, "I have been missing large sums of money from my desk. I can't understand how it can be, unless some of the servants have a duplicate key; but though I have set every sort of trap, it is utterly impossible for me to catch the thief. Last night the climax was reached! I concluded that as the thief knew so well the place where I kept my money, that I would put it out of the house. Well, Pyne, it seems that the scoundrel was compelled to have money, for my wife's diamond bracelet was taken. Strangely enough there were other jewels there of much greater value, but they were left and the bracelet taken. Mrs. Chandler placed it in the casket with her own hands last night after her maid had left the room, so that we cannot think Nichette the guilty one; but who is it? I want you to advise me what to do!"

"It is a strange thing," said Pyne, musingly; "there seems to be but one course—put a detective to work on it."

"Oh, hang a detective! Do you suppose I want my whole house carried off? That would be the result if I put a detective on it. They are constitutional liars, Pyne. If one of them told me that one of the servants was guilty, I would suspect any one in the house sooner than the one he named. You must suggest something different from that, or I shall have to let them rob me in silence."

"But suppose I could get a woman——"

"That makes no difference. I don't believe in professional detectives, male or female."

"Then I am afraid that I see no way——"

"Pardon me, Mr. Pyne, but this gentleman has expressed a dislike only for professional detectives. If I can be of any assistance to you in that way or any other, I shall be only too pleased."

The words were spoken by Leonie Cuyler, and Lynde turned and looked at her in surprise.

"You!" he exclaimed. "What could you do?"

"I don't know; but I should like to try to find the thief for—this gentleman. I think I could succeed."

"How should you begin?" he asked, regarding her curiously.

"It would be impossible to tell, sir, until I had seen the premises, and knew the story in detail."

"But I can't spare you!" exclaimed Pyne, by no means well pleased.

"It will not require all my time, sir," cried Leonie, eagerly. "I could keep up with your work quite as well, except, perhaps, the private part of it; and I might get through in a few days."

Lynde's astonishment over the girl's request was infinitely greater than at Chandler's story. Still, he readily saw that she had some strong reason for making it and hesitated to deny her.

"Let her try, Pyne," exclaimed Chandler. "It can't make any difference, and if she has not succeeded in a few days she can return, and no harm done. Somehow she has inspired me with confidence. Surely, you will be willing to inconvenience yourself for a day or a week for an old friend of all these years' standing?"

The words were spoken in an aggrieved tone that always brought Pyne to terms.

"Of course, if you make a point of it, I can say nothing further," he answered, endeavoring to conceal his annoyance. "When will you want her to go?"

"At once. You will come as my guest, Miss Cuyler?"

"I should prefer not, sir. Under those circumstances some explanation would have to be made to your wife and daughter. Pardon me, sir, but all women are more or less alike, and are liable to expose what we most wish to conceal. If it is known that you have a detective in the house, the thief will be on his guard and difficult to detect. Have you any need of an extra servant?"

"Yes; one of the house-maids left to-day."

"Then, sir, if you will give me the position I will endeavor to fill it satisfactorily until you can fill my place better."

"And you don't wish my wife or daughter to know?"

"I should prefer not."

"Are you ready, Miss——"

Chandler hesitated, and Pyne supplied the name:

"Cuyler."

"If I am to be your servant," interrupted the girl, "you must call me Leonie!"

"Yes, to be sure, to be sure! Can you go now? We can concoct our story as we go."

"I should prefer to follow you, sir. It might look rather suspicious if we went there together."

"Right again! You will have tracked that thief by the end of the week. If you do—well, Leonard Chandler never forgot a service yet."

Leonie colored. She was about to tell him that what she would do would not be through the hope of reward, and only checked herself in time. She bowed gravely.

Being assured that she would follow him without loss of time, Chandler left, and Pyne turned eagerly to Leonie.

"Why were you so anxious to go there?" he asked, making no endeavor to mask his curiosity.

"I beg that you will not ask me—at least, not yet," she answered, controlling her trembling by a violent effort. "There are reasons that make me desire it. If I have displeased you I am very sorry, but——"

"I beg that you will not speak like that to me, Miss Cuyler," he replied, with an impatient wave of his hand. "If you wish it, that is quite enough for me, but I do not think you realize what you are doing. I know that you are gently born and bred, whatever misfortunes may have befallen you; and you have forgotten what it is like to enter a house as a servant, and the indignities to which you will be subjected."

"And you forget that if any such thing occurs I can leave upon the instant."

"True!"

"Don't try to discourage me, Mr. Pyne, I entreat——"

"It is such an absurd thing," he interrupted again; "I cannot bear to have you go there. Something tells me it will not result well. Leonie, give it up!"

In his earnestness he did not notice that he had called her by her Christian name; but she heard, and colored to the very roots of her hair.

"Let me go!" she cried, in a trembling voice. "It can do no harm, and——"

"I can say nothing further, but my heart misgives me. If it should bring trouble to you, I——"

He turned away without completing the sentence, and with a heart that tumultuously throbbed from a variety of emotions, Leonie went into the next room and put on her hat.

"A lady to see you, sir."

The door of Leonard Chandler's library was thrown open, and Leonie Cuyler was ushered in.

"Ah!" exclaimed Chandler, laying aside his paper, and looking at her curiously through his gold-rimmed eye-glasses. "You are the young woman I engaged as house-maid, are you not?"

"Yes, sir," answered Leonie, the throbbing of her heart causing her to speak timidly.

"I thought so. Let me see. Your name you told me is Leonie, did you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"This is Mrs. Chandler, my wife, and my daughter."

Leonie raised her eyes to Evelyn Chandler's face. She remembered it ever after as she saw it then—cold and proud, but more beautiful than any face she had ever seen before. But as her eyes turned, after her slight bow, a curious change came over the blonde countenance, and Evelyn Chandler left the room more hastily than she usually did such things.

Alone in the hall, she allowed an expression of anxiety full play. Her hands rested above her heart, and her brows were drawn in a peculiar frown.

"Leonie Cuyler!" she muttered. "What in Heaven's name is she doing here?"