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<h3> XVI </h3> Clavering walked rapidly toward Mr. Dinwiddie's club. He was in no haste to be alone with himself, although he should have been at his desk an hour ago. But it was time Dinwiddie had some news for him. The club was deserted as far as he was concerned and he went on to Mr. Dinwiddie's rooms in Forty-eighth Street. There he found his friend in dressing-gown and slippers, one bandaged foot on a stool. "Gout?" he asked with the callousness of youth. "Wondered why I hadn't heard from you." "I've tried to get you no less than four times on the telephone." "When I'm at work I leave orders downstairs to let my telephone alone, and I've been walking a lot." "Well, sit down and smoke. Standing round makes me nervous. You look nervous yourself. Been working too hard?" "Yes. Think of taking a run down to Florida." "Perhaps I'll go with you. But I've something to tell you. That's the reason I called you up——" "Well?" "Don't snap my head off. Got a touch of dyspepsia?" "No, I haven't. If you had to turn out a column a day you'd be nervous too." "Well, take a vacation——" "What have you found out?" "It took me a week to get in touch with Harry Thornhill, but he finally consented to see me. He's lived buried among books for the last twenty years. His wife and two children were killed in a railway collision——" "What the devil do I care about Harry Thornhill!" "You're a selfish young beggar, but I would have cared as little at your age. Well—a cousin of his, Maynard Thornhill, did move to Virginia some thirty-five years ago, married, and had a family, then moved on to Paris and remained there until both he and his wife died. Beyond that he could tell me nothing. They weren't on particularly cordial terms and he never looked the family up when he went over. Has Madame Zattiany ever said anything about brothers and sisters?" "Not a word." "Probably married and settled in Europe somewhere, or wiped out. You might ask her." "I'll ask her no more questions." "Been snubbing you?" "On the contrary, she's been uncommonly decent. I got rather strung up the last time I was there and asked her so many leading questions that she'd have been justified in showing me out of the house." "You impertinent young scamp. But manners have changed since my day. What did she tell you?" "Nothing. I'm as much in the dark as ever. What have you found out about Josef Zattiany?" "Something, but not quite enough. I met an Austrian, Countess Loyos, at dinner the other night and asked her about the Zattianys. She said the family was a large one with many branches, but she had a vague idea that a Josef Zattiany was killed in the war. Whether he was married or not, she had no idea.…" Clavering stood up suddenly and looked down on Mr. Dinwiddie, who was smiling less triumphantly than ruefully. "Well?" he asked sharply. "Well?" "I see you've caught it. It's rather odd, isn't it, that this Austrian lady, who has lived her life in Viennese Society, knows nothing apparently of any young and beautiful Countess Zattiany? I didn't give her a hint of the truth, for I certainly shall not be the one to loose the bloodhounds on this charming young woman, whoever she may be. Told her that I recalled having met a very young and handsome countess of that name in Europe before the war and wondered what had become of her.… But somebody else may let them loose any moment. A good many people are interested in her already." "Well, they can't do anything to her. She's a right to call herself whatever she likes, and she asks no favors. But I'd like to hypnotize Judge Trent and get the truth out of him. He knows, damn him!" "He's laying up trouble for himself if he's passing off an impostor—letting her get possession of Mary's money. I cannot understand Trent. He's a fool about women, but he's the soul of honor, and has one of the keenest legal minds in the state. That she has fooled him is unthinkable." "He knows, and is in some way justified. Madame Zattiany must have your friend's power of attorney. That's positive. And there is no doubt that Countess Zattiany—Mary Ogden—is in some sanitarium in Vienna, hopelessly ill. She let that out." "Poor Mary! Is that true?" "I'm afraid it is … perhaps … that may be it.…" "What are you talking about?" "When she was mocking my curiosity she suggested that she might have been an actress and won the confidence of Countess Zattiany owing to the resemblance. It struck me as fantastic, but who knows?… Still, why should she use the name Zattiany even if your friend did give her the power of attorney … unless …" he recalled Gora's suggestion, "she is out for a lark." "Lark? She hasn't tried to meet people. I can't see any point in your idea. Absurd. And that woman is no actress. She is grande dame born and bred." "I've met some actresses that had very fine manners indeed, and also the entrée." "Well, they don't measure up according to my notion. This girl is the real thing." "Then why, in heaven's name, doesn't your Countess Loyos know anything about her? If Madame Zattiany is what she says she is, they must have met in Viennese Society a hundred times. In fact she would have been one of the notable figures at court." "The only explanation I can think of is that Madame Zattiany is all that she claims to be, but that for some reason or other she is not using her own name." "Ah! That is an explanation. But why—why?" "There you have me … unless … Ah!" The familiar glitter came into his eyes and Clavering waited expectantly. This old bird had a marvellous instinct. "I have it! For some reason she had to get out of Europe. Maybe she's hiding from a man, maybe from the Government. Zattiany may be one of her husband's names—or her mother's. Of course Mary would be interested in her—with that resemblance—and help her out. She knew her well enough to trust her, and somebody had to represent her here. Of course Trent knows the truth and naturally would keep her secret." "Another plot for the movies … still—it's a plausible enough explanation … yes … I shouldn't wonder. But from whom is she hiding?" "Possibly from her husband." "Her—her——" "Like as not. Don't murder me. I think you'd better go to Florida and stay there. Better still, marry Anne Goodrich and take her along——" Clavering had flung himself out of the room. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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