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Stolen Name

[163] <h2>CHAPTER XVII. JUNO.</h2> The house remained silent while Nick Carter waited. Indeed there was barely a sound to be heard at all, even from without, so remote was the place, for Kingsgift, comprising more than eight hundred acres of land, much of it forest, was bounded on three sides by water, and on the fourth by a narrow neck of land only, so that the nearest neighbor, save for the negro tenants, lived several miles distant. While the time passed during which the negress was preparing food for the detective, he amused himself by inspecting the room in which he waited. It was evidently a reception room, used only for the accommodations of people like Nick Carter, who appeared there without any definite purpose—apparently—and presently went on their ways again, never to be heard of more. After a time the negress reappeared and invited him to follow her; and he was conducted to the spacious dining room where Liza had spread food enough for three hungry men. “It’s on’y jes’ a cold snack, honey,” she said apologetically, “but it sure was de bestes’ I cud do on so[164] short notice. Dar ain many strangers what gits in h’yere from de main road. It suttinly is clar-to-goodnes clean off’n de trabbled road.” “So your master isn’t at home, eh?” said the detective, helping himself to the good things before him. “No, sah, dat he ain’t.” “And your mistress is away, too?” “Yassir; yassir. She done gone away, too.” “It is rather strange that uncle should have said she was here.” “Say, ain’t I done tol yo’ dat my ol man is de hugest-most liah in de worl’? My, my, yo’ don’ wanttuh go for to b’lieve wat dat man tells yo’. Tain’t safe, nohow. He suttinly is de onliest man I know what can’t tell de truth; he suttinly is.” “Well, auntie, maybe you can tell me how to go from here to Hague. I want to go there in the morning, after breakfast.” “In de mawnin’? Yo’ jes’ drives ’long de road. Dere ain’t nothin’ else to do. Reckon yo’ must ha’ come straight through Hague when you done come yere. When you is quite finished eatin’, sah, I’ll show you to your room whar you is to sleep, and you kin go to baid jes’ as soon as yo’ is a mind to.” “Oh, I won’t go to bed right away, auntie. I’ll sit out there on the veranda and smoke,” said the detective, rising, for he had eaten his fill. “You can show[165] me where the room is, if you wish, and I will go to it after I have smoked my cigar.” “Lord bless yo’, sah, you is welcome to smoke right in yo’ room, all yo’ pleases,” said the woman hastily. So hastily that Nick decided at once that she wished to get him stowed away immediately. He was just turning over in his mind the question as to why the woman desired that, when he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs on the roadway, and then a musical voice called from the darkness: “Lize! Lize! Oh, uncle! Here I am!” The negro woman looked appealingly toward the detective, as if she wished that he would hide himself away somewhere. Nick stepped quickly to the door, threw it ajar, and then stood there, framed in the opening, with the light of the room behind him so that it fell full upon the face and figure of a woman who had pulled her saddle horse close to the stepping block, and was just gathering the reins in her hand preparatory to dismounting. She straightened quickly when she saw Nick, and for an instant it seemed to him as if she was on the point of urging the horse away again. But if she felt the impulse, she controlled it; and she said coolly: “Good evening, sir.” Then she called past Nick to the negress, adding: “Where is your mistress, Liza? I rode over to make a call upon her.” [166] “She done gone out, missy, jes’ a lil’ while ago, for sure,” the negress replied quickly, and the detective could not repress a smile at the transparency of the falsehood, or, rather, at the attempt to deceive. It was evident that the woman on the horse’s back saw the expression on Nick Carter’s face, and read it correctly, for she instantly broke into a laugh, and exclaimed: “Oh, dear, it isn’t the slightest use to tell Aunt Liza to say that I’m not at home. She cannot understand how a person can be not at home and in the house at the same time. But I won’t try to deceive you, sir. I am Mrs. Dinwiddie, and if you are a stranger, you are welcome to such hospitality as I can provide.” She started to dismount, and Nick stepped forward to assist her; but with a quick, light spring, she was out of the saddle before he could touch her. There was no mistaking the accent of the woman when she spoke, or rather, there could be no two opinions in regard to her enunciation. It was decidedly English, and yet with so faint a trace of it that she probably thought, herself, that she spoke it like an American. It has been said that the real English sing their words, and she sang hers, certainly, and with a voice that sounded capable of singing anything. “I found myself in this neighborhood a little while[167] ago, and made bold to ask for accommodation,” explained the detective, approaching nearer to her; and he perceived that she answered very well indeed to the meager description he had of her. There was no denying her beauty, or that it belonged to a class by itself. She was the brunette that had been partly described to him; the woman with the luminous eyes, with the perfect figure, the dark hair, the olive complexion, which was yet too fair to be olive. She was Juno; he was assured of that; and hence was the woman with whom he wished to converse. As soon as she dismounted and after replying to his statement with a word or two, she led the way into the house, and to a sitting room which Nick had not seen before. “You are a stranger in this part of the country?” she said inquiringly, after indicating a chair for him to occupy, and disposing of her own person on a low rocker. “Kingsgift is such an out of the way place that strangers rarely honor us; still, you are welcome. It is unfortunate that my husband is absent, else he would entertain you.” “Madam, thank you,” replied Nick, accepting the proffered chair. “You are very kind. The truth is, I was informed that you, also, were absent.” [168] Again she indulged in that musical laugh of hers, which was almost contagious. “That is a little story of mine,” she said, “but I cannot make Liza keep to it. Since my husband went away, I have preferred to keep to myself, and I permitted it to be thought around here that I had gone with him—or in another direction. But it makes no difference. I believe that you have not yet told me your name, sir.” “I am Mr. Carter, from New York,” he replied, giving his own name in spite of the fact that he was partly disguised. He wished now that he was not. “Then you are a long way from home, are you not?” “A very long way; yes, indeed; and my horses were about played out when I arrived here. I doubt if they could have gone three miles farther.” “And you were bound for——” she stopped with the rising inflection. “In the morning I will go to a place called Hague, if some one here will direct me.” “Did you come from the north?” “I drove from Fredericksburg.” “Indeed? And arrived here? Why, you must have gone directly through Hague, unless you took the wrong road and came by a very devious course.” “People who drive along strange highways at night are apt to take the wrong road, are they not?” he replied,[169] smiling. “But, madam, since your husband is not at home, I will go on again as soon as my horses are rested, if you prefer it,” he added. “Oh, no; there is no reason why you should do that, sir. Make yourself as comfortable as you can while you are here. You will excuse me, of course—and, as I probably will not be up when you leave in the morning, I will also say good-by.” She inclined her head, and was gone before he could venture a protest. He had hoped that she would be inclined to remain and talk with him for a while, but such a proceeding was evidently furthest from her thoughts. And so Nick Carter found himself alone, almost as soon as the purpose of his visit was achieved. For he had accomplished the purpose of that visit, almost as soon as he saw Juno and heard her speak. He had satisfied himself of two things; one was that he had never seen her before, and the other was that he would be able to recognize her again under any circumstances. For a time after she left him he remained standing where he had risen to bid her good night, watching the closed door by which she had passed from the room. He was thinking to himself: “A wonderful woman! Truly a remarkable woman—and as beautiful as she is remarkable. No person[170] who has ever seen her face and looked into her eyes could forget either; no one who has ever heard the sound of her voice could forget it. She has a wonderful charm; a quick intelligence; a keen perception.” He stopped at that expression, “a keen perception.” He asked himself if by any possibility her perceptions were sufficiently keen to have suggested to her the explanation of his call there; and he replied to his own thought: “If she is the sort of woman I have believed her to be she would not be deceived by the explanation I offered of my presence here. She would know at once that I did not come here by accident.” However, if Juno knew or guessed such a thing, she did not show it at all. She had acted throughout in a perfectly natural manner. The most critical could have had no fault to find with her conduct, or with her manner of receiving the detective. The negress, Liza, entered the room a moment later, evidently sent there by her mistress, and the detective followed her to the room that had been assigned to him. An old-fashioned teester bed, surmounted by a resplendent canopy, waited there to receive him, and he was tired enough to have taken advantage of its comforts[171] at once; but another duty demanded his attention first. From the lining of his coat, where he had cut a place to receive it, he drew forth several sheets of drawing paper; from another pocket, pencils; and then he drew forward under the light the drop leaf mahogany table, and set himself to work on a reproduction of the features of the beautiful woman who had entertained him so short a time. He made a profile; he made a full view drawing; he made a three-quarters. He drew a picture of her standing; another sketch represented her in the saddle, as he had first seen her. Still another showed her seated in the low rocker in the sitting room where she had talked with him only a few moments. In all he made eight sketches of Juno, for it was an art which his father had compelled him to acquire when he was learning to be a detective—to draw with great accuracy from memory. When he had finished them and raised them before his eyes for his own inspection he nodded his head, well satisfied with the result he had achieved. He had eight fairly good likenesses of Juno to work with. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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