Victor's Triumph Part 47

"I doubt if that fellow will be able to divest himself of his outer garments before he falls down headlong in a dead stupor. I have him in my power now--I have him in my power now! At last--at last! Oh, yes! Oh, yes, Miss Cavendish, you will marry him, will you not? And you, Stephen Lyle, how proud you will be to have his sister for your wife and himself for a brother-in-law! But I must cover up my tracks," she added, suddenly, as she went around to his vacated place at the table and took his empty cup and rinsed it out carefully several times, throwing the water into the empty grate, where it soon dried up. Then she poured some of the coffee-grounds from her own cup into the rinsed cup to conceal the rinsing. Finally she drew from her watch-pocket the little white paper from which she had poured the powder into the coffee-cup and she held it in the blaze of the gas-light until it was burned to ashes.

Then she sat down in the rocking-chair and smiled as she rested.

At intervals she bent her head toward the door leading into Alden Lytton's room and listened; but she heard no sound of life in there.

She sat on in the rocker until the striking of a large clock somewhere in the neighborhood aroused her.

It was twelve o'clock.

Midnight!

She arose and cautiously opened the door leading into Alden Lytton's room.

She looked like a thief.

The gas was turned down very low; but by its dim light she saw him sleeping a heavy, trance-like sleep.

She went into the room and to the door leading into the pa.s.sage and bolted it.

Then she closed every window-shutter and drew down every window-shade and let down the heavy moreen curtains, making all dark.

Then she returned to the parlor, closed the intervening door and threw herself into the rocking-chair and closed her eyes in the vain endeavor to rest and sleep.

But sleep and rest were far from her that night.

The clock struck one.

All sounds even about that busy hotel gradually ceased. The house was still, awfully still, yet she could not sleep.

The clock struck two.

She started up with a s.h.i.+ver, exclaiming:

"I can not sleep; but I can go to bed and lie there."

And she went into her own room and went to bed, but not to rest.

She heard the clock strike in succession every hour of the night, until it finally struck four.

Then, when the people of the house were beginning to stir, she, overcome with fatigue and watching, at length fell asleep.

As usual in such cases of long night watching and early morning sleep, she slept long into the forenoon. When she awoke and looked at her watch she found it was nine o'clock.

She arose in haste and dressed herself.

This was the morning in which she was to meet her unconscious confederate in crime, Craven Kyte.

As soon as she was dressed she went into the parlor, where, it appeared, the waiter with his pa.s.s-key had already been before her, for the remains of the last night's supper had been carried away and the room had been restored to order.

She then listened at Alden Lytton's door.

All was dark as a vault and still as death there.

She opened the door cautiously and went in.

He was still sleeping a death-like sleep in the pitch-dark room. She went and looked to the door leading into the pa.s.sage and found it still bolted.

Then she came out of the room, locked the door between it and the parlor, and so isolated the sleeper from all the house.

Lastly she put on her bonnet and shawl and walked out. She walked down the street for several blocks, and then hailed an empty cab that was pa.s.sing and engaged it to take her to a certain picture-shop in a distant part of the city.

It was at this shop that she had engaged to meet Craven Kyte that morning at ten o'clock.

A half-hour's rapid drive brought her to the place.

On arriving, she got out, paid and dismissed the cab, and entered the shop.

It was not yet ten o'clock, nor had her intended tool and victim yet made his appearance.

It was also too early for the usual customers of the establishment.

But a polite clerk came forward and placed a catalogue and a small telescope in her hands, that she might the better examine the pictures.

"Thank you. I would like to look at a city directory first, if you please," she said, as she put aside the catalogue and the telescope.

The clerk handed her the required volume.

She turned to the church directory, and looked down its columns until she found what she seemed to be in search of.

And then she marked it with a pencil and closed the book.

At that moment Craven Kyte entered the shop.

On catching sight of her whom he loved and came to meet his face lighted up with joy and he hastened toward her.

But she held up a warning finger to him, and in obedience to its signal he moderated his transports and came to her quietly.

"This is no place to make demonstrations of that sort," she said.

"Here, take your pencil and a bit of paper and copy off this address for me," she added, opening the directory and pointing to the name she had marked.

"The Reverend Mr. Borden, number --, ---- street," said Craven Kyte, reading the address that he had copied.

"That will do; now come along. We will go straight to that reverend gentleman's house," said Mary Grey.

And they left the shop together.

"Oh, Mary, my love--my love! How tantalizing it is to me to meet you here in public, where I may scarcely take your dear hand, when my heart is nearly breaking with its repressed feelings!" he whispered, in eager tones.

"You impatient boy, you are worse than any spoiled child!" she said, archly.