Edith Van Dyne - Mary Louise Solves a Mystery

A little girl sat shivering in a corner of a reception room in thefashionable Hotel Voltaire. It was one of a suite of rooms occupied byMrs. Antoinette Seaver Jones, widely known for her wealth and beauty,and this girla little thing of elevenwas the only child of Mrs.Antoinette Seaver Jones, and was named Alora.

It was not cold that made her shiver, for across the handsomelyfurnished room an open window gratefully admitted the summer sunshineand the summer breeze. Near the window, where the draught came coolest,a middle-aged woman in a sober dress sat reading. Alora did not look atthis person but kept her gaze fixed anxiously upon the doorway that ledto the corridor, and the spasmodic shudders that at times shook herlittle body seemed due to nervous fear.

The room was so still that every tick of the Dresden clock could bedistinctly heard. When Miss Gorham, Alora's governess, turned a page ofher book, the rustle was appallingly audible. And the clock ticked on,and Miss Gorham turned page after page, and still the child sat bowedupon her chair and eagerly eyed the passageway.

It seemed ages before the outer door of the suite finally opened and aman moved softly down the passage and paused at the entrance of thereception room. The man was white-haired, dignified and distinguishedin appearance. Hat in hand, he stood as if undecided while Alorabounded from her seat and came to him, her eyes, big and pleading,reading his face with dramatic intentness.

"Well, well, my dear; what is it?" he said in a kindly voice.

"May I see my mamma now, Doctor?" she asked.

He shook his head, turning to the table to place his hat and glovesupon it.

"Not just yet, little one," he gently replied, and noting herquick-drawn breath of disappointment he added: "Why, I haven't seenher myself, this morning."

"Why do you keep me from her, Doctor Anstruther? Don't you know it'sit's wicked, and cruel?"a sob in her voice.

The old physician looked down upon the child pityingly.

"Mamma is illvery ill, you knowand to disturb her mightit mightwell, it might make her worse," he explained lamely.

"I won't disturb her. There's a nurse in there, all the time. Whyshould I disturb my mamma more than a nurse?" asked Alora pleadingly.

He evaded the question. The big eyes disconcerted him.

"When I have seen your mother," said he, "I may let you go to her for afew minutes. But you must be very quiet, so as not to excite her. Wemust avoid anything of an exciting nature. You understand that, don'tyou, Lory?"

She studied his face gravely. When he held out a hand to her she clungto it desperately and a shudder again shook her from head to foot.

"Tell me, Doctor Anstruther," in low, passionate tones, "is my motherdying?"

He gave an involuntary start.

"Who put that notion into your head, Lory?"

"Miss Gorham."

He frowned and glanced reprovingly at the governess, who had loweredher book to her lap and was regarding the scene with stolid unconcern.

"You mustn't mind such idle gossip, my dear. I am the doctor, you know,and I am doing all that can be done to save your mother's life. Don'tworry until I tell you to, Lory; and now let me go to see my patient."

He withdrew his hand from her clasp and turned into the passage again.The girl listened to his footsteps as he approached her mother'sbedchamber, paused a moment, and then softly opened the door andentered. Silence again pervaded the reception room. The clock resumedits loud ticking. Miss Gorham raised her book. Alora went back to herchair, trembling.

The front bedchamber was bright and cheery, a big room fitted withevery modern luxury. The doctor blinked his eyes as he entered from thedim passage, for here was sunlight and fresh air in plenty. Beside thebed stood a huge vase of roses, their delicate fragrance scenting theatmosphere. Upon the bed, beneath a costly lace coverlid, lay a womanthirty-five years of age, her beautiful face still fresh and unlined,the deep blue eyes turned calmly upon the physician.

"Welcome, Doctor Anstruther," she said. "Do you realize you have keptme waiting?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Jones," he replied, approaching her. "There are somany demands upon my time that"

"I know," a little impatiently; "but now that you are here please tellme how I am this morning."

"How do you feel?"

"I do not suffer, but it takes more morphine to quiet the pain. Janethas used the hypodermic four times since midnight," with a glance atthe gray-robed nurse who stood silently by the table.

The doctor nodded, thoughtfully looking down her. There was smallevidence of illness in her appearance, but he knew that her hours werenumbered and that the dread disease that had fastened upon her wascreeping on with ever increasing activity. She knew it, too, and smileda grim little smile as she added: "How long can I last, at this rate?"

"Do not anticipate, my dear," he answered gravely. "Let us do all thatmay be done, and"

"I must know!" she retorted. "I have certain important arrangements tomake that must not be needlessly delayed."

"I can understand that, Mrs. Jones."

"Then tell me frankly, how long have I to live?"

"Perhaps a month; possibly less; but"

"You are not honest with me, Doctor Anstruther! What I wish to knowwhat I must knowis how soon this disease will be able to kill me.If we manage to defer the end somewhat, all the better; but the fiendmust not take me unaware, before I am ready to resign my life."

He seated himself beside the bed and reflected. This was his mostinteresting patient; he had attended her constantly for more than ayear and in this time had learned to admire not only her beauty ofperson but her "gameness" and wholesome mentality. He knew something ofher past life and history, too, as well from her own lips as fromcommon gossip, for this was no ordinary woman and her achievements werefamiliar to many.

She was the daughter of Captain Bob Seaver, whose remarkable career wasknown to every man in the West. Captain Bob was one "forty-niners" andhad made fortunes and lost them with marvelous regularity. He had afaculty for finding gold, but his speculations were invariably unwise,so his constant transitions from affluence to poverty, and vice versa,were the subject of many amusing tales, many no doubt grosslyexaggerated. And the last venture of Captain Bob Seaver, before hedied, was to buy the discredited "Ten-Spot" mine and start to developit.

At that time he was a widower with one motherless childAntoinetteagirl of eighteen who had been reared partly in mining camps and partlyat exclusive girls' schools in the East, according to her father'svarying fortunes. "Tony" Seaver, as she was generally called in thosedays, combined culture and refinement with a thorough knowledge ofmining, and when her father passed away and left her absolute mistressof the tantalizing "Ten-Spot," she set to work to make the mine asuccess, directing her men in person and displaying such shrewdjudgment and intelligence, coupled with kindly consideration for herassistants, that she became the idol of the miners, all of whom wereproud to be known as employees of Tony Seaver's "Ten-Spot" would havedied for their beautiful employer if need be.