A Discord in Avalon/Chapter 2
CHAPTER II.
Quentin caught the man's hand and flung it off curtly.
"What does this mean, my man?" he asked, his gray eyes very cold. The other flushed, then nodded his head at the startled girl.
"No offense, mister—I'm Bert Osgood, from Los Angeles headquarters. Is this young lady a friend of yours?"
"Yes," replied Quentin, seeing that he had misjudged his man.
"Let me have your names, please—I'm on a little job over here, but if I've made a mistake I ain't meaning no offense."
There was evident hesitation in the detective's manner, and he had spoken so softly that the girl had plainly heard nothing beyond that first startling sentence. Quentin thought swiftly; he did not know the girl's name, but through his mind raced one that he had heard on Dolly Burlington's lips, and he seized on it to be rid of the man.
"This is Miss Enid Elsmere, and I'm Doctor Allan Quentin, of Los Angeles. It's all right, officer—I guess you dropped on the wrong party."
The detective's black eyes swept across his face, then the man nodded and drew back with a gesture of apology. Quentin took the girl's arm again and quietly led her through the crowd.
"What's the matter?" she asked, looking up at him. "Who was that man?"
Quentin searched desperately for some answer that would satisfy her without causing her needless alarm.
"Just a beggar," he lied easily, and his voice was convincing. "It's all right."
He motioned the crowding touts away, and when they had passed beyond the mob he found her gazing at him with apparent wonder on her face.
"But how in the world did you know my name?" she asked simply.
Quentin gasped: "Your name?"
"Certainly. I heard you tell"
"I said your name was Enid Elsmere, for lack of a better. My own name I gave."
"Then you are Doctor Quentin?"
"Why, of course!" he laughed, for there was wonder in her face. "But you don't mean to say that your name is really Enid Elsmere?"
"Yes," she said softly, then drew closer on his arm. "But can't we get to the hotel, and then talk? This is too—too public," and she glanced around, or seemed to do so, nervously. "You have helped me, and I feel that I owe you an explanation—and I would like more help"
"Come along," he said briefly, and determined that she was the best liar he had ever met. He did not know who the real Elsmere girl was, except that she was some acquaintance of Dolly Burlington; but if this blind girl had been in fear of a detective, if she had really been exploring his pocket
"Rot!" he said to himself, looking down at her face. "This may be the long arm of coincidence, after all."
He guided her up the steps into the big building, waving off the clustering bell boys, and led her across the palm-strewn lobby to a rather secluded corner, where he placed her in a chair and dropped into another at her side.
"Now," he began quietly, "tell me who Enid Elsmere is, please."
He saw that her hands were twisting nervously at her handkerchief again.
"Are you a friend of Doctor Burlington, please? Have you heard him speak of me?"
Quentin looked hard at her, startled in turn.
"No, Miss Elsmere. I know Hall Burlington slightly, but I know his daughter Dolly quite well. I have heard her speak of an Enid Elsmere as an acquaintance, that is all."
"Oh!" There seemed to be relief in her tone, which puzzled him. "Does Dolly call you Quent?"
"She does," he replied in new wonder, and she hesitated again. What could it mean? Why had he never heard of Enid Elsmere except in such a superficial way that the name had never provoked a question?
"Then you are" She stopped with a furious blush, and he laughed out:
"No, Miss Elsmere. I'm sorry you've heard gossip, but Dolly is really in love with another man, and we're just playing the game to keep Mrs. Burlington contented pro tem. Dolly's a good chum, and I'm helping her out. But you haven't told me who you are."
"I'm Doctor Burlington's niece," she answered in a low voice.
Quentin felt his suspicions revolve again. He had known of Burlington for years, first as an indifferent physician living on indifferent means, and later with wealth from some unknown source, leaping into prominence socially and professionally—a quiet, heavy-jawed man who talked little. Mrs. Burlington, he knew well, had huge ambitions for Dolly, which he was helping Dolly to defeat. But he had never heard of a niece.
"I did not know he had a niece," he said quietly. "Miss Elsmere. if you are in any difficulty, I wish you would allow me to help you. Why are you over here alone? Surely the Burlingtons, who live at Long Beach, would have been glad to meet you?"
There was trouble in her sightless face, and she hesitated again.
"I—I have lived with them for three years," she said slowly. "If you were not a friend of my uncle's, I would be more ready to trust you."
Quentin stared at her, thunderstruck. It occurred to him that she was clever; she might have known of the Burlington family, she might have seized at a straw and made it into a rope—but it was hard to believe. Surely there was nothing about Hall Burlington to inspire those last bitter words of hers.
"My dear girl," he said finally, "I am merely an acquaintance of—of your uncle. If you are in any trouble, you may tell me in professional confidence."
"Even if I said that I hoped never to enter his door again?" she shot out with swift and passionate intentness.
"By Jove!" whistled Quentin to himself. "This is getting in deep!" Aloud, he reassured her briefly: "I make no reservation, Miss Elsmere."
"I will trust you, then, if you will see that I am taken to Mr. J. M. Mathews, who has a summer residence here on the island, and if you will promise not to reveal my whereabouts for at least two months. Will you?"
"Where such a promise is necessary it is seldom safe to trust," he responded. "None the less, I promise, and I will be very glad to help you."
Her hand fluttered to his arm in relief, then fell to her lap again.
"Then I will tell you," she said, simply as a child. "Three years ago I was left in care of Doctor Burlington. He is not really my uncle, though I have always called him so; I think he was a college mate of my father's. When I was orphaned, it was arranged that Doctor Burlington should have the use of my income, and should bring me up as his own daughter.
"This went well for the first year, but after that conditions grew insupportable, Doctor Quentin. I am of age, yet he controls my money unless my sight should be restored, which he assures me is impossible. He has kept me secluded, and although Dolly and I love each other dearly, not even she is allowed to mention me to visitors. People understand that there is an invalid in the house, perhaps, but no more. Even Dolly seems to think that her father is acting for the best—oh, it is terrible!"
She paused, her voice breaking. Quentin was biting his lips in helpless bewilderment at this strange story, truth of which seemed patent in her face and voice; his doubts had vanished utterly, and as he thought of Burlington in this new light, the thing began to assume probability.
"The Mathews," she went on, "are the only people who take any interest in me, for they were friends of my father's also. Doctor Burlington has assured them that my sight cannot be restored, but I intend to make a fight for it—Mr. Mathews will help me, when he understands everything, for he's a very fine lawyer. But you are a doctor—do you think"
"I do not know, Miss Elsmere," replied Quentin very gravely. "I am not an eye specialist, and Burlington is really a good physician"
"But don't you see?" she burst out. "He wants my money—as long as I am blind he'll have the use of it, and he'll keep me blind!"
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Quentin. "Look here, Miss Elsmere, this thing can't"
He paused, for the dumb anguish in her face convinced him. He found his hand trembling, and shook himself together; recalling Burlington's sudden wealth and consequent rise in the world, he began to believe her.
"I can't tell you anything without a careful examination," he went on slowly. "But have you no proof of this thing?"
"None," she shook her head, "except my own convictions and things my uncle has let drop from time to time—but nothing definite. When I slipped out of the house this morning, I met some man in the street who steered me to the electric station, and helped me on a San Pedro car. The rest was easy. But Mr. Mathews will take care of me, and I do wish you would look at my eyes! I feel that I can trust you"
She broke off, and he patted her hand quietly, soothingly.
"Later, Miss Elsmere, I promise you that I will do so. For the present the main thing is to get into touch with these Mathews people, and I'll soon see about that. I am to meet a couple of friends at the Country Club this afternoon, so as it's barely noon now, I'll find out where the Mathews people are. We'll have lunch here; then, after the Mathews take care of you, I'll be off to the club. J. M. Mathews, isn't it?"
"Yes, James Mortimer."
"All right. Wait here a moment."
He walked over to the desk and smilingly waved back the pen shoved at him by the desk clerk.
"No, I'll only be here for lunch, and we don't care to register. Do you know where a J. M. Mathews lives on the island?"
"Yes, sir—you'll find it quite a little walk, but easy to locate, just off Buena Vista Park. If you walk, the path's pretty steep, but you can go up by the incline railway just as well. It's the only residence up there, and Mr. Mathews only built last winter, after giving up his legal work in the city. Anything I can do for you?"
"No, thank you. I merely want to know where the house is."
Quentin turned, but as he started across the lobby he saw the burly form of Osgood, the headquarters man, come up and lean over the counter, talking to the clerk. He saw the latter fling a quick look in his direction, but it was improbable in the extreme that they were speaking of him, so he returned to his charge. It was agreed that, as she was tired, he would leave her at the hotel after lunch while he brought Mathews down to take care of her, since he could meet his friends at the club any time that afternoon.
So, without forebodings, he passed in to a very happy luncheon.