Kat and Copy-Cat/Chapter 5
Thus more than two weeks passed and Dick had become even more noticeably a stay-at-home. Several times when Bert Sands had come up for a conference, she had found the front door locked, and Moto blankly ignorant as to the whereabouts of his employer. In fact, Dick had formed the habit of keeping the front door locked, so that in case of anyone happening about, he would at least have a chance to drop the curtain upon his Land O'Dreams before opening it.
However, eventually he awakened to the fact that unless he were to see Bert Sands, she would certainly begin to wonder; and as he would much prefer to see her in her own home in Waikiki, rather than have her alert mind observing him upon his own lanai under the present conditions, he decided that it would be good medicine to drop in upon her occasionally, just by way of making things look natural. But when he did drop in, quite early one forenoon, he immediately wished that he hadn't; for Bert pounced upon him with the demand that he go and make a call upon the Kat Mortons forthwith.
"Why, I certainly can't do that!" he exclaimed; "After what I said to Kat that day on Tantalus. Lord, they wouldn't let me in the house! And anyway, why should I?"
But Bert was insistent. "It's this way," she said; "Those girls are trying to get their aunt, Mrs. Walters, to take them to Europe. They are dead set on it. Their mother, Mrs. Walter's sister, died four or five years ago, and they live with their father, a sort of a nonentity and shyster lawyer, in the old home out Nuuanu, and the aunt is the fairy godmother and does everything for them. She has quite a fortune of her own. She had them over in the Orient and was just bringing them back loaded with plunder, when we met them on the boat. I go to see her often because she is so lonely and seems to have taken a fancy to me and begs me to come. The Kats only go there when they want something, and she knows it; and so it helps a little when I drop in to cheer her up. She has been telling me about their manoeuvres to get her away. In fact, they are so persistent that even she is suspicious of their motives and wants me to try to find out what's on their minds. And I can't do a thing because they know that I go to see Mrs. Walters so often, and they would be regular clams if I tried to pry anything out of them."
"But what can I do?" argued Dick, unhappily. "You know they wouldn't receive me after what I said."
Bert only laughed. "Don't you ever believe it, young man. Remember, you are something of a lion about here. Only the other day I heard Kat say that you were so clever that she did wish that you wouldn't make such a hermit of yourself, because she would like to exhibit you at one of her teas."
"And you want me to be exhibited?" glowered Dick.
"No," grinned Bert, "I only want you to appear to be of a possible disposition. Merely give her cause to hope, for this one occasion while you sound her, and then you can drop out of sight again, and no harm done. Surely you can do that much in a good cause."
"But what excuse can I make for going there?" he protested. "I can't go and just blankly call."
"All thought up," announced Bert, amiably. "You told me on the boat that you had made some study of the ruins at Pompeii. Well, Kat has Pompeii on the brain just now, as an excuse for inveigling Mrs. Walters to the other side. I told her that you had been all over the ground and were up on all of the new excavations; and she asked if I supposed that you would forgive poor little her for hurting your feelings that day on Tantalus,—said that she knew of course that I understood that it was only a silly little joke of hers, but that she was afraid that you were offended, and she was quite woebegone over it. And so I told her that I would ask you if you would give her a little direct information about the ruins. And so, you see, the train is already laid. She will greet you with encomiums on your kindness, because she will think that she can use you. Next, she will ask you to talk to Auntie and interest her in the wonders of Pompeii; but—you will have had a chance to sound her and—you will be too busy. Pau. See? And meanwhile you may have been able to get a line on their object, if you really are clever," and she grinned engagingly.
Dick made a wry face. "Do you really think that it is as important as all that?" he asked dubiously.
"I certainly do," asserted Bert, seriously. "They are born schemers, like their shyster father; and whatever they are working, it carries some kind of a plum for the Kat sisters, you may be right down sure of that. Oh, run along, like a good little boy, and find out what their game is, and then we'll take a hand in it ourselves, if it is crooked. We've both of us some scores to settle, and if we can do a good turn to the old lady, in the process, so much the more to our credit."
So Dick got into his car, and in a mood anything but affable, he attended to his errands in town and then drove out Nuuanu to the old Morton home. He parked his car outside of the grounds and walked up the driveway to the spacious front lanai—a double-decked lanai with vines clambering in wild profusion over both stories. As he stood waiting for an answer to his ring, he was reminded of the youngster at home, by the persistent chatter of a mynah bird among the vines above his head, and was about to step back in order to see what had aroused its excitement, when the trim little Japanese maid appeared at the door and he asked for Miss Katisha Morton and gave his card, and then set down in a wicker chair on the lanai to await her arrival. Immediately, from somewhere within he heard an impatient exclamation, evidently when the maid's message was delivered, and he felt strongly inclined to rise up and depart without performing his errand. However, in a moment the screen door opened and Katisha appeared, looking particularly creamy.
"Oh, Mr. Harris, how very sweet of you to come!" she exclaimed, gliding forward with one of her most caressing smiles and taking his hand in both of hers. "You are so good to take such a lot of trouble just for us. And," she went on, "I am just brokenhearted because you have come at such an unfortunate moment. You see, we are absolutely swamped today. Some dear old friends came this morning on the President Cleveland, and are going on to the Orient tonight; and so the day is booked up full with all of the things that we have got mapped out in order to try to show them the Island in such a little bit of time. We got up early this morning and went down to the docks to meet them, and they are here now and will stay to luncheon, and then we are going to take them just everywhere before the boat sails. And we have so much to talk about that my head is positively buzzing. I am so sorry! Won't you come some other time? I'm just crazy to hear the wonderful things that you told Mrs. Sands about Pompeii. You will come and tell us about it, won't you?"
Dick accepted his dismissal with actual gratitude and turned to go, after promising to keep the matter in mind and drop in "some day next week," hoping ardently that something would happen before that time to distract Bert Sands' mind from the project.
Miss Morton followed him to the steps and then suddenly looked up with an exclamation. "Those atrocious mynah birds!" she cried. "They're back again! I've driven them out and had their nests torn down and their eggs smashed, and done everything that I could to rid the place of them, and we haven't had one around for more than a year; and here they are back again, squawking, as usual. But I'll get them this time before they have a foothold. I won't have the dirty pests around!" And then her creamy smile came again. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Harris, to have let my distress lead me to say such horrid things before you. Poor little fellows! I suppose that they have as much right to their tiny lives as we have to ours; but they do mess things up dreadfully, though of course I really don't mind. Do forgive me, and the next time that you come I'll be so nice to you that you'll forget all about my bad disposition. Now good-bye, and be sure that you come soon," and she stood shedding sunshine upon him all the way down the steps.
As he drove back through town, it occurred to him that he had called at the post office rather early, probably before the mail had been distributed from the incoming boat; and so he turned in again, only to find his box as empty as he had left it. He stopped at one of the windows. "Has the mail from the Cleveland all been distributed?" he asked.
"The Cleveland? She isn't in yet." said the clerk.
"The President Cleveland didn't come in this morning?" he asked in bewilderment.
"No. She hasn't docked yet. We expected her at eight o'clock this morning, but she got held up by bad weather and is probably just about docking now. Anyway, they thought they'd make it about noon."
Dick turned away from the window and went back to his car. "That's a pretty note!" he said to himself. "A complete fabrication with all of the trimmings, the young lady concocted, to escape an unwelcome call; and she hadn't thought of the possible contingency of the boat not having arrived on schedule time. That was some slip. Not that it matters, though," he thought contentedly; "for I'll have a pretty protest for Bert Sands on the score of going there at her orders and getting thrown down like this. Wish I had time to go out there now and rub it in;" and he laughed at the conceit. However, he really did not have time, as he was behind on his work and had planned for a full afternoon at his typewriter. And so he turned his car up the mountain and was soon humming along towards home, feeling in a rather peaceful frame of mind.
However, when he came in sight of the tall hedge behind which nestled his home and that of his neighbor, he was surprised to see Moto outside of the opening, evidently watching for him. As he was keeping on to the garage, the man held up his hand, indicating that he wanted to speak to him first, and Dick drew up alongside.
Moto came close to the car. "Man come see you this morning," he said.
"Who?" asked Dick, quickly.
"All same man come be-fore along two lady."
"McKnight!" said Dick, clenching his teeth. "You didn't let him in, did you?"
"No-o. No-o. I say you go down to town. Don' know when you come back, I say."
"And did he go then?" asked Dick.
"No-o. He no go. He stay round l-o-n-g, long time. Then when fire come—"
"When what?" cried Dick.
"Fire come Missi Malua house,—he stay 'round then."
Dick started to spring from his car, but the man motioned him back. "No," he said, "You wait! You go back to town, Missi Malua say."
"What for? Where is Mrs. Malua?"
Moto shook his head and gesticulated broadly to take in the entire horizon; "Somewhere," he said, inclusively; "She look for baby."
"For baby? For God's sake, man, what's the matter with you? Where is the baby? What do you mean?"
But Moto held up both hands. "Wait. When fire all pau, then baby gone; no can find. Missi Malua she mos' pupu-le all right. She go look-see a-l-l about. She say when you come back you go Honolulu an' look-see. You go?"
Dick's face was white, but his voice was cool and crisp. "Where are Fong and Mrs. Hookano?" he asked.
"All go look for baby. She say you go too-quick, please. You go all right?"
"Yes," said Dick, "I go now. You say Mrs. Malua I'll find baby and bring him home. You tell her no pilikia—I find him all right;" and turning his car, he started back down the mountain at top speed. And all the way down, he was saying to himself, over and over; "She said there were no mynah birds, and there was one. There was one." His mind seemed unable to take up any other thought, but only revolved around and around that one idea, the relating facts keeping up but a vague undercurrent. Carter McKnight had been up the mountain that morning, had hung around his house until the fire,—a fire occurring in Evalani's home—probably of his setting—and then, when they were all working to put out the fire, the baby had disappeared and the man also was gone. But overtopping and transcending all else was the fact of the unwonted mynah bird at Kat Morton's home, the one whose voice had reminded him of Evalani's baby. That was the clue, and thank God for that much of a clue;—and as soon as he reached town he headed for Nuuanu Avenue and spun out the smooth road toward the Morton home.
When he reached the place, he swerved the car into the driveway and around the curve of the lawn and up to the lanai, springing out almost before it had come to a stop, and dashed up the steps and to the bell.
The front door was closed now, instead of being only screened, as it had been, and it was some moments before it was opened by the little Japanese maid. In answer to his demand to see Miss Morton, the maid shook her head and smiled. "Missi Morton go 'way," she said.
"Where she go?" asked Dick.
Again she shook her head. "Don' know," she said; "She no say where she go."
"When will she be back?"
"No can tell."
"She come today—tomorrow?" asked Dick, impatiently.
"Don' know. Maybe one day—maybe two day. She no say."
"Did her sister go, too."
"Ye-es. All gone," and the little maid smiled delectably.
Dick swore under his breath and turned to go, totally at sea as to what direction to take. Then, with a sudden thought, he turned back and smiled genially at the girl. "Baby go too?" he asked, cheerfully.
"Ye-es, Baby go too," bowed the girl, still smiling; "All go, nobody stop home now;" and she turned back into the house.
Dick flung himself down the steps and into the car. Here was the confirmation of his first guess; but where had they gone? And how was he to find them? Where should he go first? He swung his car around the driveway and out into the avenue and back toward the center of town, his mind striving vainly for some idea to start him upon his chase. He knew practically none of the Morton girls acquaintances from whom he might inquire as to their possible movements or to what haunts they might have recourse. McKnight had evidently taken the child directly to them; probably with the idea of hiding it for the moment and then escaping to the Coast with it upon the first available boat. There would be no sailing for two days, excepting the Cleveland to the Orient that night; and meanwhile, to give the matter to the police was to bring about unbearable publicity for Evalani. They must have viciously counted upon that. It was plain now as to why they wanted to see the child. They had suspected that it was Jim McKnight's child, probably he had written to his brother something of the situation, and they had guessed the real cause of the tragedy and were trying to verify their theory that the boy was not a monstrosity, but only an evidence of disgrace. Quite likely the spy-glass had revealed the truth of their surmise; and that was why Evalani had been so anxious as to whether the curtain was down in time; but why had she had the absurd fear that it might have been a gun? And why did Carter McKnight want the baby, anyway?
All of these thoughts churned through Dick's mind as he guided his car back through the busy streets, subconsciously intent upon the only possible course—to call up Bert Sands and get her help. If it involved her knowing the truth about the baby, well, so be it; for she was his only resource. At the first drug-store he went in and telephoned; but the maid who answered the 'phone, told him that Mrs. Sands had gone to town and had left no word as to when she would return. Bert never did have a schedule for her movements. And so he went back to his car and headed for Waikiki, hoping to find her in her home by the time that he might reach there; for without some suggestion from her, he had not the faintest clue as to which way to turn.
But the Fates were good to him; for only a short distance out King street, he saw Bert's little grey car ahead in the traffic, and began a series of eager cut-ins in an effort to catch up with her. At last, as traffic slowed down for a disgorging street-car, he drew in beside her. "Bert!" he called; "They've stolen Evalani's baby!"
Bert leaned out of her car. "Who? The Mortons?"
"Yes. Haven't they a place at Kailua?"
"They're not there. They're at Kahala, at the Walter's place. Mrs. Walters loaned it to them for a few days. She told me this morning. Get out there quick! Go Waialae Road way. Step on it!"
And Dick shot past the street-car, slithered his way through the traffic and sped on out toward Kahala Beach, some seven miles from town.
Waialae Road is a busy street and crowded with traffic; but Dick saw no cars except the immediate ones which he had to dodge, slewing here and there, in front, behind, on this side and on that; and hearing now and then from behind the touch of Bert's horn to tell him that she was close in his wake. And then, from farther back came the dreaded sound of the syren of a "speed-cop." In an instant Bert's car shot up beside his. She leaned out. "Go on. Mix with the traffic and slow down. I'll stall him and cover your number if I can. Go to it!" And she dropped back.
Dick cut in desperately between two autos, shot in front of a street-car, slid along beside an army truck, slowed down to normal speed and was trundling along nonchalantly though as rapidly as was safe when, some few moments later, the "speed-cop" dashed past, intent upon the reckless driver whom he supposed that he was chasing.
When he was well out of the way, Dick put on top speed again and swung around into the road leading to Kahala, where, fortunately, there were for the moment but few cars, and nothing to hinder his dash for the place which Bert had named. Once at the little settlement, he had to stop for a moment to ask which was the Walter's bungalow; and then on again, swirling into a gate and across to the lanai at a most unholy speed.
By the time that he was out of the car, Kat Morton stood in the doorway, looking rather pale but cheerfully self-possessed. "Why, Mr. Harris!" she exclaimed, artlessly, "What a whirlwind person you are. And so you've found our little nest, have you?"
"Yes, I have," said Dick, brusquely, "and I would like to come in and have a talk with you."
But Kat barred the way, standing upon the threshold and gripping the knob of the screen door in her hand. "We are having such a busy day today," she said sweetly; "Really you will have to excuse us."
Dick looked about. The house was placed with its long side toward the beach, and the space between it and the hedges dividing the property from that adjoining, was filled with a close growth of hibiscus and crotons, so that there was no apparent access to the rear excepting through the front door. However, through the wide space of these double front doors, there was a vista of the sea, seen across a stretch of grass, and a bit of sandy beach up which the rising tide was sweeping with a very pretty surf.
Dick stood facing the woman, uncertain what to do. If Bert were only here, she would know in an instant how to tackle the situation; but he felt helpless in the face of this smiling woman with the cat gleams in her eyes and her steel grip upon the door, apparently waiting quietly for him to go. The only way seemed to be to temporize and to hope for Bert's speedy arrival, and pray that she had not been held up a second time. Kat must certainly know why he had come, and therefore she must know that he would not go away again without the child. Evidently she, also, was temporizing; but for what purpose? Anyway, it was playing into his hand, and so he carried it on. "Is Mr. McKnight here?" he asked.
"No," said Kat. "He is not."
"I am sorry," said Dick. "I would much rather deal with a man than with a woman, in this matter."
Kat's lips became somewhat thin, though still smiling. "To what matter do you refer, Mr. Harris?" she inquired coolly. "Really, it seems to me that your conduct today is exceedingly peculiar. I have told you repeatedly that we are too much occupied to receive you. Your persistence is positively beyond accounting for."
Dick leaned a little forward toward the door, and, with ears alert, suddenly called loudly, "David!"
But there came no answer, and a flash of amusement passed over the woman's face, only to drop instantly beyond the suave mask. "We have no one here by the name of David," she said. "Our chauffeur's name is Tagami."
Just here Dick's eyes widened a little and the woman, catching the expression, made a half movement to turn and look behind her, but, restraining the impulse, stood her ground as imperturbably as before. But Dick immediately masked his own interest and turned his eyes nonchalantly away from the vista through the open doorway. For what he had seen had been the forms of two bathers in the water, well out in the surf, coming into his range on their way toward deeper water. It appeared that the two were walking very close together, evidently holding on to each other, for their heads seemed to be almost touching, and now and then, as they veered in their course, the heads would seem to merge into one, and then would appear to separate as a wave would for the moment wash against them.
Dick let his gaze wander casually, though still keeping them in range, and continued his conversation with Kat; trying, in the face of a lowering sun, to follow their movements and discern whether they might be Calista and McKnight; for he felt a positive itching to meet McKnight at close quarters; and if he was in the water, he certainly had him corralled; and, if the child was not there, as he now feared that he was not, since he had not answered to the calling of his name, then he would face the kidnapper and find out where he was, in short order.
However, he found some difficulty in keeping up the conversation with the lady who seemed so intent upon dismissing him; and so he turned away with a little shrug of his shoulders. "I think that I will go out on the beach for a little while," he said. "The surf looks very pretty this afternoon;" and, with a courteous and somewhat satirical bow, he turned toward the close-set shrubbery.
But Kat's voice followed him. "You can't go that way," she said decisively. "You'll spoil the garden."
Dick kept grimly on, brushing aside branches and pushing through the shrubbery; but she came to the end of the lanai and called after him again, with considerable asperity: "I say you can't go that way, Mr. Harris. There is barbed wire."
"Never mind," called Dick, "I'll keep on until I come to it;" and he continued to crowd through the dense growth. However, no barbed wire came into evidence, and in a moment he had passed through the screen of foliage and come out upon the narrow stretch of lawn reaching down to the white sand of the beach. Instantly his eyes sought the two forms which he had seen in the surf, finding it difficult for a moment to accustom his eyes to the glare upon the water; and when he did, all that he saw was one person, coming as rapidly as possible toward the shore.
He walked quickly across the lawn, shading his eyes with his hands and searching the water for the other bather, to no purpose; but the one was now coming into fairly shallow water and forging ahead, evidently under the stress of some excitement, and when she saw Dick she began waving her arms wildly and staggering, and Dick heard a faint, a very faint, cry of "Help!"
He rushed forward, just as Calista stumbled into
ankle-deep water and slumped down with a splash and with another guarded cry for help, which seemed intended for his ears alone and not to attract the attention of the inhabitants of other cottages, none of which were very near. And there she lay, panting and gasping and keeping her head carefully above water; but otherwise giving a very fair imitation of an exhausted swimmer.
But Dick's eyes were fixed upon the flashing water beyond, and suddenly it seemed to him that he caught a glimpse of something other than foam among the breakers, and he made a frantic dash out through the surf toward the spot. As he passed Calista she called vehemently but not too loudly: "Help me, Mr. Harris, quick! Help me! I'm drowning!"
But Dick was headed toward the breakers beyond, pounding through the water in mad haste and leaving the maiden to drown in four inches of water, if she could. He had not even turned his head to see what had become of Kat.
The water was nearly to his shoulders when he reached the point for which he was aiming, and he stood for an instant, gazing about and down into the depths in a panic of doubt and fear. And then suddenly he splashed in and dived forward and rose out of the water clutching a limp little form clad only in a tiny thin undergarment, and with dark hair and waxen face. Clasping the child to his breast, he turned and dashed back toward the shore, panting and gasping and moving through the water like some engine of destruction.
As he reached the beach, Kat was bending over Calista, who was now lying well up on the sand and perfectly quiet. "Oh, help me, help me, Mr. Harris!" called Kat. "My sister is drowned. She is drowned! Oh, come quick!"
But Dick was heedlessly sprinting across the lawn toward the rear lanai, where he laid the baby form upon a couch and began a frantic effort to bring the little one back to life. From where he stood he called to Kat, across the lawn: "Come in here and get me a blanket!" he shouted. "Hurry up!"
Kat left her pseudo-drowned sister and came running across the grass, not to get the blanket, but only to throw herself upon the step and go into a very pretty fit of hysterics, calling upon him to help her because she was dying; she knew that she was. But even this failed to arouse Dick's chivalry sufficiently to draw him away from the task which now appeared to be all but hopeless. And then came the welcome honk of Bert's horn and the little grey car dashed into the grounds and Bert was on the front lanai.
Kat recovered instantly and made a rush to guard the front door; but already Dick's voice had reached Bert, and she slid past Kat and out to where he was working madly over the unconscious child. "Get me a blanket!" he called, "and some bath-towels, quick!" and Bert fled to the task.
When she came back she set to work with him, asking no questions, but doing first aid work like a Trojan, while Kat stood at a distance and looked on with tight lips. At last Bert turned upon her. "Why don't you do something?" she cried. "What are you standing there like a post for? Why weren't you helping when I came?"
Kat's chin set stubbornly. "Well, I guess when my own sister was drowning I had to take care of her, didn't I? Mr. Harris wouldn't do a thing. He just let her drown. There she is lying unconscious out on the sand now."
"Well, why aren't you with her then?" asked Bert, with some sarcasm. "She isn't unconscious so's anyone could notice. She was alive enough to put up her head and look at me when I came, all right. Well, run along, cheer her last moments; we don't need you." For the child was beginning to gasp and show brave signs of returning to life.
But Kat stood her ground. "Well, it's no credit to Mr. Harris that she isn't dead now. He passed her right by, when she begged him to help her, just to go out and bring in that—brat!"
Dick kept steadily on with his work. Bert turned to him. "What really did happen?" she asked.
But before he could answer, Kat broke in. "Why," she said, "my sister went out for a little dip, and that child was playing in the edge of the water, and the surf was rather high and a wave rolled him over and carried him into the back-wash. And then my sister rushed after him to save him, and the waves washed them both out farther and carried the child away from her; and it was all that she could do to get back to shore at all, herself. Oh, it was dreadful! She nearly lost her life for that—young one!" The last word was brought out spitefully.
"Where did you get all that?" asked Dick, without turning from his work. "You were at the front door talking to me when it happened."
"Well, my sister" Kat hesitated, "she had a lucid moment just before I came in, and she told me. Yes, that was when she told me all about it."
"H'm!" said Dick. "She's worse hurt than I thought. Her mind's wandering. It so happened that I was watching her through the open door and I saw her with the boy in her arms, carrying him out."
"Well, that was when she was saving him."
"Saving him, nothing!" blurted Dick. "I saw her carry him straight out from shallow water to where it was deep enough to drown him; and then she left him there, and came in shore by herself. I tell you I was watching."
Bert looked up quickly. "Whose child is it?" she asked.
"I don't know," said Kat, venomously. "Just some brat that was playing on the beach;—and to think that my own sister risked her precious life for anyone like that! It is outrageous!" And Kat turned to go back to her still prostrate sister.
Bert turned inquiring eyes to Dick.
"It is Evalani Malua's child," he said, quietly, without looking at her.
"Oh-h!" Bert's tone was expressive of sudden and startled enlightenment; but she made no added comment, merely continued her work, and presently took the now nearly recovered child close into her arms and carried him out upon the lawn and sat down in the sunshine, Dick following and continuing to chafe the cold little feet.
In a few moments Kat helped her sister to rise and the two girls came up from the sand on the way to the house, and would have passed them without notice, but Dick intercepted them. "What do you expect me to do about this?" he asked, crisply.
Both of the girls looked frightened and Calista slumped down upon a canvas lawn chair and Kat stopped close beside her, on guard. "II don't know what you mean," said Calista; but Kat's clutch upon her shoulder was so sharp that she winced visibly. She was never expected to talk without a cue. It was Kat who answered.
"What are you planning to do?" she asked, colorlessly, though her eyes were alert.
"Well," said Dick, "I'm planning to get McKnight for this, for one thing, and I can't get McKnight without involving you, that is plain enough. You may have been merely his tools all right; but that won't help you in the long run. You've compounded a felony and you are responsible for your parts in the matter, even though you had no direct object of personal gain."
The feline glints suddenly flicked through Kat's eyes. "No," she said, ingenuously; "we had no personal gain in sight, we were only trying to help a friend." She was watching Dick as closely as Bert was watching her.
"Well," went on Dick; "as McKnight has no possible claim upon a child which might be accounted his brother's, the kidnapping is without excuse, either legally or ethically—"
Kat seemed to relax somewhat and a sad, deprecating little smile came about her mouth and it quivered pathetically. "Oh, Mr. Harris," she said, "you are so hard—so adamant hard. You have no feeling, no understanding for a woman's heart—for her sympathies. All that we can do is to confess to you and throw ourselves upon your mercy."
"Yes—" began Calista; but again she winced under the grip of her sister's caressing and sustaining hand upon her shoulder.
Kat went on. "You see, Calista and I are so tender-hearted, so sympathetic with the sorrows of others; and perhaps we went too far in our effort to bring a little consolation into the life of a pitiful old woman."
Bert was watching her through narrowed eyes, but taking no part in the conversation.
"You see," continued Kat, plaintively, "when Mr. McKnight told us of his mother's hopeless grief and sorrow, it just cut us to the soul. His brother, who was murdered here, was her youngest son, her baby; and her life just almost went out when that awful tragedy occurred. She has been only a grief-stricken wreck ever since. And so, at last, to try to take her mind away from her brooding sorrow, her older son, Carter, told her about the child, in the hope that the thought might in some measure assuage her grief.
"How did he know about it?" asked Bert now, tersely.
"Why—why—" said Kat, hesitating; "—his brother had—had written him about the—about the situation; and so when the tragedy happened," she was going more smoothly now, "he knew of course what had been the real cause. That was the way of it," she added, with a sort of satisfied conviction.
Bert made no comment and Kat went on; "But instead of the knowledge satisfying his mother; the thought of a grandchild of her own, away off here in the Islands, being brought up among—among Kanakas—it only made her more unhappy. And of course you can see what a dreadful idea it must be for a refined, lovely woman who adored her lost son;" Kat was enlarging with much pathos; but her hearers seeming unresponsive, she went on again. "For all these years she has brooded over her poor murdered boy and the unfortunate little grandson; and at last she became desperately ill and begged Carter to come here and by some means get possession of the little boy and bring him to her, for her to love and bring up and educate as is befitting for a child of their family." Kat was leaning on the back of Calista's chair now and evidently very much enjoying the narration of her tale.
Nevertheless, her hearers proved uncommonly cold to her artistry, and so she hastened somewhat to the finis. "Well, that is about all. Carter came here upon that errand, and knowing that we were dear friends of his brother, he came and told us the truth of the tragedy and pled with us, in the name of his grief-stricken old mother, to help him to get the child. Of course we knew that it would be useless to approach that dreadful woman, his mother; and besides, we naturally had delicacy, considering—everything—" Kat hesitated, evidently embarrassed. "And so the only way seemed to be to take the child quietly and escape to the Coast with it; and we agreed to help him and to take care of the little one for a few days, until his boat sails—just for the sake of his poor old mother."
"And why did you try to drown him?" asked Bert, acidly.
"Oh!" cried Kat, "What a dreadful thing to say! No, no, you don't understand. My sister just took him out for a little dip, because she thought that he would enjoy it so, and she adores children."
"I thought that you said that he was washed from the beach."
Kat smiled deprecatingly. "Well, of course," she said, "we didn't want to be connected with it, or let anyone know that the child was with us; and so I just said that upon the spur of the moment; but the real facts are just as I am telling you. And, you see, while she was out there with him in her arms, and the tide coming in, a big wave upset her and washed him away from her, and she couldn't find him again in all that water, and she was so frightened that she started to run back to shore for help. And then good Mr. Harris came so opportunely to the rescue; isn't that so, Calista? And now every thing is all right and there is nothing further to worry about;" and her creamy smile came into evidence once more, smooth and satiny.
Bert got up with the child in her arms. "Good afternoon," she said; and quietly walked through the house and out to the front lawn where their cars were standing, and stepped into Dick's Cadillac. And he, after running her car out of the grounds and parking it a little farther down the road, returned and getting in beside her, swerved out of the yard and scudded away toward town, without any further farewell to the Morton sisters.
For a long time after they were under way neither of them spoke, and after several quick glances at Dick's set countenance, Bert turned her attention to the sleepy little face against her bosom and sat looking down at it and smiling softly. "It's all easier to understand now, isn't it?" she said at last.
"Yes," said Dick, broodingly, "I'm sorry that they know."
Bert looked up at him from under her lashes. "That was a great story, wasn't it?" she said.
"Yes," said Dick. "She put it on all right; but I suppose that it isn't so far wrong, at that. It's a fair enough reason for the kidnapping."
"But," said Bert, "it's no reason for the attempted murder."
Dick shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know. I don't know," he said. "Of course I didn't actually see her abandon him. I was coming through the shrubbery. She might have become confused out there in the breakers, I suppose."
Bert screwed up her eyes. "Yes," she said, "she might; but just the same I don't think that she did."
"But," said Dick, "there always has to be a motive for a crime—and there wasn't any motive in this case. Absolutely no reason why she should try to drown the little fellow, especially when her sister is running after Carter McKnight, and he wanted to take the kiddie home. And yet—"
"Well?" questioned Bert.
"I suppose it might be that he was afraid that his mother had some intention of adopting the child, and that it might cut him out of a bit of property. Of course that would account for Kat's interest, naturally. What do you think?"
And Bert held the little boy closer still in her arms and looked down into the round blue eyes which now and then opened sleepily and then softly closed again in quiet slumber, but she said nothing, only smiled and laid her cheek against his little tow head.
It was dusk when the car swung around the curve before the two small bungalows on Tantalus; but Evalani had heard the honk of Dick's horn before they came into sight, and was out in the road, holding out both hands in a sort of supplication. And when Dick shouted, "I've got him! He's all right!" she was upon the running board, and she had the baby in her arms before Bert had time to quite release him. And then, without a word she turned back through the hedge with her face bowed over him; and Dick wheeled his car and he and Bert drove back down to town to retrieve Bert's roadster; but they did not speak for a long time, and when they did, they talked of other matters.