按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
partner has bought it in and sent up the price。 A common trick； a
vulgar trick； but not a trick worthy of James Stacy or Stacy's
Bank！〃
〃But why not simply declare the forgery without making any specific
charge against Van Loo？〃
〃Do you imagine； Phil； that any man would believe it； and the story
of a providentially appointed friend like Barker who saved us from
loss？ Why； all California； from Cape Mendocino to Los Angeles；
would roar with laughter over it！ No！ We must swallow it and the
reputation of 'jockeying' with the Wheat Trust； too。 That Trust's
as good as done for； for the present！ Now you know why I didn't
want poor Barker to know it； nor have much to do with our search
for the forger。〃
〃It would break the dear fellow's heart if he knew it；〃 said
Demorest。
〃Well； it's to save him from having his heart broken further that I
intend to find out this forger；〃 said Stacy grimly。 〃Good…night；
Phil！ I'll telegraph to you when I want you； and then COME！〃
With another grip of the hand he left Demorest to his thoughts。 In
the first excitement of meeting his old partners； and in the later
discovery of the forgery； Demorest had been diverted from his old
sorrow； and for the time had forgotten it in sympathetic interest
with the present。 But； to his horror； when alone again； he found
that interest growing as remote and vapid as the stories they had
laughed over at the table； and even the excitement of the forged
letter and its consequences began to be as unreal； as impotent； as
shadowy； as the memory of the attempted robbery in the old cabin on
that very spot。 He was ashamed of that selfishness which still
made him cling to this past； so much his own； that he knew it
debarred him from the human sympathy of his comrades。 And even
Barker； in whose courtship and marriage he had tried to resuscitate
his youthful emotions and condone his selfish errorseven the
suggestion of his unhappiness only touched him vaguely。 He would
no longer be a slave to the Past； or the memory that had deluded
him a few hours ago。 He walked to the window； alas； there was the
same prospect that had looked upon his dreams； had lent itself to
his old visions。 There was the eternal outline of the hills； there
rose the steadfast pines； there was no change in THEM。 It was this
surrounding constancy of nature that had affected him。 He turned
away and entered the bedroom。 Here he suddenly remembered that the
mother of this vague enemy； Van Loo；for his feeling towards him
was still vague； as few men really hate the personality they don't
know；had only momentarily vacated it； and to his distaste of his
own intrusion was now added the profound irony of his sleeping in
the same bed lately occupied by the mother of the man who was
suspected of having forged his name。 He smiled faintly and looked
around the apartment。 It was handsomely furnished； and although it
still had much of the characterlessness of the hotel room； it was
distinctly flavored by its last occupant； and still brightened by
that mysterious instinct of the sex which is inevitable。 Where a
man would have simply left his forgotten slippers or collars there
was a glass of still unfaded flowers； the cold marble top of the
dressing…table was littered with a few linen and silk toilet
covers； and on the mantel…shelf was a sheaf of photographs。 He
walked towards them mechanically； glanced at them abstractedly； and
then stopped suddenly with a beating heart。 Before him was the
picture of his past； the photograph of the one woman who had filled
his life！
He cast a hurried glance around the room as if he half expected to
see the original start up before him； and then eagerly seized it
and hurried with it to the light。 Yes！ yes！ It was SHE；she as
she had lived in his actual memory； she as she had lived in his
dream。 He saw her sweet eyes； but the frightened； innocent trouble
had passed from them； there was the sensitive elegance of her
graceful figure in evening dress； but the figure was fuller and
maturer。 Could he be mistaken by some wonderful resemblance acting
upon his too willing brain？ He turned the photograph over。 No；
there on the other side； written in her own childlike hand；
endeared and familiar to his recollection； was her own name； and
the date！ It was surely she！
How did it come there？ Did the Van Loos know her？ It was taken in
Venice； there was the address of the photographers。 The Van Loos
were foreigners； he remembered； they had traveled； perhaps had met
her there in 1858： that was the date in her handwriting； that was
the date on the photographer's address1858。 Suddenly he laid the
photograph down； took with trembling fingers a letter…case from his
pocket； opened it； and laid his last letter to her； indorsed with
the cruel announcement of her death； before him on the table。 He
passed his hand across his forehead and opened the letter。 It was
dated 1856！ The photograph must have been taken two years AFTER
her alleged death！
He examined it again eagerly； fixedly； tremblingly。 A wild impulse
to summon Barker or Stacy on the spot was restrained with
difficulty and only when he remembered that they could not help
him。 Then he began to oscillate between a joy and a new fear；
which now； for the first time； began to dawn upon him。 If the news
of her death had been a fiendish trick of her relations； why had
SHE never sought him？ It was not ill health； restraint； nor fear；
there was nothing but happiness and the strength of youth and
beauty in that face and figure。 HE had not disappeared from the
world； he was known of men； more； his memorable good fortune must
have reached her ears。 Had he wasted all these miserable years to
find himself abandoned； forgotten； perhaps even a dupe？ For the
first time the sting of jealousy entered his soul。 Perhaps；
unconsciously to himself； his strange and varying feelings that
afternoon had been the gathering climax of his mental condition； at
all events； in the sudden revulsion there was a shaking off of his
apathetic thought； there was activity； even if it was the activity
of pain。 Here was a mystery to be solved； a secret to be
discovered； a past wrong to be exposed； an enemy or； perhaps； even
a faithless love to be punished。 Perhaps he had even saved his
reason at the expense of his love。 He quickly replaced the
photograph on the mantel…shelf； returned the letter carefully to
his pocket…book；no longer a souvenir of the past； but a proof of
treachery；and began to mechanically undress himself。 He was
quite calm now； and went to bed with a strange sense of relief； and
slept as he had not slept since he was a boy。
The whole hotel had sunk to rest by this time； and then began the
usual slow； nightly invasion and investment of it by nature。 For
all its broad verandas and glaring terraces； its long ranges of
windows and glittering crest of cupola and tower； it gradually