Substitute Guest (25 page)

“You have
bought
them? What with, may I ask?” Demeter smiled confidently.

“With the money that you are going to get from Uncle Bronson’s estate for me!”

Alan gasped at her superb audacity.

“You see,” said Demeter, “I have it all thought out, every detail. I’ve even been to see the wells, saw them spouting great streams of oil up into the air, and I have looked down into some of the silver mines. See, here is some of the silver that I brought away with me. I went last fall when you thought I was in California for a month.”

She suddenly pulled out a little drawer in the table beside her and brought out nuggets of silver in various stages of refinement, also some photographs and a few papers.

“Here are the proofs,” she said sweetly, handing out a bright nugget and then calling his attention to a photograph. “There is my photograph,” she said, pointing to a figure which was unmistakably herself standing in a surrounding of mountains and plains, watching a stream of something shooting high in the air.

Alan took the whole collection in his hand and studied them. There were no marks of real identification anywhere on the pictures, just landscapes with spouting geysers of some kind. They might have been taken of course in almost any oil field. What did it all mean?

“Have these oil wells been examined by experts?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh yes. The count looks after all that, of course. There are the papers. They vouch for everything.”

“But what has the count got to do with it?”

“Why, didn’t I tell you? He discovered this land, in both cases, and got the refusal of it before anyone knew there was either silver or oil there, and he is letting a few of his friends in on it, just to get the things started, but we mean to keep most of the stock in our own hands!”

Alan was silent for several minutes while he examined the photographs and papers in the minutest details. Suddenly he looked up and studied the girl before him.

“Demeter,” he said, “you’ve asked my advice and said you would take it. Well then, I advise you to have nothing more to do with this. I’m convinced just on the face of it, that it is a gigantic swindle. Of course you’re not aware of it, and I don’t know who is at the bottom of it, probably that count, whoever he is, but you had better drop it at once. As for getting hold of your uncle’s property, that’s absurd. It couldn’t be done, and I certainly never would attempt it, even if I could. It would be criminal!”

Suddenly Demeter in all the beauty of her clinging garments rose and glided over to where he sat, perching lightly on the arm of his chair like a bird, and flinging one warm pink arm across his shoulders, bent down until her lovely cheek was close to his, and her perfumed hair brushed his face.

“Darling,” she said in a most alluring voice, “don’t be difficult! There is one more paper you must read and then I’ll tell you everything!” And she thrust a legal-looking paper into his unwilling hands.

He glanced down at the paper, almost too angry to take in what it said, and Demeter raised her lovely arm and ran her fingers lightly through his hair, playing with the short, crisp wave above his forehead in little gentle, intimate touches. Then suddenly, with a sinuous motion like a serpent, her other hand came up and lifted his face until it was beside her own, and her voice dripping with tenderness whispered, “Darling, you’ll do this for me, won’t you?” And then her lips stooped to kiss his, with a long, lingering caress.

Alan was taken off his guard for the instant, set around by habits of courtesy. But before her object was accomplished his strong hand came up swiftly, captured the little caressing hands in a grip like a vise and thrust her from him with the kiss fairly trembling in the air between them.

“Demeter!” he said sternly, on his feet at once, her hands held at arm’s length. “What are you trying to do?” His eyes were scintillating with righteous wrath. “Was I summoned here to a petting party, or is this business? Please sit down and act like a decent woman. I’d like to continue to respect you, if I could.”

He led her to her couch and left her, going to the far end of the room and standing up beside a lamp to read the paper he still held.

Demeter was very angry. Little points of fire played back and forth in her eyes, and her mouth was set in a thin, vengeful line, but she sat perfectly still and watched him.

When he had finished reading the paper he turned toward her, his face still set in its stern lines. He spoke to her as if she were a very naughty child.

“This paper,” he said, “is absolutely worthless. It is utterly illegal as it stands and would never get by anywhere. The whole thing looks to me like a fraud!”

With swift subtlety Demeter’s expressions changed to one of quiet triumph.

“But that, my dear, is where you come in! Don’t you understand? You are to put those papers into forms so that they shall
be
legal, and then”—she paused an instant with bated breath as if she were listening for someone who was at hand—“and then,” she went on, “you are to share with us equally in the enormous profits!”

Alan stood still in the middle of the room and looked at her astounded, his face white, a new kind of rage beginning to look out from his eyes.

“Do I understand that you are offering me a bribe?” he said, and contempt grew in his voice as he spoke. “Absolutely nothing doing, either now or at any other time! I will wish you good evening!” And he turned and walked out of the room.

Pausing in the hallway to pick up his hat and coat he was at the front door in time to meet a man whom the servant was admitting. A dark man with handsome, glittering, shifty eyes, and a look of knowing his way around the earth pretty well. He eyed Alan sharply as they passed, and Alan gave him a long look, sure that he would not forget that face. For that must be the count!

When Alan reached his apartment he found that he was still holding Demeter’s last paper crumpled in his hand.

He smoothed it out and read it over again, his wrath rising anew at the whole slippery scheme. Then as he went to fold it he happened to glance on the back and saw a penciled note scribbled in a strange hand.

There followed a list of names in Demeter’s dainty little script. Alan sat staring at it for some time, wondering if there was anything he ought or could do about it all.

Then suddenly he dropped on his knees beside his desk and began, unaccustomedly, to pray.

“Oh, God! I thank You that You stood by me! Show me what to do next!” And added, “Thank You for being always here!”

Then he rose and went at his work for court the next morning.

A
s Alan went through the busy days that followed there were two things he was trying to forget. One was the revolting thought of Demeter trying to lure him by the force of her physical beauty into something she must have known was criminal. He could not quite bring himself even yet to believe she had known fully what it meant to do what she had asked. He tried to put the matter in abeyance, because he did not have time just now to think it through, to catalogue it in his mind and write a finish to the matter. He wanted to be able to at least think the best of her possible. She was too lovely to associate with women who would stoop to use their physical charms to bend a man to their will.

The other thing to be forgotten was the lovely thought of Daryl Devereaux as she had lain in his arms that moment in the cellar and he had felt that she was the dearest thing on earth. He had to get away from the memory of that. He couldn’t hope to have her for his own, and he must not go through life stricken because of one moment that was not really his.

Sometimes he wished he had time to take a run back there for a day just to see how things were, and whether that Harold person was still on the horizon. But of course he was, and why make it any harder for himself by knowing about it? Sometime soon he would try to get hold of Lance, make him come down and spend a few days with him, and then perhaps he would get a clearer idea about things. But he wouldn’t have time just now to go around with him, and he simply must not think about it. So he put Daryl’s letter thanking him for the New Year roses away under lock and key as very precious, and would not let himself take it out and read it over as he longed to do. He must not let his thoughts dwell on her.

There had been several social engagements, made in the early fall, which he had put down on his calendar and quickly forgotten until the day came in sight. Several of these he could cancel, and did, for he had neither time nor inclination for social life. But there were two or three ahead that he could not very well avoid because the invitations had come from clients, and in such a way as to make the acceptance a personal favor. Especially was this true of the debutante party that was to be given for the young granddaughter of Mrs. Martin Bennington. She had paused after a business interview in the office one afternoon and said, “By the way, Mr. Monteith, I am just sending out the invitations to my granddaughter’s coming-out party. One will come to you, and I do hope you will make time in your busy life to accept. I like you, and I would like Theodora to have at least a background of fine men among her wild young crowd of modern youth. I hope you will please me in this.”

Alan had smiled and said he would be delighted and had really felt flattered after she left to think of the gracious way in which she had put the invitation, making it really an honor worth going after, as social honors went, and one that could not fail to help him in his business connections.

But the night of the event, about a week after his experience in Demeter’s apartment, when he came face-to-face with his calendar and realized that he must attend that affair whether he liked or not, he was not so much delighted. For one thing he was fatigued by the extra work of the week and the sickening length to which a certain legal affair had dragged itself out, and he wanted to get away by himself for the weekend and think things out.

But instead he hurried into his evening clothes after a final interview with his partner, which had lasted long beyond business hours, and made his way to the Bennington mansion, wondering just how soon he could decently get away and get some sleep.

He entered the throng of pleasure seekers and went the rounds, down a long receiving line, told Theodora how lovely she was, chatted with one or two of his mother’s old friends, a client or two, joined a row of men who were obviously bored with the scene and talking politics to kill time, refused numerous cocktails, and in due time drifted to the ballroom. His eyes wandered indifferently over the spacious place, selecting a few to whom he must show courtesy, calculating how soon he could courteously get away. There was no one here in whom he was especially interested, and yet he realized that it wasn’t long since he had enjoyed scenes like this. What had made the difference?

Then came Theodora, and he danced with her, among the first to claim that privilege. It was what her grandmother had intended of course, to start her off with men she felt were just right. And then he danced with Theodora’s debutante cousins, three of them—pretty, modern girls, not especially interesting, he thought. Or was it that he was growing older and could not appreciate young things anymore?

He was a good dancer and girls always enjoyed dancing with him. He said a few of the usual vapid things, but when he had done his duty by the third of the cousins until someone cut in on them and relieved him, he turned away, and there in the doorway stood Demeter!

He had not expected Demeter to be here. This was not her set, yet he knew that she must have the entrée here if she chose. And she had chosen, it seemed. Why?

She was dressed in some pale green shimmering stuff, with a glitter of stones around her neck, and a good deal of Demeter showing down the back, yet somehow she had managed to give a demure look to the gown in spite of its daring cut. It went up high to the jeweled throat in front and was held firmly together down the back by delicate lacings of jeweled threadlike chains from the shoulders down to a point at the back of the waist.

She stood cool and quite haughty there in the doorway looking straight at him, just as if nothing at all had happened between them. Just as if she were sure of him and herself, and he would welcome her coming as he had done many times before.

“Good evening,” she said. “You’re dancing with me, did you know it?” And as if he had taken the initiative, she stepped into position and placed her hand in his.

The dancers were crowding behind them, and they must move. There was nothing to do but fall into step, but his face was stern and his lips were set in a thin line. Now, what was she going to do? He wanted nothing less than a season in her company, and he had no intention of allowing her to take the lead, yet he must not make a scene of course, and she had known that and had taken advantage of it for some purpose of her own.

“It is good to see you back in your own environment again,” she said amusedly as they moved off with the music.

And suddenly it came to him that this was not his own environment. There was nothing satisfying here for him.

God, are You there?
It was a cry his heart had been making again and again through these last days, and always there had been that sense of His Presence, that feeling that he would never be alone again. But now, as he cried, it was gone! He had lost that precious sense that had been with him since he first knelt and surrendered himself to the Lord! What was the meaning of it?

Someone touched him on the shoulder, and looking around he met the cold sinister eyes of the man who had entered Demeter’s house as he was leaving the other night. He had cut in on them!

The count!

What was he doing here?

He stepped off the floor into the shadow of the window drapery and watched them for an instant as they moved away in the dance. He could not be mistaken. It was the same man. Somehow they were planning something together! It did not matter! He had to find the Presence again. He looked vaguely around the brilliant scene. But God would not be here! Why had
he
come? He stepped through a side door into the wide hall and searched out his hostess, making his apologies. “Oh, must you go so soon?” she said in a disappointed voice. “Theodora will be so disappointed!” And he found himself saying, “I must go. I have lost something and must go and find it!”