The Silver Butterfly Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  Even to the impatient heart of youth the longed-for, entreated to-morrowcomes with a suddenness which has its elements of shock. The Thursdaywhich Hayden had regarded as so remote was actually here, and he, openinghis eyes to the fact after a sound night's rest, was aware of that faintshrinking which comes to us all in that moment of embarkation upon theunknown and uncharted.

  This day, he felt, was to be a day of revelations; in an hour, a moment,he might, nay he was sure that he would, learn certain facts, touchcertain clues which might change and direct his whole future existence.As he dressed he caused the various circumstances of the past few weeksto marshal themselves in orderly array and pass in review before him.

  He, by some irony of chance, had been so fortunate as to discover thewonderful lost Mariposa, the Veiled Mariposa; but although a vast fortunelay before his eyes, within his grasp, he was withheld from profiting bythis strange stumble upon Golconda by the intangible potent arm of thelaw. And all his diligent efforts to find the owners of the property hadbeen in vain. Then he had come to New York, largely to enjoy along-anticipated vacation, and before he had had time to make definiteplans and decide upon the best methods of prosecuting his search for theowners of the mine, he heard, by the merest chance, of a fortune-tellerwho called herself Mariposa and who always appeared veiled. This fancifulsymbolism might of course be the merest coincidence; but Hayden could notso view it. It was too significant not to smack of design.

  And then, by another curious turn of the wheel, he had met a strange andlovely lady with a chain of jeweled butterflies about her throat, a greatsilver butterfly upon her breast. What significance could be attached tothem? Apparently none. They seemed the fad of several great ladies and avery beautiful and extravagant fad; but what was the inner meaning, ifindeed there was any? Yet, look at the matter dispassionately as hewould, he could not rid himself of the idea that these delicatelyfashioned, fluttering things had a significance. Well, perhaps the daywould disclose it. There was no use in his attempting to arrive at asolution of these enigmas. He could but await the pleasure of destiny.And further, there was that mysterious telephone message, a stillunsolved enigma. Daily, he had waited for another message from the goldenvoiced unknown, but so far, all his waiting and hoping had met with abarren reward.

  Then his thoughts reverted to his conversation with Mrs. Habersham, andhis heart rose buoyantly with hope. She had, at least, assured him of onething, and that was that there was nothing definite in these reports ofMarcia's engagement to Wilfred Ames; and there were secret intimationsprompted not of his vanity, but of a belief in the sympatheticunderstanding existing between Marcia and himself, which confirmed him inhis determination to make the most of a fighting chance.

  He managed, with these reflections, his correspondence and the variousdetails of some business matters, to pass the morning; but when at threeo'clock he made his way to the Mariposa's apartment he found himself tohis own disgust in an unwonted state of excitement, which, as usual withhim, revealed itself only in a more calm and leisurely demeanor; but whenon stepping from the elevator he realized that his hands were like ice,he was for the moment irritated at his lack of nerve, and then he quicklybolstered himself up with the reflection that the day of destiny comesonly once in a lifetime and one would have arrived at a state ofvegetable stolidity to meet it unmoved. Then he laughed at himself forclinging so obstinately to the belief that this was the day of hisdestiny, and this laughter cleared his mental atmosphere. He was himselfagain, in command of his self-assurance and good spirits.

  His ring was answered immediately by the trim maid who conducted himthrough a narrow hall and into a small reception-room where she requestedhim to wait while she informed her mistress of his presence.

  Left alone he glanced curiously about him. There was certainly no mysteryhere. The room was agreeably light and sunshiny. It was furnished withseveral comfortable chairs, and a large round table in the center of theroom. Upon this were scattered some of the latest magazines surrounding avase of fresh and fragrant flowers.

  Hayden turned over the pages of one of the books for a moment and thenthe dark-eyed, rosy, white-capped maid reappeared and announced thatMademoiselle Mariposa would see him at once.

  A few paces down the narrow hall, she drew aside the curtain before thedoor of mademoiselle's consulting-room, and stood aside for Hayden toenter, letting the portiere fall noiselessly behind him. But Robertinstead of advancing and taking a chair, although there was none toinvite him to do so, for the room was empty, stood transfixed upon thethreshold, almost open-mouthed.

  Ah, here was the atmosphere he had so sadly missed in the small parlor.This room was large, and it seemed to one entering it for the first timeto extend indefinitely, for upon the walls, against a soft, low-tonedbackground, were painted the bare trunks and branches of leafless trees,a forest of them apparently, so admirable and so illusive was theperspective. The eye seemed to plunge into interminable forest vistas ofdead leaves covering the ground and even floating on dim, moveless pools.The rounded ceiling was painted with silver-edged clouds, and the onlylight fell from a skylight like a great yellow moon.

  When Hayden finally drew his attention from the walls and ceilingsufficiently to realize that he was not in the autumn woods, he noticedthat this apartment was scantily furnished. Two or three chairs, a smalltable or so. On one of these tables was a bronze tripod upholding acrystal ball and a silk cushion upon which to rest one's hand during apalm-reading. On another table were several astrological charts and smallbooks, presumably works of reference.

  As he still stood motionless there was a slight rustle at the door, thecurtain parted and the Mariposa entered clad as always in her gracefulblack gown, the mantilla and the mask. It was the most effective ofdisguises and yet, it was negatived, nullified by a positive force ofpersonality so unmistakable and definite that the disguise instead ofconcealing served more subtly to reveal and even accentuateindividuality.

  "How do you do, Mr. Hayden?" ignoring the name he had signed to his noteand speaking with a marked Spanish accent meanwhile seating herself atthe table holding the crystal globe.

  "Ah!" cried Hayden, starting forward excitedly. "The waif of the wind!The lovely disembodied voice! How entirely delightful!"

  Never had he been more interested and with every moment that passed, hewas experiencing a pleasant sense of reassurance. For days he had beenputting from him the latent but constant fear that Marcia Oldham andMademoiselle Mariposa were identical; but a personal atmosphere isunmistakable, and in spite of her excellent and efficient disguise,Hayden felt instinctively that this was no delicate and wistful violet,but a gorgeous tropical bloom swaying from the tallest trees and exultingin torrid sunshine and fierce tempest. Her voice, too, was deeper andfuller, and the accent was, beyond question, genuine.

  "I am afraid it is impossible to disguise my accent," she laughed but didnot seem inclined to pursue the subject further. "Do you prefer apalm-reading, the crystal-gazing or both?" she asked, and although thewords were the usual commonplace phrases that she probably repeated adozen times a day, uttered monotonously enough, yet through some vibrant,ringing quality her most ordinary utterances were endued with life.

  "I hardly know," he said in answer to her question, and falling in withher mood. "What would you advise?"

  "Why not try the crystal?" she said. "You will, I am sure, find it moreinteresting." Without waiting for his answer, she lifted the crystal ballfrom its tripod to the silken cushion, and began intently to gaze intoits depths.

  And now Hayden drew a sigh of intense relief. There was no longer anyground for the shadow of a doubt, for the hands of Mademoiselle Mariposawere not the hands of Marcia Oldham. Marcia's hands, as he hadparticularly noticed, were small and white, with very pink palms, andlong, pointed, rosy-tipped fingers; while this woman's hands were smoothand creamy, the color of old ivory, with square fingers.

  For a few moments there was silence between them, and then th
efortune-teller began to speak in low familiar contralto tones, tones sonear the brink of music that one expected trills and ripples of melody.

  "I see mountains, yes, mountains, great bare hills; they change and varyin appearance, but there are always mountains; and I see wide burningdeserts stretching on and on, and now there are forests, dark,impenetrable, vast forests. You have traveled much in foreign lands,senor. Now bridges and railroads, oh quite clearly, and natives--Chinese,blacks, Indians--much work in building railroads in many lands. Ah,clouds, clouds, clouds! Now they clear a little. Oh, senor, it ismountains again, ranges of them. They become more clear, always moreclear, and now your figure. I see you very plainly. You are in themountains. You follow a little trail. It winds curiously among the rocks,twisting, turning, occasionally descending, often doubling on itself.Clouds again, clouds! Ah, now I see you again and in the broad sunshine.You are greatly excited. Your face is white, your eyes are shining--andyour hands are full of nuggets, golden nuggets, free gold, senor; itshines and gleams like fire in the sun. Wonderful! I have rarely had soclear a vision!"

  Hayden deliberately leaned forward and lifted the crystal from the silkencushion to its tripod. "I thought so," he said. "There, mademoiselle, Ibelieve we can talk better with that out of the way. What language do youprefer? English or Spanish?"

  She laughed. Airy, full laughter, trembling like her voice on the brinkof music and falling in sparkling cascades into an ocean of melody. "Butyou are bold!" she cried. "Bold as brass."

  "Not at all," said Hayden politely. "All this crystal-gazing is veryinteresting, very pretty and effective, and serves admirably to show justas much of your hand as you desire me to know. But you forget,mademoiselle, that you revealed your rather wide knowledge of my affairsthe other evening over the telephone. By the way, mademoiselle, it'ssheer curiosity on my part and I beg you to pardon it," he spoke a littlediffidently, "but why 'mademoiselle' with Mariposa? Why not 'senorita?'"

  "Euphony," she laughed, "nothing more, I assure you. It is more musical."

  "Exactly. But tell me, mademoiselle, shall we not take up matters wherewe dropped them the other evening? You have no objection I hope todiscussing business?"

  She appeared to ponder this proposition a moment. "Bah!" she criedsuddenly. "You are right, quite right. It is an opportunity not to bewasted. But one moment, I can not talk with this on."

  She swept off the mantilla and threw it aside. Her brown hair was rolledand twisted in great coils about her head, there were tendrils of itwhich sprang thickly about her brow and neck. The mask which concealedher face was held by a ribbon tied at the back of her head. She pulled atthis but only succeeded in knotting it, and with an exclamation ofimpatience, she bent toward Hayden, murmuring:

  "Please, senor."

  He skilfully untied the knot, but while at this occupation the tendrils,shining like gold in the warm, yellow glow of the moon skylight, curledabout his fingers, electric, tingling, leaving a faint, stingingremembrance.

  "Oh, thank you."

  She pulled off the mask and tossed it aside with a long breath of relief,and looked up, encountering Hayden's curious and admiring gaze. In thatmoment of unveiling, he saw before him a lady of high emprise.

  "A diamond-drill of a woman!" cried Robert to himself; and the steel ofhim paid her gallant homage, homage all the more sincere in that sheasked it not, neither craved nor stooped to win it. All she asked was thegame, the game with the odds against her. Cool, resourceful, she wasconcerned with neither doubts nor scruples. To such natures all roadslead to Rome. Before them lie the city of their hopes. That the roads arerocky and beset with unknown perils does not alarm, deter, or evenparticularly interest them. They see only Rome.

  In that brief scrutiny permitted himself by a well-bred man, Haydendecided that she was a Gipsy. Her rather short face, with the full,square chin, was of a clear brown; her intense and vivid eyes were green,a beautiful and rare shade of olive. Her mouth was large, merry andinscrutable, with a particularly short upper lip, a mouth as reckless asMercutio's. It would be difficult to say which impression predominated,beauty or force of character, or if, indeed, one could be disassociatedfrom the other. Divorced from the sheer individuality, the power whichshe expressed in every movement, every line of face and figure, would shehave been beautiful at all?

  While Robert considered this question the Mariposa looked at her watch,then touched an electric bell. It was answered by her private secretary,a dark, pale, colorless young woman whom Hayden had not seen before.

  "Eunice," said the Mariposa carelessly, "I do not wish to be disturbedfor an hour. Whoever calls within that time, tell them that it isimpossible for me to give them a reading to-day. Make other appointmentsfor them at as early a date as possible. That is all." The depressedyoung woman bowed and withdrew.

  "It is exactly half-after three, Mr. Hayden." She snapped her watch shut."Now we can talk. I fancy you are quite right. The crystal really didnot--what do you say--did not, cut very much ice."

  "You think then that, as you suggested the other evening, we shallprobably find an interest in common?" he said.

  "Undoubtedly. Several of them, perhaps."

  He bent nearer. "Including butterflies?" he suggested.

  She showed her white and even teeth. "Including butterflies," sherepeated.

  "But first," he said impetuously, "do allay the curiosity which, I assureyou, would otherwise continue to come between me and any business matterswe might discuss."

  She looked at him with an inquiry which held a sort of prescient reserve.He could see that if not actually on guard, she held herself in readinessto be so.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You," he said daringly. "I have sat here watching and waiting to catchyou tripping in that faultless accent of yours. It must be real. I havelived too much in Southern countries to be deceived."

  She looked gratified, her pleasure showing itself in a deepening color."It was adopted for business purposes, now it has become second nature.I, too, have lived much in Southern countries. The Romany strain, mymother was a Gipsy. You are a brother, Mr. Hayden, if not in blood, inkind. That kind that is so much more than kin. You are here to-day, thereto-morrow. The doom of the wanderer is on you, and the blessing. Take iton the word of a fortune-teller." She spread out her hands smiling herwide, gay smile with a touch of irony, of feminine experience, theserpent-bought wisdom of Eve in it. "You know what it means to hear thered gods calling, calling; to know that no matter what binds you, whetherwhite arms or ropes of gold, you have to go."

  "You show yourself a true daughter of the road, senorita, and a studentof Kipling. We brothers of the wild are usually not much given to books."

  "That is true," she assented. "I have heard them say: 'We know cities anddeserts, men and women of every race. What can books give us?' But I tellthem: 'Everything can pay us toll if we ask it. A star in the sky, thetiniest grain of sand on the beach. We can demand their secrets and theywill not withhold them.'" She mused a moment. "One must learn from allsources, knock upon every door. When I weary of gaining wisdom from theant or considering a serpent on the rock, or the way of a man with amaid, why, I turn to books. They are my solace, my narcotics, my friends,and my teachers. I take a few, a very few with me on any rough journey Imay be making; but when I am here or in London or Paris, any place whereI may be living for months at a time, I have my books about me."

  "But why do you tell fortunes?" asked Hayden involuntarily, andimmediately flushed to the roots of his hair. There was the vaguestsomething in her smiling gaze, the merest flicker of an eyelash, whichconvicted him of impertinence. "Forgive me. I--I beg your pardon," hestammered.

  She ignored his apologies. "Some day I will tell you," she whispered,going through a pantomime of looking about her cautiously as if it were astate secret of the most tremendous importance. "But we have talkedenough about myself now, senor; the topic for discussion to-day isbutterflies."

  "An interesting subject might be The Veiled
Mariposa," he said.

  "Just so. Why beat about the bush?" He felt that she disdainedsubterfuges, although when necessary for her purposes, he was assuredthat she could use diplomacy, as a master of fence might his foils. "You,Mr. Hayden, have been lucky enough to find the lost Mariposa, the lostVeiled Mariposa. Is it not so? But you are in a peculiarly tantalizingposition. You can not convert gold into gold. Strange. It sounds sosimple. But your hands are tied."

  "Perfectly true," Hayden assented.

  "Then to put the matter in a nutshell and to descend from metaphor toplain business facts, you can not organize a company and begin to operatethe mine or rather group of mines, for the reason that you can not securea clear title, and what is worse, you have not, so far, succeeded infinding any trace of the present owners."

  "You seem to know a lot about the matter," said Hayden pleasantly, "butdo you know, I think that you are wrong on one point. I think, indeed Iam quite sure, that I have found the owners, at least one of them."

  "Yes?" Her tone still questioned. "And what then?"

  "Well," he went slowly now, "there are some questions I would like to askthem. They may regard it as an awful impertinence; but it would be a lotof satisfaction to me."

  "What would be the nature of those questions?"

  "Among other things"--he still spoke slowly, seeming to consider hiswords--"I should like to ask them why, for years now, they should havelet a valuable property remain idle. Even if they have the wealth ofMidas it is still a puzzle. No one is ever quite rich enough, you know,and down there is Tom Tiddler's ground to their hand."

  "Well, what do you make of it--this puzzle?" She was looking steadily ata ring she was turning about on her finger.

  "This!" He leaned forward. For the life of him he could not keep a faintring of triumph out of his tone. "This, senorita. There is only onereasonable, credible solution--" He paused cruelly.

  "Yes?" Her eyes were on his, eager, almost voracious. "Yes?"

  "The present owners can not locate the mine, or else they think it notworth the trouble and expense of attempting to do so. That they haveallowed the estate to lie idle and in a measure go to waste is alsocurious and puzzling. I can not explain that."

  "Admitting such a thing for the sake of argument," she asked, "whatthen?"

  "Well, I think we will have several things to say to each other then.For, if either of my suppositions is anywhere near correct their handsare tied just as much as mine, so I think we shall have to talk business,do not you?"

  "I quite agree with you and I should add, the sooner the better."

  "The sooner the better," he echoed, with emphasis.

  She nodded. Again, she studied her nails, pink as almond-flowers, withinterest.

  "And you really believe, you are quite convinced, that this lost orabandoned mine is all that tradition says of it?" she asked at last.

  "More," he replied laconically. "I have prospected over every foot of it,and I know that it contains a fortune. A fortune"--he struck the tablewith the palm of his hand--"beyond the dreams of avarice."

  There were dancing sparkles in her green eyes. "Let me congratulate you,'O gallant knight, gaily bedight, in sunshine or in shadow,' that youhave been lucky enough to find Eldorado."

  She rose in a sweeping impetuosity, drew up her slender height, and madehim a curtsy, a flower bending buoyantly to the breeze, and springingupright again.

  "But"--two or three sliding steps of the fandango, and then in herchair--"where did you find Eldorado? That's the history a daughter of theroad wants to know. Is it truly 'over the mountains of the moon, down thevalley of the shadow?'"

  She swept him along on the tide of her high spirits; her laughter ransilver cascades down to the ocean of melody; her sun-flecked eyes heldthe heart-warming glow, the stimulation of wine. She was a breeze blowingfrom the South.

  "The romance!" she cried. "Behold an anomaly! Some one actually longingfor a traveler's tale. Begin!" Her voice rang imperious, alluring.

  Hayden almost caught at the table, a giddiness of the mind, perhaps ofthe senses, confused him. His face was a shade paler.

  "It is too plain and rough a tale to be told except as a matter ofbusiness. You are kind; but I should not venture to bore you."

  She accepted temporary defeat nonchalantly. "But you"--she did not changeher position even by the movement of a finger, and yet, the wholeexpression of her figure became suddenly tense as a strung bow--"are youso sure that you could ever find your way thither again?"

  He looked at her in surprise. "You give me very little credit forordinary common sense, mademoiselle," he said shortly. "Of course, I madea map, and have any number of photographs." Immediately, he could havebitten his tongue.

  "Ah, of course, naturally."

  Her indifference, the absent-minded answer reassured him. He did notnotice that her whole figure had relaxed.

  There was a faint tap on the door and the subdued secretary stood on thethreshold. "It is half-after four o'clock, mademoiselle, and your nextclient is waiting."

  Hayden rose. "Time's up," he said. "But, senorita, when do you think theheirs will be ready to talk business?"

  "I think I can promise you an interview within a very short time; and inthe meanwhile I will communicate with you. Oh, by the way, in private anddomestic life, my name is Carrothers, Ydo Carrothers. Y-d-o," spellingit, "pronounced Edo."

  "Ydo," he exclaimed. "It is a name made in Spain; in color it is red andyellow, and it smells of jasmine."

  "Yes." She laughed at his description. "The Romany strain again, yousee."

  "One moment," he insisted. "How did you know my traveler's tale? Was itPenfield?"

  "Never mind. It is sufficient that I know it. Good-by." She held out herhand. "You can't say I haven't told you a good fortune, can you?"

  As Hayden passed through the narrow hall he saw sitting in thereception-room the next client--the gray-haired man with whom Marcia haddined that evening at the Gildersleeve. But a further surprise awaitedhim; for just as he reached the door leading from the apartment the rosyand smiling little maid was admitting Wilfred Ames. Hayden almost raninto him, and Ames, with a stare, muttered a surly recognition and passedon in.