Lavira Fane was a clever woman. If she hadn't been, she would have had many more charges against her than she had, for so far she had pretty well got away with them. A few days in jail now and then, and some old pal with the hope of gain thereby, would turn up to swear an alibi for her or testify to some utterly false statement.
And it was a help that in addition to her cleverness she could on occasion be most humble, although some people described that humility as "meaching." But she could if necessary deceive even a matron of a suburban prison.
So for the first few days of her reconfinement in the Glencarroll prison she was quiet, subdued, almost humble in her manner, biding her time. Saying to the matron that she really was grateful that she had been caught, for she simply dreaded to be out alone with the authorities against her. She told the matron she never had been smart to get away with things, that she had been brought up to be a good Christian woman and she did not know how to deceive, and she readily perceived that if one once got suspected of anything it was hopeless. Especially in her present position, here, far away from her home and friends, how could she hope to get help? No one knew her anymore, and no one was ready to help. Not even that little snob of an Eden Thurston would lift her hand to help her, though she was at least distantly related.
So she was a most docile prisoner, and the matron, accustomed though she was to judging tough characters, began to feel sorry for her, a poor old woman, whose son was really the only sinner, of course, for now he had deserted her and left her to shift for herself.
She even considered the possibility of suggesting to the authorities that someone might get in touch with the parents of the child who had sent the pitiful appeal to her for a string of red beads. Perhaps someone, if he knew, might shed light on her case and produce some relatives to take over the poor soul, who she told the guards was so sad and dejected and quite willing to resign herself to perpetual servitude.
Lavira played this role so well that she was often allowed to come to the kitchen with the matron and help her with the cooking, glad to be of service in her despondent state. That was how it seemed. And so days passed by, and the matron was kind to the poor woman and gave her a privilege now and then, and some bit of extra fruit with her meals, and often called her to help her in the kitchen, which she did quite willingly, though most shyly, looking almost frightened whenever the outside door opened near her, and turning that quick furtive look almost as if to run away and hide. And strange to say, that matron really began to trust Lavira.
Still, she was a good, conscientious matron and knew the rules of her institution, knew what was expected of her, and took no chances. She had been a matron too long in such places not to know she might be mistaken.
But one evening just at dark, they were baking hot johnnycakes as a special treat. The grocery boy came in with his late Saturday night delivery order, just as the matron was taking out a hot pan of corn bread. Then the telephone rang.
The matron dropped the hot pan on the top of the stove and went to unfasten the door for the groceries. The telephone rang persistently. It was against the rule for her to send a prisoner to the telephone, and the grocery boy was waiting to have the order signed and his basket emptied. The matron looked wildly from the waiting boy to the telephone and then despairingly to her burning corn bread in the oven. But Lavira was there with all her senses alert and stepped toward the oven.
"Don't worry, I'll take the rest of the pans out," she said, stooping with a holder and lifting out the next pan, setting it on the top of the stove. So the matron signed the grocery boy's paper and turned to answer that insistent telephone, which she knew must be her director calling her. It was only a step or two to the phone in the corridor, and the communication was sharp and direct. "Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" she answered in a businesslike tone.
But when she turned back to her stove, the oven door was still wide open, a smell of scorched baking in the air; the grocery boy was gone, the back door was wide open, and Lavira was nowhere to be seen!
The corn bread had to go on burning--discouraged a trifle by the open oven door and the cold air rushing in from the outside--while the matron dashed wildly out the door into the darkness calling after the grocery boy to know if he had seen the woman disappear. But the sound of the delivery car rattling down the lane showed her how hopeless that was, and there seemed to be no sign of any dark figures in the alley. The matron rushed back to the telephone and gave the alarm to her chief, her soul filled with fury to think she had been caught with the same prisoner disappearing for the second time.
Lavira had been very quick. She knew how to slither into the shadows, and this time she had been preparing her mind for just such an opportunity as had come with that combination of circumstances, the burning food about to be served, the grocery boy, and the telephone. She had dropped the second pan like a flash and dashed out the open door and down the back steps, taking only time to snatch the old gray blanket from the seat of the delivery car as she slid across to take shelter around the corner of the garage with its door wide open. It took but a second to fling the old blanket about her and over her head as she hurried along, out of the alley and down another street and another, avoiding pedestrians as much as possible, and dashing on toward a country road she had often sighted when it had been possible for her to look out a window. It was strange what cleverness and planning could do for a woman when her freedom was at stake.
The matron worked fast. She got the whole force on the job at once, and then she went back to get those trays ready for the hungry prisoners and take out the rest of the corn bread before it was burned to a crisp. As the whole force was on the job she had no doubt but the fugitive would soon be found. She simply couldn't have got far away. But she knew, too, that her own time of reckoning would come. Oh, what a fool she had been! To trust that sly woman! Of course she was not glad to stay. She must have been watching every moment for a chance to get away. She with her son at large and both of them now free to carry on their machinations. She recalled suddenly that some of the police force thought that the message from the child asking for red beads might have been a communication from the son, and now she was convinced it was, for she recalled the look in the woman's face when she showed it to her, so furtive. The matron was in sore trouble now lest she was going to lose her own job. It had been an easy one in a way, and one that she could not afford to lose.
And so for the second time Mike came to the Thurston home with his crew and got permission to look around the house for any possible hiding place. A few minutes later Mr. Worden was notified and promptly sent his right-hand man, Lance Lorrimer, over to spend the evening with Eden and keep her from finding out what had occurred, or at least keep her from worrying if it became necessary to tell her.
Eden had been with Tabor, reading a bit of the news and his evening chapter to him, and she came to meet her guest with a shining face, aglow from Tabor's daily thanks for her kindness. It seemed a happy time. And now to have Mr. Lorrimer come and settle down as if he were going to stay awhile made her feel very glad.
He took both her hands in his two hands as he greeted her, and held them for just a second as if he, too, were glad, and smiled, deep into her eyes.
"Do you mind my coming just to see you?" he asked, almost shyly.
"Oh, did you do that really, just to see me? How wonderful! I can't think of anything nicer you could do to please me," she said, with that ripple of welcoming joy in her voice that sounded so genuine. "And you won't hurry right off somewhere in a few minutes, this time, will you? You're always so busy, and a lot of stupid other people always have so very much time to stay and bore me."
He smiled.
"Why, I thought you had a lot of wonderful friends," he said, studying her face wistfully. "They said some came down from New York, old friends."
Eden laughed.
"Now, where did you get that gossip? Surely you haven't been interviewing the kitchen maids?"
He laughed.
"Why, if I remember rightly, it came to Mr. Worden through Mike, who, I think, did get it from your own kitchen perhaps. I don't know that I would exactly call it gossip!"
"Why, no, of course not," she laughed. "Well, it was pleasant seeing them, but that was all. That has nothing to do with my being glad to see you. You see, there is one difference. You talk about real things and they talk about frills and nonsense. Yet, of course, they are very nice people, and I like them a lot. But there is another thing, too: you understand about Tabor and are in sympathy with him, and all my other friends keep pitying me for having him in the house while he is getting well. They think I ought to send him to a hospital or a nursing home or something! 'Only a servant!' they say with a sneer, and that makes me wild. They don't know what he's always been to all of us. But you have seemed to understand. Even Mr. Worden understands a little, I think, for he has never suggested that I send Tabor away. Of course, I wouldn't, even if he had."
"Yes," said Lorrimer with a light in his eyes. "I understand, and I think your feelings in the matter are beautiful. And I am sure that from what little I know of your wonderful father, he would have understood, too. Perhaps he knows now and is pleased."
"Oh, I'm so glad to hear you say so," she said eagerly. "I was almost sure you understood."
"Thank you for understanding me so well," said the young man, smiling. "And by the way, how is Tabor tonight?"
"Oh, he is getting well rapidly now, the doctor says, and he seems so happy. The doctor says it has made a big difference having him here. That Tabor would have been very lonely and despairing if he had been taken away. He knows he is getting old, and I'm afraid he has been feeling that his time of usefulness is almost past. I couldn't have stood it to have him go away, and I know he is being cared for as well as he could possibly be in a hospital. We have a wonderful nurse and doctor, and it isn't as if we need any equipment that we could not easily procure."
"I am so glad you feel that way," said Lorrimer. "Do you know, it was that in you that first made me feel you were different from other girls? You were more kindly and thoughtful, more loyal to those who were devoted to you."
Eden's face glowed with this bit of praise.
"It is good to hear you say that," she admitted shyly, "because so many have talked another way and almost made me hate them, only I knew they didn't understand."
Then just at that point Janet came to the door, with her deprecating air that she had to interrupt.
"Miss Eden," she said, "sorry to interrupt, but Tabor was wantin' tae know if that was Mr. Lorrimer in here, and if so, might he be seein' him for a wee while. He'll not keep him ower lang."
"Why, yes, of course," said Eden. "Mr. Lorrimer, you asked about Tabor, and now he wants to see you. Do you mind?"
"Of course not," said the young man, springing up. "You'll excuse me for a few minutes, Eden?"
"Of course," she said and started to go with him then stepped back as she saw Janet wanted to speak to her.
"That's all right," said Lorrimer. "I know the way to Tabor's room." And he hurried down the hall.
"Ye'll be needin' a tray in a wee while?" Janet asked in a low tone. "Anything special ye'll be wanting?"
"Oh, I'll leave that to you, Janet. Your trays are always grand! But, Janet, wasn't there somebody else in to see Tabor? I thought I heard another voice. Had I better go and see? Tabor mustn't have too much company at once."
"It's joost Mike drapped in fer a chat. Tabor's all richt! Better let thim have their talk, Miss Eden."
Eden gave a quick suspicious look at Janet. She was well acquainted with her tone of voice whenever Janet was trying to evade a question, so she spoke quickly:
"Has something happened, Janet? What is Mike here for? He ought not to worry Tabor. The doctor said we must keep him quiet."
"Tabor's all richt!" said Janet quickly, an anxious smile in her eyes.
"I must go and see," said Eden, and in spite of Janet's earnest "No, no, Miss Eden, best leave thim talk alane," she hurried out into the hall and down to the far door where Tabor lay. She appeared just in time to hear Mike say: "I think she oughtta be told, Mr. Lorrimer. She's a sensible lady, and she'll be much safer if she knows all. She should stay in the house, which will be well guarded until we can locate the old un. No tellin' what that bird might not try if she's desperate, an' I think she is. Of course, we'll put a strong guard around the place tonight."
Then there was Eden standing at the door and facing Mike.
"Yes? What is it, Mike, that I ought to be told? You tell me. I won't mind what it is. I know you folks will take care of me."
"Yes, my lady," put in Tabor's voice most earnestly, with all the quaver gone and a look as if he were going to get right up and guard her. "You mustn't go out of the house until Mike says it's safe, Miss Eden! And that's straight! You needn't get worried."
"Of course, Tabor," said Eden quickly. "I'll do what I'm told, but I'm not worried. Now what is it all about, Mike?" She looked directly at the embarrassed policeman, who hadn't an idea she had been within hearing while he was talking.
"Why, beggin' yer pardon, miss, it's just that the old un played her cards well with our matron, and she's got out again, an' we don't know but she might come this way. We're not lettin' you out of our sight till we're sure where she is."
"Oh!" said Eden, looking startled, and then regaining her composure. "But she won't come this way again. At least, I don't think so. She won't take the same chance twice."
"But she might, that," said Mike gruffly. "She knows there was clothes hangin' in that there toolshed. She might take a chance to see if they is there yet. Ya see, she has only prison clothes and knows they might be noticed. She has got only what she had on when she got away, the matron's apron an' her own dress. We know what to watch for, unless she can get a change. She did take the blanket off the grocery boy's delivery truck. She might wrap that around her, but she'd likely take any chance to get those clothes she hid behind the last time."
"Well, maybe," said Eden, looking thoughtfully at Mike. "But, really, I think we ought not to stand here in Tabor's room talking. The doctor said I was to be very careful that he didn't get excited."
"The doctor knows we're here, Miss Eden," explained Mike. "He knew we needed to ask Tabor some questions, and he said we might come."
"Oh," said Eden, looking from one to another of the men. "That's all right, then, I suppose. Have you asked your questions?"
"Yes, Miss Thurston, we found out all we need to know about the one that stabbed Tabor, and he saw the old un take refuge in the toolhouse the last time. He tried to stop her. That's how Tabor got hurt."
"All right," said Eden cheerfully. "I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this, but I think we ought to get right out and let Tabor go to sleep. It's past his sleeping time now, isn't it, Nurse?"--to the nurse who had entered with a worried look, and she nodded in answer to Eden's question.
"Well then, we'll say good night and go. Tabor, you needn't worry about me. I'll do just what Mike and Mr. Lorrimer tell me I ought to do; and if I have to go out anywhere, I'll take somebody with me, but I won't go until Mike says I can. And now, Tabor, you and I will remember that verse we read tonight, 'The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them.' Just rest on that, Tabor." And Eden gave the old servant's hand a little pat, and a smile, and led the others away.
They all came out following her as if they had been attending some kind of religious service, and even the policeman walked more softly, spoke in a lower tone to Lorrimer, and kept his anxious gaze downward.
Lorrimer and Mike lingered by the side doorway for a minute or two while Mike outlined the plan of defense and jotted down one or two directions that seemed important. Then Lorrimer came back to Eden in the living room.
"Too bad we have to have that interruption in our pleasant evening," said the young man as they sat down again, with a graver expression on his face than when he had left the room a few minutes before.
"It's all right," said Eden quietly, with a faint smile. "Somehow I've felt all along that we were not through with this business yet. I'm not surprised at anything. But I certainly am glad you were here."
"So am I," said the young man with a tender smile. "But you certainly are a brave girl. Most young women I know would be terribly upset by finding all this out. They told me not to let you know what was going on. They sent for me to make sure I would understand in case we heard shots or footsteps walking around the house, and it doesn't seem to worry you at all."
"Well, why should I be worried with so many good friends to guard me? I realize, of course, that Mrs. Fane is an unscrupulous woman, and rather desperate, and wouldn't stop at anything if she were cornered. But I think she is a coward. Perhaps I'm wrong, but she wouldn't do anything wild like shooting somebody, or kidnapping, unless she was very sure she could get away with it. I think her role is to act like a wealthy woman who was doing a kindly deed. At least, that is the way she made her approach here when she arrived."
"Yes," said Lorrimer thoughtfully, "that may be the way she makes her approach, innocent and kindly, but I wouldn't be too sure she isn't familiar with the ways of guns and the like. So please just act as if you know she were the worst criminal living. That will make it easier for the rest of us."
"Oh, I will," said Eden earnestly. "It is wonderful to be taken care of again. But I'm not afraid, truly."
"Well, of course, it is grand to have courage, but remember we are taking no chances on just courage."
He gave her a smile that made her heart feel all warm and happy, and her face grew bright with a grateful smile of her own.
"Now," he said as he drew up two chairs in front of the fire, "where is that poem you promised last week you would read to me? I've been looking forward to hearing it ever since."
"I'll get it," said Eden, turning to the bookcase between the windows and selecting a bright volume with leaves that looked as if they had had much use.
She turned to the old lovely words:
"Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles,
Miles and miles,
On the solitary pastures where our sheep
Half-asleep
Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop
As they crop--
Was the sight once of a city great and gay,
(So they say). . .
Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far
Peace or war."
And so they were off to a pleasant enjoyment and discussion of Browning.
When she had finished the reading, his eyes showed his appreciation.
"Yes, I had read the poem long ago," he said, "but you have made it live again and painted the picture of that colored evening as I never conceived it before. And, too, it gives such a broad outlook on the world, going on through the centuries, doing all the things we are doing today, building cities, enjoying happy times, living, sinning, fighting, loving as we do now, and dying. It makes the world seem so small after all, to think how many years it has been going on and yet our thoughts and impulses are much the same. Still the old Adam cropping up and bringing on wars."
"They had wars in Bible times, didn't they? Does God like war? If not, why does He allow it?"
"No, God doesn't like war, but He uses it sometimes to punish His people who are sinning. He allows it to serve His own purposes. He sometimes sent different nations against those who were not keeping His commandments, who had sinned against Him. He sent the Medes against Babylon to destroy it. He sent word to them, to get their weapons ready. 'Make bright the arrows.' You know that means to sharpen them, get them ready for use. And 'gather the shields.' They had to have bright arrows, not rusty ones that would do no good when they hit the mark."
"But how would that apply to us?" asked Eden, puzzled. "That is, Christians. Does He want them to fight, too?"
"Yes, He has told us that we are all in a warfare, 'not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world.' And He has told us to 'put on the whole armour of God.' And the weapon we are to use is the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God. I have always thought that that must be like the bright arrows that were to be kept sharp and polished and ready for use. And it has seemed to me that we should be very diligent about keeping that sword polished and ready, those arrows of God, His own words, bright and flashing as they speed to reach the enemy. And, of course, the enemy is not just people who don't agree with us, a mistake some make that causes awful trouble. The enemy is the devil who blinds and confuses people as to what is the real truth. That is why we ought to be often studying God's Word, so that it will be on the very tips of our tongues, ready to be used at a time of need. And the Spirit will always tell us when that time has come so that we shall not be wasting its bright flashing at an unseemly time. There will be times when the foe presses hard when a few of those bright arrows flashing through the air may bring great victory."
"That is wonderful. I've never heard anybody bring out those thoughts before. Bright arrows. God's Word in my heart, on my tongue, might be that, do you mean? Might speed the truth and make futile the darts of the enemy? And with the shield of my faith in God I shall not be hurt?"
"That's right. You have the idea. I think you had it before I spoke, for that verse you left with Tabor tonight was truly a bright arrow against the fear of worry and trouble. You know many verses like that. God will teach you when to use them. And now, how about a bit of music, some of your sweet hymns? Wouldn't they help Tabor to trust and not worry, and you and me, too, perhaps? First you play some of those sweet hymns your father used to love, and then maybe we could sing:
"Be not dismayed whate'er betide,
God will take care of you;
Beneath His wings of love abide,
God will take care of you."
For answer Eden sat down at the piano and began to play softly, the tender sweet melodies her father used to love, and with which she was sure Tabor was most familiar. Lorrimer sat in the big chair nearby, just in the shadow, and watched her admiringly. Eden's face was full of feeling, for she was going back in spirit to the evenings when her dear father had sat listening, sometimes chiming in with his sweet tenor that had once been so strong and thrilling.
And now after a few minutes her fingers went softly into the gospel song they both knew, and their voices mingled in the tender words, "God will take care of you."
As the last note died softly away they looked up, and there stood Janet with her tray. Hot scones, tiny sponge cakes, hot chocolate topped with whipped cream.
"Mr. Tabor sent ye worrud, thank ye baith fer the singin', an' tae tell ye it were juist like heaven tae hear ye."
Their faces lit up.
"We hoped he would like it," said Eden.
"Yes, tell him we are glad he liked it."
They lingered over the delicious meal, making a gala supper of the simple fare, and when Janet came back and saw that Lorrimer was about to leave, she said, "We'll be all richt, dinna fear. Mike's stayin' the night hisself."
Lance Lorrimer took Eden's hands for a brief clasp, pressing her fingers warmly, smiling into her eyes.
"Good night, dear lady! We'll be praying!" he said, and Janet, bless her heart, smiled to herself at the words she thought she heard with her deaf ears.