The secretary awoke the morning after the recital with a confused but happy sense that the world was a pleasant place to live in. He had not sounded many of its pleasures, and it was time he began. What a wonderful companion in all that was gay, in all of life that he had avoided, was the niece of his employer, the talented young creature about whom all Farrandale would be talking to-day!
How quietly and demurely Adèle had taken the adulation of last evening: creeping off modestly to her room at the last, without even a good-night. Where had Stanwood been at the time? Grimshaw frowned a little in his effort to remember where Stanwood had been while the guests were departing. John Ogden had stood beside Miss Frink while the good-byes were being said. He, himself, had had too much to attend to in supervising the departure of the caterer’s retinue, and other household movements. He gave it up finally. Probably Hugh had been with the Duanes. Grimshaw had never liked Millicent since her mild defiance of him in the matter of taking the records to the White Room. A suggestion from any one that he was not in full authority in Miss Frink’s house put the culprit in his black books.
Getting out of bed, he now crossed the room and observed a white folded paper pushed beneath his door. He picked it up, opened it, and read as follows:
Dear Leonard: A strange thing came to my knowledge last night, and, fearing that it may be a shock to you to learn it, I thought I would prepare you and I hope you will not consider it presumptuous on my part. If it does seem so, pardon me, because it is only my solicitude for you. It seems that Hugh Stanwood’s real name is Sinclair, and that he is a nephew of Miss Frink. She will doubtless tell you immediately her discovery of his identity; and we shall see if she resents his obtaining entrance to her under a false name.
Yours ever
Adèle
The secretary’s face became scarlet as he read. The shock was all his friend could have anticipated, and he felt grateful to her for the preparation. This interloper and liar to have had the damned luck to save Miss Frink’s life; to command her gratitude and regard! There was the chance now that his duplicity might antidote that gratitude. Grimshaw’s face became more hopeful as the thought grew. He saw Miss Frink, in her intolerance of falsity, sending the fellow about his business. Happy dénouement to the past afflicting weeks. Adèle was a sweet girl. Her thought was all of him, and for his protection.
At the same moment in another room another gentleman was finding a folded paper on the polished wood of his threshold. Opening it he read:
I am not responsible after playing. I am intoxicated, and a woman is as liable to tell the truth in her cups as a man. Can you forgive and forget, Hugh? You can imagine how deeply I regret that hysterical outburst. Be generous to me.
Adèle