[CHAPTER XV]
To Sail the Ocean Blue
Mary Wayne was in weak, human fear. The confession of Nell Norcross had not merely served to revive half-forgotten apprehensions, but had overwhelmed her with new ones. She wanted to quit. She did not dare. For where could she get another place, and who would take care of Nell? Circumstances were driving her toward a life of perpetual charlatanism, it seemed, but for the present she could not even struggle against them.
Mary was neither a prude nor a Puritan, so it may as well be said that what troubled her most was not the practice of deception. It was the fear of discovery. She now lived with an explosive mine under her feet. At any instant Aunt Caroline, for all her innocence and abiding faith, might inadvertently make the contact. Then—catastrophe! Even that queer valet might make a discovery; she was by no means certain that he was without suspicion. Bill Marshall himself might blunder into a revelation; but Mary feared him least of all. She did not regard him as too dull to make a discovery, but she had a feeling that if he made it he would in some manner safely remove her from the arena of disturbance before the explosion occurred.
All the way back to the Marshall house she was seized with fits of trembling. The trembling angered her, but she was unable to control it. Suppose Aunt Caroline had taken it into her head to seek a personal talk with Mrs. Rokeby-Jones! Or, even if matters had not gone that far, what would she say when Aunt Caroline asked for the result of Mary's interview?
"The city of New York is not large enough for Mrs. Rokeby-Jones and me," declared Mary. "I feel it in my bones. One of us must go. Which?"
She had reached a decision when the butler opened the front door and informed her that Mr. William would like to see her. He was the very person that Mary wanted to see. She found him in the office.
"Say, what's this I hear about a dinner?" demanded Bill.