A WEDDING IN HIGH LIFE.
It was a week later when two alert-minded men faced each other over a table in Senator James Garston’s private rooms at the Plaza Hotel. No single thread of the tangle had been successfully followed up by the restless Vreeland, save that Mr. Hugh Conyers, gravely occupied in his usual duties, had returned to the office of the Daily Clarion.
And of the whereabouts of Mrs. Elaine Willoughby, Vreeland knew absolutely nothing, save that in a stolen interview with Justine Duprez he learned that Miss Mary Kelly, now aided by her brother and mother as inmates, was the caretaker of the superb “Circassia” apartment. And so, Justine had a new mistress, pro tem.
The private secretary had handed to the French maid a note from her absent mistress, bidding her remain on duty at the “Circassia” until her own return. “Miss Kelly represents me; she will pay you and give you her orders, carrying out my directions to her.” And Justine dared not break away.
There was joy now in Justine’s anxious heart, for the stolen interviews at her old rooms in South Fifth Avenue, perhaps, could be soon renewed, Miss Kelly generously allowing the maid all her usual outings.
And Vreeland had soon calmed the Parisienne’s growing fears.
“She must however know no more of my affairs now,” mused the young broker. “She will be useless to me in the future game, as Fate has dealt the cards.”
But he knew he might have some further use for her, to watch the promoted amanuensis and to learn of Mrs. Willoughby’s
movements.
“Yes, she must continue to intercept the letters. Thank Heaven, I can always depend upon the janitor and Mulholland!” was Vreeland’s flattering consolation to his soul.