“Can it be,” he pondered, “that the property which Elaine enjoys really belongs to that child? That the young girl was artfully brought up in ignorance of her rights? Has she been robbed? The young beauty may have broken away inopportunely, and appeared here to embarrass the youthful-looking beauty whom Alynton seems to adore.”
He could see no possible solution of the problem. “Garston seems to be enraged at the mere idea of Alynton’s intimate relations. Can it be that a secret love in olden days has tied the proud Senator to this wonderful woman? He is dead set against her drifting into Alynton’s arms.” It was all a life puzzle.
He was ready for the meanest suspicions, but the observations of Justine dispelled them.
“Only friends; nothing more,” had been the verdict of a woman who would have gloried to have held her mistress in the clutches of blackmail.
“And the love of the same woman has now, as usual, made Alynton and Garston secret foes,” decided Vreeland.
He recalled the legendary source of Mrs. Willoughby’s tangible fortune, some Western windfall of vast richness.
“She knew him before, she fears him now, and has spirited the girl away to keep them apart.”
It seemed clear to Vreeland that some partner, or old associate, perhaps a client of Garston’s in the wild West, had owned both the property and the lovely woman in her flush of girlish beauty.
“It seems to be an old passion,” mused Vreeland.
“And now repulsed by the mother, whom evidently he has pursued, Garston would use the girl as a lever for his revenge. Once a breach effected with Alynton, and the girl his ally, then the Queen of the Street would either drift into his arms or have ‘to step down and out’—to abdicate the crown she has worn so long.” Vreeland lumbered along, building up fanciful solutions of the mystery.