A Discord in Avalon/Chapter 10

"A blind girl? Why, no, Doctor Burlington! You haven't lost one?"

"Oh, no—no, not at all—she is with friends, and I was merely looking them up," and with this Burlington backed Quentin away from the information bureau at the pier, and made all haste to flee.

Quentin chuckled.

"He was more interested in asking questions than answering them, Burlington! I guess the best thing to do would be to chuck the whole thing into the hands of the police. They'll find your blind girl soon enough."

"Heavens, no! My reputation, my standing" And Burlington rumbled on with more confusion than coherence, until at length he pulled himself together. The quick and vivid interest manifested by the officials in his questions had entirely disconcerted him, and Quentin had not assisted greatly in restoring his composure.

Since that telephone conversation with the desk clerk, indeed, Quentin had grown beyond fearing anything. While they wandered along, he had kept a sharp lookout for Mary Palmer, but without success; also, he had managed to probe through a good deal of his companion's pompous and precise air, to find a growing dismay underneath it.

"I can't see your objection to the police," and Quentin baited him coldly. "The girl is nothing to you except a patient; it doesn't reflect on you that she got away, since she was not confined in your house. Of course, if she was insane or something of that sort, and you had kept her hidden away, it would be different."

Burlington hunched his heavy shoulders in something like a shiver, though it was a very warm day, and his face remained mottled; his blue eyes were darting about in desperate fashion, and Quentin was beginning to pierce to the real man underneath the mask so constantly presented to the world.

Nor did he find it good. Burlington's usual restraint and calm precision were shattered, and as the time dragged past with no result from their quest, the older man's anxiety and terrific earnestness were increased tenfold, dominating all else, and Quentin's merciless jabs, the more merciless because of their apparent innocence, drew blood.

"Well, it looks as if Mary Palmer had ducked to let me take what's coming," reflected Quentin. "I guess I'll drag down another honorable physician and surgeon, just the same; Burlington's a heap more of a crook than Mary Palmer, I'll bet a dollar!"

As they passed the Metropole while making the rounds, Quentin stepped inside and secured his lost pocketbook, which he found all intact. His suspicion that the girl had left it for him had been shattered; there was no doubt that he had lost it aboard the launch the previous afternoon, and with no little relief he peeled off a ten-spot for the boatman, found that the girl had not returned, and rejoined Burlington outside.

It irritated Quentin that he should be spending his time on this aimless search when he had more important things to concern his energies. So Mary Palmer had had a message! From whom? Was it possible that Mathews had—but he could not see just where she had any connection with Mathews, despite her anxiety on the subject. So he gave over thinking of it, and endeavored to drive the whole affair from his mind.

"Here, sit down and rest a bit," he exclaimed, when another half hour had gone by without result, save that Burlington's '"poke" collar was going down fast. Quentin's quiet coolness irritated the older man.

"Confound it!" he returned, though he obeyed the order. "You're a cold-blooded beast, Quentin!"

"I don't see the necessity of getting worked up over this," said Quentin calmly, seating himself beside the other. "By the way, Burlington, what became of that ward of yours? Didn't I hear something about your being given the guardianship of some one, two or three years ago?" Burlington started slightly, and his blue eyes settled on Quentin uneasily.

"Eh? Why—did Dolly tell you that?" he exclaimed savagely.

"I don't remember where I heard it," answered Quentin lightly. "I'll have to ask Dolly about it some time."

"You needn't bother," grunted Burlington. "Yes, the story was true, but I got rid of the responsibility immediately afterward. I had almost forgotten it myself. Here, have a cigar?"

Quentin accepted the weed, enjoying to the full the other man's nervous and abrupt demeanor. That Hall Burlington was a scoundrel he no longer doubted.

"It's a cinch that all the crooks aren't in the rogues' gallery," he told himself, as he watched the mottled and uneasy features of the erstwhile pompous physician. "I guess I'd sooner be in my shoes than his, right now."

Upon this he remembered that he had something coming to him when Mathews arrived to release the imprisoned detective, and asked Burlington about the boat. To his dismay, he found that the first one over from San Pedro was that on which he had come—the noon boat, which meant that he had two hours to wait. As Burlington noticed his surprise, he stated that he expected to meet a Mr. J. M. Mathews, and inquired if the other knew him.

"By mere name only," returned Burlington nervously. "A lawyer of some reputation, I believe. I trust you're in no legal difficulty, Quentin?"

"Oh, no—merely a personal matter," laughed Quentin, and chuckled inwardly as Burlington rose with an oath.

"I can't sit down any longer, Quentin. Come on—I'm going to find that young woman—I've got to find her! This confounded anxiety is going to make a nervous wreck of me if it isn't settled."

He seemed to be that already, thought Quentin as he rose. Since they had already covered the larger hotels—or at least Burlington thought they had—and the chief places of interest along the curve of the harbor, they struck down toward the canvas city. More than once a splash of dark red among the crowds lured them in vain pursuit, and the farther they went the more Burlington lost of his precise air and dignified pose. He had plainly counted it a small task to locate Enid Elsmere in Avalon, and Quentin managed to forget his own troubles in watching Burlington's poise grow beautifully less.

He had never liked the older man particularly, for Burlington's cold manner was not calculated to attract men to him. Now that this was stripped from him, Quentin liked him even less; underneath the mask lay a sheer brutal violence which was somewhat of a surprise to him, while it bore out the story told him by Mary Palmer—though he could not see how she had become aware of it. That was a problem which Quentin resolutely shut out of his mind, however; in some way the girl had learned how things stood, and since she had skipped out in order to avoid an explanation, he was determined to probe Burlington to the depths.

Finally they ran across Constable McBean, and in helpless despair Burlington called in his services to find Miss Elsmere; since McBean's principal duty was to keep anything in the nature of a disturbance under cover, he nodded solemnly in pledge of secrecy, and bustled off without delay.

"Good God!" breathed Burlington hoarsely, mopping at his face as he watched the retreating blue form. "I can't stand this suspense, Quentin! We should have found that girl without any trouble I wonder what could have happened to her?"

"Perhaps she found friends," suggested Quentin cruelly, and the other groaned.

"No. She—she was practically unknown." Burlington glanced around wildly, and Quentin made haste to get him out of the sun. The older man looked startlingly close to apoplexy, he thought.

"If—if she gets hold of people, Quentin—she'll play on their sympathies and make all kinds of trouble for me. Confound it, I'll have her examined for insanity if we get hold of her"

"Eh? I thought you said she was nothing to you?" broke in Quentin mercilessly.

"She's not." Burlington wrenched at his collar, and his heavy jaw shoved out as he glared suspiciously at the younger man. "What are you trying to insinuate, Quentin? You'd better watch your words"

"Come, come, keep your self-control, Burlington," said Quentin sternly. "I'm not insinuating anything—you're the one to watch your words, I guess."

"I beg your pardon," muttered the other, trying to collect himself. "I'm a bit worked up, old man; you'll have to overlook what I say. Come on, let's get up to the Metropole and sit down a bit in the cool. I'm afraid I'm getting old, Quentin."

The younger man laughed, and started along beside him to the hotel. A moment later, however, he suddenly caught sight of a hatless figure a short half block away, and stood paralyzed. There was no mistaking the heavy, undershot jaw, and the burly form—and worse yet, the other had seen him. He must have left the key of those handcuffs somewhere in Osgood's pockets, Quentin thought. Nemesis had come upon him!