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Page 30
Perhaps this trend of character was the result of her inherited love of
the open. With almost unlimited funds under her own hand, she lived
simply. She was never happy in smart society, though it was always
making demands upon her. When abroad, she was generally prowling
through queer little shops instead of mingling with the dress parades
on the grand-hotel terraces. There was no great battle-field in Europe
she had not trod upon. She knew them so well that she could people
each field with the familiar bright regiments, bayonets and sabers,
pikes and broadswords, axes and crossbowmen, matchlock and catapult,
rifles and cannon.
And what she did not know of naval warfare her father did. They were
very companionable. There was never any jealousy on the part of the
admiral. Indeed, he was always grateful when some young man evinced a
deep regard for his daughter. He would have her always, married or
unmarried. He was rich enough, and the son-in-law should live with
him. He was so assured of her good judgment, he knew that whenever
this son-in-law came along, there would be another man in the family.
He had long ceased to bother his head about the flylike buzzing of
fortune hunters. He had been father and mother and brother to the
child, and with wisdom.
She smiled at her father, gave her hand to Fitzgerald, who found it
warm and moist from the ride, and glanced inquiringly at Breitmann.
"My dear," said her father, "this is Mr. Breitmann, my new secretary."
That gentleman bowed stiffly, and the scars faded somewhat when he
observed that her hand was extended in welcome. This unconventionality
rather confused him, and as he took the hand he almost kissed it. She
understood the innocence of the gesture, and saved him from
embarrassment by withdrawing the hand casually.
"I hope you will like it here," was the pleasant wish.
"Thank you, I shall."
"You are German?" quickly.
"I was born in Bavaria, Miss Killigrew."
"The name should have told me." She excused herself.
"Oho!" thought Fitzgerald, with malicious exultancy. "If she doesn't
interfere with your work!"
But with introspection, this exultancy grew suddenly dim. How about
himself? Yes. Here was a question that would bear some close
inspection. Was it really the wish to capture a supposable burglar?
He made short work of this analysis. He never lied to others--not even
in his work, which every one knows is endowed with special licenses in
regard to truth--nor did he ever play the futile, if soothing, game of
lying to himself. This girl was different from the ordinary run of
girls; she might become dangerous. He determined then and there not to
prolong his visit more than three or four days; just to satisfy her
that there was no ghost in the chimney. Then he would return to New
York. He had no more right than Breitmann to fall in love with the
daughter of a millionaire. Loving her was not impossible, but leaving
at an early day would go toward lessening the probability. He was not
afraid of Breitmann; he was foreigner enough to accept at once his
place, and to appreciate that he and this girl stood at the two ends of
the world.
And Breitmann's mind, which had, up to this time, been deep and
unruffled as a pool, became strangely disturbed.
The time moved on to luncheon. Breitmann took the part of listener,
and spoke only when addressed.
"I must tell you, Mr. Breitmann," said Laura, "that a ghost has
returned to us."
"A ghost?" interestedly.
"Yes. My daughter," said the admiral tolerantly, "believes that she
hears strange noises at night, tapping, and such like."
"Oh!" politely. Breitmann broke his bread idly. It was too bad. She
had not produced upon him the impression that she was the sort of woman
whose imagination embraced the belief in spirits. "Where does this
ghost do its tapping?"
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