Double Trouble | Page 9

heavy dark lashes, from under brows of black, and seemed, at that first glance, of oriental darkness. A great mass of dark-brown hair encircled the rather small face, and even in his first look, he noted at the temples twin strands of golden-blond which, carried out like rays in the fluffy halo about her brow, reappeared in all the twistings and turnings of the involved pile which crowned the graceful head. The yellow-and-black of the tiger appeared thus, from head to foot. It was afterward that he found out something of the secret of the peculiar fascination in the great dark eyes. One of them was gray, with that greenish tinge which has been regarded as the token of genius. The other was of a mottled golden-brown, with lights like those in the tiger's eye. In both, in any but strong light, the velvet-black pupils spread out, and pushed the iris back to a thin margin; and thus they varied, from gray or brown, to that liquid night, which Amidon now saw in them, as he stepped within the doorway, and looked so long on her, as she sat like a model for the Queen of the Jungle, that under other circumstances the gaze would have seemed rude. Some sense of this, breaking through his bewilderment, made him bow.
"Madame le Claire?" said he.
"The same," said she. "How can I serve you, sir?"
The voice, a soft contralto, was the complement of the steady regard of the eyes. As she spoke, she rose and stepped toward him, down from the little dais to the rug. She rose, not with the effort which marks the act in most, but lightly, as a flower rises from the touch of a breeze. She was tall and lithe, and all the curves of her figure were long and low--once more suggesting the soft strength of the tigress. But when speech parted the lips, the smile which overspread her face won him.
"How can I serve you, my friend?" she repeated.
"I am in great trouble," said he.
"Yes," she purred.
"I saw your sign," he went on. "And I want you to tell me where I have been since June, 1896--and who is Eugene Brassfield? Did I kill him--or only rob him? And who is Elizabeth?"
She had stepped close to him now, as if to catch the scent of some disturbing influence which might account for such incoherence; but Amidon's breath was innocent of taint.
"Yes!" said she, "I think we shall be able to tell you all. But, are you well?"
"I have had no breakfast," said he. "When I found that I had lost five years--I forgot. And--once--I fainted. I'm not quite--well, I'm afraid!"
Madame le Claire stepped to the wall and pushed a button. The turbaned Sudanese reappeared at once.
"Aaron," said she, "tell Professor Blatherwick that Mr.--Mr.----"
"Amidon," said Florian hastily--"Amidon is my name."
"--Amidon will dine with us," Madame le Clair continued smoothly. "He has some very interesting things for us to look into. And have dinner served at once."
Aaron! and dinner! and Blatherwick! The delicious vulgarity of the names was sweet music. For be it remembered that Florian was a banker, and a man of position; and sandalwood, Sudanese, Bedouins and illusions were ill for the green wound of his mystery--which, in all conscience, was bad enough in and of itself! Some confidence in the realities of things returned to him, but he followed Madame le Claire like a faithful hound.

V
SUBLIMINAL ENGINEERING
Now, Red-Neck Johnson's right hand never knew his left hand's game; And most diverse were the meanings of the gestures of the same. For, benedictions to send forth, his left hand seemed to strive, While his right hand rested lightly on his ready forty-five. "Mr. Chairman and Committee," Mr. Johnson said, said he, "It is true, I'm tangled up some with this person's property; It is true that growin' out therefrom and therewith to arrive, Was some most egregious shootin' with this harmless forty-five: But list to my defense, and weep for my disease," said he; "I am double," half-sobbed Red-Neck, "in my personality!" --The Affliction of Red-Neck Johnson.
Madame le Claire led Mr. Amidon to the next room, turned him over to Aaron (now wonderfully healed of his dumbness) with a gesture of dismissal; and he was ushered by the negro into a most modern-looking chamber, in which was a brass bedstead with a snowy counterpane.
"Dinner will be suhved in ten minutes, suh," said Aaron.
They were waiting for him in the little dining-room, when he was wafted through the door by Aaron's obsequious bow. The tigrine Le Claire advanced from a bay-window, bringing a slender man with stooped shoulders.
"Papa," she said, "this is Mr. Amidon, whom I have induced to dine with us; Mr. Amidon, Professor Blatherwick."
Professor Blatherwick was bent, and much bleached, faded and wrinkled. His eyes seemed