The Case and The Girl | Page 4

her eyes sparkled.
"Naturally that query comes first; and especially the dress-suit. You have the prejudices of your sex, I see, and without regret. I shall endeavour to reply catagorically, yet with reservations. We are going to a country home, where we dine, in company with a few guests."
"I see; I am first of all to be projected into society. Are any of these guests known to me?"
"God forbid; and I may even venture to predict that you will never care to know any of them again. You are to be present as my guest, and will so be welcomed."
"I feel the honour; but would it not be well under these circumstances for me to know more clearly whose guest I am? Suppose, for instance, I had to refer to our long friendship, it would be extremely awkward not to even be able to mention your name."
"My name! Why, of course, you do not know what it is. Well, really I am not altogether certain that I do either. We will therefore compromise on the one I am known by; which will be safer. Allow me, Captain West, to present to you Miss Natalie Coolidge."
She held out frankly a neatly gloved hand, which he as instantly took, and retained in his own, the girl making no immediate effort to withdraw it.
"This is very kind of you, Miss Coolidge," he acknowledged, adapting himself to her present mood. "But it seems there is no necessity for me to present myself. Apparently my identity is already known."
"Otherwise you would not be among those present," she admitted frankly. "You must surely realize that I needed, at least, to have some information relative to a man in whom I expected to confide. Telling secrets--especially family secrets--to strangers is not my specialty."
"Then, I judge you have not accepted me blindly?"
"No, I have not," earnestly, and now releasing her hand. "I do not think we ever really know any one except through personal intercourse; but I do know who you are, and something of what your life thus far has been. It was two days after I received your answer before I replied to it. This time was devoted exclusively to making me somewhat better acquainted with my correspondent."
"But how could you? I signed no name."
She smiled, again quite at her ease.
"The box number at the Club was amply sufficient. I have friends there; once possessed of your name and army rank, the department records at Washington furnished all further information. A Senator kindly attended to that end, and was also able to supply a little additional gossip through one of his Southern colleagues. So you perceive, Captain, I am not altogether reckless. Are you interested in learning what I know?"
"I am; both from records and gossip. Will you tell me?"
"Willingly," and she checked the points off on her gloved fingers. "You are Matthew West, the only son of Judge Robert Peel West, of Atlanta, Georgia. Your mother, who was of the well-known Bullock family, died when you were about fifteen, and her widowed sister has since been the house-keeper. You are a graduate of the university of Virginia, being fourth in your class in Scholarship. Your engineering course was completed in Massachusetts, and you later became connected with the Wyant Contracting Company, of Chicago. You were here, however, only a very brief time, making but few acquaintances, when the War broke out. You immediately entered the first officers' training school at Fort Sheridan, graduating with the rank of First Lieutenant, and were assigned to a regiment of Engineers, among the earliest to sail for France. While there you were wounded twice, and cited once for special gallantry in the rescue of a seriously injured private. Your last wound caused your return to the United States on a special mission, and also won you the rank of Captain. Since then you have been honourably discharged, but have made no effort to resume professional work. You are twenty-six, and unmarried. Is there anything else you care to know?"
"I think not; really your agency has been most efficient. Could you tell me also if I have ever been in love?"
"In love! Really I made no inquiries, as that did not interest me in the least. I am prepared to be confessed to, however, if you feel it necessary."
"I may have to confess later. Just now it might be better to let matters remain as they are. And so this review satisfied you that I was really the man you sought?"
"No, it did not wholly satisfy, but it looked promising. You were evidently courageous, and a gentleman. These qualities were essential; whether in other respects you measured up to my purpose, could only be ascertained through a personal interview. There was no other way."
"And now?" he persisted.
"Still encouraging. I must admit,