The sinister mark
just in case of emergency. We'd planned that Anne should be the one who
would make deposits, as a general thing, and draw out money."
"So you made the account subject, under all conditions, to the order of
either of the sisters," said Peter, eagerly. "I found that out almost
the first thing; and it did give me a fearful jolt, let me tell you."
He did not think it necessary to explain why, and went on at once--"I
saw the signature card at that time, and there was something about the
appearance of the two names which struck me as being peculiar. Miss
Mary's writing was large and--fluent--sort of--while Miss Anne's was
small, and slanted the wrong way. At the first glance they didn't look
a bit alike, but----Well, I didn't think so much about it at the time,
but later I happened to see a letter written by Anne Curwood to an
old friend of hers named Walter Lord, up in Hobart Falls. I--I made an
opportunity to examine it carefully, and I found that, while it was
signed 'Anne,' the writing was, unmistakably, Mary's.... Then I began
to sit up and take notice....
"Here were twin sisters, who, in childhood--I had seen photographs of
both--looked almost exactly alike--save for one thing.... I learned,
from this Walter Lord, that both children had exceptional dramatic
talent; but also, to my surprise, that Anne was much the cleverer of
the two.... I knew that Rosamond had disappeared when the girls were
about eighteen years old, and had never been heard of since, but that
Anne had gone away, later, with a Mrs. Rutherford. That's how I first
got hold of your name, Mrs. Rutherford."
All were following Peter's recital with breathless interest. Kate
Rutherford nodded at the mention of her name, and Peter continued:
"And, on top of all this, I found that letter to Walter Lord, and
knew--yes, I was absolutely certain, that the two signatures at the
bank had been made by the same hand.... Well, I thought to myself, what
in the world does that mean?
"Then I went carefully over the facts we'd turned up in New York....
Mary Blake was a brilliant, successful actress, but she knew no one,
personally, so far as we could find out, except Mr. Morris and, to
quote the Italian janitor, 'a fine, grand lady' who sometimes came to
the apartment. There was, too, her present manager, Frederick Jones.
But he didn't appear to know her, except professionally.... From
him I found out that she associated with none of the members of the
company--and something else, which came back to me later--the curious
fact that she always rehearsed in costume--with a full make-up.... She
went out only in the daytime when it was absolutely necessary, was
always heavily veiled, and always took a cab....
"But, on the other hand, Anne was well known to the janitor, to various
tradesmen in the neighbourhood, and to the people at the bank. They all
described her to me, and the descriptions were practically identical.
"I remember that no one had ever spoken of the two sisters as if they
had been seen at the same time.... That only one of them, Anne, had
left the least trace when (as we all thought at the time) both of them
disappeared.... That there were many of Mary's clothes left in the
apartment and practically none of Anne's....
"And always, and everywhere, I heard of Anne's fearful handicap.... I
thought of it this way and that.... And there was only one theory that
would exactly fit all the facts. It seemed absurd to me when it first
flashed into my mind--and that was at the time when I realized that
only one person had signed at the bank. You will remember, Mr. Morris,
that I had seen part of a letter to you signed 'Mary', but the writing
was identical with that of Walter Lord's letter from 'Anne'--and then
it came back to me that I had noticed a remarkable similarity in the
two signatures at the bank, and I was sure--sure!"
"It seemed impossible, but I figured it all out that day, on my
way from Hobart Falls to Fennimore Park.... And when I heard Mrs.
Rutherford's voice, downstairs, there at your sister's house, Mr.
Morris, you remember--and realized that it was the same voice that had
called Anne Blake on the morning of our discovery in Waverly Place--and
that the name was the same as that of the lady who had taken Anne
Curwood away from Fennimore Park--well, you can imagine my feelings!"
"And it was only on guess-work, young man, that you made me disclose
a secret I'd kept for years!" said Kate Rutherford, severely. "If I'd
known that----"
"No you wouldn't, Mrs. Rutherford," Peter interposed, eagerly. "You
wouldn't have kept it to yourself. You know you were too much alarmed
by Mr. Morris's appearance to keep the matter secret any longer."
"And, after all, Anne," said Kate Rutherford, holding out her hands
in a gesture almost of supplication, "it was my secret, in a way. At
least I was responsible. It was my fault altogether. You would never
have gone into it at all but for me. I had such a hard time persuading
you----"
"And I never would have been persuaded, Donald," a soft voice
interrupted. "I think I would never have been persuaded but for one
thing, which Mrs. Rutherford never knew." For a moment Mary Blake
looked into the eyes of her lover. Then she went on: "You don't
remember, dear, I know. It was long, long ago, that first time I saw
you----"
"At my sister's house in Gramercy Park," said Donald.
"No, dear. Long before that. You were riding through Hobart Falls with
someone--a lady--on horseback.... You stopped at old Walter Lord's,
you and she, to have him take your pictures.... I remember it well."
Her voice was very quiet, full of restrained emotion. "The sunlight on
the trees, and on your face.... I was there, on the steps, and you saw
me--I saw the quick shiver of disgust when you caught sight of my poor
face. You closed your eyes for a second--and I went quickly away....
You would not remember, but it seared deep into my soul----"
Peter Clancy rose abruptly, and quietly passing over to the window,
stood with his back turned to the room. Doctor Stevens unobtrusively
joined him, and the two men stood looking out with unseeing eyes. Mrs.
Rutherford sat very still. Her great, dark, youthful eyes were full of
tears. The two fine young creatures at the other end of the room were
oblivious of all save each other. Anne Curwood was still speaking:
"Afterward, Donald, when I was employed by your sister, in Fennimore
Park, I saw you often, but I kept out of sight. I watched you, from
behind the curtain at the door, working in your studio there. You were
rapt, absorbed. I had little fear that you would ever think of the
poor girl who came in to do cleaning.... But every line of your face
grew familiar to me in those days; in those brief moments that I could
snatch from my work--I learned to read your face--I knew when your
work was going well, and rejoiced with you--I saw the light in your
eyes--your smile----It was the thought of making something of myself,
of being someone--someone you would not shudder to look at, that
induced me----"
He turned, and caught her in his arms.
"Mary," he whispered upon her lips. "Mary!"
THE END
* * * * *
BOOKS BY LEE THAYER
Q. E. D.
THAT AFFAIR AT "THE CEDARS"
THE MYSTERY OF THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR
THE SINISTER MARK
THE UNLATCHED DOOR