However, one thing was becoming every moment more certain in her mind. The boy was innocent of any part in the disappearance2 of the Crimson3 Patch, and might, besides, be enlisted4 as an ally in its recovery, if only she dared 96to confide5 in him more fully6. She wished with all her soul that her father were with her, that he was not to be detained away over night. She wanted to talk it all over with him, to ascertain7 how much he thought it wise to trust this boy. But he was not here, and presently she must go and put herself in the care of Mrs. Quale for the night. Even now she ought to be calling up that lady on the telephone, as it was nearly dinner-time.
She went to the telephone and asked to be connected with Mrs. Quale's room. The reply she received caused her a veritable shock.
"Mrs. Quale came in a while ago and then went out again, saying she would be away over night in New York."
Patricia hung up the receiver and sat down in the nearest chair with a little, frightened shiver. She would be alone over night, in this big, strange hotel, surrounded perhaps by unseen and unknown enemies. Oh, if she could only communicate with her father and urge him 97to come back at once! But that was not possible. He had said he was in New York, but had given no address, probably because he was hurrying about from place to place and did not intend to stop anywhere for the night. It was certainly unfortunate that Mrs. Quale had elected to be away at the same time. Well, it was too bad, but it was not fatal. In all probability, nothing unforeseen of any kind would happen. There was no reason why it should.
Suddenly a bright idea came to her. If Mrs. Quale's maid, Delia, had not accompanied her mistress to New York, why would it not be possible to ask her to come down and spend the night? Her companionship would be better than none at all. In the long weeks of her intimacy8 with Mrs. Quale, Patricia had grown to realize that Delia was becoming rather fond of her, in her queer, taciturn way, and would probably be glad to be of any help. She decided9 to go upstairs now to see her and talk it over.
98Her interview proved rather a difficult one. Patricia had not Mrs. Quale's ease in communicating with a deaf person, and it was some time before Delia understood what she was driving at. And even when she did, there was hesitancy.
"I've a bad earache10 to-night," she averred11, "that's why Mrs. Quale didn't take me with her. I have it quite often. I'm afraid I won't be much company for you, Miss Patricia, and I wanted to go to bed pretty early."
"Oh, I'm not going to stay up late!" cried Patricia, "and, of course, you can have Father's room. I just want you to be there near me. Father would be dreadfully upset if he thought I was here alone."
"Very well, then," Delia consented at last. "To be sure, I wouldn't have you worried, nor the captain worried about you, even if I am too miserable12 to hold up my head. I'll be down at half past eight. I've things that will keep me busy till then."
99After that, Patricia decided to worry no further about the matter, dress for dinner, go down to the dining-room, and take her meal as if she expected her father at any minute. After that, she would read and sew and write some letters and go to bed as usual. The sensible resolve steadied her. She put on her lightest and coolest attire13, for the evening was still very hot, and at a very early hour went down to the dining-room. She wanted to have this ordeal14 over as speedily as possible, for she dreaded15 sitting at her table alone and being waited on by Peter Stoger.
To her intense surprise, he was not there. She was served by another waiter, and Peter did not appear during the entire meal. Where in the world could he be? She ventured to question the new attendant about the usual waiter, but received only the reply that he was away for the day. It was certainly all very mystifying.
After dinner, which passed without any 100unusual happenings, she went into the lounge, supplied herself with some new magazines, and hurried away to her room. The absence of Peter Stoger disturbed her more than she cared to admit, even to herself. She disliked and feared him enough when he was present, but in his absence he seemed positively16 terrifying. She sat down by the window in the gathering17 twilight18 to think it all over.
Three of them gone—the very three on whom suspicion rested most heavily! The Crimson Patch gone with them. Her father gone too, involved in who knew what troubles, what difficulties, in his search. What was this strange Crimson Patch, anyway? Patricia shut her eyes tight and strove to call up the image of the sketch19 as she had seen it last. It was nothing, it was absolutely nothing but the cleverly executed sketch in water-colors of a peculiar20 species of butterfly with a bright crimson spot on each lower wing. There was nothing about it that was different, nothing that she 101could remember, to distinguish it from the many other sketches21 in her father's possession. That it could harbor any secret, and especially any government secret, seemed absolutely absurd. And yet—it must be so.
Then her mind wandered back to Virginie. Where was she now? What had she tried so hard to communicate in that broken, incomplete message to Chester Jackson? Would they ever see each other again? In twenty-four hours, life had suddenly assumed a very complicated aspect to Patricia. She could scarcely realize now how happy and care-free she had been last night at this very hour. It did not seem as if she could be the same person, so many were the perplexing problems on her mind.
And this brought her thoughts back to Chester Jackson. She must see him again, as soon as possible, and discover what it was that he knew about herself and her father and his affairs. She would call up the office and ask to 102have something sent to the room. So determined22, she switched on the lights, went to the telephone and asked to have some of the hotel stationery23 sent up. There was nothing else she could think of, just at the moment. The knock at the door a few moments later sent her flying to it, her mind full of the questions she planned to ask. To her intense chagrin24, it was another bell-boy who brought the paper.
Scarcely able to murmur25 her thanks, she turned back into the room and shut the door. Had Chester, too, deserted26 her? What could possibly have happened? It was the first time she could remember that he had not personally answered the summons. If he had also, for some inscrutable reason, left the hotel on this fateful night, she would certainly feel herself to be deserted of all mankind.
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1
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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7
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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10
earache
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| n.耳朵痛 | |
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averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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12
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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15
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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