CHAPTER XVIII.

PARTY LIES.

SIX months later, let us glance into Mr. Saunders's pleasant parlor; and we shall see whether Aunt Clarissa's prophecy—that when her nieces are older, they will be ashamed to indulge in falsehood—had been fulfilled.

The lady sits midway between the window and the cheerful fire in the grate, earnestly discussing the merits of a gentleman who, after a somewhat prolonged call, has just taken his departure.

Alice is warm in her praises of his moustaches, his white teeth, and his graceful figure. Aunt Clarissa, suddenly awakened to her responsibility as the chaperone of a marriageable young lady, has become strangely cautious.

"Mr. Coleman may be a fine young man for aught I have heard," she says, earnestly; "but we really know nothing of him. I doubt whether your father would approve the acquaintance until he can learn something of the gentleman's whereabouts."

"Pshaw!" murmured the cherry lips. "It's so vexatious to be treated like a child! I'm old enough to judge for myself about my friends, and I'm positive that Mr. James Duncan Coleman is a gentleman in every sense of the word!"

Miss Saunders rose, took a card from the salver, and examined it critically, as if she would read the owner's character from his address.

"Did you notice how gracefully he left the room, and how well he talked about the pictures?" asked Alice, after regarding her aunt for a moment with a smile. "Then none but a real, high-born gentleman would have been so respectful in his address to you. Really, Aunt Clarissa, if I liked him particularly, I should be jealous of you; for he admires you exceedingly." This was lie the first.

The spinster's cheeks were suffused with the least tinge of crimson, and her niece, noticing it, was satisfied that the lever was placed in the right position, and that force was all that she needed in order to raise the burden.

"What do you mean by that remark, Alice?" was asked, with assumed dignity.

"I wonder," said the young girl, laughing "whether women ever outgrow their curiosity? Why, when you were gone to the library to get that piece of mosaic, he said,—

"'What an elegant lady Miss Saunders is! She must be a perfect treasure to your father.'" Lie the second.

"I acknowledge he is singularly pleasing," remarked Aunt Clarissa, after a brief pause. "The next time he calls, I will ask him to stay to dinner. I think your father would be pleased to meet him; and then he could soon find out his antecedents."

Alice pouted. "I don't want him asked for papa to criticise," she exclaimed, rudely. "I care nothing at all about him—" lie the third, "only that he makes an hour pass agreeably. Very likely I shall never meet him again." Lie the fourth.

"Ah, Alice, didn't you engage to dance with him at the ball to-morrow night?"

Days glided into weeks until the spring opened, and Alice by her judicious and well-timed flattery had so well managed her aunt, that nearly every morning found Mr. James Duncan Coleman sitting familiarly in Mr. Saunders's parlor, while that gentleman had as yet to be informed that there was such a person in existence.

The young lady had an indefinite idea that her father would disapprove, certainly in the light of a suitor for her hand, of a man who had no regular employment, except to spend his mornings in detailing gossip and small talk in a lady's parlor, while his evenings alternated between the theatre, opera, and ball-room; and indeed, sometimes a doubt intruded itself into her mind whether such a man could render her happy; but then he was so fond of her, and his moustaches were so splendid. At the very nick of time, as Alice termed it, Mr. Saunders announced his intention of improving Ellen's vacation by taking her and her cousin on a trip to the West.

"If I were pious, like Aunt Collins," exclaimed the young girl, "I should say that papa's journey really seems providential. I have put off inviting Mr. Coleman to dine, on one excuse and another, until I am almost ashamed to look him in the face."

Aunt Clarissa looked grave. She was growing uneasy with the responsibilities resting upon her; and would gladly have shared them with her nephew. Once or twice of late she had noticed that Mr. Coleman started when she had proposed an interview between him and Alice's father; but this her niece readily explained by saying that they were having such nice times together, she presumed he didn't like to have them disturbed. She assured her aunt, again and again, that Mr. Coleman's society was eagerly sought in the best families: that many of her young friends were dying of envy on account of his attentions to her, and that every one she had asked spoke in the highest terms of his moral character. Lie the fifth. She had repeatedly heard dark hints respecting his integrity; but these slanders of course she did not believe.

But for once the spinster was firm, and would not consent that Mr. Coleman should be invited to dine unless there were other guests. On the third day, therefore, after Mr. Saunders's departure, four gentlemen found themselves seated around his hospitable board.

On this occasion, Alice had interfered with the appointments of the table sufficiently to order the servant to display to the best advantage all the rich plate that the house afforded.

"It is so vexatious," Alice exclaimed, with well-acted sincerity, after the guests had partaken of the first course, "that papa did not return to-day as he expected! The house seems so dreary when he is away." Lie the sixth. Oh, Alice!

"Yes," murmured Aunt Clarissa, "he ought to have been at home by the noon train; but on his visits to his daughter, he never knows when to leave. I wish he were here with all my heart."

The last words were true, and were suggested by a sudden start from one of their guests, who sat opposite Mr. Coleman, when the latter gentleman addressed a laughing remark to Alice. There was something in the manner of the former which made her suspect this was not the first time they had met, though they had been introduced half an hour earlier and had shaken hands like strangers.

She watched them until quite assured that the continued gaze of the stranger was far from pleasing to the other, and only waited a favorable opportunity when they had returned to the drawing room to make inquiries on the subject. Only one circumstance helped her to go through the different courses with any degree of comfort, and that was the fact, that her niece, turning from the fulsome compliments of Mr. Coleman, paid marked attention to the other guests.

She might have known Alice well enough to suspect that she was acting out lie the seventh.

Miss Saunders's plot of discovery was, however, prevented by a circumstance which occurred after dinner.

Mr. Coleman was standing under the chandelier, where the strong rays of the gas-light fell directly on him, looking carelessly over a book of choice engravings, while Alice was talking with a gentleman by the window, when the stranger suddenly stepped toward him and, touching his arm, said in a low voice,—

"I think, sir, I have met you before."

"I—I hardly think I have had that honor," returned Mr. Coleman, with an evident struggle to retain his composure.

"It was while on a tour to the lakes," persisted the stranger, "you were in the employ of government."

"Ha, ha! That's a good joke!" Mr. Coleman exclaimed, with a forced laugh. "I wish I had been so fortunate; but, ha, ha, ha! Government has never deigned to notice me."

"Excuse me, sir," replied the other, turning to Miss Saunders who stood near, devouring every word; "but these resemblances are very striking."

At a later hour, the stranger begged Miss Alice to give them some music; and while helping her choose a song, took the opportunity to say,—

"Are you much acquainted with the gentleman yonder calling himself Mr. Coleman?"

"Scarcely at all," she answered, in the same low tone. "He is one of my father's friends, not mine." Lie the eighth.

"I am glad to hear it," he murmured, more as if he were speaking to himself.

The next morning the servant who took care of the silver reported to Miss Saunders that three of the largest forks and a heavy gold-lined pudding spoon were missing.

The spinster's character, as housekeeper, was touched at once. She called all the servants together, and insisted upon an instant and thorough search for the missing articles, threatening, if they were not found, to deduct a sum necessary to replace them from their wages.

"I can answer, for one, that I'm innocent," said the girl who had reported the loss. "I went to the dining hall as soon as I heard the gentlemen go to the parlor, and found Miss Alice's beau there, picking up his handkerchief he said he'd dropped under the table. I began collecting the silver at once; but didn't miss anything until I had washed the forks and was counting them to put them away."

Much displeased, Miss Saunders ordered them not to give up the search; saying of course the forks are somewhere in the house; and then was returning to her chamber when her niece called out from the parlor,—

"Aunt Clarissa, have you seen my bracelet anywhere? I suppose it must have coma unclasped in the evening; for I can't find it in my room."

"What bracelet did you wear, Alice?"

"My new one of course," was the petulant reply, "the one I had to tease papa so long for. It's enough to vex a saint," she added, looking under a large chair. "I don't recollect missing it from my arm in the evening; and I was so tired when I went to bed, I can't remember whether I unclasped it then or not."

"Then it is certain there are thieves about!" shrieked Miss Saunders. "I'll send for a detective at once, and put him on the track. I sha'n't dare to look your father in the face. Why, that bracelet cost sixty dollars, the forks were three apiece, and the pudding-shovel fifteen! I paid for them with my own hands."

A man, plainly dressed in citizen's clothes, soon made his appearance and announced himself as a member of the detective police, to whom Aunt Clarissa gave in detail an account of the missing articles.

"I dare say there is a great deal more stolen," she said, casting her eyes searchingly around the room; "but we have discovered no other loss."

The officer smiled, and after receiving from aunt and niece rather a confused account of the dinner party, during which the spinster freely owned that she wished it had never taken place; and having taken the name and residence of each gentleman carefully down in his note-book, he said he "should like to examine the servants."

Half an hour later he left the house satisfied that the thief, if such there were, did not reside within its walls, promising to give the subject his immediate attention, and report to them at the earliest moment.

One week, two weeks passed, and Alice, in the excitement of present scenes, had almost forgotten her loss. But not so Aunt Clarissa; for several other articles of more or less value had disappeared as remarkably as the first.

Mr. Coleman now had become quite domesticated, as often as two or three times a week stopping to dine, so that nothing but the parting injunction of the detective—that they should say nothing of the theft—prevented the old lady from claiming sympathy from her guest.

One morning in the early part of April, the stranger we met at Mr. Saunders's table was busy in his counting room, when a man entered and asked for five minutes' conversation with him. To what this referred the reader must guess, as they talked with closed doors; but one thing is certain: when the officer emerged from the office, he looked as unlike the man who went in as can well be conceived. His eye flashed and his nostrils dilated in an alarming manner.

The same evening, Alice, having in vain plead with her aunt to allow her to have a ball, had assembled around her a few gay friends, and was in the midst of a merry frolic, when Mr. Saunders unexpectedly returned.

He was an indulgent father, and soon was joining in the conversation, when a ring at the door-bell announced more company.

The stranger entered, and neither aunt nor niece could repress a start of astonishment as they saw he was accompanied by the detective.

But the surprise had scarcely commenced; for Miss Saunders was debating with herself whether she had better take her nephew aside and state that the officer was in her employ, when her hesitation was cut short by seeing the detective suddenly lay his hand on Mr. Coleman's arm, with the words,—

"You are my prisoner."

It is needless to tell of the shrieks of Alice, the horror and secret remorse of Aunt Clarissa, the surprise and displeasure of the host, and the despair of the convicted thief.

In vain the latter exclaimed in accents of terror, "You have mistaken the man!"

The stranger referred in explicit words to a meeting in Sing Sing: while the officer informed him that, as the stolen articles had been found in his trunk, he might as well prepare for a return to government service.