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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:26 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:26 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/10402-0.txt b/10402-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..518868c --- /dev/null +++ b/10402-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7170 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10402 *** + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + +_By_ + +FREDERIC S. ISHAM + + + +_Author of_ + +Under the Rose, Half a Chance, +The Social Bucaneer, Etc. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +MAX J. SPERO + + + + +1912 + + + + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE COACH OF CONCORD + +"Well? What can I do for you?" + +The speaker--a scrubby little man--wheeled in the rickety office chair +to regard some one hesitating on his threshold. The tones were not +agreeable; the proprietor of the diminutive, run-down establishment, +"The St. Cecilia Music Emporium," was not, for certain well defined +reasons, in an amiable mood that morning. He had been about to reach +down for a little brown jug which reposed on the spot usually allotted +to the waste paper basket when the shadow of the new-comer fell +obtrusively, not to say offensively, upon him. + +It was not a reassuring shadow; it seemed to spring from an +indeterminate personality. Mr. Kerry Mackintosh repeated his question +more bruskly; the shadow (obviously not a customer,--no one ever sought +Mr. Mackintosh's wares!) started; his face showed signs of a vacillating +purpose. + +"A mistake! Beg pardon!" he murmured with exquisite politeness and began +to back out, when a somewhat brutal command on the other's part to "shut +that d---- door d---- quick, and not let any more d---- hot air out" +arrested the visitor's purpose. Instead of retreating, he advanced. + +"I beg pardon, were you addressing me?" he asked. The half apologetic +look had quite vanished. + +The other considered, muttered at length in an aggrieved tone something +about hot air escaping and coal six dollars a ton, and ended with: "What +do you want?" + +"Work." The visitor's tone relapsed; it was now conspicuous for its want +of "success waves"; it seemed to imply a definite cognizance of +personal uselessness. He who had brightened a moment before now spoke +like an automaton. Mr. Mackintosh looked at him and his shabby garments. +He had a contempt for shabby garments--on others! + +"Good day!" he said curtly. + +But instead of going, the person coolly sat down. The proprietor of the +little shop glanced toward the door and half started from his chair. +Whereupon the visitor smiled; he had a charming smile in these moments +of calm equipoise, it gave one an impression of potential possibilities. +Mr. Mackintosh sank back into his chair. + +"Too great a waste of energy!" he murmured, and having thus defined his +attitude, turned to a "proof" of new rag-time. This he surveyed +discontentedly; struck out a note here, jabbed in another there. The +stranger watched him at first casually. By sundry signs the caller's +fine resolution and assurance seemed slowly oozing from him; perhaps he +began to have doubts as to the correctness of his position, thus to +storm a man in his own castle, or office--even if it were such a +disreputable-appearing office! + +He shifted his feet thoughtfully; a thin lock of dark hair drooped more +uncertainly over his brow; he got up. The composer dashed a blithe +flourish to the tail of a note. + +"Hold on," he said. "What's your hurry?" Sarcastically. + +"Didn't know I was in a hurry!" There was no attempted levity in his +tone,--he spoke rather listlessly, as one who had found the world, or +its problems, slightly wearisome. The composer-publisher now arose; a +new thought had suddenly assailed him. + +"You say you are looking for work. Why did you drift in here?" + +"The place looked small. Those big places have no end of applicants--" + +"Shouldn't think that would phase you. With _your_ nerve!" + +The visitor flushed. "I seem to have made rather a mess of it," he +confessed. "I usually do. Good day." + +"A moment!" said Mr. Mackintosh. "One of my men"--he emphasized "one," +as if their number were legion--"disappointed me this morning. I expect +he's in the lockup by this time. Have you got a voice?" + +"A what?" + +"Can you sing?" + +"I really don't know; haven't ever tried, since"--a wonderful +retrospection in his tones--"since I was a little chap in church and +wore white robes." + +"Huh!" ejaculated the proprietor of the Saint Cecilia shop. "Mama's +angel boy! That must have been a long time ago." The visitor did not +answer; he pushed back uncertainly the uncertain lock of dark hair and +seemed almost to have forgotten the object of his visit. + +"Now see here"--Mr. Mackintosh's voice became purposeful, energetic; he +seated himself before a piano that looked as if it had led a hard +nomadic existence. "Now see here!" Striking a few chords. "Suppose you +try this stunt! _What's the Matter with Mother_? My own composition! +Kerry Mackintosh at his best! Now twitter away, if you've any of that +angel voice left!" + +The piano rattled; the new-comer, with a certain faint whimsical smile +as if he appreciated the humor of his position, did "twitter away"; loud +sounds filled the place. Quality might be lacking but of quantity there +was a-plenty. + +"Bully!" cried Mr. Mackintosh enthusiastically. "That'll start the tears +rolling. _What's the Matter with Mother_? Nothing's the matter with +mother. And if any one says there is--Will it go? With that voice?" He +clapped his hand on the other's shoulder. "Why, man, they could hear you +across Madison Square. You've a voice like an organ. Is it a 'go'?" he +demanded. + +"I don't think I quite understand," said the new-comer patiently. + +"You don't, eh? Look there!" + +A covered wagon had at that moment stopped before the door. It was drawn +by a horse whose appearance, like that of the piano, spoke more +eloquently of services in the past than of hopeful promises for the +future. On the side of the vehicle appeared in large letters: "_What's +the Matter with Mother_? Latest Melodic Triumph by America's Greatest +Composer, Mr. Kerry Mackintosh." A little to the left of this +announcement was painted a harp, probably a reminder of the one Saint +Cecilia was supposed to have played. This sentimental symbol was +obviously intended to lend dignity and respectability to the otherwise +disreputable vehicle of concord and its steed without wings, waiting +patiently to be off--or to lie down and pay the debt of nature! + +"Shall we try it again, angel voice?" asked Mr. Mackintosh, playing the +piano, or "biffing the ivories," as he called it. + +"Drop it," returned the visitor, "that 'angel' dope." + +"Oh, all right! Anything to oblige." + +Before this vaguely apologetic reply, the new-comer once more relapsed +into thoughtfulness. His eye passed dubiously over the vehicle of +harmony; he began to take an interest in the front door as if again +inclined to "back out." Perhaps a wish that the horse _might_ lie down +and die at this moment (no doubt he would be glad to!) percolated +through the current of his thoughts. That would offer an easy solution +to the proposal he imagined would soon be forthcoming--that _was_ +forthcoming--and accepted. Of course! What alternative remained? Needs +must when an empty pocket drives. Had he not learned the lesson--beggars +must not be choosers? + +"And now," said Mr. Mackintosh with the air of a man who had cast from +his shoulders a distinct problem, "that does away with the necessity of +bailing the other chap out. What's your name?" + +The visitor hesitated. "Horatio Heatherbloom." + +The other looked at him keenly. "The right one," he said softly. + +"You've got the only one you'll get," replied the caller, after an +interval. + +Mr. Mackintosh bestowed upon him a knowing wink. "Sounds like a _nom de +plume_," he chuckled. "What was your line?" + +"I don't understand." + +"What did you serve time for? Shoplifting?" + +"Oh, no," said the other calmly. + +"Burglarizing?" With more respect in his tones. + +"What do you think?" queried the caller in the same mild voice. + +"Not ferocious-looking enough for that lay, I should have thought. +However, you can't always tell by appearances. Now, I wonder--" + +"What?" observed Mr. Heatherbloom, after an interval of silence. + +"Yes! By Jove!" Mr. Mackintosh was speaking to himself. "It might +work--it might add interest--" Mr. Heatherbloom waited patiently. "Would +you have any objections," earnestly, "to my making a little addenda to +the sign on the chariot of cadence? _What's the Matter with Mother_? +'The touching lyric, as interpreted by Horatio Heatherbloom, the +reformed burglar'?" + +"I _should_ object," observed the caller. + +"My boy--my boy! Don't be hasty. Take time to think. I'll go further; +I'll paint a few iron bars in front of the harp. Suggestive of a +prisoner in jail thinking of mother. Say 'yes'." + +"No." + +"Too bad!" murmured Mr. Mackintosh in disappointed but not altogether +convinced tones. "You could use another alias, you know. If you're +afraid the police might pipe your game and nab--" + +"Drop it, or--" + +"All right, Mr. Heatherbloom, or any other blooming name!" Recovering +his jocular manner. "It's not for me to inquire the 'why,' or care a rap +for the 'wherefore.' Ethics hasn't anything to do with the realm of +art." + +As he spoke he reached under the desk and took out the jug. "Have some?" +extending the tumbler. + +The thin lips of the other moved, his hand quickly extended but was +drawn as suddenly back. "Thanks, but I'm on the water wagon, old chap." + +"Well, I'm not. Do you know you said that just like a gentleman--to the +manner born." + +"A gentleman? A moment ago I was a reformed burglar." + +"You might be both." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked into space; Mr. Mackintosh did not notice a +subtle change of expression. That latter gentleman's rapt gaze was +wholly absorbed by the half-tumblerful he held in mid air. But only for +a moment; the next, he was smacking his lips. "We'll have a bite to eat +and then go," he now said more cheerfully. "Ready for luncheon?" + +"I could eat" + +"Had anything to-day?" + +"Maybe." + +"And maybe, not!" Half jeeringly. "Why don't you say you've been +training down, taking the go-without-breakfast cure? Say, it must be +hell looking for a job when you've just 'got out'!" + +"How do you know I just 'got out'?" + +"You look it, and--there's a lot of reasons. Come on." + +Half an hour or so later the covered wagon drove along Fourteenth +street. Near the curb, not far from the corner of Broadway, it separated +itself from the concourse of vehicles and stopped. Close by, nickel +palaces of amusement exhibited their yawning entrances, and into these +gilded maws floated, from the human current on the sidewalk, a stream of +men, women and children. Encamped at the edge of this eddy, Mr. +Mackintosh sounded on the nomadic piano, now ensconced within the coach +of concord, the first triumphal strains of the maternal tribute in +rag-time. + +He and the conspiring instrument were concealed in the depths of the +vehicle from the gaze of the multitude, but Mr. Heatherbloom at the back +faced them on the little step which served as concert stage. There were +no limelights or stereopticon pictures to add to the illusion,--only the +disconcerting faces and the light of day. He never before knew how +bright the day could be but he continued to stand there, in spite of the +ludicrous and trying position. He sang, a certain daredevil light in +his eye now, a suspicion of a covert smile on his face. It might be +rather tragic--his position--but it was also a little funny. + +His voice didn't sound any better out of doors than it did in; the +"angel" quality of the white-robed choir days had departed with the soul +of the boy. Perhaps Mr. Heatherbloom didn't really feel the pathos of +the selection; at any rate, those tears Mr. Mackintosh had prophesied +would be rolling down the cheeks of the listening multitude weren't +forthcoming. One or two onlookers even laughed. + +"Pigs! Swine!" murmured the composer, now passing through the crowd with +copies of the song. He sold a few, not many; on the back step Mr. +Heatherbloom watched with faint sardonic interest. + +"Have I earned my luncheon yet?" he asked the composer when that +aggrieved gentleman, jingling a few dimes, returned to the equipage of +melody. + +"Haven't counted up," was the gruff reply. "Give 'em another verse! They +ain't accustomed to it yet. Once they git to know it, every boot-black +in town will be whistling that song. Don't I know? Didn't I write it? +Ain't they all had mothers?" + +"Maybe they're all Topsies and 'just growed'," suggested Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Patience!" muttered the other. "The public may be a little coy at +first, but once they git started they'll be fighting for copies. So +encore, my boy; hammer it into them. We'll get them; you see!" + +But the person addressed didn't see, at least with Mr. Mackintosh's +clairvoyant vision. Mr. Heatherbloom's gaze wandering quizzically from +the little pool of mask-like faces had rested on a great shining +motor-car approaching--slowly, on account of the press of traffic. In +this wide luxurious vehicle reposed a young girl, slender, exquisite; at +her side sat a big, dark, distinguished-appearing man, with a closely +cropped black beard; a foreigner--most likely Russian. + +The girl was as beautiful as the dainty orchids with which the superb +car was adorned, and which she, also, wore in her gown--yellow orchids, +tenderly fashioned but very insistent and bright. Upon this patrician +vision Mr. Heatherbloom had inadvertently looked, and the pathetic +plaint regarding "Mother" died on the wings of nothingness. With +unfilial respect he literally abandoned her and cast her to the winds. +His eyes gleamed as they rested on the girl; he seemed to lose himself +in reverie. + +Did she, the vision in orchids, notice him? Perhaps! The chauffeur at +that moment increased the speed of the big car; but as it dashed past, +the crimson mouth of the beautiful girl tightened and hardened into a +straight line and those wonderful starlike eyes shone suddenly with a +light as hard as steel. Disdainful, contemptuous; albeit, perhaps, +passionate! Then she, orchids, shining car and all were whirled on. + +Rattle! bang! went the iron-rimmed wheels of other rougher vehicles. +Bing! bang! sounded the piano like a soul in torment. + +Horatio Heatherbloom stood motionless; then his figure swayed slightly. +He lifted the music, as if to shield his features from the others--his +many auditors; but they didn't mind that brief interruption; it afforded +a moment for that rough and ready dialogue which a gathering of this +kind finds to its liking. + +"Give him a trokee! Anybody got a cough drop?" + +"It's soothing syrup he wants." + +"No; it's us wants that." + +"What the devil--" Mr. Mackintosh looked out of the wagon. + +Mr. Heatherbloom suddenly laughed, a forced reckless laugh. "Guess it +was the dampness. I'm like some artists--have to be careful where I +sing." + +"Have a tablet, feller, do!" said a man in the audience. + +Horatio looked him in the eye. "Maybe it's you want something." + +The facetious one began to back away; he had seen that look before, the +steely glint that goes before battle. + +"The chord now, if you please!" said Mr. Heatherbloom to the composer +in a still quiet voice. + +Mr. Mackintosh hit viciously; Mr. Heatherbloom sang again; he did more +than that. He outdid himself; he employed bombast,--some thought it +pathos. He threw a tremolo into his voice; it passed for emotion. He +"caught 'em", in Mr. Mackintosh's parlance, and "caught 'em hard". Some +more people bought copies. The alert Mr. Mackintosh managed to gather in +about a dollar, and saw, in consequence, great fortune "coming his way" +at last; the clouds had a golden lining. + +"Say, you're the pard I've been a-looking for!" he jubilantly told Mr. +Heatherbloom as they prepared to move on. "We'll make a beautiful team. +Isn't it a peach?" + +"What?" + +"That song. It made them look like a rainy day. Git up!" And Mr. +Mackintosh prodded the bony ribs of their steed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom absent-mindedly gazed in the direction the big shining +motor had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +VARYING FORTUNES + +Mr. Heatherbloom's new-found employment proved but ephemeral. The next +day the sheriff took possession of the music emporium and all it +contained, including the nomadic piano and the now empty jug. The +contents of the last the composer-publisher took care to put beyond +reach of his many creditors whom he, in consequence, faced with a +seemingly care-free, if artificial, jocularity. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +soberly forth from the shop of concord. + +He had but turned the corner of the street when into the now dissonant +"hole in the wall", amid the scene of wreck and disaster, stepped a tall +dark man, with a closely cropped beard, who spoke English with an accent +and who regarded the erstwhile proprietor and the minions of the law +with ill-concealed arrogance and disfavor. + +"You have," he began in halting tones, "a young man here who sings on +the street like the minstrels of old, the--what you call +them?--troubadours." + +"We _had_," corrected Mr. Mackintosh. "He has just 'jumped the coup,' or +rather been 'shooed out'." + +The new-comer fastened his gaze upon the other; he had superb, almost +mesmeric eyes. "Will you kindly speak the language as I understand it?" +he said. And the other did, for there was that in the caller's manner +which compelled immediate compliance. Immovably he listened to the +composer-publisher's explanation. + +"_Eh bien!"_ he said, his handsome, rather barbaric head high when Mr. +Mackintosh had concluded. "He is gone; it is well; I have fulfilled my +mission." And walking out, the imposing stranger hailed a taxi and +disappeared from the neighborhood. + +Meanwhile Mr. Horatio Heatherbloom had walked slowly on; he was now +some distance from the one-time "emporium." Where should he go? His +fortunes had not been enhanced materially by his brief excursion into +the realms of melody; he had thirty cents in cash and a +"dollar-and-a-half appetite." An untidy place where they displayed a +bargain assortment of creature comforts attracted his gaze. He thought +of meals in the past--of caviar, a la Russe, three dollars and a half a +portion; peaches Melba, three francs each at the Café de Paris; truffled +capon from Normandy; duck after the manner of the incomparable Frederic. +About half a dozen peaches Melba would have appealed to him now; he +looked, instead, with the eyes of longing at a codfish ball. Oh, +glorious appetite, mocking recollections of hours of satiety! + +Should he yield to temptation? He stopped; then prudence prevailed. The +day was yet too young to give way recklessly to casual gastronomic +allurements, so he stepped on again quickly, averting his head from shop +windows. Lest his caution and conservatism might give way, he started +to turn into a side street--but didn't. + +Instead, he laughed slightly to himself. What! flee from an outpost of +time-worn celery? beat an inglorious retreat before a phalanx of +machine-made pies? He would look them (figuratively) in the eye. Having, +as it were, fairly stared out of countenance the bland pies and beamed +with stern contempt upon the "droopy," Preraphaelite celery, he went, +better satisfied, on his way. It is these little victories that count; +at that moment Mr. Heatherbloom marched on like a knight of old for +steadfastness of purpose. His lips veiled a covert smile, as if behind +the hard mask of life he saw something a little odd and whimsical, +appealing to some secret sense of humor that even hunger could not +wholly annihilate. The lock of hair seemed to droop rather pathetically +at that moment; his sensitive features were slightly pinched; his face +was pale. It would probably be paler before the day was over; +_n'importe!_ The future had to be met--for better, or worse. Multitudes +passed this way and that; an elevated went crashing by; devastating +influences seemed to surround him. His slender form stiffened. + +When next he stopped it was to linger, not in front of an eating +establishment, but before a bulletin-board upon which was pasted a page +of newspaper "want ads" for "trained" men, in all walks of life. +"Trained" men? Hateful word! How often had he encountered it! Ah, here +was one advertisement without the "trained"; he devoured it eagerly. The +item, like an oasis in the desert of his general incapacity and +uselessness, exercised an odd fascination for him in spite of the +absolute impossibility of his professing to possess a fractional part of +those moral attributes demanded by the fair advertiser. She--a Miss Van +Rolsen--was seeking a paragon, not a person. Nevertheless, he resolved +to assail the apparently unassailable, and repaired to a certain +ultrafashionable neighborhood of the town. + +Before a brownstone front that bore the number he sought, he paused a +moment, drew a deep breath and started to walk up the front steps. But +with a short laugh he came suddenly to a halt half-way up; looked over +the stone balustrade down at the other entrance below--the +tradesmen's--the butchers', the bakers', the candlestick makers'--and, +yes, the servants'--their way in!--his? + +He went down the steps and walked on and away as a matter of course, but +once more stopped. He had done a good deal of going this way and that, +and then stopping, during the last few months. Things had to be worked +out, and sometimes his brain didn't seem to move very quickly. + +To be worked out! He now surveyed the butchers' and the bakers' (and +yes, the servants') entrance with casual or philosophic interest from +the vantage point of the other side of the street. It wasn't different +from any other of the entrances of the kind but it held his gaze. Then +he walked across the street again and went in--or down. It didn't really +seem now such a bad kind of entrance when you came to investigate it, in +a high impersonal way; not half so bad as the subway, and people didn't +mind that. + +Still Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a peculiar thrill when he put up his +thumb, pressed a button, and wondered what next would happen. Who +answered doors down here,--the maid--the cook--the laundress? He felt +himself to be very indistinct and vague standing there in the shadow, +and tried to assume a nonchalant bearing. He wondered just what bearing +_was_ proper under the circumstances; he cherished indistinct +recollections of having heard or read that the butcher's boy is usually +favored with a broadly defying and independent visage; that he comes in +whistling and goes forth swaggering. A cat-meat man he had once looked +upon from the upper lodge of front steps somewhere in the dim long ago, +had possessed a melancholy manner and countenance. + +How should he comport himself; what should he say--when the inevitable +happened; when the time came to say something? How lead the conversation +by natural and easy stages to the purport of his visit? He rehearsed a +few sentences, then straightway forgot them. Why did they keep him +waiting so long? Did they always keep people as long as that--down here? +He put his thumb again-- + +"Well, what do you want?" The door had opened and a buxom female, arms +akimbo, regarded him. Mr. Heatherbloom repaid her gaze with interest; it +_was_ the cook, then, who acted as door tender of these regions +subterranean. He feared by her expression that he had interrupted her in +the preparation of some esculent delicacy, and with the fear was born a +parenthetical inquiry; he wondered what that delicacy might be? But +forbearing to inquire he stated his business. + +"You'll be the thirteenth that's been 'turned down' to-day for that +job!" observed cook blandly. With which cheering assurance she consigned +him to some one else--a maid with a tipped-up nose--and presently he +found himself being "shown up"; that was the expression used. + +The room into which he was ushered was a parlor. Absently he seated +himself. The maid tittered. He looked at her--or rather the tipped-up +nose, an attractive bit of anatomy. Saucy, provocative! Mr. +Heatherbloom's head tilted a little; he surveyed the detail with the +look of a connoisseur. She colored, went; but remained in the hall to +peer. There were many articles of virtu lying around--on tables or in +cabinets--and the caller's appearance was against him. He would bear +watching; he had the impudence--Just fancy his sitting there in a chair! +He was leaning back now as if he enjoyed that atmosphere of luxury; +surveying, too, the paintings and the bronzes with interest. But for no +good reason, thought the maid; then gave a start of surprise. The hand +of the suspicious-looking caller had lifted involuntarily to his breast +pocket; a mechanical movement such as a young gentleman might make who +was reaching for a cigarette case. Did he intend--actually intend +to--but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge of +his chair and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partook +of the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeous +rug, he abruptly rose. + +Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiff +satin or brocade and with bristling iron-gray hair! He noticed, however, +that unlike the maid, she had a very prominent nose--that _now_ sniffed! + +"Good heavens! What a frightful odor of gasolene. Jane, where are my +salts?" + +Jane rushed in; at the same time four or five dogs that had followed in +the lady's wake began to bark as if they, too, were echoing the plaint: +"What a frightful odor! Salts, Jane, salts!" And as they barked in many +keys, but always fortissimo, they ran frantically this way and that as +though chased by somebody, or something (perhaps the odor of gasolene), +or chasing one another in a mad outburst of canine exuberance. + +"Sardanapolis! Beauty! Curly! Naughty!" the lady called out. + +But in vain. Sardanapolis continued to cut capers; Beauty's conduct was +not beautiful; while as for Naughty (all yellow bows and black curls) +he seemed endeavoring to live up to the fullest realization of his name. + +"Dear me! What _shall_ I do?" + +"Just let 'em alone, ma'am," ventured Jane, "and they'll soon tire +themselves out." + +Fortunately, by this time, the be-ribboned pets showed signs of reaching +that state of ennui. + +"Dear me!" said now the lady anxiously. "How wet the poor dears' tongues +are!" + +"Nature of the b--poor dears, ma'am!" commented Jane. + +The lady looked at her. "_You_ don't like dogs," she said. "You can go." +And then to Mr. Heatherbloom: "What brought you here? Don't answer at +once. Stand farther back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom, who seemed to have been rather enjoying this little +impromptu entertainment, straightened with a start; he retired a few +paces, observing in a mild explanatory tone something about spots on his +garments and the necessity for having them removed at a certain little +Greek shop, before doing himself the honor of calling and-- + +"You're another answer to the advertisement then, I suppose?" the +lady's voice unceremoniously interrupted. + +He confessed himself Another Answer, and in that capacity proceeded now +to reply as best he might to a merciless and rapid fire of questions. +She would have made an excellent cross-examiner for the prosecution; Mr. +Heatherbloom did not seem to enjoy the grilling. A number of queries +he answered frankly; others he evaded. He seemed--ominous +circumstance!--especially secretive regarding certain details of his +past. He did not care to say where he was born, or who his parents were. +What had he done? What occupations had he followed? + +Well--he seemed to hesitate a good deal--he had once tried washing +dishes; but--dreamily--they had discharged him; the man said something +about there being a debit balance on account of damaged crockery. He had +essayed the rôle of waiter but had lasted only through the first +courses; down to the entrées, he thought; certainly not much past the +pottage. He believed he bumped into another waiter; a few guests within +range had seemed put out; afterward, he himself was put out. And +then--well, he had somehow drifted, more or less. + +"Drifted!" said the lady ominously. + +"Oh, yes! Tried his hand at this and that," he added rather blithely. He +once worked for a moving-picture firm; fell from a six-story window for +them. That is, he started to fall; something--a net or a platform--was +supposed to catch him at the fifth, and then a dummy completed the +descent and got smashed on the sidewalk. He was a little doubtful about +their intercepting him at the fifth and that he, instead of the +dummy--But he didn't seem to mind taking the risk--reflectively. They +said he was a great success falling through the air, and they had him, +in consequence, fall from all kinds of places,--through drawbridges into +the water, for example. That's where he contracted a bad cold, and when +he had recovered, another man had been found for the heavier-than-air +rôle-- + +"What are you talking about?" The lady's back was stiffer than a poker. + +"If ever you go to a moving-picture palace of amusement, Madam, and see +a streak in the air, you might reasonably conclude you are"--he +bowed--"beholding me. I went once; it seemed funny. I hardly recognized +myself in the part. I certainly seemed to be 'going some'," he murmured +seriously. "Is there anything else, Madam, you would care to question me +about?" + +"I think," she said significantly, "what I have learned is quite +sufficient. If the occupations you have told me about are so +disreputable--what were those you have kept so carefully concealed? For +example, where were you and what were you doing four--five--six--years +ago? You have already refused to answer. You relate only a few +inconsequential and outré trifles. To cover up--What? What?" she +repeated. + +Then she transfixed him with her eye; the dogs transfixed him with their +eyes. Accusingly? Not all of them. Naughty's glance expressed approval; +his tail underwent a friendly agitation. + +"Naughty!" said the lady sharply. Naughty gamboled around Horatio. + +"How odd!" murmured the mistress, more to herself than the other. "How +very extraordinary!" + +"What, Madam?" he ventured. + +"That Naughty, who so seldom takes to strangers, should--" she found +herself saying. + +"Perhaps it's the scent of the gasolene," he suggested. + +"It's _in spite of_ the gasolene," she retorted sharply. + +And for some moments ruminated. It was not until afterward Mr. +Heatherbloom learned that her confidence in Naughty's instinct amounted +to a hobby. Only once had she thought him at fault in his likes or +dislikes of people; when he had showed a predilection for the assistant +rector's shapely calves. But after that gentleman's elopement with a +lady of the choir and his desertion of wife and children, Naughty's +erstwhile disrespect for the cloth, which Miss Van Rolsen had grieved +over, became illumined with force and significance. Thereafter she had +never doubted him; he had barked at all twelve of Mr. Heatherbloom's +predecessors--the dozen other answers to the advertisement; but here he +was sedulous for fondlings from Horatio. Extraordinary truly! The lady +hesitated. + +"I suppose we shall all be murdered in our beds," she said half to +herself, "but," with sudden decision, "I've concluded to engage you." + +"And my duties?" ventured Mr. Heatherbloom. "The advertisement did not +say." + +"You are to exercise the darlings every day in the park." + +"Ah!" Horatio's exclamation was noncommittal. What he might have added +was interrupted by a light footstep in the hall and the voice of some +one who stopped in passing before the door. + +"I am going now, Aunt," said a voice. + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his hand tightened on the back of a chair; +from where he stood he could see but the rim of a wonderful hat. He +gazed at a few waving roses, fitting notes of color as it were, for the +lovely face behind, concealed from him by the curtain. + +The elderly lady answered; Mr. Heatherbloom heard a Prince Someone's +name mentioned; then the roses were whisked back; the voice--musical as +silver bells--receded, and the front door closed. Mr. Heatherbloom gazed +around him--at the furnishings in the room--she who stood before him. He +seemed bewildered. + +"And now as to your wages," said a voice--not silver bells!--sharply. + +"I hardly think I should prove suitable--" he began in somewhat +panic-stricken tones, when-- + +"Nonsense!" The word, or the energy imparted to it, appeared to crush +for the moment further opposition on his part; his faculties became +concentrated on a sound without, of a big car gathering headway in front +of the door. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; perhaps he would have liked to +retreat then and there from that house; but it was too late! Fate had +precipitated him here. A mad tragic jest! He did not catch the amount +of his proposed stipend that was mentioned; he even forgot for the +moment he was hungry. He could no longer hear the car. It had gone; but, +it would return. Return! And then--? His head whirled at the thought. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +AN ENCOUNTER + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a few days later, sat one morning in Central Park. His +canine charges were tied to the bench and while they chafed at restraint +and tried vainly to get away and chase squirrels, he scrutinized one of +the pages of a newspaper some person had left there. What the young man +read seemed to give him no great pleasure. He put down the paper; then +picked it up again and regarded a snap-shot illustration occupying a +conspicuous position on the society page. + +"Prince Boris Strogareff, riding in the park," the picture was labeled. +The newspaper photographer had caught for his sensational sheet an +excellent likeness of a foreign visitor in whom New York was at the time +greatly interested. A picturesque personality--the prince--half +distinguished gentleman, half bold brigand in appearance, was depicted +on a superb bay, and looked every inch a horseman. Mr. Heatherbloom +continued to stare at the likeness; the features, dark, rather +wild-looking, as if a trace of his ancient Tartar ancestry had survived +the cultivating touch of time. Then the young man on the bench once more +turned his attention to the text accompanying the cut. + +"Reported engagement of Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple to Prince Boris +Strogareff ... the prince has vast estates in Russia and Russia-Asia ... +his forbears were prominent in the days when Crakow was building and the +Cossacks and the Poles were engaged in constant strife on the steppe ... +Miss Dalrymple, with whom this stalwart romantic personage is said to be +deeply enamored, is niece and heiress of the eccentric Miss Van Rolsen, +the third richest woman in New York, and, probably, in the world ... +Miss Dalrymple is the only surviving daughter of Charles Dalrymple of +San Francisco, who made his fortune with Martin Ferguson of the same +place, at the time--" + +The paper fell from Mr. Heatherbloom's hand; for several moments he sat +motionless; then he got up, unloosened his charges and moved on. They +naturally became once more wild with joy, but he heeded not their +exuberances; even Naughty's demonstrations brought no answering touch of +his hand, that now lifted to his breast and took something from his +pocket--an article wrapped in a pink tissue-paper. Mr. Heatherbloom +unfolded the warm-tinted covering with light sedulous fingers and looked +steadily and earnestly at a miniature. But only for a brief interval; by +this time Curly et al. had become an incomprehensible tangle of dog and +leading strings about Mr. Heatherbloom's legs. So much so, indeed, that +in the effort to extricate himself he dropped the tiny picture; with a +sudden passionate exclamation he stooped for it. The anger that +transformed his usually mild visage seemed about to vent itself on his +charges but almost at once subsided. + +Carefully brushing the picture on his coat, he replaced it in his +pocket and quietly started to disentangle his charges from himself. This +was at length accomplished; he knew, however, that the unraveling would +have to be done all over again ere long; it constituted an important +part of his duties. The promenade was punctuated by about so many +"mix-ups"; Mr. Heatherbloom accepted them philosophically, or +absent-mindedly. At any rate, while untying knots or disengaging things, +he usually exhibited much patience. + +It might have been noticed some time later that Mr. Heatherbloom, +retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen's, betrayed a rather +vacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to go +into, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house. +For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter? With +Miss Van Rolsen's niece? So far he had not seen her since that first +day. Perhaps he congratulated himself on his good fortune in this +respect. If so, he reckoned without his host. + +It is possible for two people to frequent the same house for quite a +while without meeting when one of them lives on the avenue side and +flits back and forth via the front steps, while the other comes and goes +only by the subterranean route; but, sooner or later, though belonging +to widely different worlds, these two are bound to come face to face, +even in spite of the determination of one of the persons to avert such a +contingency! + +Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from the +house with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when he +returned. He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when the +front door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment. It was +opened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such a +moment. And he had been planning, after reading the newspaper article in +the park, to tender his resignation that very afternoon! + +It availed him nothing now to regret indecision, his being partly +coerced by the masterful mistress of the house into remaining as long +as he had remained; or to lament that other sentiment, conspiring to +this end--the desire or determination, not to flee from what he most +feared. Empty bravado! If he could but flee now! But there was no +fleeing, turning, retreating, or evading. The issue had to be met. + +Miss Dalrymple, gowned in a filmy material which lent an evanescent +charm to her slender figure, came down the front steps as he was about +to enter the area way below. The girl looked at him and her eyes +suddenly widened; she stopped. Mr. Heatherbloom, quite pale, bowed and +would have gone on, when something in her look, or the first word that +fell from her lips, held him. + +"You!" she said, as if she did not at all comprehend. + +He repaid her regard with less steady look; he had to say something and +he didn't wish to. Why couldn't people just meet and pass on, the way +dumb creatures do? The gift of speech has its disadvantages--on +occasions; it forces one to insufficient answer or superfluous +explanation. "Yes," he said, "your--Miss Van Rolsen engaged me. I +didn't really want to stay, but it came about. Some things do, you know. +You see," he added, "I didn't know she was your aunt when I answered the +advertisement." + +She bent her gaze down upon him as if she hardly heard; beneath the +bright adornment of tints, the lovely face--it was a very proud +face--had become icy cold; the violet eyes were hard as shining crystal. +To Mr. Heatherbloom that slender figure, tensely poised, seemed at once +overwhelmingly near and inexpressibly remote. He started to lean on an +iron picket but changed his mind and stood rather too stiffly, without +support. Before his eyes the flowers in her hat waved and waved; he +tried to keep his eyes on them. + +"I had been intending," he observed in tones he endeavored to make +light, "to tell Miss Van Rolsen she must find some one else to take my +place. It would not be very difficult. It is not a position that +requires a trained man." + +"Difficult?" She seemed to have difficulty in speaking the word; her +cold eyes suddenly lighted with unutterable scorn. If any one in this +world ever experienced thorough disdain for any one else, her expression +implied it was she that experienced it for him. "Valet for dogs!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom flushed. "They are very nice dogs," he murmured. +"Indeed, they are exceptional." + +She gave an abrupt, frozen little laugh; then bent down her face +slightly. "And do you wash and curl and perfume them?" she asked, her +small white teeth setting tightly after she spoke. + +"Well, I don't perfume them," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "Miss Van +Rolsen attends to that herself. She knows the particular essences better +than I." A slightly strained smile struggled about his lips. "You see +Beauty has one kind, and Naughty another. At least, I think so. While +Sardanapolis isn't given any at all." + +Can violet eyes shine fiercely? Hers certainly seemed to. "How," she +said, examining him as one would study something very remote and +impersonal, "did my aunt happen to employ--you? I know she is very +particular--about recommendations. What ones did you have? Were they +forged ones," suddenly, "or stolen ones?" The red lips like rosebuds had +become straightly drawn now. + +"No," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "I didn't have any. I just came, and--" + +"Saw and conquered!" said the girl. But there was no levity in her tone. +She continued to gaze at him and yet through him; at something +beyond--afar--"I don't understand why she should have taken you--" + +"Shall I explain?" + +"And I don't care why she did!" Not noticing his interruption. "The +principal thing is, why did you want this position? What ulterior motive +lay behind?" She was speaking now almost automatically, as if he were +not present. "For, of course, there was some other motive." + +"The truth is," observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly, but passing an +uncertain hand over his brow, "I had reached that point--I should +qualify by saying I have long been at the point where one is willing to +take any 'honest work of any kind'. I suppose you have heard the phrase +before; it's a common one. But believe me, it was quite by accident I +came here; quite!" + +"'Believe you'," said the girl, as one would address an inferior for the +purpose of putting him into the category where he belongs. "'Honest +work'! When have you been particular as to that; whether or not"--with +mocking irony in the pitiless violet eyes--"it was 'honest'?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his gaze met hers unwaveringly. "You don't +think, then, that I--" + +"Think?" said the girl. "I know." + +"Would you mind--explaining?" he asked quietly. He didn't need any +support now, but stood with head well back, a steady gleam in his look. +"What you--know?" + +"I know--you are a thief!" She spoke the Words fiercely. + +His face twitched. "How do you know?" + +"By the kind of evidence I can believe." + +"And that?" he said in the same quiet voice. + +"The evidence of my own eyes!" + +He was still, as if thinking. He looked down; then away. + +"Why don't you protest?" she demanded. + +"Protest," he repeated. + +"Or ask me to explain further--" + +"Well, explain further," he said patiently. + +"Put your mind back three weeks ago--at about eleven o'clock in the +morning. Where were you? what were you doing? what was happening?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked very thoughtful. + +"At the corner of"--she mentioned the streets--"not far from Riverside +Drive. We passed at that time in the car. Need I say more?" + +His head was downbent. "I think I understand." His hand stroked +tentatively his chin. + +The silence grew; Beauty barked, but neither seemed to notice. + +"Of course you can't deny?" she observed. + +"Of course not," he said, without moving. + +"You won't defend yourself; plead palliating causes?" ironically. + +He picked at the ground with the toe of a shoe. "If I told you, on my +honor, I am not--what you have called me just now, would you believe +me?" he asked gravely. + +"On your honor," said the girl with a cruel smile. "Yours? No!" + +"Then," he spoke as if to himself, "I don't suppose there's any use in +denying. Your mind is made up." + +"My mind!" she answered. "Can I not see; hear? Can _you_ not hear--those +voices? Do they not follow you?" + +He seemed striving for an answer but could not find it. Once he looked +into the violet eyes questioningly, deeply, as if seeking there to read +what he should say, but they flashed only the hard rays of diamonds at +him, and he turned his head slowly away. + +"I see," she remarked, "you remember; but you do not care." + +"I--you reconcile the idea of my being _that_ very easily with--" + +"It fits perfectly," said the girl, "with the rest of the picture; what +one has already pieced together; it is just another odd-shaped black bit +that goes in snugly. You appreciate the comparison?" + +"I think I do," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "You are alluding to picture +puzzles. Is there anything more?" He started as if to go. + +"One moment--of course, you can't stay here," said the girl. + +"I had intended to go at once, as I told you," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"You had? You mean you will?" + +"No; I won't go now. That is," he added, "of my own volition." + +"You do well to qualify. Would you not prefer to go of your own volition +than to have me inform my aunt who you are--what you are?" + +He shook his head. "I won't resign now," he said. + +"And so show yourself a fool as well as--" She did not speak the word, +but it trembled on the sweet passionate lips. + +He did not answer. + +"Suppose," she went on, "I offer you the chance and do not speak, if you +will go--immediately?" + +"I can't," he answered. + +Her brows bent; her little hand seemed to clench. But he stood without +looking at her, appearing absorbed in a tiny bit of cloud in the sky. + +"Very well!" she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. + +He looked quite insignificant at the moment; she was far above him; his +clothes were threadbare, the way thieves' clothes, or pickpockets', +usually are. + +"If you expect any mercy from me--" she began. + +But she did not finish; a figure, approaching, caught her eye--the +handsome stalwart figure of a man; whose features lighted at sight of +her. + +"Ah, Miss Dalrymple!" + +Her face changed. "An unexpected pleasure, Prince," she said with +almost an excess of gaiety. + +He answered in kind; she came down the steps quickly, offering him her +hand. And as he gallantly raised the small perfumed fingers to his lips, +Mr. Heatherbloom seemed to fade away into the dark subterranean +entrance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +FATE AT THE DOOR + +Although Mr. Heatherbloom waited expectantly that day for his dismissal, +it did not come. This surprised him somewhat; then he reflected that +Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple was probably so absorbed in the +prince--remembering her rather effusive greeting of that fortunate +individual--she had forgotten such a small matter as having the dog +valet ejected from the premises. She would remember on the morrow, of +course. + +But she didn't! The hours passed, and he was suffered to go about the +even, or uneven, tenor of his way. This he did mechanically; he scrubbed +and combed Beauty beautifully. With a dire sense of fate knocking at the +door, he passed her on to Miss Van Rolsen, to be freshly be-ribboned by +that lady's own particular hand. The thin bony finger he thought would +be pointed accusingly at him, busied itself solely with the knots and +bows of a new ribbon; after which the grim lady dismissed him--from her +presence, not the house--curtly. + +Several days went by; still no one accused him; he was still suffered to +remain. Why? He could not understand. At the end of a long--seemingly +interminable week--he put himself deliberately in the way of finding +out. Coming to, or going from the house, he lingered around the area +entrance, purposely to encounter her whom he had heretofore, above all +others, wished to avoid. A feverish desire possessed him to meet the +worst, and then go about his way, no matter where it might lead him. He +was past solicitude in that regard. He did at length manage to meet +her--not as before in the full daylight but toward dusk, as she +returned, this time on foot, to the house. + +"Miss Dalrymple, may I speak to you?" he said to the indistinctly seen, +slender figure that started lightly up the front steps. + +She did not even stop, although she must have heard him; a moment he +saw her like a shadow; then the front door opened. He heard a crisp +metallic click; the door closed. Slowly with head a little downbent he +walked out, up the way she had come; then around the corner a short +distance to the stables over which he had his room. + +It was a nice room, he had at first thought, probably because he liked +horses. They--four or five thoroughbreds--whinnied as he opened the +door. He had started up the dark narrow stairs to his chamber, but +stopped at that sound and groped about from stall to stall passing +around the expected lumps of sugar. After which all seemed well as far +as he and they were concerned. + +Only that other problem!--he could not shake it from him. To resign +now?--under fire? How he wished he might! But to remain?--his situation +was intolerable. He went up to his room feeling like a ghost; his mind +was full of dark presences, as if he had lived a thousand times before +and had been surrounded only by hostile influences that now came back +in the still watches of the night to haunt him. + +He dreaded going to the house the next day, but he went. Perhaps, he +reflected, she was only allowing him to retain his present position +under a kind of espionage; to trap him and put him beyond the pale of +respectable society. He remembered the cruel lips, the passionate +dislike--contempt--even hatred--in her eyes. Yes; that might be it--the +reason for her temporary silence; the house was full of valuable things; +sooner or later-- + +"Are you quite satisfied, Madam, with my services?" said Mr. +Heatherbloom that afternoon to Miss Van Rolsen. + +"You seem to do well enough," she answered shortly. + +He brightened. "Perhaps some one else would do better." + +"Perhaps," she returned dryly. "But I'm not going to try." + +"But," he said desperately, "I--I don't think they--the dogs, like me +quite so much as they did. Naughty, in particular," he added quickly. +"I--I thought yesterday he would have liked to--growl and nip at me." + +"Did he," she asked, studying him with disconcerting keenness, "actually +do that?" + +"No. But--" + +"Do I understand you wish to give me notice?" she interrupted sharply. + +"Not at all." In an alarmed tone. "I couldn't--I mean I wouldn't do +that. Only I thought you might have felt dissatisfied--people usually do +with me," he added impressively. "So if you would like to give me--" + +She made a gesture. "That will do. I am very busy this morning. The +begging list, though smaller than usual--only three hundred and +seventy-six letters--has to be attended to." + +Thus the matter of Mr. Heatherbloom's staying or going continued, much +to that person's discomfiture, _in statu quo_. It is true he found, +later, a compromising course; a way out of the difficulty--as he +thought, little knowing the extraordinary new web he was weaving!--but +before that time came, several things happened. In the first place he +discovered that Miss Dalrymple was not entirely pleased at the +publication of the story of her engagement to the prince; her +position--her family's and that of Miss Van Rolsen, was such that +newspaper advertising or notoriety could not but be distasteful. + +"I hope people won't think I keep a social secretary," Mr. Heatherbloom +heard her say. + +Yes, heard her. He was in the dogs' "boudoir"; the conservatory +adjoined. He could not help being where he was; he belonged there at the +time. Nor could he help hearing; he didn't try to listen; he certainly +didn't wish to, though she had a very sweet voice--that soothed one to a +species of lotus dream--forgetfulness of soap-suds, or the odor of +canine disinfectant permeating the white foam-- + +"Why should they think you have a social secretary?" the voice of a +man--the prince--inquired. + +He had deep fine tones; truly Russian tones, with a subtle vibration in +them. + +"Because when such things are published about people their secretaries +usually put them in," returned the girl. + +He was silent a moment; Mr. Heatherbloom thought he heard the breaking +of the stem of a flower. + +"You were very much irritated--angry?" observed the prince at length, +quietly. + +"Weren't you?" she asked. + +"I? No. It is a bourgeois confession, perhaps." + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up straighter; the water dripped from his fingers. + +"I was pleased," went on the sonorous low voice. "I wished--it were so!" + +There was a sudden movement in the conservatory; a rustling of leaves, +or of a gown; then--Mr. Heatherbloom relaxed in surprise--a peal of +merry laughter filled the air. + +"How apropos! How well you said that!" + +"Miss Dalrymple!" There was a slightly rising inflection in the man's +tones. "You doubt my sincerity?" + +"The sincerity of a Russian prince? No, indeed!" she returned gaily. + +"I am in earnest," he said simply. + +"Don't be!" Mr. Heatherbloom could, in fancy, see the flash of a white +hand amid red flowers; eyes dancing like violets in the wind. He could +perceive, also, as plainly as if he were in that other room, the deep +ardent eyes of the prince downbent upon the blither ones, the commanding +figure of the man near that other slender, almost illusive presence. A +flower to be grasped only by a bold wooer, like the prince! + +"Don't be," she repeated. "You are so much more charming when you are +not. I think I heard that line in a play once. One of the Robertson +kind; it was given by a stock company in San Francisco. That's where I +came from, you know. Have you ever been there?" + +"No," said the prince slowly. + +Dark eyes trying to beat down the merriment in the blue ones! Mr. +Heatherbloom could, in imagination, "fill in" all the stage details. If +it only were "stage" dialogue; "stage" talk; not "playing with love", in +earnest! + +"Playing with love!" He had read a book of that name once; somewhere. +In Italy?--yes. It sounded like an Italian title. Something very +disagreeable happened to the heroine. A woman, or a girl, can not +lightly "play with love" with a Sicilian. But, of course, the prince +wasn't a Sicilian. + +"No," he was saying now with admirable poise, in answer to her question, +"I haven't visited your wonderful Golden Gate, but I hope to go there +some day--with you!" he added. His words were simple; the accent alone +made them sound formidable; it seemed to convey an impregnable purpose, +one not to be shaken or disturbed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom felt vaguely disturbed; his heart pounded oddly. He +half started to get up, then sank back. He waited for another peal of +laughter; it didn't come. Why? + +"Of course I should have no objection to your being one of a train +party," said Miss Dalrymple at length. + +"That isn't just what I mean," returned the prince in his courtliest +tones. But it wasn't hard to picture him now with a glitter in his +gaze,--immovable, sure of himself. + +There was a rather long pause; broken once more by Miss Dalrymple: +"Shall we not return to the music room?" + +That interval? What had it meant? Mute acquiescence on her part, a +down-turning of the imperious lashes before the steadfastness of the +other's look?--tacit assent? The casting off of barriers, the opening of +the gates of the divine inner citadel? Mr. Heatherbloom was on his feet +now. He took a step toward the door, but paused. Of course! Something +clammy had fallen from his hand; lay damp and dripping on the rag. He +stared at it--a bar of soap. + +What had he been about to do--he!--to step in there--into the +conservatory, with his bar of soap?--grotesque anomaly! His face wore a +strange expression; he was laughing inwardly. Oh, how he was laughing at +himself! Fortunately he had a saving sense of humor. + +What had next been said in the conservatory? What was now being said +there? He heard words but they had no meaning for him. "I will send you +the second volume of _The Fire and Sword_ trilogy," went on the prince. +"One of my ancestors figures in it. The hero--who is not exactly a hero, +perhaps, in the heroine's mind, for a time--does what he must do; he has +what he must have. He claims what nature made for him; he knows no other +law than that of his imperishable inner self. I, too, must rise to those +heights my eyes are set on. It must be; it is written. We are fatalists, +we Russians near the Tartar line! And you and I"--fervently--"were +predestined for each other." + +Mr. Heatherbloom had but dimly heard the prince's words and failed to +grasp them; he didn't want to; his head was humming. Her light answer +sounded as if she might be very happy. Yes; naturally. She was made to +be happy, to dance about like sunshine. He liked to think of the +picture. The prince, too, was necessary to complete it; necessary, +reaffirmed Mr. Heatherbloom to himself, pulling with damp fingers at +the inconsequential lock of hair over his brow. Of course, if the prince +could be eliminated from that mental picture of her felicity?--but he +was a part of the composition; big, barbaric, romantic looking! In fact, +it wouldn't have been an adequate composition at all without him; no, +indeed! + +And something rose in Mr. Heatherbloom's throat; one of his eyes--or was +it both of them?--seemed a little misty. That confounded soap! It was +strong; a bit of it in the corner of the eyes made one blink. + +The two in the conservatory said something more; but the young man in +the "boudoir" didn't catch it at all well. By some intense mental +process, or the sound of the scrubber on the edge of the tub, he found +he could shut a definite cognizance of words almost entirely from his +sense of hearing. The prince's voice seemed slightly louder; that, in a +general way, was patent; no doubt the occasion warranted more fervor on +his part. Mr. Heatherbloom tried to imagine what she would look like +in--so to say, a very complaisant mood; not with flaming glance full of +aversion and scorn! + +Violet eyes replete only with love lights! Mr. Heatherbloom bent lower +over the tub; his four-footed charge Beauty, contentedly immersed to the +neck in nice comfortably warm water, licked him. He did not feel the +touch; the fragrance of orchids seemed to come to him above that other +more healthful, less agreeable odor of special cleansing preparation. + +Her accents were heard once more. Those final words sounded like a soft +command. Naturally! She could command the prince--now! Mr. Heatherbloom +heard a door close--a replica of the harsh click he had listened to when +she had shut the front door so unceremoniously on him a short time +before. Then he heard nothing more. He gazed around him as he sat with +his hands tightly closed. Had it been only a dream? Naughty whined; +Sardanapolis edged toward him and mechanically he began to brush him +down until he shone as sleek and shining as his Assyrian namesake. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +A CONTRETEMPS + +More days passed and Mr. Heatherbloom continued to linger in his last +position. It promised to be a record-making situation from the +standpoint of longevity; he had never "lasted" at any one task so long +before. Miss Van Rolsen, to his consternation, seemed to unbend somewhat +before him, as if she were beginning--actually!--to be more prepossessed +in his favor. These evidences that he was rising in the stern lady's +good graces filled Mr. Heatherbloom with new dismay; destiny certainly +seemed to be making a mock of him. + +A week went by; two weeks--three, and still twice a day he continued to +march to and from the park with his charges. The faces of all the +nurse-maids and others who frequented the big parallelogram of green +became familiar to him; he learned to know by sight the people who rode +in the park and had a distant acquaintance with the squirrels. + +He became, for the first time, aware one day, from the perusal of a +certain newspaper he always purchased now, that the prince had returned +to Russia. Although Miss Dalrymple refused to be interviewed, or to +confirm or deny any statement, it was generally understood (convenient +phrase!) that the wedding would take place in the fall at the old Van +Rolsen home. The prince had left America in his yacht--the _Nevski_--for +St. Petersburg, announced the society editor. After a special interview +with the czar and a few necessary business arrangements, the nobleman +would return at once for his bride. And, perhaps, he--Mr. +Heatherbloom--would still be at his post of duty at the Van Rolsen +house! + +Since the day the prince had been with Miss Dalrymple in the +conservatory, Mr. Heatherbloom had not seen, or rather heard, that +gentleman at the house. But then he--Mr. Heatherbloom--belonged in the +rear, and, no doubt, the prince had continued to be a daily, or twice, +or three-times-a-day visitor to Miss Van Rolsen's elegant, if somewhat +stiff, reception rooms. Now, however, he would come no more until he +came finally to "take with him the bride--" + +The thought was in Horatio's mind when for a third time he encountered +her, face to face, on a landing, near a stair, or somewhere in the +house, he couldn't afterward just exactly recall where, only that she +looked through him, without recognition, speech or movement of an +eyelash, as if he had been a thing of thin air! But a thing that became +suddenly imbued with real life; inspired with purpose! She had permitted +him to remain in the house, knowing his professed helplessness in the +matter--she _must_ have divined that--playing with him as a tigress with +a victim (yes; a tigress! Mr. Heatherbloom wildly, on the spur of the +moment, compared her in his mind to that fierce beautiful creature). He +would force her to tell him to go; she would certainly not suffer him +to remain there another day if he told her-- + +"Miss Dalrymple, there is something I ought to say. I could not help +overhearing you and the prince, one day, several weeks ago, in the +conservatory." + +After he said it, he asked himself what excuse he had for saying it. If +he had stopped to analyze the impulse, he would have seen how absurd, +unreasonable and uncalled for his words were. But he had no time to +analyze; like a diver who plunges suddenly, on some mad impulse, into a +whirlpool, he had cast himself into the vortex. + +She looked at him and there was nothing _in nubibus_ to her about his +presence now. The violet eyes saw a substance--such as it was; +recognized a reality--of its kind! Before the clouds gathering in their +depths, Mr. Heatherbloom felt inclined to excuse himself and go on; but +instead, he waited. There was even a furtive smile on his lips that +belied a quick throbbing in his breast; he thrust one hand as debonairly +as possible into his trousers pocket. His attitude might have been +interpreted to express indifference, recklessness, or one or more of the +synonymous feelings. She thought so badly of him already that she +couldn't think much worse, and-- + +"So,"--had she been paler than her wont, or had excess of passion sent +the color from her face?--"you are a spy as _well!_" + +His head shot back a little at the accent on the "well", but he thrust +his hand yet deeper into the pocket and strove not to lose that assumed +expression of ease. + +"I--a spy? I did not intend to--you--" He paused; if he wished to set +himself right in her eyes, why should he have spoken at all? Mr. +Heatherbloom saw he had not quite argued out this matter as he should +have done; his bearing became less assured. + +"Is there"--her voice low and tense--"anything despicable, mean, paltry +enough that you are not?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom moistened his lips; he strove to think of a reply, +sufficiently comprehensive to cover all the features of the case, but +not finding one at once apologetic and yet not so, remained silent. He +made, however, a little gesture with his hand--the one that wasn't in +the pocket. That seemed to imply something; he didn't quite know what. + +She came slightly closer and his heart began to pound harder. A breath +of perfume seemed to ascend between them; the arrows in her eyes darted +into his. "How much--_what_ did you hear?" she demanded. + +"I--am really not sure--" Was it the orchids which perfumed the air? He +had always heard they were odorless. The question intruded; his brain +seemed capable of a dual capacity, or of a general incapacity of +simultaneous considerations. He might possibly have stepped back a +little now but there was a wall, the broad blank wall behind him. He +wished he were that void she had first seemed to see--or not to see--in +him. "I didn't hear very much--the first part, I imagine--" + +"The first part?" Roses of anger burned on her cheek. "And +afterward?--spy!" Her little hands were tight against her side. + +He hesitated; her foot moved; all that was passionate, vibrant in her +nature seemed concentrated on him. + +"I don't think I caught much; but I heard him say something about fate, +or destiny, and men coming into their own--that old Greek kind of talk, +don't you know--" He spoke lightly. Why not? There was no need of being +melodramatic. What had to be must be. He couldn't alter her, or what she +would think. "Then--then I was too busy to catch more--that is, if I had +wanted to--which I didn't!" He was forced to add the last; it burst from +his lips with sudden passion; then they curved a little as if to ask +excuse for a superfluity. + +She continued to look at him, and he looked at her now, squarely; a +strange calm descended upon him. + +"And that," he said, "is all I heard, or knew, until this morning, when +I saw in the paper," dreamily, "he was coming back in the fall for--" + +The color concentrated with sudden swift brightness in her cheeks. "You +saw that--any one--every one saw--Oh--" + +She started to speak further, then bit her lip, while the lace stirred +beneath the white throat. Mr. Heatherbloom had not followed what she +said, was cognizant only of her anger. Her eyes were fastened on +something beyond him, but returned soon, very soon. + +"Oh," she said, "I might have known--if I let you stay, through pity, +you would--" + +"Pity!" said Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Because I did not want to turn you out into the street--" + +She spoke the words fiercely. Mr. Heatherbloom seemed now quite +impervious to stab or thrust. + +"I permitted you to remain for"--she stopped--"remembering what you once +were; who your people were! What"--flinging the words at him--"you might +have been. Instead--of what you are!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed now without wincing; an unnatural absence of +feeling seemed to have passed over his features, making them almost +mask-like. It was as if he stood in some new pellucid atmosphere of his +own. + +"Of course," he said, as half speaking to himself, "I must have earned +my salary, or Miss Van Rolsen wouldn't have retained me. So I am not a +recipient of charity. Therefore,"--did the word suggest far-away +school-boy lessons on syllogisms and sophistries--"I have no right to +feel offended in that you let me remain, you say, 'through pity', when +as a matter of fact it was impossible for me to tender my resignation, +in view of--" He finished the rest of a rather involved logical +conclusion to himself, taking his hand out of his pocket now and passing +it lightly, in a somewhat dragging fashion, over his eyes. Then he gazed +momentarily beyond, as if he saw something appertaining to the "auld +lang syne", but recalled himself with a start to the beautiful face, the +threads of gold, the violet eyes. + +"You will see to it now, of course"--his manner became brisk, almost +businesslike--"that I, as a factor, am eliminated here? That, I may +conclude, is your intention?" + +"Perhaps," said the girl, a sibyl for intentness now, "you would prefer +to go? To be asked to! You would find the streets"--with swift +discerning contempt--"more profitable for your purpose than here, where +you are known." + +"Perhaps," assented Mr. Heatherbloom. He spoke quite airily; then +suddenly stiffened. + +At his words, the sight of him as he uttered them, she came abruptly yet +nearer; her breath swept and seemed to scorch his cheek. + +"I should think," she said, "you would be ashamed to live!" + +"Ashamed?" he began; then stopped. There was no need of speaking further +for she had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT + +Mr. Heatherbloom drifted; not "looking for a way", one was forced upon +him. It came to him unexpectedly; chance served him. He would have +thrust it from him but could not. During his more or less eccentric +peregrinations in Central Park he had formed visual acquaintances with +sundry folk; pictures of some of them were very dimly impressed on his +consciousness, others--and the major part--on his subconsciousness. + +Flat faces, big faces, red faces, pale faces! One countenance in the +last class made itself a trifle more insistent than the others. Its +possessor had watched with interest his progress, interrupted with +entanglements, and had listened to the music of his march, the canine +fantasia, staccato, affettuoso! Mr. Heatherbloom's halting footsteps +in the park generally led him to the heights; it wasn't a very high +point, but it was the highest he could find, and he could look off on +something--a lake, or reservoir of water, he didn't know just which, and +a jagged sky-line. + +The person that exhibited casual curiosity in his movements and his +coming thither was a woman. She seemed slight and sinuous, sitting there +against the stone parapet, and deep dark eyes accentuated the pallor of +her face. He did not think it strange she should always be at this spot +when he came; in fact, it was quite a while before he noticed the almost +daily coincidence of their mutual presence at the same place, at about +the same time. After her first half-sly, half-sedulous regard of him, +she would look away; her face then wore a soft and melancholy +expression; she appeared very sad. + +It took quite a while for this fact to be communicated to Mr. +Heatherbloom. Though she shifted her figure often, as if to call +attention to the pale profile of her face against a leaden sky, his +thoughts remained introspective. Only the sky-line seemed to interest +him. But one day something white came dancing in the breeze to his feet. +Absorbed in deep neutral tones afar, he did not see it; his four-footed +charges, however, were quick to perceive the object. + +"Oh!" said the lady. + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked. "Is--is it yours?" he asked. + +"It--was," she remarked with a slight accent on the last word. + +He got up; there seemed little use endeavoring to rescue the +handkerchief now. + +"I'm afraid I've been rather slow," he remarked. "Quite stupid, I'm +sure." + +She may have had her own opinion but maintained a discreet silence. Mr. +Heatherbloom stooped and gathered in the remnants. "You will permit me," +he observed, "to replace it, of course." + +"But it was not your fault." + +"It was that of my charges, then." + +"No; the wind. Let's blame it on the wind." She laughed, her dark eyes +full on his, though Mr. Heatherbloom seemed hardly to see them. + +After that when they met on this little elevation, she bowed to him and +sometimes ventured a remark or two. He did not seem over-anxious to talk +but he met her troubled face with calm and unvarying, though somewhat +absent-minded courtesy. He replied to her questions perfunctorily, told +her whom he served, betraying, however, in turn, no inquisitiveness +concerning her. For him she was just some one who came and went, and +incidentally interfered with his study of the sky-line. + +By degrees she confided in him; as one so alone she was glad of almost +any one to confide in. She wanted, indeed, needed badly, a situation as +lady's maid or second maid. She had tried and tried for a position; +unfortunately her recommendations were mostly foreign--from Milan, +Moscow, Paris. People either scrutinized them suspiciously, or _mon +Dieu_! couldn't read them. It was hard on her; she had had such a time! +She, a Viennese, with all her experience in France, Italy, Russia, +found herself at her wits' end in this golden America. Wasn't it odd, +_très drôle?_ She had laughed and laughed when she hadn't cried about +it. + +She had even tried singing in a little music-hall, a horribly common +place, but her voice had failed her. Perhaps there was a vacancy at Miss +Van--what was her name? There _was_ a place vacant; the maid with the +saucy nose, Mr. Heatherbloom indifferently vouchsafed, had just left to +marry out of service. + +"How fortunate!" the fair questioner cried; then sighed. Miss Van +Rolsen, being a maiden lady, would probably be most particular about +recommendations; that they should be of the home-made, intelligible +brand, from people you could call up by telephone and interrogate. Had +she been very particular in his case? Mr. Heatherbloom said "no"--not +joyfully, and explained. Though she drew words from him, he talked to +the sky-line. She listened; seemed thinking deeply. + +"You are not pleased to be there?" Keenly. + +"I?--Oh, of course!" Quickly. + +She did not appear to note his changed manner. "This Miss +Van Rolsen,--isn't she the one whose niece--Miss Elizabeth +Dalrymple--recently refused the hand and heart of a Russian prince?" she +said musingly. + +"Refused?" he cried suddenly. "You mean--" He stopped; the words had +been surprised from him. + +"Accepted?" She looked at him closer. "Of course; I remember now seeing +it in the paper; I was thinking of some one else. One of the other +lords, dukes, or noblemen the town is so full of just now." + +He got up rather suddenly, bowed and went. With narrowing eyes she +watched him walk away, but when he had gone all melancholy disappeared +from her face; she stretched herself and laughed. "_Voila!_ Sonia +Turgeinov, comédienne!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not repair to the point of elevation the next day, +nor the day after; but she met him the third day near the Seventy-second +Street entrance. More than that, she insinuated herself at his side; at +first rather to his discomfort. Later he forgot the constraint her +presence occasioned him, when something she said caused him to look upon +her with new favor. Beauty had momentarily escaped his vigilance and +enjoyed a mad romp after a squirrel before she was captured. + +What, his companion laughingly suggested, would have happened if Beauty +had really escaped, and he, Mr. Heatherbloom, had been forced to return +to the house without her? What? Mr. Heatherbloom started. He might lose +his position, _n'est-cepas?_ He did not answer. + +The idea was born; why _not_ lose Beauty? No, better still, Naughty; the +prime favorite, Naughty. He looked into Naughty's eyes, and they seemed +full of liquid reproach. Naughty had been his friend--supposititiously, +and to abandon him now to the world, a cold place devoid of French lamb +chops? A hard place for homeless dogs and men, alike! About to waive the +temptation, Mr. Heatherbloom paused; the idea was capable of +modification or expansion. Most ideas are. + +But he shortly afterward dismissed the entire matter from his mind; it +would, at best, be but a compromise, an evasion of the pact he had made +with himself. It was not to be thought of. At this moment his companion +swayed and Mr. Heatherbloom had just time to put out his arm; then +helped her to a bench. + +She partly recovered; it was nothing, she remarked bravely. One gets +sometimes a little faint when--it was the old, old story of privation +and want that now fell with seeming reluctance from her lips. Mr. +Heatherbloom had become all attention. More than that he seemed greatly +distressed. A woman actually in need, starving--no use mincing +words!--in Central Park, the playground of the most opulent metropolis +of the world. It was monstrous; he tendered her his purse, with several +weeks' pay in it. Her reply had a spirited ring; he felt abashed and +returned the money to his pocket. She sat back with eyes half-closed; he +saw now that her face looked drawn and paler than usual. + +He, thought and thought; had he not himself found out how difficult it +was to get a position, to procure employment without friends and +helpers? He, a man, had walked in search of it, day after day and felt +the griping pangs of hunger; had wished for night, and, later, wished +for the morn, only to find both equally barren. + +Suddenly he spoke--slowly, like a man stating a proposition he has +argued carefully in his own mind. She listened, approved, while hope +already transfigured her face. She would have thanked him profusely but +he did not remain to hear her. In fact, he seemed hardly to see her now; +his features had become once more reserved and introspective. + +He reappeared at the Van Rolsen house that day without Naughty. Miss Van +Rolsen, when she heard the news, burst into tears; then became furious. +She was sure he had sold Naughty, winner of three blue ribbons, and "out +of the contest" no end of times because superior to all competition! + +A broken leash! Fiddlesticks! She penned advertisements wildly and +summoned her niece. That young lady responded to protestations and +questions with a slightly indifferent expression on her proud languid +features. What did she think of it? She didn't really know; her manner +said she really didn't care. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing with the light of the window falling +pensively upon him, she didn't seem to see at all; he had once more +become a nullity. He rather preferred that rôle, however; perhaps he +felt it was easier to impersonate annihilation, in the inception, than +to have it, or a wish for it, thrust later too strongly upon him. + +"I adhere to my opinion that he sold Naughty. I should never have +employed this man," asserted Miss Van Rolsen, fastening her fiery eyes +on Mr. Heatherbloom. "Why don't you speak, my dear, and give me your +opinion?" To her niece. + +"I haven't any, Aunt." + +"You are discerning; you have judgment." Miss Van Rolsen spoke almost +hysterically. "Remember he"--pointing a finger--"came without our +knowing anything about him." + +Miss Dalrymple did not stir; a bunch of bizarre-looking orchids on her +gown moved to her even rhythmical breathing. "What was he? Who was he? +Maybe, nothing more than--" She paused for want of breath, not of words, +to characterize her opinion of Mr. Heatherbloom. + +He readjusted his posture. It was very bright outdoors; people went by +briskly, full of life and importance; children whirled along on roller +skates. + +"When I asked your opinion, my dear, as to the wisdom of having employed +this person in the first place, under the circumstances, why did you +keep silent?" Was Miss Van Rolsen still talking, or rambling on to the +impervious beautiful girl? "You should have called me foolish, +eccentric; yes, that's what I was, to have taken him in as I did." + +Miss Dalrymple raised her brows and moved to a piano to adjust the +flowers in a vase; she smiled at them with soft enigmatic lips. + +"If I may venture an opinion, Madam," observed Mr. Heatherbloom in a +far-away voice, "I should say Naughty will surely return, or be +returned." + +"You venture an opinion!" said Miss Van Rolsen. "You!" + +Miss Dalrymple breathed the fragrance of the flowers; she apparently +liked it. + +"You are discharged!" said Miss Van Rolsen violently to Mr. +Heatherbloom. "I give you the two-weeks' notice agreed upon." + +"I'll waive the notice," suggested the young man at the window quickly. + +"You'll do nothing of the sort." Sharply. "It'll take me that time to +find another incompetent keeper for them. And, meanwhile, you may be +sure," grimly, "you will be very well watched." + +"Under the circumstances, I should prefer--since you _have_ discharged +me--to leave at once." + +"Your preferences are a matter of utter indifference. You were employed +with a definite understanding in this regard." + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed rather wildly out of the window; two weeks.--that +much longer! He was about to say he would not be well watched; he would +take himself off--that she couldn't keep him; but paused. A contract was +a contract, though orally made; she could hold him yet a little. But why +did she wish to? He had not calculated upon this; he tried to think but +could not. He looked from the elder to the younger woman. The latter did +not look at him. + +Miss Dalrymple had seated herself at the piano; her fingers--light as +spirit touches--now swept the keys; a Debussey fantasy, almost as +pianissimo as one could play it, vibrated around them. Outside the whir! +whir! of the skates went on. A little girl tumbled. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded her; ribbons awry; fat legs in the air. The music continued. + +"You may go," said a severe voice. + +He aroused himself to belated action, but at the door he looked back. +"I'm sure it will be all right," he repeated to Miss Van Rolsen. "On my +word"--more impetuously. + +At the piano some one laughed, and Mr. Heatherbloom went. + +"Why on earth, Aunt, did you want to keep him two weeks longer?" he +heard the girl's now passionate tones ask as he walked away. + +"For a number of reasons, my dear," came the response. "One, because he +wanted to leave me in the lurch. Another--it will be easier to keep an +eye on him until Naughty is returned, or"--her voice had the vindictive +ring of a Roman matron's--"this person's culpability is proven. Naughty +is a valuable dog and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's footsteps hastened; he had caught quite enough, but +as he disappeared to the rear, the dream chords on the piano, now +louder, continued to follow him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +DEVELOPMENTS + +That night, as if his rest were not already sufficiently disturbed, a +disconcerting possibility occurred abruptly to Mr. Heatherbloom. It was +born in the darkness of the hour; he could not dispel it. What if the +person in whom he had confided in the park were not all she seemed? He +hated the insinuating suggestion but it insisted on creeping into his +brain. He had once, not so long ago, in his search for cheap lodgings, +stumbled upon a roomful of alleged cripples and maimed disreputables who +made mendicancy a profession; their jibes and jests on the credulity of +the public yet rang in his ears. What if she--his casual acquaintance of +the day before--belonged to that yet greater class of dissemblers who +ply their arts and simulations with more individualism and intelligence? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up in bed. Naughty might be worth five or even ten +thousand dollars. He remembered having read at some previous time about +a certain canine whose proud mistress and owner was alleged to have +refused twenty thousand for him. The perspiration broke out on Mr. +Heatherbloom's face. Was Naughty of this category? He looked very +"classy," as if there couldn't be another beast quite like him in the +world. What had been the twenty-thousand-dollar mistress' name; not +Van--impossible! + +But the more he told himself "impossible", the more positive grew a +certain perverse inner asseveration that it was quite possible. And what +if the person in the park had known it? He reviewed the circumstances of +their different meetings; details that had not impressed themselves upon +him at the time--that had almost escaped his notice, now stood out +clearer--too clear, in his mind. He remembered how she had brightened +astonishingly after the brief fainting spell when he had made his +ill-advised proposal. It had been as elixir to her. He recalled how she +had met him every day. Had it been mere chance? Or--disconcerting +suspicion!--had she deliberately planned-- + +For Mr. Heatherbloom there was no sleep that night. At the first signs +of dawn he was up and out, directing his steps toward the park, as a +criminal returns to the haunts of his crime. No faces of any kind now +greeted him there; only trees confronted him, gaunt, ghostlike in the +early morning mists. Even the squirrels were yet abed in their miniature +Swiss chalets in the air. The sun rose at last, red and threatening. He +now met a policeman who looked at him questioningly. Mr. Heatherbloom +greeted him with a blitheness at variance with his mood. Officialdom +only growled and gazed after the young man as if to say: "We'll gather +you in, yet." + +It was past nine o'clock before Mr. Heatherbloom ventured to approach +the house; as he did so, the front door closed; some one had been +admitted. He himself went in through the area way; from above came +joyous barks, a woman's voice; pandemonium. Mr. Heatherbloom listened. +Later he learned what had happened; a young woman had brought back +Naughty; a very honest young woman who refused all reward. + +"Sure," said the cook, who had the story from the butler, "and she spoke +loike a quane. 'I can take nothing for returning what doesn't belong to +me, ma'am. I am but doing my jooty. But if ye plaze, would ye be lookin' +over these recommends av mine--they're from furriners--and if yez be +havin' ony friends who be wanting a maid and yez might be so good as to +recommind me, I'd be thankin' of yez, for it's wurrk I wants.' Think av +that now. Only wurrk! Who says there arn't honest servin' gurrls, +nowadays? The mistress was that pleased with her morals an' her +manners--so loidy-loike!--she gave her the job that shlip av a Jane had; +wid an advance av salary on the sphot." + +"You mean Miss Van Rolsen has actually engaged her?" Mr. Heatherbloom, +face abeam, repeated. + +"Phawt have I been saying just now?" Scornfully. "Sure, an' is it ears +you have on your head?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a weight lifted from his shoulders, departed from the +kitchen. He had wronged her--this poor girl, or young woman, who, in her +dire distress, had appealed to him. How he despised now the uncharitable +dark thoughts of the night! How he could congratulate himself he had +obeyed impulse, and not stopped to reason too closely, or to question +too suspiciously, when he had decided to act the day before! + +All is well that ends well. All he had to do now was to complete as +unostentatiously as possible his term of service--But perhaps he would +be released at once? + +No; not at once! Those anxious to supersede him began to dribble in, it +is true; but they faded away, one by one, after interviews with Miss Van +Rolsen, and returned no more. They were a mournful lot, these would-be, +ten-dollar-a-week custodians; Mr. Heatherbloom wondered if his own +physiognomy in a general way would merge nicely in a composite +photograph of them? + +His duties he performed now as quietly as he could. Two weeks more, ten +days, nine, eight! Then? Ah, then! + +He did not see Miss Van Rolsen again nor Miss Dalrymple. He encountered +the fair unknown, though, his acquaintance of the park, occasionally, as +she in demure cap and white ruffled apron glided softly her allotted +way. Sometimes he nodded to her in distant fashion, sometimes she got by +before he actually realized he had passed her. She seemed to move so +quickly and with such little ado; or, it may be, he was not very +observant. He didn't feel very keen on mere minor details these days; he +experienced principally the sensation of one who was now merely "marking +time", as it were--figuratively performing a variety of goose-step, the +way the German soldiers do. + +But one day she--Marie, they called her--stopped him. + +"I understand from one of the servants that it cost you your position +to--do what you did. You know what I mean--" + +He looked alarmed. "Don't worry about that." + +"But shouldn't I?" Steady dark eyes upon him. + +"On the contrary!" Vigorously. + +"I don't understand--unless.--" + +"The salary--it is nothing here"--Mr. Heatherbloom gestured airily. "I +should do much better--one of my ability, you understand!--elsewhere." + +"Could you?" She regarded him doubtfully. "But, perhaps, they--It was +not very pleasant for you here, anyway. Miss Van Rolsen--her niece, Miss +Dalrymple--does not like you." He started. "It was easy to see that; +when I mentioned regretfully that the good fortune that brought me where +there is plenty; to eat should have been the cause of your being in +disfavor, she stopped me short." Mr. Heatherbloom studied the distance. +"'The person you speak of intended leaving anyhow,' she said, and her +voice was--_mon Dieu_!--ice." + +The listener swallowed. "Quite so," he said jauntily. "Miss Dalrymple +is absolutely correct." + +She regarded him an instant with sudden, very mature gaze. "I can't +quite make you out." + +"No one ever can. Don't try. It isn't worth while. Which reminds me"--he +rattled on--"I did you an injury; an injustice--" + +"Ah?" she said quickly. + +"In my mind! You will excuse me, but do you know that night after I had +consigned him to your care in the park, I afterward felt quite +anxious--" + +"For what?" She came closer. + +"Wondering if you--Ha! ha!" Mr. Heatherbloom stopped; in his confusion, +his endeavor to turn the conversation from himself and Miss Dalrymple, +he seemed to be getting into deep waters. + +"You wondered what?" In a low tone. + +Since he now felt obliged to speak, he did, coolly enough. "If you had +some ulterior motive!" he said with a quiet smile. + +She it was who now started back, and her face paled slightly. +"Why?--what ulterior motive? What do you mean?" + +He told her in plain words. She breathed more evenly; then smiled +sweetly. She had a strange face sometimes. "Thank you," she said. "You +are very frank, _mon ami_. I like you none the less for it. Though you +did so injure me--in your thoughts!" Her eyes had an enigmatic light. +"Well, I must go now to Miss Dalrymple. She is beginning to be so fond +of me." She drawled the last words as if she liked to linger on them. +"You see I, too, have a little Russian blood in me." Mr. Heatherbloom +looked down. "And I think she loves to hear me tell of that wonderful +country--the white nights of St. Petersburg--the splendid steppes--the +grandeur of our Venice of the north. Of course, she is immensely +interested in Russia now." Significantly. "Its ostentation, its +splendor, its barbaric picturesqueness! But tell me, what is her prince +like? He is very handsome, naturally! Or she would not so dote on him!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's features had hardened; he did not answer directly. +"She likes to talk about Russia?" he said, half to himself. + +Marie shrugged. "Is it not to be her country some day?" + +"No, it isn't!" The words seemed forced from his lips; he spoke almost +fiercely. "She may live there with him, but it will never be her +country. This is her country. She is its product; an American to her +finger-tips. And all the grand dukes and princes of the Winter Palace +can't change her. She belongs to old California; she grew up among the +orange trees and the flowers, and her heart will ever yearn for them in +your frozen land of tyranny!" + +"Oh! oh! oh!" said Mademoiselle Marie. "How eloquent monsieur can be! +Quite an orator! One would say he, too, has known this land of orange +trees and flowers!" + +"I?" Mr. Heatherbloom bit his lip. + +But she only shook a finger. "Oh! oh!" Altogether like a different +person from his casual acquaintance of the park! He gazed at her +closer; how quickly the marks of trouble, anxiety, had faded from her +face; as if they had never existed. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, looking into eyes now full of a new and +peculiar understanding. + +"Nothing," she said and vanished. + +He gazed where she had been; he could not account for a sudden strange +emotion, as if some one had trailed a shadow over him. A premonition of +something going to happen; that could not be foreseen, or averted! +Something worse than anything that had gone before! What nonsense! He +pressed his lips tightly and went about his duties like an automaton. + +Eight days--seven days--six days more!--only six-- + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +THE UNEXPECTED + +The blow fell, a thunderbolt from the clear sky. It dazed certain people +at first; it was difficult to realize what had happened, or if anything +_had_ really happened. For might not what seemed a deep and dire mystery +turn out to be nothing so very mysterious after all? A message would +soon come; everything would then be "cleared up" and those most +concerned would laugh at their apprehensions. But the hours went by, and +the affair remained inexplicable; no word was heard concerning Miss +Dalrymple's whereabouts; she seemed to have disappeared as completely as +if she had vanished on the Persian magic carpet. What could it mean? The +circumstances briefly were: + +Miss Dalrymple, four or five days before Mr. Heatherbloom's term of +service came to an end, had expressed a desire to revisit her old home +and friends in the West. One of a party made up mostly of other +Californians--now residents of New York city--the girl had failed to +appear on the private car at the appointed time, and the train had +pulled out, leaving her behind. At the first important stop a telegram +had been handed to a gentleman of the party from Miss Dalrymple; it +expressed her regret at having reached the station too late owing to +circumstances she would explain later, and announced her intention of +coming on, with her maid, in a few days. They were not to wait anywhere +for her but to go right along. + +The party did; it was sorry to have lost one of its most popular members +but no one thought anything more of the matter until at Denver, after a +telegram had been forwarded to the Van Rolsen house, in New York, asking +just when Miss Dalrymple would arrive, as camping preparations for a +joyous pilgrimage in the mountains were in progress. + +Miss Van Rolsen gasped when this message reached her. Miss Dalrymple +and her maid--a young woman newly engaged by Miss Van Rolsen--had left +the house for the train to which the private car was attached; neither +had been heard from since. The aunt had, of course, presumed her niece +had gone as planned; she had received no word from her, but supposing +she was of a light-hearted, heedless company thought nothing of that. It +was possible Miss Dalrymple had actually missed her train; but if so, +why had she not returned to her aunt's house? + +Where had she gone? What had become of her? No trace of her could be +found. Certain forces in the central railroad office at New York could +not discover any evidence that the young girl had taken a subsequent +train. There was no record of her name at any ticket office; no +state-room had been reserved by, or for her; in fact, telegrams to +officials in Chicago and other points west failed to elicit satisfactory +information of any kind. + +Miss Van Rolsen found herself with something real to worry about; she +rose to the occasion; her niece, after all, was everything to her. The +Van Rolsen millions were ultimately for her, and the old lady's every +ambition was centered in the girl. She had been proud of her beauty, her +social triumphs. + +With great determination she set herself to solve the puzzling problem. +Could people thus completely disappear nowadays? It seemed impossible, +she asserted, sitting behind closed doors in her library, to the private +agent of the secret-service bureau whom she had just "called in." + +He begged to differ from her and pointed to a number of cases which had +seemed just as strange and mysterious in the beginning. Ransom--the +"Black Hand"--Who could say what secret influences had been at work in +this case? It was a very important one; Miss Dalrymple had money of her +own; she was known to be her aunt's heiress. The conclusion?--But this +was not Morocco, or Turkey, Miss Van Rolsen somewhat vehemently +returned. + +True; we have had, however, our "civilized" Ransuilis, answered the +agent and mentioned a number of names in support of his theory. No +doubt, after an interval, Miss Van Rolsen would have news of her +niece--through those who had perpetrated the outrage; or she might even +receive a few written words from the girl herself. After that it was a +question of negotiating, or, while professing to deal with the +perpetrators, to ferret them out if one could. The latter course was +dangerous, for those who stoop to this particular crime are usually of a +desperate type; he and Miss Van Rolsen could consider that question +later. Meanwhile she must avoid worry as much as possible. The young +girl would, no doubt, be well treated. + +Had the speaker looked around at this moment, he might have observed +that the heavy curtains, drawn before the door leading into the hall and +closed by Miss Van Rolsen, moved suddenly, but neither the agent nor +Miss Van Rolsen, engrossed at the far end of the room, noticed. The +drapery wavered a moment; then settled once more into its folds. + +The telegram purporting to be from Miss Dalrymple to one of the party on +the train, could--the agent went on--very easily have been sent by some +one else; no doubt, had been. The miscreants had seized upon a lucky +combination of circumstances; for two or three days, while Miss +Dalrymple was supposed to be speeding across the continent, they, +unsuspected and unmolested, would be afforded every opportunity to +convey her to some remote and, for them, safe refuge. It was a cleverly +planned coup, and could not have been conceived and consummated +without--here he spoke slowly--inside assistance. + +The curtain at the doorway again stirred. + +"And now, Madam, we come to your servants," said the police agent. "I +should like to know something about them." + +"My servants, sir, are, for the most part, old and trusted." + +"'For the most part'!" He caught at the phrase. "We will deal first with +those who do _not_ come in that category." + +"There's a young man recently employed that I have not been at all +pleased with. He leaves to-morrow." + +"Ah!" said the visitor. "Not the person I met going out of the area +way, with the dogs as I came in?" + +She answered affirmatively. + +"H--mn!" He paused. "But tell me why you have not been pleased with him, +and, in brief, all the circumstances of his coming here." + +Miss Van Rolsen did so in a voice she strove to make patient although +she could not disguise its tremulousness, or the feverish anxiety that +consumed her. She related the most trivial details, seeming +irrelevances, but the visitor did not interrupt her. Instead, he studied +carefully her face, pinched and worn; the angular figure, slightly bent; +the fingers, nervously clasping and unclasping as she spoke. He watched +her through habit; and still forbore speaking, even when she referred to +the escape of her canine favorite from his caretaker and how the dog had +later been returned, though the listener's eyes had, at this point, +dilated slightly. + +"After his carelessness in this matter, he seemed to want to get away +from the house at once," observed Miss Van Rolsen, "without availing +himself of the two-weeks' notice I had agreed to give him." + +The visitor relapsed into his chair; an ironical light appeared in his +eyes. + +"Perhaps," added Miss Van Rolsen, "you attach no significance to the +fact?" + +"On the contrary, I attach every importance to it. Has it not occurred +to you there was a little collusion in this matter of the lost dog?" + +"Collusion?" Miss Van Rolsen's accents expressed incredulity. "You must +be wrong. Why, the young woman wouldn't even accept the reward. And it +was not a small one!" + +"Two hundred or so dollars, ma'am! Not her stake!" he murmured +satirically. "I am afraid two hundred thousand dollars would be nearer +the mark these people have set for themselves!" + +"But she didn't ask for a place here; only for me to look over her +references--one was from a lady I knew in Paris--and to recommend her to +my friends--" + +"She knew your other maid had left; this confederate had, of course, +told her. It was all arranged that she should come here. Rest assured of +that. And having accomplished her purpose--clever that she is!--she at +once started to ingratiate herself with your niece, to make herself +useful. As a mistress of languages she _was_ useful, in fact more so +than any ordinary maid. Where did she come from? Find out whom she +represents, and--we'll have the key to the mystery. But she, too, has +disappeared; after turning the game over to the others, perhaps. I would +suggest cabling those foreign references this young woman gave you. They +will, of course, including your Paris friend, know nothing of her; the +name she gave you was not her own." + +"But by what unfortunate combination of circumstances"--Miss Van Rolsen +spoke somewhat incoherently--"should these people have been led to +settle on my niece as the victim of their cowardly designs? There are so +many others--" + +"You forget the publicity concerning this prince your niece is to +marry." The old lady stiffened. "Pardon my mentioning it, but Miss +Dalrymple has in this connection been very much before the public gaze." + +"Against her wish, sir, and mine!" snapped Miss Van Rolsen. +"She--I--have both lamented the fact. But what can one do? The +journalists settled on the prince as a fruitful source for speculation. +He is of noble family, very wealthy, no fortune-hunter; which has made +it all the more distressing for him and us." She seemed about to say +something further; then her lips suddenly tightened. "As I say, it has +been very distressing," she ended, after a pause. "I expect it was one +of the reasons my niece wanted to get away from New York for a time." + +"No doubt!" The caller's voice was courtesy itself although he probably +but half-credited Miss Van Rolsen's protestations in the matter. People +liked to complain of the press and newspaper notoriety, when in their +hearts, perhaps, they were not so displeased to be in that terrible +lime-light; especially when the person associated with them happened to +be a count, or a duke, or a prince. "Unfortunately, one has to put up +with these things," he now added. "But you are positive you have told me +everything?" + +An instant she seemed to hesitate. "I am positive you know everything +relative to the subject." + +He arose. "In that event"--his manner indicated a sudden +resolution--"there is one little preliminary to be attended to." + +"Which is--" + +"To arrest this fellow, Heatherbloom!" + +"Arrest? When?" + +"At once! There is no time to be lost. Already--" He gave a sudden +exclamation. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +He stepped toward the curtain; it moved perceptibly. + +"Some one has been listening," exclaimed Miss Van Rolsen excitedly. + +"Yes, some one." Significantly. As he spoke he threw back the curtain +and revealed the door partly ajar. + +"It must have been--Not one of my old servants--- They would not +have--" + +He stopped her. "There's the front way out of this house and the area +way below," he said rapidly. "Is there any other way of escaping to the +street?" + +"No." + +He darted out of the room to the front door. She followed. + +"Quite in time!" he said, casting a quick look both ways along the +avenue and then letting his glance fall to the servants' entrance below. + +"You think he will try to--" + +He regarded her swiftly. "While I stand guard here, would you mind +getting some one to 'phone my office and ask two or three of my men to +step over at once? Not that I doubt my own ability to cope with the +case"--fingering the handle of a weapon on his pocket--"only it is +always well to take no chances. Especially now!" + +"Now?" + +"Since he has practically convicted himself and confirmed my theory. We +shall get at the truth through him. We're nearer the solution of the +matter than I dared hope for." + +"I'll telephone myself!" she cried. And started back to do so when an +excited face confronted her. + +"If ye plase, ma'am!" It was the cook. + +"What is it?" Miss Van Rolsen spoke sharply. + +"If ye plase, I think, ma'am, this Mr. Heatherbloom has taken lave av +his senses." + +"Why, what has he been doing?" + +"He has, faith, just jumped over the fence into our neighbor's yard on +the corner, and--" + +The man on the steps did not wait to hear more; with something that +sounded like an imprecation he sprang quickly down to the sidewalk and +ran toward the corner. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS + +As Mr. Heatherbloom prepared to issue from his neighbor's gate opening +on the side street, the feminine voice of one of the servants in the +rear of the corner house called out in alarm at sight of the strange +figure speeding across their metropolitan imitation of a back yard. If +anything were needed to stimulate the fugitive's footsteps, it was the +sound of that voice. He stayed not on the order of his going, but +pushing back the heavy bolt--fortunately his egress was not barred by a +locked door--he tore open the gate and sprang to the sidewalk. Then +without stopping, he ran on, away from the fashionable avenue. The +street he traversed like many thoroughfares of its kind was +comparatively deserted most of the time; nobody impeded his progress, +though one or two people gazed after him from their windows. + +He had gone about three-quarters of a block when the window spectators +discerned a heavier built figure come lumbering around the corner, +apparently in hot pursuit. Mr. Heatherbloom, glancing over his shoulder, +also observed this person; his capture and subsequent incarceration +seemed inevitable. Already the fugitive was drawing near to busier +Fourth Avenue; there he would be obliged to relax his pace; he could not +sprint down that thoroughfare without attracting undue attention. +Behind, the pursuer called out; he was, however, too short of breath for +compelling vocal effect. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, on the contrary, had good control of his breathing and +was, moreover, yet fresh and physically capable. Which fact made it the +more difficult for him to settle down to a forced, albeit sharp walk as +he approached the corner, when his gait suddenly accelerated once more. + +A street-car had just started not very far from him and Mr. Heatherbloom +ran after it. A fine pretext for speed was offered him; as he "let +himself go" in the way he had once gone somewhere in the past in a +hundred-yards' dash, he felt joyously conscious both of covering space +quickly and that he did so without making himself particularly +prominent. Fools who ran after street-cars were born every moment; he +was happy to be relegated to that idiotic class by any onlookers. He +caught the car while it was going; he didn't want it to stop for him. + +Neither did it stop to pick up any one else for several blocks; there +was a space before it unobstructed by traffic. The motorman turned on +more power and Mr. Heatherbloom listened gratefully to the humming +wheels. At the same time he looked back; at the corner where he had +turned into Fourth avenue he fancied a number of people were gathering. +He could surmise the cause; the stockily-built man--his pursuer--was +asking questions; he had learned what had become of the fugitive and was +presumably looking around for a "taxi." In vain. At least, Mr. +Heatherbloom so concluded, because one did not appear in hot chase +behind them. + +The motorman still gave "rapid service"; the conductor looked at his +watch, by which Mr. Heatherbloom imagined they had time to make up. He +hoped so, then resented a pause at a corner for an old lady. How he +wished she had not been afflicted with rheumatism, and could have got on +without help! But at length the light-weight conductor did manage to +pull the heavy-weight passenger aboard. Time lost, thirty seconds! The +motorman manipulated the lever more deliberately now and they gathered +headway slowly. Mr. Heatherbloom dared not remain longer where he was; +as the car approached a corner near an elevated station, he got off. He +was obliged to walk now a short distance but he did so hastily. Drawing +near the iron steps, leading upward, he once more looked back; a "taxi" +_was_ whirling after him and he had no doubt as to its occupant. The +street-car could easily have been kept in sight and his leaving it been +noted. + +Mr. Heatherbloom now threw discretion to the winds; dashing toward the +stairway he ran up. Just as he reached the ticket window, the pursuing +vehicle stopped below. Some one sprang out, did not pause to pay the +chauffeur, but calling out to him his name, started after Mr. +Heatherbloom. That gentleman had by this time boarded the train waiting +above; he stood on the rear platform. Any moment the pursuer would +appear. He did appear as the gates of the train were closed and the cars +had started on their way. + +Yet he did not give up for running alongside the last car he called out +to the guard: + +"Fugitive from justice! Criminal--on this train! Open the gate for me!" + +An instant the guard hesitated; rules, however, were rules. + +"Five hundred dollars if you let me on!" the voice panted. + +The guard in his own mind decided he would let the other on--too late; +the last car dashed past the end of the platform. A faint sigh of relief +from Mr. Heatherbloom was drowned in the tumult of the wheels; then he +endeavored to appear indifferent, apathetic. It was not easy to do so; +the secret-service agent had been heard by many others. + +A "fugitive from justice" on the train! Mr. Heatherbloom tried to look +as little the part as possible, to simulate by his expression a +preoccupied young business man of heavy responsibilities. Fortunately +the train was crowded; nevertheless he fancied people glanced especially +at him. He wished now he were better dressed; good clothes may cover a +multitude of sins. Still there was no reason why he should be suspected +more than sundry other indifferently-dressed people. He would dismiss +the thought, tell himself he was going down town on some little errand; +he even devised what that errand should be--to procure theater tickets. +But his brain did not seem quite capable of concentrating itself solely +on desirable orchestra chairs; it constantly and perversely reverted to +that other disagreeable subject--a "fugitive from--" + +Whoever could the fellow be? He endeavored by a mental process to +eliminate himself and see but a mythical some one else in a mythical +background. A short person; a tall one? What kind of person would the +imaginary individual be, anyhow? And what had he done, what crime +committed? Mr. Heatherbloom tried to think with the minds of all these +other people on the train, to put himself figuratively in their shoes. + +One young sprig of a girl, about fourteen, with sallow complexion and +bead-like black eyes, kept regarding him. He conceived a profound +dislike for her, shifted a foot; then straightened and banished her +peremptorily from his environment. His principal interest lay now in +casual glimpses of windows and speculation as to what was behind them. +He varied this employment in a passing endeavor to decipher sundry signs +that obtruded incidentally within range of vision. + +He had made out only a few when the, train slackened and came to a +standstill. Mr. Heatherbloom told himself he would get off as quickly as +possible; then changed his mind and remained. People would, of course, +argue that, under the circumstances, the unknown criminal would be +among those to leave the train at the first opportunity. + +A number got out; Mr. Heatherbloom noted the passengers who remained +aboard and watched closely the departing ones. A few of the latter +seemed slightly self-conscious, notably, an elderly spinster who, having +never done anything wrong, was possessed of an unusual sensitiveness. + +"See that slouchy chap--By jove, I believe--" + +"Does look like a tough customer--" + +"On the contrary, he just looks poor." Mr. Heatherbloom turned upon the +two speakers warmly. + +Why could he not have kept silent; why was he obliged to obtrude his +opinion into their conversation? + +They stared and he half turned as the train banged itself along once +more. Where should he go? Reaching for a paper that some one had +discarded, he sank into a vacant seat and opened the sheet with +misgiving. + +What would the big types say? Nothing! Miss Van Rolsen had managed to +keep the strange affair of her niece's disappearance out of the columns +of the papers. They knew nothing about it as yet--Only a single little +item in the shipping news, in fine print, which suddenly caught his gaze +bore in any way, and that a remote one, upon her niece and her affairs. +Mr. Heatherbloom regarded it with dull glance. The few lines meant +nothing to him--then; later he had cause to turn to them with abrupt +wondering avidity. Now his eyes swept with simulated interest the +general news of the day; he professed to read cable dispatches. + +But an odd reaction seemed to have settled on him; the excitement of the +chase became, for the moment, forgotten. The scope of his mental +visuality no longer included the figure of the agent from the private +detective bureau. An anxiety more poignant moved him; his thoughts +centered on that other matter--the cause of Miss Van Rolsen's +apprehensions--the while those emotions that had held him a listener +behind the curtain in her library again stirred in his breast. He had +not played the eavesdropper for any selfish purpose or through a sense +of personal apprehension. The sudden realization of his own danger, had, +perforce, awakened in him the need for quick action if he would save +himself. + +If? What chance had he? But for one compelling reason, one consuming +purpose, he would not have fled at all; he would have faced them, +instead! But he had work to do--he! A fugitive, a logical candidate for +the prison cell! Ironical situation! Even now he heard a voice at his +elbow. + +"Mr. Heatherbloom!" Some one spoke suddenly to him and he wheeled with +abrupt swift fierceness. + +"Well, are you going to eat me up?" the voice laughed. + +He looked into the pert face of Jane--the maid with the provoking +nose--who had been at Miss Van Rolsen's. She had got on at the other end +of the car at the last station, and after waiting a few moments for him +to see her, had moved toward him, or a seat at his side just then +vacated by some one preparing to leave. Mr. Heatherbloom's face cleared; +he banished the belligerent expression. + +"You look edible enough!" he said with forced jocularity. + +"Indeed?" she retorted, surprised at such gallantry from one who had +heretofore not deigned to pay her compliments. "I'll have to tell my +husband about you." Playfully. "But how are things at Miss Van Rolsen's? +Anything new?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom murmured something about the customary routine; then, +even as he spoke, became conscious of a sudden new disconcerting +circumstance. The tracks for the up and the down trains on the elevated +had widely separated and ran now on the extreme sides of the broad +thoroughfare. From his side of the car the young man was afforded a view +of the pavement below, between the two sustaining iron structures. A +chill shot through him and his smile became set. Gazing down he +discerned, on the street beneath and a little to one side of them, a +motor-car, speeding fast, apparently bent on keeping up with them. + +"How--how's your husband?" he said irrelevantly. The car _was_ keeping +up with them. + +"Very well, thank you." (Would _it_ reach the next station before them?) + +"You--you have a pleasant home?" he asked. (A slight blockade below +impeded, momentarily, the "taxi". Mr. Heatherbloom raised his +handkerchief to his moist brow.) + +"Lovely," she answered. "Are you going far?" + +"Brooklyn," he said at random. What _were_ they talking about? (The car +was once more under way; fortunately their progress overhead would not +be impeded by a press of vehicles.) + +"That's where we live--Brooklyn," she said. + +"Is it? Got a nice house?" He had practically asked this question +before; but he hardly knew what he was saying. A policeman had stopped +the "taxi" and was shaking his head, as at a rather "fishy" story. Mr. +Heatherbloom by a species of telepathy, seemed to overhear the excited +talk waging below. + +"Oh, yes; lovely!" Jane's accents were but parenthetical to something +else. The "taxi" had been allowed to proceed, in spite of the detaining +thought-waves Mr. Heatherbloom had launched toward the officer of the +law. The occupant had probably showed a badge; Mr. Heatherbloom +stretched his neck out of the window. + +"You can come around and see, sometime, if you want to." Pride in her +voice. "And meet my husband." Husband was a very substantial baker. + +"Charmed, I'm sure! Ha! ha!" He suddenly laughed. + +"What is it?" She looked startled. + +"Funniest accident!" He waved his hat, as at some one, out of the +window. "See that taxi! Bumped into a dray. Ha! ha!" + +"I don't see anything so funny in that." Straightening. + +"No? You should have seen the expression on his face--" + +"His? Whose?" + +"The--ah, drayman's, of course! He--looked so mad." + +"I should have thought," she observed, "the man in the car would have +been the maddest It couldn't have hurt the dray much." + +"No? Perhaps that's what made it seem so funny to me." + +"Well," she said, "I never noticed before that you had a great sense of +humor." + +"You never knew me." Jauntily. + +They got off at Brooklyn Bridge together. As they made their way through +the crowd, Mr. Heatherbloom appeared most care-free and very sedulous of +his companion's welfare, especially when they passed one or two +loiterers who seemed eying the passengers rather closely. + +"Two for Brooklyn." Mr. Heatherbloom laid down a dime at the ticket +office. + +Soon, unmolested, he sped on once more; but as they crossed the busy +river all his light-heartedness seemed suddenly to desert him; the +questions he had been vainly asking himself earlier that day were +reiterated in his brain. Where was she? What had become of her? His +hands clasped closely. A red spot burned on his cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A NEW-FOUND THEORY + +"No; the prince isn't coming back to America, and she--Miss +Dalrymple--isn't going to marry him!" + +Jane's voice, running on rather at random, suddenly with unusual force +penetrated Mr. Heatherbloom's consciousness. + +"Not going--isn't--What are you talking about?" The young man's wavering +attention focused itself on her now with swift completeness. He had +hardly heard her, until a few moments before, when her conversation had +first drifted to that ever fascinating feminine topic of foreign lords +and American heiresses, then narrowed down, much to his inward +disapproval, to one particular titled individual and one particular +heiress "But you are mistaken, of course!" he said bruskly. + +"Oh, am I?" she retorted. "I suppose you believe everything you read in +the newspapers?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not answer now; he was staring out of the window. +Against the sky the jutting lines of buildings seemed to waver; new +extraordinary angles and jogs seemed to assert themselves. His gaze had +a glittering brightness when it turned. "Have you any better authority?" + +His tone was a challenge. "I heard her tell him so myself," she said +succinctly. "That she could never marry him and that he must never come +back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's hand crumpled the newspaper; then mechanically he +folded it and put it in his pocket. His look was once more bent outward; +tiny specks, that were big steamboats going very fast, seemed motionless +on the sparkling surface of the water afar. His thoughts scattered; he +tried to collect them, to realize where he was, how he happened to be +there; the identity of the speaker and what she had been saying! Certain +preconceived, fixed ideas and conclusions had been toppled over, +brushed aside in an instant. Was it possible? + +"I was waiting to trim and fill the lamps," said Jane. (Miss Van Rolsen +clung to oil lamps for reading.) "The prince and she were in the +library. He has a loud voice, you know." + +The young man did. "But why--" + +"Search me!" Vivaciously. "He was the very pick of the whole cargo of +dukes and the like. There isn't another girl in New York would have done +it." + +"But surely," scarcely hearing her last words, "no newspaper would dare +to announce such a thing without--" + +"Oh, wouldn't it? When it called up the house every day, almost, and +got: 'There is nothing to say'? Didn't I answer the 'phone once or twice +myself? 'Miss Van Rolsen declines to be interviewed concerning her +niece. She has nothing to say.' I think I once giggled, the man's voice +at the other end was so aggressive. He said he was the city editor +himself. Is that very high up?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not seem to hear. He scarcely saw his companion +now; nevertheless, he was conscious of a desire to be alone, in order to +concentrate, consider, reach for light and find it. But where could he +discover a safe spot; his problem was a dual one; primarily, he must +consider himself; he must not forget his own desperate situation and +danger. The train, beginning to slacken, brought the sense of it once +more poignantly to mind. His companion hadn't reached the station yet +but he suddenly rose. The car stopped with a jerk; Mr. Heatherbloom +murmured something hurriedly and dived for the door. + +On the street he breathed deeply, standing as in a daze while the +thunder of iron-rimmed wheels surrounded him. He was cognizant +principally of certain words humming in his brain: The prince and she +were not engaged! The nobleman not returning to America in the fall! +Never coming back! + +But that item in fine print in the newspaper he had in his pocket--what +did it mean? Nothing, of course, beyond what it said; still-- + +Some one bumped into Mr. Heatherbloom; whereupon he suddenly realized +that he was standing on one of the busiest corners and had been making +himself as conspicuous as possible. Hastily he moved on. To what +destination? He glanced toward a convenient saloon; it looked hospitable +and inviting. Then he remembered they--man-hunters, in general--always +searched the saloons first for criminals. + +He started toward a side street but paused, reasoning that he was more +prominent on comparatively isolated thoroughfares than on the swarming +ones. A stream of women flowing into a big department store, exercised +an odd attraction for him. Safety lay, perhaps, among numbers; at least, +for the time, until he could devise a course of action. If he could +conceive of one! If-- + +He must; he would. Every nerve in his body seemed to respond. Had he not +embarked before this on desperate adventures; had he not fought in the +face of overwhelming odds, and managed to hold his head up? A peculiar +little smile played around the corner of his thin lips; it was like the +flash of light on a blade. He joined the inflowing eddy. + +Bargain day! He was crushed and crumpled but found himself ultimately on +a stool in the rear of the store. No; he didn't want any marked-down +collars or cuffs; he conveyed an impression to the solicitous clerk of +some one waiting for some one. Patiently, uncomplainingly! With an +unseeing eye for the hurrying and scurrying myriads! Time passed; he +remained oblivious to the babble of voices. Timon in the wilderness, +Diogenes in his tub, could not have been mentally more isolated from +annoying human consociation than was at the moment Mr. Heatherbloom, +perched on a rickety stool amid a conglomeration of females struggling +for lingerie. + +Suddenly he stirred. "Have you a book department?" he asked an employee. + +"Straight across; last aisle to the left." + +Mr. Heatherbloom got up; his tread was slow; a somnambulistic gleam +appeared in his eye. Yet he was very much awake; he had never felt more +keenly alert. He reached the book section. + +Did they have any Russian fiction? Oh, yes; what kind did he want, +nihilistic or psychological? _The Fire and Sword_ kind, whatever that +was; the second volume of the trilogy, if they had it in stock? Sure +they had; but had he read the first volume? No; he didn't want that; he +would begin in the middle of the trilogy. He always read trilogies that +way. + +The young lady in charge looked what she thought as she handed him the +book. He paid her; unfortunately it cost more than the popular novels of +the day. He rather gravely contemplated the few small bills he had left; +the amount of his capital would not carry him very far, especially if +unusual expenses should occur. Miss Van Rolsen still owed him a little +money but he didn't see how he could collect that now. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, armed with his book, sought a different part of the +store--- a small reception-room, where customers of both sexes were at +liberty to read, write, or indulge in mental rest-cure, after bargain +purchases. There he perused hurriedly, and by snatches, the volume; +there was plenty of fire and plenty of sword in it; human passions +bubbled and seethed. Suddenly he sat up straight and a suppressed +exclamation fell from his lips; he closed the book sharply. + +One or two old ladies looked at him but he did not see them. His vision, +clairvoyant-like, seemed to have lifted, to traverse broad seas, +limitless steppes. His hands opened and closed, as if striving to reach +and clutch something beyond flame of battle, scenes of rapine. + +He got up dizzily. As he stepped once more into the street, the shadows +had lengthened; twilight was falling. He stopped at a pawnbroker's, +purchased a revolver and cartridges. He might need the weapon now more +than ever. And money--he needed far more of that than he had. He spread +in his palm the little wad of greenbacks he took from his pocket; +counted them and a few silver pieces. Then seeking a ticket office, he +made a few casual inquiries; a shadow rested on his countenance as he +emerged from the place. + +Next door to it a pile of gold pieces in a bank window shone mockingly +before his eyes. So near--with only the plate-glass between him and the +bright discs! Mechanically he began to count them, but suddenly turned +from that profitless occupation and stood with his back to the window. + +What availed resolution without dollars? His purpose might be strong, +but poverty, a Brobdingnagian giant, laid its hand on his shoulder, +crushing him down, holding him there, impotent, until the stocky man and +his cohorts of the private detective office should come over and get +him--to send him to the little island he had thought of when crossing +the bridge to Brooklyn! + +He fell back into a doorway. More money!--he must get it; must! He +folded his arms tight over his breast. To think that this should be his +one great, crying need--his! + +Above, he heard footsteps descending the stairway at the foot of which +he stood; Mr. Heatherbloom slipped out of the passage to the sidewalk +and moved on. Chance took him back the way he had come; he had no choice +of direction. Now he looked once more at the window of the pawnbroker, +where he had stopped a short time before. He regarded the unredeemed +pledges; seal-rings, watches, flutes, old violins; what not? If he only +had something left; but all had gone--long ago. + +All? He started slightly; considered; walked on. But he turned around, +hesitatingly, and came slowly back. As he approached the door, his step +grew more resolute. He walked briskly in. Without giving the proprietor +time to come to the front of the shop, Mr. Heatherbloom moved at once to +the back where the other sat behind his dusty glass cases. + +"Here I am once more." He spoke with forced gaiety. + +"What you want to buy now?" + +"I don't want to buy anything; I want to sell something." + +The pawnbroker's interest in the visitor at once departed. + +"I have everythings! Everythings!" he grumbled. "Nearly every one wants +to sell. I have no room for noddings more. Good night!" + +"But I've something special," said Mr. Heatherbloom. As he spoke he took +from an inner pocket a little parcel in pink tissue-paper; he fingered +it a moment, removing an ivory miniature from a frame, passed the paper +quickly about the picture once more, and returned it to his pocket. Then +he handed the frame, over the case, to the pawnbroker. "What do you +think of that, my Christian friend?" he said with a show of jocularity +that didn't ring quite true. + +The pawnbroker bent his dull face close to the article; it was gold. A +pretty trinket, set with a number of brilliants, it might have come from +the Rue Royale or the Rue de la Paix. + +"Cost about five hundred francs," observed Mr. Heatherbloom, watching +the other closely. "One hundred dollars, without the duty." + +"Where'd you get it?" + +"None of your business." With a smile. + +The man moved toward a telephone at his back. "Do you know what I'm +going to do?" + +"I am curious." + +"'Phone the police." + +"Is that an invitation for me to depart? If so--" Mr. Heatherbloom +reached for the little gold frame. + +"Oh, no," said the man, retaining the graceful article. "The police will +find out who this belongs to." + +"Tut! tut!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly. Something on the edge of +the showcase pointed over it; the hand the proprietor professed to raise +toward the telephone fell to his side; he seemed about to call out. +"Don't!" said the visitor. "It's loaded; you saw me put in the +cartridges yourself. Your little game is very passe; I had it worked on +me once before, and placed you in your class--a fourth-rater, with a +crib for loot!" + +The other considered; this customer's manner was ominously quiet and +easy; he didn't like it. A telepathic message that flashed from the +gleaming gaze above the shining tube suggested an utterly frivolous +indifference to tragic consequences. The proprietor moved away from the +telephone. + +"Fifteen dollars," he said. + +"Twenty," breathed Mr. Heatherbloom insinuatingly. + +The man put his hand in his pocket and counted out the money. The caller +took it, said something in those same blithe significant accents about +what would happen if the other made a move in the next two or three +minutes, then vanished from the store. He did not keep to the busy +thoroughfare now, but shot into a side street. Would the pawnbroker hide +the frame and then call the police? It was quite possible he might thus +seek to get into their good graces and revenge himself at the same time. +Mr. Heatherbloom turned from dark byway to dark byway. He knew there was +a possibility that he might keep going throughout the night without +being taken; but what would he attain by so doing, how would that profit +him? + +He had to get back to New York at once, and as speedily as possible! +The shining face of a street clock that a short time before he had +looked at, admonished him there were no moments to spare, if he would +carry out his plan, his headstrong purpose--to verify or disprove a +certain wild theory--which would take him where, lead to what? No +matter! Above, between black shadows of tall buildings, he saw a star, +bright, beautiful. Something in him seemed to leap up to it--to that +light as frostily clear as her eyes! A taxi passed; he hailed it. + +"How much to Jersey City?" he asked in feverish tones. + +The man approximated a figure; it was large, but Mr. Heatherbloom at +once got in. + +"All right," he said. "Only let her go! I've a train to catch." + +"You don't want to land us in the police court, do you?" asked the +chauffeur. + +Mr. Heatherbloom devoutly hoped not. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +MISCALCULATIONS + +Two days later, on a bright afternoon, a young man stood on the edge of +a sea-wall called the Battery. It was not _the_ Battery, commanding a +view of the outgoing and incoming maritime traffic of the continent's +metropolis, but another Battery, overlooking another harbor, or estuary, +landlocked save for an entrance about a mile in width. Behind him lay, +not a great, but a little, city; hardly more than a big town; before him +a few vessels of moderate tonnage placidly plied the main or swash +channels. + +The scene was tranquilizing; nevertheless the young man appeared out of +harmony with it. His face wore a feverish flush; his eyes had a restless +gleam. He had only a short time before come to town, entering in +unconventional fashion. As the train had slackened at a siding on the +outskirts he had quietly, and unperceived, slipped off the back platform +of the rear car; then made his way by devious and little frequented side +streets to the sea-front. + +There, his eager gaze scanned the craft, moving in the open, or +motionless at the distant wharfs. An expression of acute disappointment +passed over his features; his eyes did not find what they sought. Had +that mad flight been for nothing? Had he but run into a new kind of +"pocket" here, all to no purpose? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat down; he was weary and worn. The dancing sparkles +laughed at him; he did not feel like "laughing back". Even as he leaned +against the parapet a newsboy close at hand called out: + +"All about the mysterious abduction! One of the miscreants traced to +this city! Superintendent of police warned of his probable arrival!" + +The lad looked at Mr. Heatherbloom as he shouted; that gentleman +returned his gaze with unflinching stolidness. + +"What abduction?" he asked. + +"Beautiful New York heiress." + +The voice passed on; the fugitive was once more alone with his thoughts. +If they had been wild, turbulent before, what were they now? His hands +closed; at the moment he did not bemoan his own probable fate, only the +fact that the clue bringing him here had been false--false! + +Another voice--this time a man's--accosted him. Mr. Heatherbloom sprang +swiftly to his feet but the person, an old darky, did not appear very +formidable. + +"Got a match, boss?" he inquired mildly. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's bright suspicious glance shot into the good-humored, +open look of the other; that person's manner betrayed no ulterior +motive. Perhaps he had not yet heard the newsboy; did not +know--Mechanically the young man answered that he did not possess the +article required, but the intruder still lingered; he had accosted the +other partly because of a desire for desultory conversation. Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a moment's careful scrutiny, showed a disposition to +be accommodating in this regard; he even took the initiative--suddenly, +asking question after question about this boat and that. Her name; when +she had come; where she was going; of what her cargo consisted? The +other replied willingly. Like many of his kind in the port, although he +could not read or write, he was wise in harbor-front knowledge, knew all +the floating tramps and the sailing craft. + +"I suppose it's always about the same old boats drop in here?" Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a little, observed insinuatingly. + +"Yes, always de same ole tubs," assented the darky. + +A shadow crossed the other's face, but he managed to assume a light air. +"Battered hulks and sailing brigs of a past generation, eh?" He put the +case strongly, but the darky only nodded smilingly. His strong point in +conversation was in agreeing with people; he even forgot patriotism +toward his own port in being amiable. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glanced now beyond them to the right and the left; but +no one whom he had reason to fear came within scope of his vision. His +figure relaxed. When would they come to take him? The newsboy's words +reiterated themselves in his mind. "Traced to this city!" Of course; +Miss Van Rolsen's millions were at the command of the secret-service +bureau; his description had been telegraphed far and wide. And when it +should be fruitful of results, what would become of his theory? +Nevertheless, he would go on, while he could, to the last. + +If he tried to explain they would consider it but a paltry blind to +cover his own criminality. He could expect no help from them; he had to +triumph or fail through his own efforts. To fail, certainly; it was +decreed. + +For the moment something in his breast pocket seemed to burn there, a +tiny object, now without the frame. Involuntarily he raised his hand; +then his figure swayed; the street waved up and down. He had eaten +little during the last two or three days. Scornfully in his own mind he +berated that momentary weakness and steadied himself. His eyes, cold and +clear, now returned to the colored man; he groped for and took up the +thread of the talk where he had left it. + +"Old hulks and brigs! You don't ever happen to have any really fine +boats come in here, do you? Like Mr. Morgan's big private yacht, for +example?" + +"No; we ain't never seen dat craft yere. Dis port's more for lumber +and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "I saw an item in the paper"--he strove to +speak unconcernedly--"a Marconigram--that a certain Russian prince's +private yacht--the _Nevski_--had damaged her propeller, or some other +part of her gear, and was being towed into this harbor for emergency +repairs." + +"Oh, yes, boss!" said the man. The listener took a firmer grip on the +parapet. "You done mean de big white boat w'at lies on de odder side ob +de island; can't see her from yere. Dey done fix her up mighty quick an' +she gwine ter lebe to-night." + +"Leave to-night!" Mr. Heatherbloom's face changed; suppressed eagerness, +expectancy shone from his eyes; he turned away to conceal it from the +other. "Looks like good fishing over there near the island," he observed +after a pause. + +"Tain't so much for fishin' as crabbin'," returned the other. + +"Crabbing!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "A grand sport! Now if--are you a +crabber?" The darky confessed that crabbing was his main occupation; his +boat swung right over there; for a dollar he would give the other +several hours' diversion. + +Mr. Heatherbloom accepted the offer with alacrity. A few moments later, +seated in a dilapidated cockle-shell, he found himself slamming over the +water. The boat didn't ship the tops of many seas but it took in enough +spray over the port bow to drench pretty thoroughly the passenger. In +the stern, the darky handling the sheet of a small, much patched sail, +kept himself comparatively dry. But Mr. Heatherbloom didn't seem to mind +the drenching; though the briny drops stung his cheek, his face +continued ever bent forward, toward a point of land to the right of +which lay the island that came ever nearer, but slowly--so slowly! + +He could see the top of the spars of a vessel now over the high +sand-hills; his body bent toward it; in his eyes shone a steely light. +Their little boat drew closer to the near side of the island; the +hillocks stood up higher; the tapering topmasts of the craft on the +other side disappeared. The crabber's cockle-shell came to anchor in a +tranquil sandy cove. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, although inwardly chafing, felt obliged to restrain +impatience; he could not afford to awaken the darky's suspicions, +therefore he simulated interest and--"crabbed". He enjoyed a streak of +good luck, but his artificial enthusiasm soon waned. He at length +suggested trying the other side of the island, whereupon his pilot +expostulated. + +What more did his passenger want? The latter thought he would stretch +his legs a bit on the shore; it made him stiff to sit still so long. He +would get out and walk around--he had a predilection for deserted +islands. While he was gratifying his fancy the darky could return to his +more remunerative business of gathering in the denizens of the deep. + +Five minutes later Mr. Heatherbloom stood on the sandy beach; he started +as if to walk around the island but had not gone far before he turned +and moved at a right angle up over the sand-hill. The dull-hued bushes +that somehow found nourishment on the yellow mound now concealed his +figure from the boatman; the same hardy vegetation afforded him a +shelter from the too inquisitive gaze of any persons on the yacht when +he had gained the summit of the sands. + +There, he peered through the leaves down upon a beautiful vessel. She +lay near the shore; whatever her injury, it seemed to have been repaired +by this time for few signs of life were apparent on or about her. Steam +was up; a faint dun-colored smoke swept, pennon-like, from her white +funnels. Some one was inspecting her stern from a platform swung over +the rail, and to Mr. Heatherbloom's strained vision this person's +interest, or concern, centered in the mechanism of her rudder. The +trouble had been there no doubt, and if so, the yacht had probably come, +or been brought near the island at high water, and at low tide any +damage she might have suffered had been attended to. Her injury must +have been more vexatious than serious. Would she, as the darky had +affirmed, leave when the tide was once more at its full? Her lying in +the outer, instead of in the inner harbor, seemed significant. Time +passed; the person on the platform regained the deck and disappeared. In +the bushes the watcher suddenly started. + +Something at one of the port windows had caught his glance. A ribbon? A +fluttering bit of lace? A woman's features that phantom-like had come +and vanished? He looked hard--so steadily that spots began to dance +before his sight, but he could not verify that first impression. Yet he +remained. The shadows on the furze grew longer, falling in strange +angular shapes down the hillside; the sun dipped low. At length Mr. +Heatherbloom, after the manner of one who had made up his mind to +something, abruptly rose. + +He walked back toward the cove where he had disembarked. As he drew near +the darky caught sight of him, pulled up "anchor" and paddled his boat +to the shore. But Mr. Heatherbloom did not at once get in; his eyes +rested on the bushel or so of freshly caught, bubble-blowing crabs. He +strove to appear calm and matter-of-fact. + +"What do you expect to get for them?" he asked, pointing. + +"'Bout fifty cents de dozen, boss. Crab market ain't what it ought ter +be jest now." + +"Why don't you try to sell them to the yacht over there?" Mr. +Heatherbloom managed to speak carelessly but it was a difficult task. + +"Jest becos she is 'over there', boss," returned the darky lazily. +"Mighty swift tide sweeping around de head of dat island!" he +explained. + +"And you don't like rowing against it?" Quickly. "See here, I'll tell +you what I'll do. I like a bit of exercise, and just for the gamble, +I'll give you sixty cents a dozen for the lot, and keep all I can get +over that. The owner of that craft is a Russian and all Russians like +sea food. When they can't get caviar, they'll no doubt make a bid for +crabs." + +"Dat sounds like berry good argumentation, boss. Make it +seventy"--avarice struggling on the dusky countenance--"an'--" + +"Done!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, endeavoring to disguise the fierce +eagerness welling within him. "Here's on account!" Tossing his last bill +to the other. "And now, get out. It'll be easier pulling without you." + +The darky grinned and obeyed. This was a strenuous passenger truly, not +averse to stiff rowing, after a stiff walk, "jest for pleasure". But the +dusky pilot had met these anomalous white beings before--"spo'tsmen", +they called themselves. And a certain sense of humor, as Mr. +Heatherbloom sat down to the oars, caused the colored man involuntarily +to hum: _I'se got a white man a-workin' for me_. He had only finished a +bar or two, however, when the tune abruptly ceased on his lips. "Dat's +too bad," he said. "I guess de deal's off, boss." Regretfully. + +"Eh?" Mr. Heatherbloom looked around. He meant to keep the man to his +bargain now, by force if necessary. + +"Look dar!" continued the darky. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did look in the direction indicated. A puff of black +smoke could be seen rising over the island, and--significant fact!--the +dark smudge seemed to be crawling along beyond the sky-line of the +sand-hill. The young man turned pale. + +"It's de Russian yacht, boss. She's under way all right!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to gaze. Where the island was lower he saw +the topmasts moving along--then the boat herself, white, beautiful, +swinging out from behind, with bow pointed seaward and steaming fast. + +"Dat's too bad," murmured the colored man. "I done be powerful +disappointed, boss!" + +The other did not answer. Going! going! He had waited too long to board +her. He could not reach her now--he would never reach her. The flame of +the dying sun flared in Mr. Heatherbloom's face, but he continued +motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +ON THE ROAD + +Gone! It was the only word he, could think of. Every thought, every +emotion centered around it. He could not reason or argue. No plan +occurred to him now. He continued to sit still, seeing but one +picture--a boat vanishing. Night had begun to fall as they returned to +the city. Its lights played mockingly in the darkness. Mr. Heatherbloom +viewed them with apathetic gaze. The secret-service man, the chief of +police and his assistants were on shore somewhere waiting to capture +him, but he did not care. Let them take him now! What did it matter? + +When the boat reached land he got out like an automaton. Perhaps he made +answer to the darky's last cheerful good night, but if so he spoke +without knowing it. The boatman let him go, willingly; Mr. Heatherbloom +hadn't asked for his last bill back again and the other overlooked +reminding him of his remissness. The greenback was considerably more +than the fare. + +Indifferent to his fate, Mr. Heatherbloom moved on; no one molested him. +He walked along dark highways, not through fear of being apprehended, +but because his mood was dark. He did not even notice where he went; he +just kept going. He forgot he was hungry, but at length, as in a dream, +he began to realize a physical weariness. Overwrought nature asserted +itself; he was not made of iron; his muscles responded reluctantly. +Without observing his surroundings, he sank listlessly to the earth; the +cool grass received his exhausted frame. Beyond, some distance away, the +lights of the city threw now a sullen glow on the sky. All was +comparatively still about him; the noise of the city was replaced by the +lighter sound of vehicles on the well kept, almost non-resounding +country road. It seemed to be a main thoroughfare, but with little life +and animation about it at that evening hour. A buggy did go by +occasionally, however, and, not far from Mr. Heatherbloom, at a curb, +stood a motor-car. + +He had suffered himself to relax on the ground in front of a small house +set well back among spectral-looking trees and surrounded by a stone +wall overgrown with foliage. Mr. Heatherbloom remained unmindful of his +surroundings. The lamps of the car near by were not lighted; a single +figure on the front seat was barely distinguishable. Now this person got +down and lighted a cigarette; he seemed restless, walked to and fro, and +glanced once or twice at the house. From a single window a faint light +gleamed; then it vanished, only to reappear a few moments later at +another window. Among the masses of foliage fireflies glistened; a +tree-toad began to make a sound but almost immediately stopped. The +front door had apparently opened and some person or persons came out. +The faint crunchings on the gravel indicated more than one person. Now +they stepped on the grass, for there were no audible indications of +their approach. The man near the machine threw quickly away his +cigarette and opened the door of the car. Several people, issuing from +the gate, crossed the sidewalk and got in. Mr. Heatherbloom was hardly +aware of the fact; they seemed but unmeaning shadows. + +The driver bent over and lighted one of his lamps. As he did so, the +flare revealed for an instant his face--square, rather handsome and +bearded. A faint flicker of interest, for some reason undefinable to +himself at the moment, swept over Mr. Heatherbloom. He had been lying +where the grass was tall and now raised himself on his elbow, the better +to peer over the waving tops. The car had gathered headway and swung out +into the road, when suddenly some one in it laughed and uttered an +exclamation in a foreign tongue. That musical note--a word he did not +understand--was wafted to Mr. Heatherbloom. It acted upon him like a +galvanic shock; he sprang to his feet and, bewildered, stared after the +machine. What had happened; was he dreaming? He could hardly at first +believe the evidence of his senses, for the laugh, coming back to him in +the night, was that of the woman for whom he had procured employment at +Miss Van Rolsen's. He could have sworn to the fact now. And the man +whose countenance he had so briefly seen was, no doubt, of her own +nationality--a Russian! + +Involuntarily, without realizing what he did, Mr. Heatherbloom started +to run in the direction the car had gone, but he soon stopped. What +madness!--to attempt to catch a sixty-horse-power machine! Why, it was +nearly a mile away already. The young man stood stock-still while a +cogent reaction swept over him. The woman had passed within fifty feet +of where he had lain, head near the earth, moping. A mocking desire to +atone for a great remissness found him impotent. There seemed nothing +for him to do now but to reconcile himself to the irreconcilable, to +stay here, while every desire urged him to follow her, to learn why this +woman was in the car and who was with her. Naturally, he had expected +she would be on the yacht now steaming away out to sea, and here she +was. A new enigma confronted him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to stand in the center of the road. His head +whirled; he panted hard, out of breath from his recent dash. A loud +honk! honk! from another machine coming unexpectedly up behind, caused +him to leap aside just in time. The second car whizzed by, although +obeying an impulse born on the instant, he called out wildly, waving his +arms to bring it to a halt. If they saw his strange motions--which was +unlikely, the night being dark--they did not heed them. Soon the second +machine was some distance away; then its rear light gleamed like a +vanishing coal and suddenly disappeared altogether around a bend of the +road. + +He looked back; no other vehicle of any description was in sight now. +But it profited nothing to continue passive, immovable. He had to act, +to walk on, no matter how slowly; his face, at least, was set in the +direction the woman had gone. How long it took him to reach the turn of +the thoroughfare he could not tell, but at length there, he came again +to an abrupt stop. Some distance ahead in the road appeared a machine, +motionless--waiting, or broken down. + +Which car was it? The one containing the woman, or the other that came +after? If the former--He pressed on eagerly, yet keeping to the shadows, +alive once more to the need of caution. His heart pounded hard; he could +see a form passing in front of the machine; the light of the lamp +enabled him now to make out the other occupants--three men. No woman was +with them. This became poignantly, irrefutably evident as he drew +nearer. He could see plainly the empty car and the trio of figures; he +could hear them talking but was not yet able to distinguish what they +said. These were the people whose attention he had tried to attract back +there in the road. His purpose then, occurring to him in a flash, +renewed itself strongly now. He would ask their aid; circumstances might +enable him to do so now with better grace. He had had a good deal of +experience with cars of divers kinds and makes at different times in the +past. Why not proffer these strangers his fairly expert services? He +felt sure he could soon learn, and repair, what was wrong with the +machine. Having made himself useful, he could then intimate that a +"lift" down the road would be acceptable. And he would probably get it. + +But he did not carry out his intention. Something he heard as he came +closer to them caused him to hesitate and reconsider. Mixed with +anathemas directed against the car, of rather a cheap type, were words +that had for him more than passing significance. These men were after +some one, and that the some one was none other than himself, Mr. +Heatherbloom soon became fully convinced. Fate had been kinder to him +than he knew when he had endeavored, and failed, to win their notice. He +crouched back now against a rail fence; their low disgruntled tones were +still borne to him. For some moments they continued to work over the +machine without apparently being able to set it to rights. + +"If this goes on much longer," said one of them, "he'll get away from +Brownville." + +"Providin' he's there!" grumbled another. "People are always seeing an +escaped criminal in a dozen different localities at the same time." + +Brownville! The listener soon divined, from a sentence dropped here and +there, that the place was a little fishing village a short distance down +the coast. He surmised, also, that they had by this time the main harbor +of the city fairly watched as far as outgoing vessels were concerned, +and were reaching out to prevent a possible exit from the smaller +community. Fishing craft leaving from there could easily take out a +fugitive and thus enable him to escape. This contingency the authorities +were now endeavoring to avert; that they also had some kind of a clue, +pointing to their present destination and inciting them to make haste +thither, was evident from the skeptical remark Mr. Heatherbloom had +overheard. + +A series of explosions, as sudden as spasmodic, broke in on the +listener's thoughts. "Hurray!" said one. "We're off!" + +And they were, quickly. Mr. Heatherbloom also moved with extreme +abruptness and expedition. Waiting in the shadow until they had all +sprung into the car and the machine had fairly started, he then darted +forward, seized a strap and clinging as best he might, hoisted himself +to the place in the rear designed for a trunk. One desire only, in +resorting to this expedient, moved him--to get in touch as soon as +possible, if possible, with the other car. This machine, of inferior +build, suggested, it is true, a dubious way to that end but it was the +best that offered. + +He did not see the incongruity of his position, of being a passenger, +though secretly and surreptitiously, of the car containing those +embarked on a mission so closely concerning himself. Instead of fleeing +from them he was actually courting their company, pursuing himself, as +it were! At another time he might have smiled; now the situation had for +him nothing of the comic; it was tragically grim, also decidedly +unpleasant. A strong odor of gasolene permeated his nostrils until he +was nearly suffocated by it and all the dust, stirred by their flight, +swirled up on him, making it difficult to refrain from coughing. +Fortunately the machine had a monopoly on noises, and any sound from him +would have passed unnoticed. He had ridden the "bumpers" not so long ago +on freights, and, perforce, indulged in kindred uncomfortable methods of +free transportation in the course of his recent career, but he had never +experienced anything quite so little to be desired as this. + +The driver had begun to speed; as if to make up for lost time, he was +forcing the engine to its limit. The machine, of light construction, +shook violently, negotiated the steep places with jumps and slid down on +the other side with breakneck velocity. The dust thickened about Mr. +Heatherbloom's head so that he could scarcely see. His arms ached and +every bump nearly tore him loose. He wound the strap around his wrist +and strove to ensconce himself deeper in a place not large enough for +him. He was on an edge all the time, and felt as if he were falling +over every moment; the edge, too, was sharp and dug into him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, however, had little thought of bodily discomfort; he +was more concerned in making progress and the difficulty of maintaining +his position. His only fear was that he would be compelled to abandon +his place because his physical energy might not be equal to the demands +put upon it. He set his teeth now and began to count the seconds. The +faster they went, the better was his purpose served; he strove to find +encouragement in the thought. The other car could make a superior +showing in the way of speed, but it might stop voluntarily somewhere +after a while, or something might happen to arrest its progress. The +race did not always belong to the swift. He endeavored to formulate some +plan as to just what he would do if he did finally manage to overtake +the woman and her party, but at length ceased trying. Sufficient unto +the moment were the problems thereof; he could but strive in the +present. He dispelled the fear that he could not hold on much longer, +and filled himself with new determination not to yield. But even as he +did so, a bigger bump than any they had yet encountered jerked him +abruptly from his place. + +When finally he managed to collect himself and his senses and sit up +uncertainly in the road, the car was far away. The snap of exploding +gasolene grew faint--fainter--then ceased altogether. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +IN THE NIGHT + +A wayworn figure, some time thereafter, moved slowly along the deserted +road, where it ran like a winding ribbon over the top of a great bluff. +A sea wind, coming in varying gusts, bent low the long grass and rustled +in the bushes. The moon had escaped from behind dark clouds in a stormy +sky and threw its rays far and wide. They imparted a frosty sheen to the +wavy surface between road and sea and brightened the thoroughfare, +which, lengthening tortuously, disappeared beneath in a tangle of forest +or underbrush. + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed wearily down the road, then over the grass. In +the latter direction, afar, a strip of ocean lay like an argent stream +flowing between the top of the bank and the horizon. Toward that +illusory river he, leaving the main highway, walked in somewhat +discouraged fashion. It might avail him little, so much time had +elapsed, but from the edge of the bluff he would be afforded a view of +the surrounding country and the topography of the coast. + +A vast spread of the ocean unfolded to his gaze before he had reached +the brink of the prominence. His heavy-lidded eyes, sweeping to the +right, rested on a heterogeneous group of dwellings scattered well above +the sands and directly below a wooded uprising of land. Myriad specks of +light glimmered amid shadowy roofs. Brownville? Undoubtedly! A board +walk ran along the ocean and a small pier extended like an arm over the +water. On the faintly glistening sands old boats, drawn up here and +there, resembled so many black footprints. + +Not far from where Mr. Heatherbloom stood a path went downward, a +shorter way to the village than by the road he had just left. He stared +unthinkingly a moment at the narrow walk; then began mechanically to +descend. A dull realization weighed on him that when he reached his +destination the woman would be far away. He wondered why he had gone on, +under the circumstances--why he had ever thought he stood a ghost of a +chance of overtaking her? Only the hopelessness of the situation, in all +its grim verity, faced him now. + +The path zigzagged through the bushes. At a turn the village was lost to +sight; in front was a sheer fall to the sea. As he kept on, projecting +branches struck him and raising his hand to guard his face, he, tripped +and almost fell. Recovering himself, he glanced down; something had +caught on his shoe and he leaned over to loosen it. His fingers closed +on a long strip of soft substance--a veil, the kind worn by women +motoring! Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes rested on it apathetically, then with +a sudden flash of interest; a faint but heavy perfume emanated from the +silky filament. It was darkish in hue--brown, he should say; the Russian +woman was partial to that color. The thought came to him quickly; he +stood bewildered. What if it were hers? Then how had it come here, on +this narrow foot-path, unless--Had the big car stopped at the top of the +promontory and discharged its passengers there? But why should it have +done so; for what possible reason? + +He could think of none. Other women came this way--the path was not +difficult. Other women wore brown veils. And yet that odd familiar +fragrance--It seemed to belong to a foreign bizarre personality such as +Sonia Turgeinov's. + +Crushing in his palm the veil he thrust it into his pocket. He would +find out more below, possibly; if she had actually passed this way. A +feverish zest was born anew; the authorities were looking for her as +well as for himself, he remembered. She, apparently, had so far cleverly +evaded them; if he could but lead them to her he would not mind so much +his own apprehension. Her presence in the locality at the same time the +_Nevski_ had been in the harbor would fairly prove the correctness of +his theory of Miss Dalrymple's whereabouts. If he could now deliver the +Russian woman into the hands of the law, he would have a wedge to force +the powers that be to give credence to at least the material part of his +story--that the prince had left port with the young girl--and to compel +them to see the necessity of acting at once. That he, himself, would be +held equally culpable with the woman was of no moment. + +Fatigue seemed to fall from his shoulders. He went along more swiftly, +inspired with new vague hopes. Down--down! The voice of the sea grew +nearer; now he could hear the dull thud of the waves, then the weird +whistling sounds that succeeded. Springing from a granite out-jutting to +the sands, he looked eagerly, searchingly, this way and that. He saw no +one. His gaze lowered and he walked from the dry to the wet strand. +There he stopped, an exclamation escaping his lips. + +A faint light, falling between black rocks, revealed fresh footprints on +the surface of the sands, and, yes!--a long furrow--the marks of the +keel of a boat. He studied the footprints closer, but without +discovering signs of a woman's; only the indentations of heavy seamen's +boots were in evidence. Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a keen +disappointment; then felt abruptly reassured. The impress of her lighter +tread had been eliminated by the men in lifting and pushing to launch +the boat. Their boots had roughly kicked up the sand thereabouts. + +He was fairly satisfied the woman had embarked. The seclusion of the +spot favored the assumption; the fishing-boats were all either stranded, +or at anchor, nearer the village. But why and whither had she gone? The +ocean, in front, failed to answer the latter question, and his glance +turned. On the one hand was the village; on the other, high, almost +perpendicular rocks ran seaward, obscuring the view. It would not be +easy to get around that point; without a boat it could not be done. + +Mr. Heatherbloom began to walk briskly toward the village; the moon +threw his shadow in odd bobbing motions here and there. Once he stopped +abruptly; some one on the beach afar was approaching. A fisherman? Mr. +Heatherbloom crouched back among the rocks, when the person came to a +halt. Clinging to the shadows on the landward side of the beach the +young man continued to advance, but cautiously, for a single voice might +now start a general hue and cry. Beyond, closer to town, he could see +other forms, small dark moving spots. Not far distant, however, lay the +nearest boat; to get to her he had to expose himself to the pale +glimmer. No alternative remained. He stepped quickly across the sand, +reached the craft and strove to launch her. But she was clumsy and +heavy, and resisted his efforts. The man, whoever he might be, was +coming closer; he called out and Mr. Heatherbloom pushed and struggled +more desperately--without avail! He cast a quick glance over his +shoulder; the man was running toward him--his tones now rang out loudly, +authoritatively. Mr. Heatherbloom did not obey that stern command to +halt; instead he made a wild abrupt dash for the sea. The report of a +revolver awoke the echoes and a bullet whizzed close. Recklessly he +plunged into the water. + +The man on the shore emptied his weapon, but with what success he could +not tell. A head amid the dark waves was not easily discernible. Another +and larger object, however, was plainly apparent about a hundred yards +from land--a fishing-boat that swung at anchor. Would the other succeed +in reaching it, for that was, no doubt, his purpose, or had one of the +leaden missives told? The man, with weapon hot, waited. He scanned the +water, then looked toward the town. A number of figures on the beach +were hastening in his direction; from the pier afar, a naphtha put out; +he could hear faintly the sound of the engine. + +Suddenly, above the boat at anchor near the man on shore, a sail shot +up, then fluttered and snapped in the wind. A moment later it was drawn +in, the line holding the craft to the buoy slipped out, and the bow +swung sharply around. Mr. Heatherbloom worked swiftly; one desire moved +him--to get around that point before being overtaken--to discover what +lay beyond. Then let happen what would! He reached for a line and +hoisted a jib, though it was almost more canvas than his small craft +could carry. She careened and plunged, throwing the spray high. He +turned a quick glance back toward the naphtha. The sky had become +overcast, and distant objects were not so easily discernible on the +surface of the water, but he made out her lights--two! She was head on +for him. + +He looked steadily ahead again. The grim line of out-jutting rocks--a +black shadow against the sky--exercised a weird fascination for him. He +was well out in the open now where the wind blew a half-gale. His figure +was wet from the sea but he felt no chill. Suddenly the hand gripping +the tiller tightened, and his heart gave a great bound; then sank. Not +far from that portentous point of land he saw another light--green! A +boat was emerging from the big basin of water beyond. The starboard +signal, set high above the waves, belonged to no small craft such as the +woman had embarked in. The sight of it fitted a contingency that had +flashed through his brain on the beach. The realization left him +helpless now--his last opportunity was gone! + +He shifted the tiller violently, recklessly. At that moment a shrill +whistle from behind reminded him once more of the naphtha; he could have +laughed. What was the wretched little puffing thing to him now? The +single green light--that alone was the all in all. It belonged to the +_Nevski_ he was sure; for one reason or another she had but made +pretense of going to sea, and, instead, had come here--to wait. The +woman was on her now, and, also--The thought maddened him. + +Again that piercing whistle! The naphtha was coming up fast; amid the +turmoil of his thoughts he realized this vaguely. He did not wish to +find himself delivered unto them yet--not just yet! A wilder +recklessness seized him. Clouds sped across the heavens like gripping +furies' hands; the water ran level to his boat's gunwales but he refused +to ease her. All the while he was drawing nearer the single green +light--a mocking light, signal of a mocking chase that had led, and +could lead, to nothing. Still he went on, tossed by the waves--sport of +them. He had to play the play out. Oh, to see better, to visualize to +the utmost the last scene of his poignant drama of failure! + +In the naphtha some one's voice belched through a megaphone; he laughed +outright now. Come and get him, if they wanted him! He would give them +as merry a dash as possible. His boat raced madly through the +water--nearer, yet nearer the green light. Now a large dark outline +loomed before him; he would have to stop, to come about in a moment, +or--A great wave struck him, half filling his boat, but he did not seem +to notice. + +A dazzling white glow suddenly surrounded him; from the naphtha a +search-light had been flashed. It fell on him fully, sprinkled over on +the wild hurtling waves beyond, and just touched the side of the +outgoing vessel. Mr. Heatherbloom looked toward the vessel and his +pupils dilated. The light leaped into the air with the motion of the +naphtha, and, in an instant was gone, but the impress of a single detail +remained on his retina--of a side ladder, lowered, no doubt, for the +woman, and not yet hoisted into place on the big boat. + +The wildness of the sea seemed to surge through Mr. Heatherbloom's +veins; he did not come about; he did not try to. Now it was too late! +That ladder!--he would seize it as they swept by. Closer his boat ran; a +swirl of water caught him, threw him from his course. He made a frantic +effort to regain it but without avail. The big steel bow of the great +boat struck and overwhelmed the little craft. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +THE CRISIS + +On the _Nevski_, the lookout forward walked slowly back and forth. Once +or twice he shook his head. But a few moments before the yacht had run +down a small boat, he had reported the matter, and--the _Nevski_ had +continued ahead, full speed. She had not even slackened long enough to +make the usual futile pretense of extending assistance to the +unfortunate occupant, or occupants. His excellency, Prince Boris, +evidently did not wish, or had no time, to bother with blunderers; if +they got in his way so much the worse for them. The lookout, pausing to +stare once more ahead, suddenly started. Though apathetic, like most of +the lower class of his countrymen, he uttered a faint guttural of +surprise and peered over the bow. A voice had seemed to rise from the +very seething depths of the sea. Naturally superstitious, he made the +sign of the cross on his breast while tales of dead seamen who came back +played through his dull fancy. + +Once more he heard it--that voice that seemed to mingle with the wailing +tones of the deep! The little swinging lantern beneath the bowsprit +played on his bearded face as he bent farther forward, and, with growing +wonder not unmixed with fear, now made out something dark clinging to +one of the steel lines that ran from the projecting timber to the ship. +It took the lookout a few moments to realize that this dark object that +had a voice--albeit a faint one--could not be other than a recent +occupant of the small boat he had seen disappear. This person must have +leaped upward at the critical moment, and caught one of the taut strands +upon which he had somehow managed to hoist himself and to which he now +clung desperately. It was a precarious position and one that the motion +of the yacht made but briefly tenable. + +Satisfied that the dark object was a reality and not an unwonted +visitation, the lookout began deliberately to unloosen a gasket. Moments +might be eternity to the man below, but Muscovite slowness is not to be +hurried. The yacht's bow poised in mid air a breathless instant; chaos +seemed leaping upward toward Mr. Heatherbloom, when something--a +line--struck and rubbed against his cheek. He seized and trusted himself +to it eagerly. The sailor was strong; he pulled in the rope. Mr. +Heatherbloom came up, but his strength was almost gone. He would have +let go when iron fingers closed on his wrists, and after that he +remembered no more. + +He awoke in a berth in a fo'castle, and it was daylight. Through a +partly-opened hatch he could see the fine spray that came over the side +of the yacht. Amid misty particles touched by the sun shone a tiny +segment of rainbow. This Mr. Heatherbloom watched with a kind of +childish interest; then stretched himself more luxuriously on the hard +bunk. It was very fine having nothing more important and arduous to do +than watching prismatic hues; his thoughts floated back to long +forgotten wonder-days when he had possessed that master-marvel of toys, +a kaleidoscope, and on occasion had importantly permitted the +golden-haired child in the big house on the top of the hill to-- + +The dream was abruptly dispelled by some one laying a tarry hand on his +shoulder. Mr. Heatherbloom raised himself. The person had a +characteristic Russian face. For a moment the young man stared at the +stolid features, then looked around him. He saw the customary +furnishings of such a place; hammocks, bags and chests, several of the +last marked with Russian characters. A trace of color sprang to Mr. +Heatherbloom's face; he realized now what boat he was actually on, and +what it all meant to him. He could hardly believe, however, and +continued to regard the upside down odd lettering, when the sailor, who +had so unceremoniously disturbed him, motioned him to get out. Mr. +Heatherbloom obeyed; he felt very stiff and somewhat light-headed, but +he steadied himself against the woodwork. The sailor drew a dipperful +of hot tea from a samovar and thrust it into his hand. He drank with +avidity; after which the sailor made him to understand he was to follow. + +The young man hesitated--a new risk confronted him. To whom would he be +taken? The prince? He had once been standing in the area way of the Van +Rolsen house when the nobleman had approached. Had the distinguished +visitor then been so absorbed in the sight of Miss Dalrymple coming down +the steps that he had utterly failed to observe the humble caretaker of +canines? Possibly--and again possibly not. In the former contingency he +might yet have a brief breathing-spell to think--to plan for the future, +unless--There was another to reckon with--the woman he had met in the +park, whose automobile he had attempted to follow. She, too, was on the +boat! He had been her dupe once. Was he now to become her victim? + +The young man's jaw set. There was no holding back now, however; he had +to go on--and he did, with seeming indifference and bold enough step. +At the top of the ladder the sailor passed him on to some one else--an +officer--who led him this way and that until they reached a secluded +part of the deck, where, near the rail, stood a tall dark figure, glass +in hand. Until the last moment Mr. Heatherbloom had hoped it might be +only the captain he would be called on to encounter, and that that +august person would summarily dispose of him, ordering him somewhere out +of sight, below, to work his passage in the sailors' galley, perhaps. He +would have welcomed the most ignominious service to have found now a +respite--to be enabled to escape discovery a little longer. But the +wished-for contingency had not arisen. He faced the inevitable. + +"The man, your Excellency!" + +His excellency looked. He had been scanning the horizon and his +expression was both moody and preoccupied. Mr. Heatherbloom bent +slightly forward; his lids fell to conceal a sudden glitter in his eyes; +his hand touched something hard in his pocket. If his excellency +recognized him--There was one way--a last mad desperate way to serve, +to save her. It would be the end-all for him, but his life was a very +small thing to give to her. He did not value it greatly--that physical +self that had been such an ill servant. He gazed at the prince now with +veiled expectancy, his attitude seemingly relaxed, innocent of +strenuosity. Would the prince's gaze flare back with a spark of +remembrance? If in that tense instant it had done so, then-- + +But his excellency regarded Mr. Heatherbloom blankly; his eyes were +emotionless. + +"You mean the fellow we ran down?" The prince spoke as if irritated by +the intrusion. + +"The same, Excellency!" The officer stepped back. Mr. Heatherbloom did +not move. + +"What did you get in our way for?" The prince's voice had a metallic +ring; he towered, harshly arrogant, over his uninvited passenger. "Don't +you know enough to get out of the way?" + +"It appears not, sir." Heatherbloom wondered at the sound of his own +voice. It seemed to come, small and quiet, from so far off. His +excellency had not recognized him, but was he suspicious? Maybe not. No +one would be fool enough to get deliberately in the way of the +fast-steaming _Nevski_. Small craft were numerous in the bay and +accidents to them would happen. There was nothing so out of the ordinary +for a big boat to run down a tiny craft. It was somewhat uncommon for +any one in the wee boat to save himself, truly, but even in this feature +of the present case the prince experienced but a mild interest. + +"Who are you?" he said. "A fisherman?" + +"Not exactly," answered Mr. Heatherbloom, "though sometimes I crab. I +was crabbing yesterday." + +As he spoke his gaze swept beyond to not far-distant cabin doors and +windows. He and the prince were standing on the starboard side of the +boat; it was this side that had faced the island when the young man had +gazed down upon the yacht from the big sand-hill, and fancied he had +seen-- + +"What am I going to do with you?" The prince seemed more out of temper +now. "My crew are all Russians and I don't want any of your--" He +stopped; shifting lights played ominously in his gaze; a few +dissatisfied lines on his face deepened. "I didn't ask you to come +aboard," he ended with an angry gesture. + +"Sorry to intrude!" Mr. Heatherbloom spoke at random. "But I really +couldn't help it, don't you know. No time to ask permission." + +His excellency frowned. Did he suspect in these words an attempt at that +insidious American humor he had often vainly endeavored to fathom? Mr. +Heatherbloom gazed at him now with seemingly innocent but really very +attentive eyes. + +A superb specimen of over six feet of masculinity, the prince was +picturesquely attired in Russian yachting-garb while a Cossack cap +adorned a visage as bold and romantic as any young woman might wish to +gaze upon. And gazing upon it himself--that rather stunning picture the +prince presented on his own yacht--a sudden chill ran through Mr. +Heatherbloom. This titled paragon refused by Miss Dalrymple? A feudal +lord who made your dapper French counts and Hungarian barons appear but +small fry indeed, by contrast! The light of the sea seemed suddenly to +dazzle Mr. Heatherbloom. A wild thought surged through his brain. Betty +Dalrymple, bewildering, confusing, made up of captivating +inconsistencies, had sometimes been accused by people of a capacity for +doing the wildest things. Had she for excitement--or any other +reason--eloped with the prince? Were they, perhaps, married even now? He +dismissed the thought quickly. All the circumstances pointed against +this theory; his original one was--must be--correct. + +"Well, now you are here, I suppose I've got to keep you." The prince had +again spoken. + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Heatherbloom absently. He was studying now the +near-by cabin windows. One, with beautiful lace and glimpses of pink +beyond, caught his glance. + +"What can you do?" Sharply. + +"Oh, a lot of things!" Had the curtain waved? His heart thumped hard--he +scarcely saw the prince now. + +"Not manage a sail-boat, I'm convinced." He forced himself to turn +again, as through a mist was aware of his excellency's sneering +countenance. "Judging from your recent performance!" + +"That was hardly a fair test," Mr. Heatherbloom replied anyhow. His +thoughts were keyed to a straining-point; his glance _would_ swerve; he +strove his best to control it. She was there--there--Shrouds and stays +seemed to sing the words. He would have sworn he caught the flash of a +white wrist. + +"Why not?" Was the prince still examining, questioning him? Again a +primal impulse was suppressed, though his muscles were like whipcords. +He yet compelled himself to endure the ordeal. What was the query about? +Ah, he remembered. + +"Well, you see, I must have lost my head." It was not a bright answer +but he did not care; it was the best that occurred. + +The prince strode restlessly away a few paces, then returned. "Were you +ever at sea before?" + +"I once owned a y----" Mr. Heatherbloom paused--with an effort resumed +his part and a smile somewhat strained: "I once went on a cruise on a +gentleman's yacht." Some one _was_ in the state-room; was overhearing. +His head hummed; the refrain of the taut lines rang louder. + +"What as? Cabin-boy, cook?" + +"Why, you see--" The prince certainly did not see him--he was once more +staring away, over the dark water--"I acted in a good many capacities. +Kind of general utility, as it were. Doing this, that, and the other!" + +"'The other', I should surmise." Contemptuously. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved; the curtain had moved again. "Where are you +going?" he asked a little wildly. "You see I might have important +business on shore." Foolish talk,--yet it fitted in as well as anything. + +The prince, for his part, did not at first seem to catch the other's +words; when he did he laughed loudly, sardonically. "That is good; +excellent! _You_ have 'important business'!" + +"Yes; important," repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "I--" He got no further. +His eyes met another's at the window, rested a moment on a woman's face +which then suddenly vanished. But not before he realized that she, too, +had seen him--seen and recognized. He had caught in that fleeting +instant, wonder, irony, incredulity--a growing understanding! Then he +heard a soft laugh--a musical but devilish laugh--Sonia Turgeinov's! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES + +Mr. Heatherbloom stood as if stunned, his face very pale. For the +instant all his suppressed emotion concentrated on this woman--his evil +genius--who had betrayed him before and who would betray him again, now. +He waited, breathing hard. Why did she not appear? Why did not the blow +fall? He could not understand that interval--nothing happening. Was she +but playing with him? The prince had abruptly turned; apparently he had +not heard that very low laugh. Bored, no doubt, by the interview, he had +started to walk away, almost at the same time Mr. Heatherbloom had +caught sight of the face at the window. As in a dream Mr. Heatherbloom +now heard his excellency's brusk voice addressing a command to the +officer, listened to the latter a moment or two later, addressing him. + +"Come along!" The officer's English was labored and guttural. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes swung swiftly from the near-by door through +which he had momentarily expected the woman to emerge. Involuntarily he +would have stepped after the vanishing figure of the prince--what to do, +he knew not, when-- + +"_Non, non_," said the officer, intervening. "Hees excellenz dislikes to +be--importuned." The last word cost the speaker an effort; to the +listener it was hardly intelligible, but the officer's manner indicated +plainly his meaning. Mr. Heatherbloom managed to hold himself still; he +seemed standing in the center of a vortex. The prince had by this time +gone; the woman did not step forth. This lame and impotent conclusion +was out of all proportion to the seemingly inevitable. He could scarcely +realize it was he--actually he!--who, after another pause, followed the +officer, with scant interest, hardly any at all, to some inferno where +flames leaped and hissed. + +He could not but be aware of them, although the voice telling him that +he would remain here, make himself useful, and, incidentally, work his +way among the stokers, sounded very far off. He could have exclaimed +scoffingly after the disappearing officer, not anxious to linger any +longer than necessary here. Work his way, indeed! How long would he be +permitted to do so? When would he be again sent for, and dealt with--in +what manner? + +He shoveled coal feverishly though the irony of the task smote him, for +in feeding the insatiable beds, he was with his own hand helping to +furnish the energy that wafted her, he would have served, farther and +farther from the home land. Every additional mile put between that shore +and the boat, increased the prince's sense of power. He was working for +his excellency and against her. In a revulsion of feeling he leaned on +his shovel, whereupon a besooted giant of the lower regions tapped his +shoulder. This person--foreman of the gang--pointed significantly to the +inactive implement. His brow was low, brutish, and he had a fist like a +hammer. Mr. Heatherbloom lifted the shovel and looked at the low brow +but, fortunately, he did not act on the impulse. It was as if some +detaining angel reached down into those realms of Pluto and, at the +critical moment, laid a white hand where the big paw had touched him. + +The young man resumed his toil. After all, what did it matter?--some one +would shovel the stuff. That brief revolt had been spasmodic, +sentimental. Here where the heat was almost intolerable and the red +tongues sprang like forked daggers before dulled eyes, brutality and +hatred alone seemed to reign. The prince might be the prodigal, +free-handed gentleman to his officers; he was the slave-driver, by +proxy, to his stokers. He who dominated in that place of torment had +been an overseer from one of the villages the prince owned; these men +were the descendants of serfs. + +Once or twice Heatherbloom rather incoherently tried to engage one or +two of them in conversation, to learn where the yacht was going--to +Southern seas, across the Atlantic?--but they only stared at him as if +he were some strange being quite beyond their ken. So he desisted; of +course they could not understand him, and, of course, they knew nothing +he wished to know. In this prison a sense of motion and direction was as +naught. + +Fortunately Mr. Heatherbloom's muscles were in good condition and there +was not a superfluous ounce on him, but he needed all his energies to +escape the fist and the boot that day, to keep pace with the others. The +perspiration poured from his face in sooty rivulets; he knew if he gave +way what kind of consideration to expect. He was being tested. The +foreman's eyes, themselves, seemed full of sparks; there was something +tentative, expectant in their curious gleam as they rested on him. +Heatherbloom now could hardly keep to his feet; his own eyes burned. The +flames danced as if with a living hatred of him; in a semi-stupor he +almost forgot the sword, without, that swung over him, held but by a +thread that might be cut any instant. + +He could not have lasted many minutes more when relief came; sodden +sullen men took the places. Heatherbloom staggered out with his own +herd; he felt the need of food as well as rest. He groped his way +somewhere--into a dark close place; he found black-looking bread--or, +was it handed to him? He ate, threw himself down, thought of her!--then +ceased to think at all. The sword, his companions or specters no longer +existed for him. + +It may be some spiritual part of him during that physical coma, drew +from a supermundane source beatific drafts, for he awoke refreshed, his +mind clear, even alert. He gazed around; he, alone, moved. His +companions resembled so many bags of rags cast here and there; only the +snores, now diminuendo, then crescendo, dispelled the illusion. A +smoking lamp threw a paucity of light and a good deal of odor around +them. Was it night? The shadows played hide-and-seek in corners; there +was no sound of the sea. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved toward a door. His pulses seemed to throb in +rhythm with the engines whose strong pulsations shook those limp +unconscious forms. He opened the iron door and looked out. Only +blackness, relieved by a low-power electric light, met his gaze. He +crept from the place. + +Why did not some one rise up to detain him? Surely he was watched. He +experienced an uncanny sense of being allowed to proceed just so far, +when invisible fingers would pounce upon him, to hurl him back. The soot +still lay on his face; he had seen no bucket and water. At the mouth of +a tunnel-like aperture, he hesitated, but still no one sprang in front, +or glided up from behind to interfere with his progress. He went on; a +perpendicular iron ladder enabled him to reach an open space on the +deserted lower deck. Another ladder led to the upper deck. Could he +mount it and still escape detection? And in that case--to what end? + +A bell struck the hour. Nine o'clock! He counted the strokes. Much time +had, indeed, passed since leaving port. The yacht, he judged, should be +capable of sixteen knots. Where were they now? And where was she--in +what part of the boat had they confined the young girl? Come what might, +he would try to ascertain. Creeping softly up the second ladder, he +peered around. Still he saw no one. It was a dark night; a shadow lay +like a blanket on the sea. He felt for his revolver--they had not taken +it from him--- and started to make his way cautiously aft, when +something he saw brought him to an abrupt halt. + +A figure!--a woman's!--or a young girl's?--not far distant, looking +over the side. The form was barely discernible; he could but make out +the vague flutterings of a gown. Was it she whom he sought? How could he +find out? He dared not speak. She moved, and he realized he could not +let her go thus. It might be an opportunity--no doubt they would suffer +the young girl the freedom of the deck. It would be along the line of a +conciliatory policy on the prince's part to attempt to reassure her as +much as possible after the indignities' she had suffered. The watcher's +eyes strained. She was going. He half started forward--to risk all--to +speak. His lips formed a name but did not breathe it, for at that moment +the swaying of the boat had thrown a flicker of light on the face and +Mr. Heatherbloom drew back, the edge of his ardor dulled. + +The woman moved a few steps, this way and that; he heard the swish of +her skirts. Now they almost touched him, standing motionless where the +shadows were deepest, and at that near contact a blind anger swept over +him, against her--who held him in her power to eliminate, when she +would--When? What was her cue? But, of course, she must have spoken +already--it was inconceivable otherwise. Then why had the prince not +acted at once, summarily? His excellency was not one to hesitate about +drastic measures. Mr. Heatherbloom could not solve the riddle at all. He +could only crouch back farther now and wait. + +Through the gloom he divined a new swiftness in her step, a certain +sinuosity of movement that suddenly melted into immobility. A red spot +had appeared close by, burned now on blackness; it was followed by +another's footstep. A man, cigar in hand, joined her. + +"Ah, Prince!" she said. + +He muttered something Heatherbloom did not catch. + +"What?" she exclaimed lightly. "No better humored?" + +His answer was eloquent. A flicker of light he had moved toward revealed +his face, gallant, romantic enough in its happier moments, but now +distinctly unpleasant, with the stamp of ancestral Sybarites of the +Petersburg court shining through the cruelty and intolerance of +semi-Tartar forbears. + +The woman laughed. How the young man, listening, detested that musical +gurgle! "Patience, your Highness!" + +The red spark leaped in the air. "What have I been?" + +"That depends on the standpoint--yours, or hers," she returned in the +same tone. + +"It is always the same. She is--" The spark described swift angry +motions. + +"What would you--at first?" she retorted laughingly. "After all that +has taken place? _Mon Dieu_! You remember I advised you against this +madness--I told you in the beginning it might not all be like Watteau's +masterpiece--the divine embarkation!" + +"Bah!" he returned, as resenting her attitude. "You were ready enough +for your part." + +She shrugged. "_Eh bien?_ Our little Moscow theatrical company had come +to grief. New York--cruel monster!--did not want us. _C'en est fait de +nous_! Your Excellency met and recognized me as one you had once been +presented to at a merry party at the Hermitage in our beloved city of +churches. Would I play the _bon camarade_ in a little affair of the +heart, or should I say _une grande passion_? The honorarium offered was +enormous for a poor ill-treated player whose very soul was ready to sing +_De Profundis_. Did it tempt her--forlorn, downhearted--" + +She paused. Close by, the spark brightened, dimmed--brightened, dimmed! +Mr. Heatherbloom bent nearer. "At any rate, she was honest enough to +attempt to dissuade you--in vain! And then"--her voice changed--"since +you willed it so, she yielded. It sounded wild, impossible, the plan you +broached. Perhaps because it did seem so impossible it won over poor +Sonia Turgeinov--she who had thrown her cap over the windmills. There +would be excitement, fascination in playing such a thrilling part in +real life. Were you ever hungry, Prince?" She broke off. "What an absurd +question! What is more to the point, tell me it was all well done--the +device, or excuse, of substituting another motor-car for her own, the +mad flight far into the night, down the coast where save for that +mishap--But I met all difficulties, did I not? And, believe me, it was +not easy--to keep your little American inamorata concealed until the +_Nevski_ could be repaired and meet us elsewhere than we had originally +planned. _Dieu merci!_ I exclaimed last night when the little spitfire +was brought safely aboard." Mr. Heatherbloom breathed quickly. Betty +Dalrymple, then, had been with the woman in the big automobile-- + +"Why don't you praise me?" the woman went on. "Tell me I well earned +the _douceur_? Although"--her accents were faintly scoffing--"I never +dreamed _you_ would not afterward be able to--" Her words leaped into a +new channel. "What can the child want? _Est-ce-qu'elle aime un autre_? +That might explain--" + +An expletive smacking more of Montmartre than of the Boulevard +Capucines, fell from the nobleman's lips. He brushed the ash fiercely +from his cigar. "It is not so--it won't explain anything," he returned +violently. "Didn't I once have it from her own lips that, at least, she +was not--" He stopped. "_Mon Dieu!_ That contingency--" + +Suddenly she again laughed. "Delicious!" + +"What?" + +"Nothing. My own thoughts. By the way, what has become of the man we +picked up from the sail-boat?" + +The prince made a gesture. "He's down below--among the stokers. Why do +you ask?" + +"It is natural, I suppose, to take a faint interest in a poor fisherman +you've almost drowned." + +"Not I!" Brutally. + +"No?" A smile, enigmatical, played around her lips. "How droll!" + +"Droll?" + +"Heartless, then. But you great nobles are that, a little, eh, _mon +ami_?" + +He shrugged and returned quickly to that other more interesting subject. + +"_Elle va m'epouser!_" he exclaimed violently. "I will stake my life on +it. She will; she must!" + +"Must!" The woman raised her hand. "You say that to an American girl?" + +"We're not at the finis yet!" An ugly crispness was manifest in his +tones. "There are ports and priests a-plenty, and this voyage is apt to +be a long one, unless she consents--" + +"Charming man!" She spoke almost absently now. + +"Haven't I anything to offer? _Diable_! One would think I was a beggar, +not--am I ill-looking, repugnant? Your sex," with a suspicion of a +sneer, "have not always found me so. I have given my heart before, you +will say! But never as now! For she is a witch, like those that come out +of the reeds on the Volga--to steal, alike, the souls of fisherman and +prince." He paused; then went on moodily. "I suppose I should have +gone--allowed myself to be dismissed as a boy from school. 'I have +played with you; you have amused me; you no longer do so. Adieu!' So she +would have said to me, if not in words, by implication. No, _merci_," he +broke off angrily. "_Tant s'en faut_! I, too, shall have something to +say--and soon--to-night--!" + +He made a swift gesture, threw his cigar into the sea and walked off. + +"How tiresome!" But the words fell from the woman's lips uneasily. She +stretched her lithe form and looked up into the night. Then she, too, +disappeared. Mr. Heatherbloom stood motionless. She knew who he was and +yet she had not revealed his secret to the prince. Because she deemed +him but a pawn, paltry, inconsequential? Because she wished to save the +hot-headed nobleman from committing a deed of violence--a crime, +even--if he should learn? + +The reason mattered little. In Mr. Heatherbloom's mind his excellency's +last words--all they portended--excluded now consideration of all else. +He gazed uncertainly in the direction the nobleman had gone; suddenly +started to follow, stealthily, cautiously, when another person +approached. Mr. Heatherbloom would have drawn back, but it was too +late--he was seen. His absence from the stokers' quarters had been +discovered; after searching for him below and not finding him, the giant +foreman had come up here to look around. He was swinging his long arms +and muttering angrily when he caught sight of his delinquent helper. The +man uttered a low hoarse sound that augured ill for Mr. Heatherbloom. +The latter knew what he had to expect--that no mercy would be shown him. +He stepped swiftly backward, at the same time looking about for +something with which to defend himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +THE DESPOT + +Prince Boris, upon leaving Sonia Turgeinov, ascended to the officers' +deck. For some moments he paced the narrow confines between the +life-boats, then stepped into the wheel-house. + +"How is she headed?" + +An officer standing near the man at the helm, answered in French. + +"This should bring us to"--the nobleman mentioned a group of +islands--"by to-morrow night?" + +"Hardly, Excellency." + +The prince stared moodily. "Have you sighted any other vessels?" + +"One or two sailing-craft that have paid no attention to us. The only +boat that seemed interested since we left port was the little naphtha." + +The nobleman stood as if he had not heard this last remark. About to +move away, he suddenly lifted his head and listened. "What was that?" he +said sharply. + +"What, your Highness?" + +"I thought I heard a sound like a cry." + +"I heard nothing, Excellency. No doubt it was but the wind--it is loud +here." + +"No doubt." A moment the nobleman continued to listen, then his +attention relaxed. + +"Shall I come to your excellency later for orders?" said the officer as +the prince made as if to turn away. + +"It will not be necessary. If I have any I can 'phone from the cabin--I +do not wish to be disturbed," he added and left. + +"His excellency seems in rather an odd mood to-night," the officer, +gazing after, muttered. "Nothing would surprise me--even if he commanded +us to head for the pole next. Eh, Fedor?" The man at the helm made +answer, moving the spokes mechanically. Nor' west, or sou' east--it was +all one to him. + +Prince Boris walked back; before a little cabin that stood out like an +afterthought, he again paused. + +Click! click! The wireless! His excellency, stepping nearer, peered +through a window in upon the operator, a slender young man--French. A +message was being received. Who were they that thus dared span space to +reach out toward him? _Ei! ei_! "The devil has long arms." He recalled +this saying of the Siberian priests and the mad Cossack answer: +"Therefore let us ride fast!" The swaying of the yacht was like the +rhythmic motion of his Arab through the long grass beyond the Dnieper, +in that wild land where conventionality and laws were as naught. + +He saw the operator now lean forward to write. The apparatus, which had +become silent again, spoke; the words came now fast, then slow. Flame of +flames! What an instrument that harnessed the sparks, chased destiny +itself with them! They crackled like whips. The operator threw down his +pen. + +"Excellency!" He almost ran into the tall motionless figure. "Pardon! A +message--they want to establish communication with the _Nevski_--to +learn if we picked up a man from--" + +"Have I not told you to receive all messages but to establish +communication with no one? _Mon Dieu_! If I thought--" + +"Your excellency, can depend upon me," Francois protested. "Did not my +father serve your illustrious mother, the Princess Alix, all his life at +her palace at Biarritz? Did not--" + +The prince made a gesture. "I can depend upon you because it is to your +advantage to serve me well," he said dryly. "Also, because if you +didn't--" He left the sentence unfinished but Francois understood; in +that part of the Czar's kingdom where the prince came from, life was +held cheap. Besides, the lad had heard tales from his father--a +garrulous Gascon--of his excellency's temper--those mad outbursts even +when a child. There was a trace of the fierce, or half-insane +temperament of the great Ivan in the uncontrollable Strogareff line, so +the story went. Francois returned to his instrument; his excellency's +look swept beyond. He heard now only the sound of the sea--restless, in +unending tumult. The wind blew colder and he went below. + +But not to rest! He was in no mood for that. What then? He hesitated, at +war with himself. "Patience! patience!" What fool advice from Sonia +Turgeinov! He helped himself liberally from a decanter on a Louis Quinze +sideboard in the beautiful _salle à manger_. The soft lights revealed +him, and him only, a solitary figure in that luxurious place--master of +all he surveyed but not master of his own thoughts. He could order his +men, but he could not order that invisible host. They made him their +servant. He took a few steps back and forth; then suddenly encountered +his own image reflected in a mirror. + +"Boris, the superb"; "a tartar toreador of hearts"; "Prince of roubles +and kopecs"! So they had jestingly called him in his own warm-cold +capital of the north, or in that merry-holy city of four hundred +churches. His glance now swept toward a distant door. "Faint heart ne'er +won--" + +Had he a faint heart? In the past--no! Why, then, now? The passionate +lines of the poets sang in his ears--rhythms to the "little dove", the +"peerless white flower"! He passed a big hand across his brow. His +heart-beats were like the galloping hoofs of a horse, bearing him +whither? Gold of her hair, violet of her eyes! Whither? The raving mad +poets! Wine seemed running in his blood; he moved toward the distant +door. + +It was locked--of course! For the moment he had forgotten. Thrusting his +hand into his pocket, he drew out a key and unsteadily fitted it. But +before turning it he stood an instant listening. No sound! Should he +wait until the morrow? Prudence dictated that course; precipitancy, +however, drove him on. Now, as well as ever! Better have an +understanding! She would have to accede to his plans, anyway--and the +sooner, the better. He had burned his bridges; there was no drawing back +now-- + +He turned slowly the knob, applied a sudden pressure to the door and +entered. + +A girl looked up and saw him. It was a superbly decorated salon he had +invaded. Soft-hued rugs were on the floor and draperies of cloth of gold +veiled the shadows. Betty Dalrymple had been standing at a window, +gazing out at night--only night--or the white glimmer from an electric +light that frosting the rail, made the dark darker. She appeared neither +surprised nor perturbed at the appearance of the nobleman--doubtlessly +she had been expecting that intrusion. He stopped short, his dark eyes +gleaming. It was enough for the moment just to look at her. Place and +circumstance seemed forgotten; the spirit of an old ancestor--one of the +great khans--looked out in his gaze. Passion and anger alternated on his +features; when she regarded him like that he longed to crush her to him; +instead, now, he continued to stand motionless. + +"Pardon me," he could say it with a faint smile. Then threw out a hand. +"Ah, you are beautiful!" All that was oriental in him seemed to vibrate +in the words. + +Betty Dalrymple's answer was calculated to dispel illusion and glamour. +"Don't you think we can dispense with superfluous words?" Her voice was +as ice. "Under the circumstances," she added, full mistress of herself. + +His glance wavered, again concentrated on her, slender, warm-hued as an +houri in the ivory and gold palace of one of the old khans--but an houri +with disconcerting straightness of gaze, and crisp matter-of-fact +directness of utterance. "You are cruel; you have always been," he said. +"I offer you all--everything--my life, and you--" + +"More superfluous words," said Betty Dalrymple in the same tone, the +flash of her eyes meeting the darkening gleam of his. "Put me ashore, +and as soon as may be. This farce has gone far enough." + +"Farce?" he repeated. + +"You have only succeeded in making yourself absurd and in placing me in +a ridiculous position. Put me ashore and--" + +"Ask of me the possible--the humanly possible--" He moved slightly +nearer; her figure swayed from him. + +"You are mad--mad--" + +"Granted!" he said. "A Russian in love is always a madman. But it was +you who--" + +"Don't!" she returned. "It is like a play--" The red lips curved. + +He looked at them and breathed harder. Her words kindled anew the flame +in his breast. "A play? That is what it has been for you. A mild comedy +of flirtation!" The girl flushed hotly. "Deny it if you can--that you +didn't flirt, as you Americans call it, outrageously." + +An instant Betty Dalrymple bit her lip but she returned his gaze +steadily enough. "The adjective is somewhat strong. Perhaps I might have +done what you say, a little bit--for which," with an accent of +self-scorn, "I am sorry, as I have already told you." + +He brought together his hands. "Was it just a 'little bit' when at +Homburg you danced with me nearly every time at the grand duchess' ball? +_Sapristi_! I have not forgotten. Was it only a 'little bit' when you +let me ride with you at Pau--those wild steeplechases!--or permitted +me to follow you to Madrid, Nice, elsewhere?--wherever caprice took +you?" + +"I asked you not to--" + +"But with a sparkle in your eyes--a challenge--" + +"I knew you for a nobleman; I thought you a gentleman," said Betty +Dalrymple spiritedly. + +Prince Boris made a savage gesture. "You thought--" He broke off. "I +will tell you what you thought: That after amusing yourself with me you +could say, _'Va-t-en!'_ with a wave of the hand. As if I were a clod +like those we once had under us! American girls would make serfs of +their admirers. Their men," contemptuously, "are fools where their women +are concerned. You dismiss them; they walk away meekly. Another comes. +_Voila!_" He snapped his fingers. "The game goes on." + +A spark appeared in her eyes. "Don't you think you are slightly +insulting?" she asked in a low tense tone. + +"Is it not the truth? And more"--with a harsh laugh--"I am even told +that in your wonderful country the rejected suitor--_mon Dieu!_--often +acts as best man at the wedding--that the body-guard on the holy +occasion may be composed of a sad but sentimental phalanx from the army +of the refused. But with us Russians these matters are different. We can +not thus lightly control affairs of the heart; they control us, +and--those who flirt, as you call it, must pay. The code of our honor +demands it--" + +"Your honor?" It was Betty Dalrymple who laughed now. + +"You find that--me--very diverting?" slowly. "But you will learn this is +no jest." + +She disdained to answer and started toward a side door. + +"No," he said, stepping between her and the threshold. + +"Be good enough!" Miss Dalrymple's voice sounded imperiously; her eyes +flashed. + +"One moment!" He was fast losing self-control. "You hold yourself from +me--refuse to listen to me. Why? Do you know what I think?" Vehemently. +The words of Sonia Turgeinov--"_Est ce qu'elle aime un autre_?"--flamed +through his mind. "That there is some one else; that there always was. +And that is the reason you were so gay--so very gay. You sought to +forget--" + +A change came over Betty Dalrymple's face; she seemed to grow whiter--to +become like ice-- + +"You let me think there wasn't any one; but there was. That story of +some one out west?--you laughed it away as idle gossip. And I believed +you then--but not now. Who is he--this American?" With a half-sneer. + +"There is no one!--there never has been!" said the girl with sudden +passion, almost wildly. "I told you the truth." + +"Ah," said Prince Boris. "You speak with feeling. When a woman denies in +a voice like that--" + +"Let me by!" The violet eyes were black now. + +"Not yet!" He studied her--the cheeks aflame like roses. "He shall never +have you, that some one--I will meet him and kill him first--I swear +it--" + +"Let me by!" + +"_Carissima!_ Your eyes are like stars--the stars that look down on one +alone on the wild steppe. Your lips are red flowers--poppies to lure to +destruction. They are cruel, but the more beautiful--" + +He suddenly reached out, took her in his arms. + +The cry on her lips was stifled as his sought and almost touched them. +At the same moment the door of the cabin, by which the prince had +entered, was abruptly thrown open. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +THE PRINCE IS PUZZLED + +His excellency turned. The intruder's eyes were bloodshot from the glare +of the furnaces, his face black, unrecognizable, from the soot. "What +the dev--" began the nobleman, as if doubting the evidence of his +senses. + +He must have relaxed his hold, for the girl tore herself loose. She did +not pause, but running swiftly to the inner door she had just turned +toward, she hastily closed and locked it behind her. As she disappeared +Mr. Heatherbloom stopped an instant to gaze after her; but the prince, +with sagging jaw and amazement in his eyes, continued to regard only +him. + +"Who the--" he began again furiously. + +The intruder's reply was a silent one. His excellency would have stepped +back but it was too late. Mr. Heatherbloom's fist struck him fairly on +the forehead. Behind the blow was the full impetus of the lithe form +fairly launched across the spacious cabin. The prince went down, +striking hard. + +But he was up in a moment and, mad with rage, made a rush. The other, +quick, agile, evaded him. The prince's muscles had lost some of their +hardness from high living and he was, moreover, unversed in the great +Anglo-American pastime. He strove to seize his aggressor, to strangle +him, but his fingers failed to grip what they sought. At the same time +Mr. Heatherbloom's arms shot up, down and around, with marvelous +precision, seeking and finding the vulnerable spots. The prince soon +realized he was being badly punished and the knowledge did not serve to +improve his temper. Had he only been able to get hold of his opponent he +could have crushed him with his superior weight. A stationary table, +however, in the center of the room assisted Mr. Heatherbloom in eluding +the wild dashes, the while he continued to lunge and dodge in a most +businesslike manner. + +Panting, the prince had, at length, to pause. His face revealed several +marks of the contest and the sight did not seem displeasing to Mr. +Heatherbloom. A quiet smile strained his lips; a cold satisfaction shone +in the bloodshot eyes. + +"Come on," he said, stepping a little from the table. + +The prince did not respond to the invitation. His dazed mind was working +now. Through bruised lids he regarded the soot-masked intruder--a +nihilist, no doubt! His excellency had had one or two experiences with +members of secret societies in the past. There was a nest of them in New +Jersey. Though how one of them could have managed to get aboard the +_Nevski_, he had no time just then to figure out. The nobleman looked +over his shoulder toward a press-button. + +"Come on!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom softly. + +The nobleman sprang, instead, the other way, but he did not reach what +he sought. Mr. Heatherbloom's arm described an arc; the application +was made with expert skill and effectiveness. His excellency swayed, +relaxed, and, this time, remained where he fell. Mr. Heatherbloom locked +the door leading into the dining _salle_--the other, opening upon the +deck, he had already tried and found fastened--and drew closer the +draperies before the windows. Then returning to the prince, he prodded +gently the prostrate figure. + +"Get up!" His excellency moved, then staggered with difficulty to his +feet and gazed around. "You'll be able to think all right in a moment," +said Heatherbloom. "Sit down. Only," in crisp tones, "I wouldn't move +from the chair if I were you. Because--" His excellency understood; +something bright gleamed close. + +"Are you going to murder me?" he breathed hoarsely. His excellency's +cousin--a grand duke--had been assassinated in Russia. + +"I wouldn't call it that." The prince made a movement. "Sit still." The +cold object pressed against the nobleman's temples. "If ever a scoundrel +deserved death, it is you." + +Plain talk! The prince could scarcely believe he heard aright; yet the +thrill of that icy touch on his forehead was real. His dark face showed +growing pallor. One may be brave--heroic even, but one does not like to +die like a dog, to be struck down by a miserable unclean +terrorist--hardly, from his standpoint, a human being--unfortunately, +however, something that must be dealt with--not at first, under these +circumstances, with force--but afterward! Ah, then? The prince's eyes +seemed to grow smaller, to gleam with Tartar cunning. + +"What do you want?" he said. + +"Several things." Mr. Heatherbloom's own eyes were keen as darts. +"First, you will give orders that the _Nevski_ is to change her +course--to head for the nearest American port." + +"Impossible!" the prince exclaimed violently. + +"On the contrary, it is quite possible. We have the fuel, as I can +testify." + +His excellency's thoughts ran riot; it was difficult to collect them, +with that aching head. The fellow must be crazy; people of his class +usually are, more or less, though they generally displayed a certain +method in their madness, while this one-- + +"I must remind your excellency that time is of every importance to me," +murmured Mr. Heatherbloom. "Hence, you will do what I ask, _at once_, +or--" + +"Very well." His excellency spoke quickly--too quickly. "I'll give the +order." And, rising, he started toward the door. + +"Stop!" + +The prince did. Venom and apprehension mingled in his look. Mr. +Heatherbloom made a gesture. "You will give the order; but here--and as +I direct." His voice was cold as the gleaming barrel. "That 'phone," +indicating one on the wall, "connects with the bridge, of course. Don't +deny. It will be useless." + +His excellency didn't deny; he had a suspicion of what was coming. + +"You will call up the officer in command on the bridge and give him the +order to make at once for the nearest American port. You will ask him +how far it is and how soon we can get there? Beyond that, you will say +nothing, make no explanations, or utter a single superfluous word." + +"Very well." The prince, seemingly acquiescent, but with a dangerous +glitter in his eyes, moved toward the telephone. + +"One moment!" + +The nobleman stopped with his hand near a receiver. His fingers +trembled. + +"You will speak in French. A syllable of Russian, just one, and--" Mr. +Heatherbloom's expression left no doubt as to his meaning. + +"Dog!" His excellency's swollen face became the hue of paper. An instant +he seemed about to spring--then managed to control himself. "But why +should I not speak in Russian? My officers know no French." + +"A lie! Nearly all Russian officers speak French. I happen to know yours +do." A newspaper article had made the statement and he did not doubt it. +"Anyhow, you give the order in French and we'll see what happens." + +The blood surged in the nobleman's face. The fierce desire to avenge +himself at once on this man who threw the lie at him--august, +illustrious--mingled, however, with yet another feeling--one of +bewilderment. The fellow had spoken these last words in French, and +choice French at that. His accents had all the elegance of the Faubourg +Saint Germain. + +"Quick!" The decision in the intruder's manner was unmistakable. "I have +wasted all the time I intend to. My finger trembles on the trigger." + +The prince, perforce, _was_ quick. The telephone of foreign design, had +two receivers. His excellency took one. Mr. Heatherbloom reached for the +other and held it to his ear with his left hand. His right, holding the +weapon, was behind the prince, as the latter poignantly realized. +Ill-suppressed rage made his excellency's tones now slightly wavering: + +"Are you there, M. le Capitaine?" + +"Steady!" Mr. Heatherbloom whispered warningly in his excellency's free +ear, emphasizing the caution with a significant pressure from his right +hand. At the same time he caught the answer from afar--a deferential +voice: + +"_Oui,_ Excellence." There was, fortunately, on the wires a singing +sound that would serve to drown evidences of emotion in the nobleman's +tone. "Excellence wishes to speak with me?" went on the distant voice. + +"I do." The prince breathed fast--paused. "You will change the boat's +course, and--" He spoke with difficulty. A warmer breath fanned his +cheek; he felt a sensation like ice on the back of his neck. "Make for +the nearest American port. How far is it?" Mr. Heatherbloom's prompting +whisper was audible only to his excellency. + +"Five hours," came over the wire. + +Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a thrill of satisfaction. They were nearer +the coast than he had supposed. He knew the yacht had been taking a +southerly course; he had considered that when the bold idea came to act +as he was doing. Possibly the prince had been driven out of the last +port by the publicity attendant upon Mr. Heatherbloom's presence there, +before certain needed repairs had been completed. These, Mr. +Heatherbloom now surmised, it was his excellency's intention to have +attended to in some island harbor before proceeding with a longer +voyage. + +Only five hours! + +"Good-by!" now burst from the nobleman so violently that Mr. +Heatherbloom's momentary exultation changed to a feeling of +apprehension. But M. le Capitaine had evidently become accustomed to +occasional explosive moments from his august patron. He concerned +himself only with the command, not the manner in which it was given. + +"Eh? _Mon Dieu_! Do I hear your excellency aright?" His accents +expressed surprise, but not of an immoderate nature. He, no doubt, +received many arbitrary and unexpected orders when his excellency went +a-cruising. + +"Repeat the order." Heatherbloom's whisper seemed fairly to sting the +nobleman's disengaged ear. + +The latter did repeat--savagely--jerkily, but the humming wires tempered +the tones. M. le Capitaine understood fully; he said as much; his +excellency should be obeyed--Mr. Heatherbloom pushed the nobleman's head +abruptly aside, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. Perhaps he +divined that irresistible malediction about to fall from his +excellency's lips. + +"Hang it up," he said. + +The nobleman's breath was labored but he placed his receiver where it +belonged; Mr. Heatherbloom did likewise. Both now stepped back. Upon the +prince's brow stood drops of perspiration. The yacht had already slowed +up and was turning. His excellency listened. + +"May I ask how much longer you are desirous of my company here?" + +"Oh, yes; you may ask." + +The boat had begun to quiver again; she was going at full speed once +more. Only now she headed directly for the land Mr. Heatherbloom wished +to see. Five hours to an American port! Then? He glanced toward the door +through which the girl had disappeared. Since that moment he had caught +no sound from her. Had she heard, did she know anything of what was +happening--that the yacht was now turned homeward? He dared not linger +on the thought. The prince was watching him with eyes that seemed to +dilate and contract. A moment's carelessness, the briefest cessation of +watchfulness would be at once seized upon by his excellency, enabling +him to shift the advantage. The young man met that expectant gleam. + +"Sorry to seem officious, but if your excellency will sit down once +more? Not here--over there!" Indicating a stationary arm-chair before a +desk in a recess of the room. + +The prince obeyed; he had no alternative. The fellow must, of course, be +a madman, the prince reiterated in his own mind unless-- + +"I told your excellency I had no wish for a long sea voyage." A mocking +voice now made itself heard. + +The nobleman started, and looked closer; a mist seemed to fall from +before his gaze. He recognized the fellow now--the man they had run +down. The shock of that terrible experience, the strain of the +disaster, had turned the fellow's brain. That would explain +everything--this extraordinary occurrence. There was nothing to do but +to humor him for the moment, though it was awkward--devilish!--or might +soon be!--if this game should be continued much longer. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glided silently toward the hangings near the alcove. +What now?--the prince asked with his eyes. Mr. Heatherbloom unloosened +from a brass holder a silk cord as thick as his thumb. + +"If your excellency will permit me--" He stepped to the prince's side. + +That person regarded the cord, strong as hemp. + +"What do you mean?" burst from him. + +"It is quite apparent." + +An oath escaped the prince's throat; regardless of consequences, he +sprang to his feet. "Never!" + +A desperate determination gleamed in his eyes. This crowning outrage! +He, a nobleman!--to suffer himself to be bound ignominiously by some +low _polisson_ of a raffish mushroom country! It was inconceivable. +"_Jamais!_" he repeated. + +"Ah, well!" said Mr. Heatherbloom resignedly. "Nevertheless, I shall +make the attempt to do what I propose, and if you resist--" + +"You will assassinate me?" stammered the nobleman. + +"We won't discuss how the law might characterize the act. Only," the +words came quickly, "don't waste vain hopes that I won't assassinate +you, if it is necessary. I never waste powder, either--can clip a coin +every time. One of my few accomplishments." Enigmatically. "And"--as the +prince hesitated one breathless second--"I can get you straight, first +shot, sure!" + +His excellency believed him. He had heard how in this bizarre America a +single man sometimes "held up" an entire train out west and had his own +sweet way with engineer, conductor and passengers. This madman, on the +slightest provocation now, was evidently prepared to emulate that +extraordinary and undesirable type. What might he not do, or attempt to +do? The nobleman's figure relaxed slightly, his lips twitched. Then he +sank back once more into the strong solid chair at the desk. + +"Good," said Mr. Heatherbloom. A cold smile like a faint ripple on a +mountain lake swept his lips. "Now we shall get on faster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +THE COUP + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with fingers deft as a sailor's, secured the prince. +The single silken band did not suffice; other cords, diverted from the +ornamental to a like practical purpose, were wound around and around his +excellency's legs and arms, holding him so tightly to the chair he could +scarcely move. Having completed this task, Mr. Heatherbloom next, with +vandal hands, whipped from the wall a bit of priceless embroidery, threw +it over the nobleman's head and, in spite of sundry frenzied objections, +effectually gagged him. Then drawing the heavy curtains so that they +almost concealed the bound figure in the dim recess, the young man +stepped once more out into the salon. + +How still it suddenly seemed! His glance swept toward the door through +which the young girl had vanished. Why had he heard no sound from her? +Why did she not appear now? She must have caught something of what had +been going on. He went swiftly to the door. + +"Miss Dalrymple!" + +No answer. He rapped again--louder--then tried the door. It resisted; he +shook it. + +"Betty!" Yes; he called her that in the alarm and excitement of the +moment. "It's--it's all right. Open the door." + +Again that hush--nothing more. Mr. Heatherbloom pulled rather wildly at +the lock of hair over his brow; then a sudden frenzy seemed to seize +him. He launched himself forward and struck fairly with his +shoulder--once--twice. The door, at length, yielded with a crash. He +rushed in--fell to his knees. + +"Betty! Oh, Betty!" For the moment he stared helplessly at the +motionless form on the floor, then, lifting the girl in his arms, he +laid her on a couch. One little white hand swung limp; he seized it with +grimy fingers. It was oddly cold, and a shiver went over him. He felt +for her pulse--her heart--at first caught no answering throb, for his +own heart was beating so wildly. The world seemed to swim--then he +straightened. The filmy dress, not so white now in spots, had fluttered +beneath her throat. He gazed rapturously. + +"It'll be all right," he said again. "Darling!" + +He could say it now, when she couldn't hear. "Darling! Darling!" he +repeated. It constituted his vocabulary of terms of endearment. He felt +the need of no other. She lay like a lily. He saw nothing anomalous in +certain stains of soot, even on the wonderful face where his had +unconsciously touched it when he had raised her and strained her to him +one mad instant in his arms. In fact, he did not see those stains; his +eyes were closed to such details--and the crimson marks, too, on her +gown! His knuckles were bleeding; he was unaware of it. He was not, +outwardly, a very presentable adorer but he became suddenly a most +daring one. His grimy hand touched the shining hair, half-unbound; he +raised one of the marvelous tresses--his hungry lips swept it +lightly--or did he but breathe a divine fragrance? By some inner process +his spirit seemed to have come that instant very near to hers. He forgot +where he was; time and space were annihilated. + +He was brought abruptly back to the living present by a sudden knock at +the door without, which he had locked after entering that way from the +deck. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; the person, whoever he was, on +receiving no response, soon went away. Had they discovered what had +happened to the foreman of the stokers whom Heatherbloom had struck down +with a heavy iron belaying-pin? The man had attacked him with murderous +intent. In defending himself, Heatherbloom believed he had killed the +fellow. The chance blow he had delivered with the formidable weapon had +been one of desperation and despair. It had been more than a question of +his life or the other's. Her fate had been involved in that critical +moment. He had dragged the unconscious figure to the shadows behind a +life-boat. They would not be likely to stumble across the incriminating +evidence while it was dark. Nor was it likely that the foreman's absence +below would cause the men to look for him. The overworked stokers would +be but too pleased to escape, for a spell, their tyrannous master. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing near the threshold of the dressing-room, +glanced now toward the little French clock without. Over four hours yet +to port! How slowly time went. He turned out all the lights, save one +shaded lamp of low candle-power in the cabin; then he did the same in +the room where the girl was. No one must peer in on him from unexpected +places. He looked up, and saw that the skylights were covered with +canvas. Mr. Heatherbloom remained in the salon; he needed to continue +master of his thoughts. In the dressing-room he had just now forgotten +himself. That would not do; he must concentrate all his faculties, every +energy, to bringing this coup, born on the inspiration of the moment, +to a successful conclusion. Desperate as his plan was, he believed now +he would win out. By the vibrations he knew the boat was still steaming +full speed on her new course. The conditions were all favorable. They +would reach port before dawn; at break of day the health officers would +come aboard. And after that-- + +The telephone suddenly rang. Should he answer that imperious summons? +Perhaps the man who had just knocked at the door had been one of the +officers, or the captain himself, come in person to speak with his +excellency about the unexpected change in the boat's course, or some +technical question or difficulty that might have arisen in consequence +thereof. + +He looked toward the recess; between the curtains he caught sight of the +prince's eyes and in the dim light he fancied they shone with sudden +hope--expectancy. The nobleman must have heard the crashing of the door +to the dressing-room. What he had thought was of no moment. A viperish +fervor replaced that other brief expression in his excellency's gaze. + +Once more that metallic call--harsh, loud, as not to be denied! Mr. +Heatherbloom made up his mind; perhaps all depended on his decision; he +would answer. Stepping across the salon, he took down the receivers. The +singing on the wires had been pronounced; he could imitate the prince's +autocratic tones, and the person at the other end would not discover, in +all likelihood, the deception. + +"Well?" said Mr. Heatherbloom loudly, in French. "What do you want? +Haven't I given orders not to be--" + +His voice died away; he nearly dropped the receivers. A woman answered. +Moreover, the wires did not seem to "sing" so much now. Sonia +Turgeinov's tones were transmitted in all their intrinsic, flute-like +lucidity. + +"What has happened, your Excellency?" she asked anxiously. + +"Happened?" the young man managed to say. "Nothing." + +"Then why has the yacht's course been changed? I can tell by the stars +from my cabin window that we are not headed at all in the same direction +we were going--" + +He tried to speak unconcernedly: "Just changed for a short time on +account of some reefs and the currents! Go to sleep," he commanded, "and +leave the problems of navigation to others." + +"Sleep? _Mon Dieu_! If I only could--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom dared talk no more, so rang off. The prince might have +been capable of such bruskness. Sonia Turgeinov had not seemed to +suspect anything wrong; she had merely been inquisitive, and had taken +it for granted the nobleman was at the other end of the wire. Mr. +Heatherbloom strode restlessly to and fro. Seconds went by--minutes. He +counted the tickings of the clock--suddenly wheeled sharply. + + * * * * * + +The young girl stood in the doorway--he had heard and now saw her. She +came forward quickly, though uncertainly; in the dim light she looked +like a shadow. He drew in his breath. + +"Miss--" he began, then stopped. + +Her gaze rested on him, almost indistinguishable on the other side of +the salon. + +"What does it mean? Who are you?" She spoke intrepidly enough but he saw +her slender form sway. + +Who was he? About to explain in a rush of words, Mr. Heatherbloom +hesitated. To her he had been, of course, but a conspirator of the +Russian woman in the affair. Miss Van Rolsen had deemed him culpable; +the detective had been sure of it. Would Miss Dalrymple think more +leniently of him than mere unprejudiced people, those who knew less of +him than she? His very presence on the yacht, although somewhat +inexplicably complicated in recent occurrences, was _per se_ a primal +damning circumstance. But she spared him the necessity of answering. She +divined now from his blackened features what his position on the yacht +must be. He was only a poor stoker, but-- + +"You are a brave fellow," cried Betty Dalrymple, "and I'll not forget +it. You interfered--I remember--" + +"A brave fellow!" It was well he had not betrayed himself. Let her think +that of him, for the moment. A poignant mockery lent pain to the thrill +of her words. + +"You rushed in, struck him. What then?" + +"He won't play the bully and scoundrel again for some time!" burst from +Mr. Heatherbloom. His tones were impetuous; once more he seemed to see +what he had seen during those last moments on the deck--when he had been +unable to restrain himself longer--and had yielded to a single +hot-blooded impulse. "The big brute!" he muttered. + +She seemed to regard him in slight surprise. "Where is he? What has +become of him?" + +"He is safe--" + +"You mean you conquered him, beat him--you?" Her voice thrilled. + +"You bet I did," said Mr. Heatherbloom with the least evidence of +incoherency. Her words had been verbal champagne to him. "I gave him +the dandiest best licking--" He stopped. Perhaps he realized that his +explanation was beginning to seem slightly tinged with too great +evidence of personal satisfaction if not boastfulness. "You see I had a +gun," he murmured rather apologetically. + +"But," said the girl, coming nearer, "I don't understand." + +He started to meet that advance, then backed away a little. "I've got +him safe, where he can't move, or bother you any more." Mr. Heatherbloom +glanced over his shoulder; but he did not tell her where he "had him". +"And the yacht's going back to the nearest American port," he couldn't +help adding, impetuously, to reassure her. + +"Going back? Impossible!" Wonder, incredulity were in her voice. + +"It's true as shooting, Bet--" + +She was too bewildered to notice that slight slip of the tongue. "It's a +fact, miss," he added more gruffly. + +"But how?" Her tones betrayed reticence in crediting the miracle. Yet +this blackened figure must have prevailed over the prince or the latter +would not have so mysteriously disappeared. "How did it happen?" + +"Well, you see I just happened around." + +"You, a stoker?" + +Stokers, he was reminded by her tone, did not usually "happen around" on +decks of palatial private yachts. He must seek a different, more +definite explanation. He thought he saw a way; he could let her know +part of the truth. "The fact is, I was looking for this boat at the last +port she stopped at. I had cause to think you would be on her. Couldn't +stop the yacht from going to sea, for reasons too numerous to mention, +so I just slipped out and came aboard in a kind of disguise--" + +"A disguise? Then you are a detective?" + +"I think I may truthfully say I am, but in a sort of private capacity. +When a really important case occurs, it interests me. Now this was an +important case, and--and it interested me." He hardly knew what he was +saying, her eyes were so insistent. Betty Dalrymple had always had the +most disconcerting eyes. "Because, you see, your--your aunt was so +anxious--and"--with a flash of inspiration--"the reward was a big one." + +"The reward? Of course." Her voice died away. "You hoped to get it. That +is the reason--" + +He let his silence answer in the affirmative; he felt relieved now. She +had not recognized him--yet. In the recess behind the draperies the +chair in which his excellency was bound, creaked. Was he struggling to +release himself? Mr. Heatherbloom had faith in the knots and the silken +cords. The girl turned her head. + +"Don't you think it would be better"--he spoke quickly--"for you to +return to your cabin? I'll let you know when I want you and--" + +"But if I prefer to stay here? May I not turn on the lights?" + +"Not for worlds!" Hastily. "It is necessary they should not see me. If +they did--" + +He was obliged to explain a little of the real situation to her; of the +stratagem he had employed. This he did in few words. She listened +eagerly. The mantle of the commonplace, which to her eyes had fallen a +few moments before on his shoulders, became at least partly withdrawn. +She divined the great hazard, the danger he had faced--was facing now. +Detective or not, it had been daringly done. Her voice, with a warm +thrill in it, said as much. Her eyes shone like stars. She came of a +live virile stock, from men and women who had done things themselves. + +"If only I, too, had a weapon!" she said, leaning toward him. "In case +they should discover--" + +"No, no. It wouldn't do at all." + +"Why not?" the warm lips breathed. "I can shoot. Some one once taught +me--" + +She stopped short. A chill seemed descending. "You were saying--" he +prompted eagerly. + +But she did not answer. The sweep of her hair made a shadowy veil around +her; his mind harked swiftly back. She had always had wondrous hair. It +had taken two big braids to hold it; most girls could get their hair in +one braid. He had been very proud, for her, of those two +braids--once--with their blue or pink ribbons that had popped below the +edge of her skirts. He continued to see blue and pink ribbons now. + +Both were for some time silent. At length she stirred--seated herself. +Mr. Heatherbloom mechanically did likewise, but at a distance from her. +He tried not to see her, to become mentally oblivious of her presence, +to concentrate again solely on the matter in hand. A long, long interval +passed. Chug! chug! the engines continued to grind. How far away they +sounded. Another sound, too, at length broke the stillness--a stealthy +footfall on the deck. It sent him at once softly to the window; he gazed +out. She followed. + +"Are--are we getting anywhere near port?" + +He did not tell her that it was not port he was looking for so soon as +he gazed out searchingly into the night. + +"What is it?" She had drawn the curtain a little. Her shoulder touched +him. + +Suddenly his arm swept her back. "What do you mean"--he turned on her +sternly--"by drawing that curtain?" + +"Was any one there?" + +"Any one--" he began almost fiercely; then paused. The figure he had +seen in that flash looked like that of the foreman of the stokers. In +that case, then, the fellow was not dead; he had recovered. Through a +mistaken sense of mercy Mr. Heatherbloom had not slipped the seemingly +lifeless body over the side. Now he, and she, too, were likely to pay +dearly for that clemency. Bitterly he clenched his hands. Had the man +caught a glimpse of him at the window? A flicker of electric light, +without, shone on it. + +The girl started again to speak. "Hush!" He drew her back yet farther. +Above, some one had raised the corner of the canvas covering the +skylight. It was too dark, however, for the person, whoever it might be, +to discern very much below. Neither Mr. Heatherbloom nor his companion +now moved. The tenseness and excitement of the moment held them. The +girl breathed quickly; her hand was at his sleeve. Even in that moment +of suspense and peril he was conscious of the nearness of her--the lithe +young form so close! + +The creaking of the chair in the recess was again heard. Had his +excellency caught sight of the person above? Was he endeavoring to +attract attention? And could the observer at the skylight discern the +nobleman? It seemed unlikely. The glass above did not appear to extend +quite over the recess. Through a slight opening of the draperies Mr. +Heatherbloom, however, could see his captive and noticed he seemed to be +trying to tip back farther in his chair, to reach out behind with his +bound hands--toward what? The young man abruptly realized, and half +started to his feet--but not in time! The chair went over backward and +came down with a crash, but not before his excellency's fingers had +succeeded in touching an electric button near the desk. A flood of light +filled the place. + +It was answered by a shout--a signal for other voices. Fragments of +glass fell around; a figure dropped into the salon; others followed. The +door to the deck yielded to force from without. Mr. Heatherbloom, though +surprised and outnumbered, struggled as best he might; his weapon rang +out; then, as they pressed closer, he defended himself with the butt of +his revolver and his fist. + +There could be but one end to the unequal contest. The girl--a helpless +spectator--realized that, though she could with difficulty perceive what +took place, it was all so chaotic. She tried to draw nearer, but bearded +faces intervened; rough hands thrust her back. She would have called out +but the words would not come. It was like an evil dream. As through a +mist she saw one among many who had entered from the deck--a giant in +size. He carried an oaken bar in his hand and now stole sidewise with +murderous intent toward the single figure striving so gallantly. + +"No, no!" Betty Dalrymple's voice came back to her suddenly; she +exclaimed wildly, incoherently. + +But the foreman of the stokers raised the bar, waited. He found his +opportunity; his arm descended. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +AND THEN-- + +Mr. Heatherbloom regained consciousness, or semi-consciousness, in an +ill-smelling place. His first impulse was to raise his hands to his +aching head, but he could not do this on account of two iron bands that +held his wrists to a stanchion. His legs, too, he next became vaguely +aware, were fastened by a similar contrivance to the deck. He closed his +eyes, and leaned back; the throbbings seemed to beat on his brain like +the angry surf, smiting harder and harder until nature at length came to +his relief and oblivion once more claimed him. + +How long it was before he again opened his eyes he could not tell. The +shooting throes were still there but he could endure them now and even +think in an incoherent fashion. He gazed around. The light grudgingly +admitted by a small port-hole revealed a bare prison-like cell. +Realization of what it all meant, his being there, swept over him, and, +in a semi-delirious frenzy, he tugged at his fastenings. He did not +succeed in releasing himself; he only increased the hurtling waves of +pain in his head. What did she think of her valiant rescuer now, he who +had raised her hopes so high but to dash them utterly? + +Some one, some time later, brought him water and gave him bread, +releasing his wrists while he ate and fastening them again when he had +finished. The hours that seemed days passed. During that time he half +thought he had another visitor but was not sure. The delirium had +returned; he strove to think lucidly, but knew himself very +light-headed. He imagined Sonia Turgeinov came to him, that she looked +down on him. + +"_Mon Dieu_! It is my canine keeper; the man with the dogs. What a lame +and impotent conclusion for one so clever! I looked for something better +from you, my intrepid friend, who dared to come aboard in that +thrilling manner--who managed to follow me, through what arts, I do not +know. How are the mighty fallen!" + +Her tone was low, mocking. He disdained to reply. + +"Really, I am disappointed, after my not having betrayed who you were to +the prince." + +"Why didn't you?" he said. + +She laughed. "Perhaps because I am an artist, and it seemed inartistic +to intervene--to interrupt the action at an inopportune moment--to +stultify what promised to be an unusually involved complication. When +first I saw and recognized you on the _Nevski_, it was like one of those +divine surprises of the master dramatist, M. Sardou. Really, I was +indebted for the thrill of it. Besides, had I spoken, the prince might +have tossed you overboard; he is quite capable of doing so. That, too, +would have been inartistic, would have turned a comedy of love into rank +melodrama." + +Rank nonsense! Of course such a conversation could not be real. But he +cried out in the dream: "What matter if his excellency had tossed me +overboard? What good am I here?" + +"To her, you mean?" + +"To her, of course." Bitterly. + +The vision's eyes were very bright; her plastic, rather mature form bent +nearer. He felt a cool hand at the bandage, readjusting it about his +head. That, naturally, could not be. She who had betrayed Betty +Dalrymple to the prince would not be sedulous about Mr. Heatherbloom's +injury. + +"Foolish boy!" she breathed. Incongruous solicitude! "Who are you? No +common dog-tender--of that I am sure. What have you been?" + +"What--" Wildly. + +"There! there!" said half-soothingly that immaterial, now maternal +visitant. "Never mind." + +"How is she? Where is she?" he demanded, incoherently. + +"She is well, and is going to be, very soon now, the prince's bride." + +"Never." + +"Don't let his excellency hear you say so in that tone. He thinks you +only a detective, not an ardent, though secret wooer yourself. The +Strogareffs brook no rivals," she laughed, "and he is already like a +madman. I should tremble for your life if he dreamed--" + +"Help me to help her--" he said. "It will be more than worth your while. +You did this for--" + +She shook her head. "I have descended very low, indeed, but not so low +as that. Like the bravos of old"--was it she who spoke bitterly +now?--"Sonia Turgeinov is, at least, true to him who has given her the +little _douceur_. No, no; do not look to me, my young and Quixotic +friend. You have only yourself to depend upon--" + +"Myself!" He felt the sharp iron cut his flesh. That seemed +indubitable--no mere fantasy of pain but pain itself. + +"Let well enough alone," she advised. "The prince will probably put you +ashore somewhere--I'll beg him to do that. He'll be better natured +after--after the happy event," she laughed. "Perhaps, he'll even slip a +little purse into your pocket though you did hurt a few of his men. Not +that he cares much for them--mere serfs. You could find a little +consolation, eh? With a bottle, perhaps. Besides, I have heard these +island girls have bright eyes." He could not speak. "Are you adamant, +save for one?" she mocked. "Content yourself with what must be. It is a +good match for her. The little fool might scour the world for a better +one. As for you--your crazy infatuation--what have you to offer? _Très +drôle!_ Do dog-tenders mate with such as she? No; destiny says to her, +be a grand lady at the court of Petersburg. I am doing her a great +favor. Many American families would pay me well, I tell you--" + +She paused. "You will smile at it all, some day, my friend. You played +and lost. At least, it was daringly done. You deceived even me over the +telephone. 'Go to sleep,' forsooth! You commanded in a right princely +tone. And I obeyed." + +An instant her hand lingered once more near the bandage. It was +ridiculous, that tentative, almost sympathetic touch. Then, she--a +figment of disordered imagination--receded; there was no doubt about his +light-headedness now. + +They sent again bread and water, and, after what seemed an intolerable +interval, he found himself eating with zest; he was exceedingly hungry. +He also began to feel mentally normal, although his thoughts were the +reverse of agreeable. Days had, no doubt, gone by. He chafed at this +enforced inaction, but sometimes through sheer weariness fell into a +semblance of natural sleep despite the sitting posture he was obliged to +maintain. On one such occasion he was abruptly awakened by a light +thrown suddenly on his face. He would have started to his feet but the +fetters restrained him. + +It was night; a lantern, held by a hand that shook slightly, revealed a +face he did not know. He felt assured, however, of his mental lucidity +at the moment. The new-comer, though a stranger, was undoubtedly flesh +and blood. + +"What do you want?" said the prisoner. + +"A word with you, Monsieur." The speaker had a smooth face and dark +soulful eyes. His manner was both furtive and constrained. He looked +around as if uncomfortable at finding himself in that place. + +"Well, I guess you can have it. I can't get away," muttered the manacled +man. + +"Miss Dalrymple sent me." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's interest was manifest; he strove to suppress outward +signs of it. "What--what for?" + +"She wanted to make sure you were not dead." + +The prisoner did not answer; his emotion was too great at the moment to +permit his doing so. She was in trouble, yet she considered the poor +detective. That was like her--straight as a string--true blue-- + +The visitor started to go. "Hold on!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, whose ideas +were surging fast. This youth had managed to come here at her +instigation. Had she made a friend of him, an ally? He did not appear an +heroic one, but he was, no doubt, the best that had offered. Betty +Dalrymple was not one to sit idly; she would seek ways and means. She +was clever, knew how to use those violet eyes. (Did not Mr. Heatherbloom +himself remember?) Who was he--this nocturnal caller? Not an officer--he +was too young. Cabin-boy, perhaps? More likely the operator. Mr. +Heatherbloom had noticed that the yacht was provided with the wireless +outfit. + +"How long have I been here?" he now asked abruptly. + +"It is three days since monsieur was knocked on the head." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "Three days? Well, it cost me a fortune," +he sighed, remembering the rôle of detective that had been thrust upon +him. "I could have stood for the sore head." + +The other had his foot at the threshold but he lingered. "How much of a +fortune? What was the reward?" He strove to speak carelessly but there +was a trace of eagerness in his tones. + +"You mean what _is_ it?" returned Mr. Heatherbloom, and named an amount +large enough to make the soulful eyes open. "And to think," watchfully, +"one little message to the shore might procure for the sender such a +sum!" + +"Monsieur!" Indignantly. "You think that I would--" + +"Then you _are_ the wireless operator?" + +"I was." Francois spoke more calmly. "His excellency has had the +apparatus destroyed. He will take no chances of other spies or +detectives being aboard who might understand its use." + +The prisoner hardly heard the last words; for the moment he was +concerned only with his disappointment. A sudden hope had died almost as +soon as it had been born. "Too bad!" he murmured. Then--"How did you get +here?" + +"The third officer has the keys and our cabins are adjoining. I seized +an opportune moment, slipped in, and took a wax impression of what I +wanted. Then with an old key and a file--Monsieur is a great detective, +perhaps, but I, too," with Gaston boastfulness, "can aspire to a little +cleverness." + +"A great deal," said Mr. Heatherbloom, the while his brain worked +rapidly. Betty Dalrymple must have paid the youth well for serving her +thus far. Thrift, as well as sentiment, seemed to shine from Francois' +eloquent dark eyes. Could he be induced to espouse her cause yet +further? + +"Monsieur must not think I would prove disloyal to his excellency, my +employer," spoke up the youth as if reading what had been passing +through the other's mind. "There could be no harm in a mere inquiry as +to monsieur's state of health." + +"None at all," assented the prisoner quickly. "Though"--a sudden +inspiration came to Mr. Heatherbloom--"contingencies may arise when one +can best serve those who employ him by secretly opposing them." + +"I don't understand, Monsieur," said Francois cautiously. + +"The prince is a madman. By incurring the enmity of his Imperial Master +he would rush on to his own destruction. Suppose by this misalliance, +the very map of Europe itself were destined to be changed?" + +The words sounded portentous, and Francois stared. He had imagination. +The beautiful American girl had told him that this man before him was a +great and daring detective. He spoke now even as an emissary of the czar +himself. The prince was a high lord, close to the throne. These were +deep waters. The youth looked troubled; Mr. Heatherbloom allowed the +thought he had inspired to sink in. + +"What is our first port?" his voice, more authoritative, now demanded. + +Francois mentioned an island. + +"When do we get there?" + +"We are near it to-night but on account of the rocks and reefs, I heard +the captain say we would slow down, so as not to enter the harbor until +daybreak." + +Daybreak! And then? Mr. Heatherbloom closed his eyes; when he again +opened them they revealed none of the poignant emotion that had swept +over him. "What time is it now?" + +"About ten." + +"My jailer--the third officer, you say--visits this cell once every +night. Do you know what time he comes?" + +"I shouldn't be here, Monsieur, at this moment, if I didn't know that. +He comes in an hour, after his watch is over, with the bread and +water--monsieur's frugal fare. And now"--those apprehensions, +momentarily dulled by wonderment seemed returning to Francois--"I will +bid monsieur--" + +"Stay! One moment!" Mr. Heatherbloom's accents were feverish, +commanding. "You must--in the name of the czar!--for the prince's +sake!--for hers--for--for the reward--" + +"Monsieur!" Again that flicker of indignation. + +Mr. Heatherbloom swept it aside. "She has asked you to help her escape?" +he demanded swiftly. + +Francois did not exactly deny. There were no listeners here. "It would +be impossible for her to escape," he answered rather sullenly. + +"Then she did broach a plan--one you refused to accede to. What was it?" + +"Mere madness!" Scoffingly. "Mademoiselle may be generous, and _mon +Dieu_! very persuasive, but she doesn't get me to--" + +"What _was_ her proposal? Answer." Sternly. "You can't incriminate +yourself here." + +Francois knew that. The cell was remote. There could be no harm in +letting the talk drift a little further. He replied, briefly outlining +the plan. + +"Excellent!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Mere madness!" reiterated Francois. + +"Not at all. But if it were, some people would, under the +circumstances," with subtle accent, "gladly undertake it--just as you +will!" he added. + +"Oh, will I?" Ironically. + +"Yes, when you hear all I have to say. In the first place, I relinquish +all claim to the reward. Sufficient for me--" And Mr. Heatherbloom +mumbled something about the czar. + +"Bah! That sounds very well, only there wouldn't be any reward," +retorted Francois. "The prince would only capture us again and then--" +He shrugged. "I know his temper and have no desire for the longer voyage +with old man Charon--" + +"Wait!" More aggressively. "I have not done. No one will suspect that +you have been here to-nigh't?" he asked. + +"Does monsieur think I am a fool? No, no! And now my little errand for +mademoiselle being finished--" + +"You can do as Miss Dalrymple wishes, achieve an embarrassment of +riches, and run no risk whatever yourself." + +"Indeed?" Starting slightly. + +"At least, no appreciable one." Mr. Heatherbloom explained his plan +quickly. Francois listened, at first with open skepticism, then with +growing interest. + +"_Mon Dieu_! If it were possible!" he muttered. South-of-France +imagination had again been appealed to. "But no--" + +"Remember all the reward will be for you"--swiftly--"sufficient to buy +vineyards and settle down for a life of peace and plenty--" Francois' +eyes wavered; any Frenchman would have found the picture enticing. +Already the beautiful American girl had, as Mr. Heatherbloom suspected, +surreptitiously thrust several valuable jewels upon the youth as a +reward for this preliminary service. Having experienced a foretaste of +riches, Francois perhaps secretly longed for more of the glittering gems +and for some of those American dollars which sounded five times as large +in francs. Besides, this man, the great detective, or emissary, inspired +confidence; his tones were vibrant, compelling. + +"And for you, Monsieur?--the risk for you--" Francois faltered. + +"Never mind about me. You consent?" + +The other swallowed, muttered a monosyllable in a low tone. + +"Then--" Heatherbloom murmured a few instructions. "Miss Dalrymple is +not to know." + +"I understand," said Francois quickly. And going out stealthily, he +closed and locked the door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +INTO THE INFINITE + +The midnight hour drew near, and, above deck, tranquillity reigned. It +was, however, the comparative quiet that follows a storm. A threatening +day had culminated in a fierce tropical downpour--a cloud-burst--when +the very heavens had seemed to open. The _Nevski_, steaming forward at +half speed, had come almost to a stop; struck by the masses of water, +she had fairly staggered beneath the impact. Now she lay motionless, +while every shroud and line dripped; the darkness had become inky. Only +the light from cabin windows which lay on the wet deck like shafts of +silver relieved that Cimmerian effect. The sea moaned from the lashing +it had received--a faint undertone, however, that became suddenly +drowned by loud and harsh clangor, the hammering on metal somewhere +below. Possibly something had gone wrong with a hatch or iron +compartment door inadvertently left open, or one of the ventilators may +have got jammed and needed adjusting. The captain, as he hastened down a +companionway, muttered angrily beneath his breath about water in the +stoke room. The decks, in the vicinity of the cabins, seemed now +deserted, when from the shadows, a figure that had merged in the general +gloom, stepped out and passed swiftly through one of the trails of +light. Gliding stealthily toward the stern, this person drew near the +rail, and, peering cautiously over, looked down on one of the small +boats swung out in readiness for the landing party at dawn. + +"Mademoiselle," he breathed low. + +"Is that you, Francois?" came up softly from the boat. + +He murmured something. "Is all in readiness?" + +"Quite! Make haste." + +The person above, about to swing himself over the rail, paused; a cabin +door, near by, had been thrown open and a stream of light shot near him. +Some one came out; moreover, she--for the some one was a woman--did not +close the door. The youth crouched back, trying to draw himself from +sight but the woman saw him, and coming quickly forward spoke. She +thought him, no doubt, one of the sailors. He did not answer, perhaps +was too frightened to do so, and his silence caused her to draw nearer. +More sharply she started to address him in her own native Russian but +the words abruptly ceased; a sudden exclamation fell from her lips. He, +as if made desperate by what the woman, now at the rail, saw or divined, +seemed imbued with extraordinary strength. The success or failure of the +enterprise hung on how he met this unexpected emergency. Heroic, if +needs be, brutal measures were demanded. Her outcry was stifled but +Sonia Turgeinov was strong and resisted like a tigress. Perhaps she +thought he meant to kill her, and in an excess of fear she managed to +call out once. Fortunately for the youth, the hammering below +continued, but whether she had made herself heard or not was uncertain. +Confronted by a dire possibility, he exerted himself to the utmost to +still that warning voice. In frenzied haste he seized the heavy scarf +she had thrown around her shoulders upon leaving the cabin and wound it +about her face and head. The sinuous body seemed to grow limp in his +arms. His was not a pleasant task but a necessary one. This woman had +delivered the girl to the prince in the first place; would now attempt +to frustrate her escape. Any moment some one else might come on deck and +discover them. + +"Quick! Why don't you come?" Betty Dalrymple's anxious voice ascended +from the darkness. + +The youth knew well that no time must be lost, but what to do? He could +not leave the woman. She might be only feigning unconsciousness. And +anyway they would soon find her and learn the truth. That would mean +their quick recapture. Already he thought he heard a footstep descending +from the bridge--approaching--With extraordinary strength for one of +Francois' slender build, he swung the figure of the woman over the side, +dropped her into the boat and followed himself. A breathless moment of +suspense ensued; he listened. The approaching footsteps came on; then +paused, and turned the other way. The youth waited no longer. The little +boat at the side was lowered softly; it touched the water and floated +away from the _Nevski_ like a leaf. Then the darkness swallowed it. + + +"How far are we from the yacht now, Francois?" + +"Only a few miles, Mademoiselle." + +"Do you think we'll be far enough away at daybreak so they can't see +us?" + +"Have no fear, Mademoiselle." The voice of Francois in the stern, +thrilled. "There's a fair sailing wind." + +"Isn't it strange"--Betty Dalrymple, speaking half to herself, regarded +the motionless form in the bottom of the boat--"that she, of all +persons, and I, should be thus thrust together, in such a tiny craft, +on such an enormous sea?" + +"I really couldn't help it, Mademoiselle"--apologetically--"bringing her +with us. There was no alternative." + +"Oh, I'm not criticizing you, who did so splendidly." The girl's eyes +again fell. "She is unconscious a long time, Francois." + +The youth's reply was lost amid the sound of the waters. Only the sea +talked now, wildly, moodily; flying feathers of foam flecked the night. +The boat took the waves laboriously and came down with shrill seething. +She seemed ludicrously minute amid that vast unrest. The youth steered +steadily; to Betty Dalrymple he seemed just going on anyhow, dashing +toward a black blanket with nothing beyond. It was all very wonderful +and awe-inspiring as well as somewhat fearsome. The waves had a cruel +sound if one listened to them closely. A question floating in her mind +found, after a long time, hesitating but audible expression: + +"Do you think there's any doubt about our being able to make one of the +islands, Francois?" + +"None whatever!" came back the confident, almost eager reply. "Not the +slightest doubt in the world, Mademoiselle. The islands are very near +and we can't help seeing one of them at daybreak." + +"Daybreak?" she said. "I wish it were here now." + +Swish! swish! went the sea with more menacing sound. For the moment +Francois steered wildly, and the boat careened; he brought her up +sharply. The girl spoke no more. Perhaps the motion of the little craft +gradually became more soothing as she accustomed herself to it, for, +before long, her head drooped. It was dry in the bow; a blanket +protected her from the wind, and, weary with the events of the last few +days, she seemed to rest as securely on this wave-rocked couch as a +child in its cradle. The youth, uncertain whether she slept or not, +forbore to disturb her. Hours went by. + +As the night wore on a few stars came out in a discouraged kind of way. +Heretofore he had been steering by the wind; now, that scanty +peripatetic band, adrift on celestial highways, assisted him in keeping +his course. When one sleepy-eyed planet went in, another, not far away +(from the human scope of survey) came out, and Francois, with the +perspicacity of a follower of the sea, seemed to have learned how to +gage direction by a visual game of hide-and-seek with the pin-points of +infinitude. Between watching the stars, the sea and the sail, he found +absorbing occupation for mind and muscle. Sometimes, in the water's +depressions, a lull would catch them, then when the wind boomed again +over the tops of the crests, slapping fiercely the canvas, a brief +period of hazard had to be met. The boat, like a delicate live creature, +needed a fine as well as a firm hand. + +His faculties thus concentrated, Francois had remained oblivious to the +dark form in the center of the boat, although long ago Sonia Turgeinov +had first moved and looked up. If she made any sound, he whose glance +passed steadily over her had not heard it. She raised herself slightly; +sat a long time motionless, an arm thrown over a seat, her eyes +alternating in direction, from the seas near the downward gunwale, to +the almost indistinguishable figure of him in the stern, the while her +fingers played with a scarf--the one that had been wound around her +head. Once she leaned back, her cheek against the sharp thwart, her gaze +heavenward. She remained thus a long while, with body motionless, though +her fingers continued to toy with the bit of heavy silk, as if keeping +pace with some mercurial rush of thoughts. + +A wastrel, she had been in many strange places, but never before had she +found herself in a situation so extraordinary. To her startled outlook, +the boat might well have seemed a chip tossed on the mad foam of chaos. +This figure, almost indistinguishable, yet so steadfastly present at the +stern of the little craft, appeared grim and ghostlike. But that he was +no ghost--His grip had been real; certainly that. He had been, too, +perforce, a master of action. She leaned her head on her elbow. +Strangely, she felt no resentment. + +The tired stars, as by a community of interest and common +understanding, slowly faded altogether. The woman bent her glance +bow-ward. The day--what would it reveal? She understood a good deal, yet +much still puzzled her. As through a dream, she had seemed to hear the +name, "Francois"--to listen to a crystalline voice, fresh as the +tinkling bells in some temple at the dawn. The darkness of the sky fused +into a murky gray, and as that somber tone began, in turn, to be +replaced by a lighter neutral tint, she made out dimly the figure of the +girl. As by a species of fascination, she continued to look at her while +the morn unfolded slowly. From behind a dark promontory of vapor, +Aurora's warm hand now tossed out a few careless ribbons. They lightened +the chilly-looking sea; they touched a golden tress--just one, that +stole out from under the gray blanket. The girl's face could not be +seen; the heavy covering concealed the lines of the lithe young form. + +As she continued to sleep--undisturbed by the first manifestations of +the dawn--the woman's glance swept backward to him at the helm. The +shafts of light showed now his face, worn and set, yet strangely +transfigured. He did not seem to notice her; beneath heavy lids his +quick glances shot this way and that to where wisps of mist on the +surface of the sea partly obscured the outlook. Sonia Turgeinov divined +his purpose; he was looking for the _Nevski_. But although he continued +to search in the direction of the yacht, he did not catch sight of her. +Only the winding and twining diaphanous veils played where he feared she +might have been visible. An expression of great satisfaction passed over +his features. + +Then he swayed from sheer weariness; he could have dropped gladly to the +bottom of the boat. Brain as well as sinew has its limitations and the +night had been long and trying. He had done work that called for +tenseness and mental concentration every moment. He had outlasted divers +and many periods when catastrophe might have overwhelmed them, and now +that the blackness which had shrouded a thousand unseen risks and perils +had been swept aside, an almost overpowering reaction claimed him. This +natural lassitude became the more marked after he had scanned the +horizon in vain for the prince's pleasure-yacht. + +His task, however, was far from over, and he straightened. To Sonia +Turgeinov, his gaze and his expression were almost somnambulistic. He +continued steering, guiding their destinies as by force of habit. +Luckily the breeze had waned and the boat danced more gaily than +dangerously. It threw little rainbows of spray in the air; he blinked at +them, his eyes half closed. In the bow the old dun-colored blanket +stirred but he did not see it. A glorious sun swept up, and began to lap +thirstily the wavering mists from the surface of the sea. + +Sonia Turgeinov spoke now softly to the steersman. What she said he did +not know; his lack-luster gaze met hers. All dislike and disapproval +seemed to have vanished from it; he saw her only as one sees a face in a +daguerreotype of long ago, or looks at features limned by a soulless +etcher. + +"Do you see it?" he asked. + +"What?" + +"Trees? Aren't those trees?" + +"I see nothing." + +"You do. You must. They are there." He spoke almost roughly, as if she +irritated him. + +"Oh, yes. I think I do see something," she said, and started. "Like a +speck?--a film?--a bird's wing, perhaps?" + +In the bow the blanket again stirred. Then, as from the dull chrysalis +emerge brightness and beauty, so from those dun folds sprang into the +morning light a red-lipped, lovely vision. + +"Trees," repeated the steersman to Sonia Turgeinov. "I am positive--" he +went on, but lost interest in his own words. Fatigue seemed to fall from +him in an instant; he stared. + +From beneath her golden hair Betty Dalrymple's eyes flashed full upon +him. + +"You!" she said. + +Mr. Heatherbloom appeared to relapse; his expression--that smile--vague, +indefinite--again partook of the somnambulistic. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +AN ANOMALOUS SITUATION + +The most unexpected and extraordinary thing in the world had happened, +yet Betty Dalrymple asked no questions. Had she done so, it is probable +that Mr. Heatherbloom would have been physically unequal to the +labyrinthine explanation the occasion demanded. For a brief spell the +girl had continued to regard him and she had seemed about to speak +further. Then the blue light of her gaze had slowly turned and her lips +remained mute. He was glad of this; of course he would later have to +tell something, but sufficient unto that unlucky hour were the +perplexities thereof. Sonia Turgeinov had been surprised, too, but it +was Betty Dalrymple's surprise that had most awakened her wonder. "Why, +didn't you know it was he?" the dark eyes seemed to say to the young +girl. "Who else, on earth, did you think it was?" The mystery for her, +as well as for Betty Dalrymple, deepened. Only for Mr. Heatherbloom +there existed no mystery; it was all now clear as day. He had done what +he had set out to do. She would soon be enabled to find her way back to +civilization. His present concern lay with the occupation of the moment. + +The tree _was_ a tree; this was the most momentous immediate +consideration; a few more miles had established that fact with +positiveness. But distances on the water are long, and they three would +have to journey together on the sea yet a while. He bethought him of his +duties, as host; these--his two passengers-were in his care. + +"You should find biscuits in a basket and water in a cask," he said, +speaking to both of them, and, at the same time, to immeasurable +distance. "If you don't mind looking--I can't very well." + +At that, a nervous laugh welled from Sonia Turgeinov's throat; she had +to give way. Possibly the absurd thought seized her that all the +tragedies and comedies might be simmered down to one thing. Were there +biscuits in the basket? But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh; her eyes were +like stars on a wintry night; her face was white as paper. It was turned +now from the steersman--ahead. She saw the blur before them become a +definite line of green; later she made out details, the large heads of +small trees. The former looked like big overflowing cabbages; the +trunks, beneath, sprawled this way and that, as the vagaries of the wind +had directed their growth. In front of them and the vernal strip, a +white line slowly resolved itself into moving foam. She--they all could +hear it now, faintly--they were very near; no thunderous anthem it +pealed forth; its voice seethed in soft cadences. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with sheet taut, ran his craft toward the sands but +the boat grounded some little distance from the shore. It was useless to +attempt to go farther so he let his sail out, got up and stepped +overboard. The water was rather more than knee deep; he tugged at the +boat and attempted to draw her up farther without much success. She was +too heavy, and desisting from his efforts, he approached Miss Dalrymple. +The young girl shrank back slightly, but seeming not to notice that +first instinctive movement, he reached over and lifted her out. It was +done in a businesslike manner and with no more outward concern than a +Kikuji porter might have displayed in meeting the exigencies of a like +situation. The bubbles seethed around Mr. Heatherbloom's legs; unmindful +of them or the shifting sands beneath foot, he strode straight as might +be for the shore. His burden was not a heavy one but it seemed very +still and unyielding. He released her at the earliest possible +opportunity and in the same matter-of-fact way (still that of a human +ferry on the banks of the turbulent Chania) he returned for his other +passenger. Around Sonia Turgeinov's rich lips a mocking smile seemed to +play; she arose at once. + +"How charming! How very gallant!" she murmured. "First, you nearly +strangle one, and then--" + +Her soft arm stole about his neck, and her warm breath swept his cheek +as, stony-faced, he trudged along. This time his burden was heavier, +although there were men who would not have minded that under the +circumstances. The dark eyes, full of sparkles and enigmas, turned upon +his frosty ones. But she did not see very far into that so-called medium +of the soul; she received only an impression one gets in looking at a +wall. + +He put her down--gently. Whereupon, her dark brows lifted ironically. +He, gentle--to her? Did she dream? She felt again that fierce clasp of +the night before, and mentally told herself she would like to label him +an artistic study in contrasts. Really the adventure began to be "worth +while"; she felt almost reconciled to it. He had carried her off as the +rough, old-fashioned pirates bear away feminine prizes from a town they +have looted. From dog-tender to bucaneer--he appealed to her +imagination. She experienced a childlike desire to sit down where he had +left her and play with the shells. But instead she looked toward Betty +Dalrymple. That young girl, however, did not return her regard, though +the golden head, a few moments before, had lifted once, with a swift, +bird-like motion toward Sonia Turgeinov, en route beachward. Now the +girl's features were steadfastly bent away; whatever gladness she may +have felt in thus, after many vicissitudes, reaching land safely, she +kept to herself. + +Mr. Heatherbloom resumed the task of porter; his next burden--the +water-cask--was the heaviest of all. He struggled with it and once +nearly went down, so tired was he, but he got it ashore, and the basket +of biscuits, too, and some other things. The boat, floating more +lightly, he now pulled to the strand; then he took out the spar and the +sail. This done, he gazed around; the place was deserted by man, though +of birds and crabs and other crawling objects there were a-plenty. Mr. +Heatherbloom stood with knitted brow; it was a time for contemplation, +visual and mental. For the latter he did not feel very fit as he strove +to think what was best to do next. The other two--he still forced +himself to keep to the purely impersonal aspect of the case--were his +charges. Being women, they were mutually and equally (the mockery of +it!) dependent on him. He was responsible for their welfare and +well-being. In the sail-boat he had been captain; ashore, he became +commandant, an answerable factor. He began to plan. + +What kind of place had they come to?--was it big or small?--inhabited, +or deserted? All this would have to be ascertained, later. Meanwhile, +temporary headquarters were needed; he would erect a tent. The spar and +boom served for the ridge and front poles, the sail for the canvas +covering, the sheet and halyards for the restraining lines. Sonia +Turgeinov again watched him; her interest was now of that vague kind she +had sometimes experienced when the manager appeared on a darkened stage, +with a fresh crackling manuscript. Then she had lolled back and listened +to the first reading. She would have lolled back now--for the air was +soporific--but, instead, she started suddenly. The old wound on Mr. +Heatherbloom's head, heretofore concealed by the cap Francois had +procured for him, had reopened as he exerted himself; he raised his hand +quickly and seemed a little at a loss. She stepped to him at once. + +"The scarf, Monsieur?" + +"Thank you." He took it absently. + +"It serves divers purposes," she murmured. And Mr. Heatherbloom, +remembering the more violent employment he had found for it the night +before, flushed slightly. + +She added delicate emphasis to her remark by assisting him. With her own +fingers she tied a knot, and rather painstakingly spread out the ends. +He endured grimly. Miss Dalrymple appeared not to have observed the +episode but, of course, it had in reality been all quite fully revealed +to her. It was in keeping with certain circumstances of the past that +the Russian woman should not be unmindful of him, her confrère in the +conspiracy. That much was patent; but other happenings were not so +easily reconciled. What had taken place on the deck of the _Nevski_ in +those breathless last few moments as they were escaping, was in ill +conformity with those amicable relations which should have existed +between the two. This man's presence in the boat, in the place of +Francois, could be explained by no logical process with the premises she +had at her command. + +The bandage possessed a subtly weird and bizarre interest for the young +girl. He had been injured. How? For what reason? Betty Dalrymple's mind +swept, seemingly without very definite cause, to another scene, one of +violence. Again she heard the crashing of glass and saw forms leaping +into the cabin. Her thoughts reverted, on the instant, to the unknown +helper she had been obliged to leave behind. Somehow, real as he had +been, he seemed at this moment strangely apart, something in the +abstract. Then all illusive speculations merged abruptly into a +realization that needed no demonstration. Sonia Turgeinov possessed a +certain outré attractiveness the young girl had never noted before. The +violet eyes, shining through the long shading lashes, rested a moment on +her; then passed steadily beyond. + +"I'm off for a look around." Mr. Heatherbloom, having transferred their +meager possessions to the tent, now addressed Miss Dalrymple, or Sonia +Turgeinov, or an indefinite space between them. "Better stay right here +while I'm gone." His tones had a firm accent. "Sorry there are only +biscuits for breakfast, but perhaps there'll be better fare before long. +If you should move around"--his eye lingered authoritatively on Betty +Dalrymple--"keep to the beach." + +"How very solicitous!" laughed Sonia Turgeinov as the young man strode +off. "That was intended especially for you, Mademoiselle. As for me, it +does not matter." With a shrug. "I might stroll into the wood, be +devoured by wild beasts, and who would care?" + +Betty Dalrymple did not answer. + +"A truce, Mademoiselle!" said the other in the same gay tone. "I know +very well what you think of me. You told me very clearly on the +_Nevski_, and before that, on shore. In this instance, however, since it +is through no fault or choice of mine that we are thrown thus closely +together, would it not be well to make the best of the situation?" + +"There seems, indeed, no choice in the matter," answered the young girl +coldly. + +"None, unless like those in the admirable play, we elect to pitch our +respective camps at different parts of the beach. But that would be +absurd, wouldn't it? Besides, I have my punishment--no light one for +Sonia Turgeinov who herself has been accustomed to a little adulation in +the past. I am _de trop_." + +"_De trop_?" There was a faint uplifting of the brow. "_You_ should not +be altogether that." + +"You mean I should be very friendly with him, my colleague and +confidant, _n'est ce pas_?" Sonia's dark eyes swept swiftly the proud +lovely face. "In truth he proved an able assistant." Her voice was a +little mocking. "What if I should tell you it was he who planned it all +--devised the ways and means?" A statue could, not have been more +immovable than Betty Dalrymple. "Or," suddenly, "what if I should say +quite--_au contraire_." The girl stirred. Sonia Turgeinov seemed to +ruminate. "Should I be so forgiving--after last night?" she murmured. +"It would be inconsistent, wouldn't it?--or angelic? And I am no angel." + +The girl's lips started to form a question but she did not speak. Afar, +Mr. Heatherbloom's figure could be seen, almost at the vanishing point. +He was toiling up an incline. Then the green foliage swallowed him. +Sonia Turgeinov smiled at vacancy. "Though I do owe him a little," she +went on, half meditative. "He _was_ kind to me in the park. He was sorry +for me. Think of it, and without admiring me. Other men have professed +for poor Sonia Turgeinov a little interest or solicitude at divers times +and places, but it has always been accompanied with something else. Is +that beyond the understanding of your pure soul, nourished in a +hothouse, Mademoiselle?" There was a sudden hard ring of rebellion in +her tones. "Am I handsome? Your eyes said it not long ago. _Ma foi_!" +Her voice becoming light again. "It was Parsifal himself who talked with +me in the park--that place for rendezvous and romances." Her thoughts +leaped over time and space. "The first light of the sun revealed to you +this day the last face you expected to see. It was as if a bit of +miracle, or a little diablerie had happened. I, too, was in a haze, not +so great--though on the deck the night before I little expected to +encounter one I had last seen in chains, a prisoner--" + +"A prisoner--in chains--he--" Betty Dalrymple stared. + +"You did not know? What on earth did you expect? That the prince would +give him the _suite de luxe_ after the beating his excellency +received--" + +"The beating?" half-stammered the girl. "Then the man in the salon who +claimed to be a detective was--" + +"What? He claimed that?" laughed Sonia Turgeinov. "_Très drôle!"_ + +But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh. Her eyes, bent seaward, saw nothing +now of the leaping waves; her face was fixed as a cameo's. Only her hair +stirred, wind-tossed, all in motion like her thoughts. And regarding +her, Sonia Turgeinov's eyes began to harden a little. Did the woman +regret for the moment what she had said, divining again some play within +a play? Yet what could there be in common between this beautiful heiress +and the _gardeurde chiens_? No! it was absurd to conceive anything of +the kind. Nevertheless Sonia Turgeinov unaccountably began to experience +a vague hostility for the young girl; this she might partly attribute to +the great gaps of convention separating them. Her own life, in confused +pictures, surged panorama-like before her mental vision: The garret +beginning; the cold and hunger hardships; the beatings, when a child; +the girl problems--so hard; the woman's--Faugh! what a life! Would that +the flame of the artist had burned more brightly or not at all. She +tried to imagine what she would have been, if she, too, had been born to +a golden cradle. + +A great ennui swept over her. How old she felt on a sudden! And how +homesick, too. Yes; that was it--homesickness. She could have stretched +out her arms toward her much beloved and, sometimes, a little hated, +Russia. The bright domes of her native city seemed to shine now in her +eyes. She walked in spirit the stony pavement of the Kremlin. Cruelty, +intolerance, suffering--all these reigned in the city of extremes, but +she would have kissed even the cold marble at the feet of dead tyrants, +the way the people did, if she could have stood at that moment in one of +the old, old sacred places. Her brief flight into the new world had led +her to no pots of gold at rainbow end. The little honorarium from his +excellency for her part in this adventure, she did not want now. She +regretted that she had ever embarked upon it. What penalty might she not +have to pay yet? The law, with dragon fingers would reach out--no doubt +was reaching out now--to grip her. Well, let it. + +A crisp, matter-of-fact voice--concealing any agitation the speaker may +have felt--broke in upon these varied reflections. Mr. Heatherbloom, +rather out of breath but quiet and determined, stood before them. + +"Miss Dalrymple!--Mademoiselle! There is no occasion for alarm but it +will be necessary; for us to leave here at once!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +AN UNEXPECTED OFFER + +"To leave?" It was Sonia Turgeinov who spoke. "You mean--" Her eyes +turned oceanward but saw nothing. + +He made a quick gesture toward a break in the outline of the shore where +the island swept around. "Beyond!" he said succinctly and she had no +doubt as to his meaning. The tent he had put up where it could not be +seen from the sea. But their boat--He looked at the little craft, a too +distinct object on the sands. Those on a vessel skirting the shore could +not fail to discover that incriminating bit of evidence with their +glasses. And there was no way of getting rid of it. He could not destroy +it with his bare hands. It was unsinkable. If he set it adrift, wind and +sea would drive it straight back. + +"They probably discovered our absence about daybreak and surmised +correctly the direction the breeze would carry us," he muttered half +bitterly. "We must go at once." These last words he spoke firmly. + +"But where?" Again it was Sonia Turgeinov who questioned him. Betty +Dalrymple remained silent; her eyes shone with a new inscrutable light; +her cheek, though pale, had the warmth of a live pearl. She touched the +sands with the tip of her shoe. + +But he did not regard her, nor did he answer Sonia Turgeinov. Going to +the tent, he bent over the basket of biscuits and hastily filled his +pockets. Then, throwing a woman's heavy cloak over his arm, he stepped +quickly to Miss Dalrymple's side. + +"Come," he said laconically. + +Her foot, Cinderella's for daintiness, ceased its motion; she turned at +once. Around her lips a strange little smile flitted but faded almost +immediately. Save for her straightness and that proud characteristic +poise of the head, she might have seemed, at that moment of emergency, +a veritable Griselda for acquiescence. He started to walk away, when-- + +"What about me?" cried Sonia Turgeinov. + +"You can come or you can stay," said Mr. Heatherbloom. "The chances are +that the prince will see the boat, land and get you." + +"And if he doesn't?" + +"There are plenty of biscuits, and I'll send back for you when I can." + +"That prospect is not very inviting," she demurred. "Suppose I elect not +to risk it--to go with you?" + +"It is for you to decide, and quickly," he said in a cold crisp tone. + +"You dismiss my fate bruskly, Monsieur," she returned. + +"There is no time to bandy words, Madam," he retorted warmly. "I am not +oblivious to you--I trust I would not be to any woman--but every minute +now is precious." + +"Of course!" An instant she looked at the girl and a spark appeared in +the dark eyes. Then Sonia Turgeinov's features abruptly relaxed and she +waved her hand carelessly. "I have decided," she said in her old +manner. "Go! My best adieus, Monsieur--Mademoiselle." With a gay +courtesy. "Farewell! babes in the wood!" Her voice was once more +mocking. They moved silently away but before they had gone far enough to +disappear in the forest she suddenly ran toward them. "No, no!" she said +in a different voice. "I have changed my mind. It is such a tiny, thing, +that boat--in the glare and shine. They might not see it, and then--" +She shuddered, "How frightfully lonesome!--the terrible nights--" + +He made an impatient gesture. "After me, then! You, Miss Dalrymple, will +come last." + +"Ah, you think I am coming because I may wish to help them?" Sonia +Turgeinov said quickly. + +"I intend to take no chances," he returned in the same tone. And the +three moved on. + +He set a sharp pace; if there was need for haste at all it was now, at +the beginning of their flight. They plunged deeper into the forest; no +one spoke; only the crackling under foot and certain wood sounds broke +the stillness. Unfortunately the soil was soft so that their footprints +might be followed by any one versed in woodcraft. At times they were +forced to skirt unusually thick places, but in spite of these deviations +Mr. Heatherbloom was enabled generally to keep to their course by +consulting a small compass he had found in the boat. It was essential to +maintain as straight a line as possible. People sometimes walked round +and round in forests; he took no chance of that; better a moment lost +now and then, while stopping to wait for the quivering pointer to +settle, than returning, perhaps, to the very spot they had left. + +As thus they advanced, often he looked around to reassure himself that +the young girl, in spite of the roughness of the way, yet followed. Once +Sonia Turgeinov arrested that swift backward look; her own shone with +curiosity. + +"How in heaven's name did you do it, Monsieur?" she asked suddenly, +drawing nearer. "Get out of that cell, I mean. When last I saw you on +the ship, you were as securely fastened as a prisoner in the fortress at +Petersburg. Of course you must have had some one to help--" + +He answered coldly, recalling a promise to protect Francois. He could, +however, and did, tell her the truth in this without involving the +youth. "When the third officer, my jailer, came to the cell and released +my hands--well, I did the best I could, surprised him, got the keys and +left him there in my stead. A little Jap trick for handling men that I +learned in San Francisco long ago," he added. + +Her dark eyes lingered on him not without a trace of admiration. +"Mademoiselle is fortunate, indeed, in her champion," she murmured. "And +yet that does not explain the preparations for departure--the provisions +in the boat--other little details. How came you by that compass, for +example?" + +"It explains all that will be explained." + +"Which means, once more, you do not trust me?" She shrugged. "_Eh +bien_!" And again they went on in silence. + +Toward noon, reaching a fringe of the forest, they found before them a +wide open space where the ground was higher and dry, but the walking +more difficult. The grass, long and tenacious, twined snake-like around +their ankles; they had to go more slowly, but reached, at length, the +top of the eminence. Here Mr. Heatherbloom stopped. They ate their +biscuit and rested, but only for a brief while. Scanning the distance, +in the direction they had come, he suddenly discerned moving forms on +the farthest edge of the open space--forms which advanced toward them. +No doubt as to their purpose could be entertained; his excellency had +landed and was already in pursuit. A smoldering fire leaped from Mr. +Heatherbloom's eyes while rage that she should thus be driven harder +filled his breast. Fool! that he had not killed the prince when +opportunity had offered that night in the cabin. His clemency +might--probably would--cost her dear. + +"We've got to go on, and faster," said the young man. His hands were +clenched; his arms were stiff at his side. "Can you do it?" he asked +Betty Dalrymple. She answered; standing in a green recess, she had never +appeared more beautiful to him than in that moment of peril. Green and +red things flashed behind her--tiny feathered creatures that shone like +jewels. The dewdrops from the branches in sunless places were glistening +brilliants in the gold of her hair. But he had no time to gaze. The +figures were drawing nearer. + +"You used to be able to run, Betty. It seems as if it's all my +fault"--hoarsely--"but you'll have to do so now." + +Again that ready response from her! Did she, in the excitement of the +moment, call him by a Christian name not Horatio? He did not take +cognizance of it; neither did Sonia Turgeinov seem to. + +The latter spoke quickly: "I remain here." + +"Of course," said Mr. Heatherbloom, with a glance back toward the open +space. + +She overlooked the significance or bitterness in his accent. "Keep to +the right," she said swiftly. "Believe me or not, I'll send them to the +left. It's your only chance. Otherwise they would overtake you in an +hour. Among the prince's men are Cossacks trained to feats of +endurance." + +"You would do that?" He looked at her quickly. The dark eyes did not +swerve from the gray ones. + +"Did I betray you on the boat?" said Sonia Turgeinov rather haughtily. + +"No," he conceded. + +"And yet I knew you! You know that," she affirmed. + +"Yes; you knew me." Slowly. + +"Did I tell his excellency who you were, when he had you, a prisoner?" +she demanded. + +And--"No," he was obliged to say again. + +"See." She took from her breast a tiny cross. "I had that as a child. +Would I kiss it, and--tell you a lie in the next breath?" He did not +answer. "I have lived up to the letter of my contract with his +excellency. It is at an end. Perhaps I am a little sorry for my own +part"--with a laugh slightly reckless--"or maybe"--with a flash of +seriousness--- "I have become, in the least, afraid. Your laws are very +severe, and--I had not counted on mademoiselle's steadfast resistance +to--_mon Dieu!_--a prince who had been considered irresistible--whose +principality is larger than one of your states--who would have made her, +in truth, a czaritza. I had fancied," in a rush of words, "the mad +episode might end as it did in the prince's favorite _Fire and Sword_ +trilogy, with wedding-bells and rejoicing." She paused abruptly. "I had +also not counted on the all-important possibility that mademoiselle +might have bestowed her heart on another--" + +"Madam!" It was Betty Dalrymple who spoke quickly. + +Sonia Turgeinov laughed maliciously. "Go," she said, "or"--almost +fiercely--"I may change my mind." + +They went; Sonia Turgeinov turned and looked out over the open space. +The approaching figures were now much nearer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +STARLIGHT + +Dusk had begun to fall, but still two figures went on through the +forest--slowly, with obvious effort. One turned often to the other, held +back a branch, or proffered such service as he might over rough places, +for Betty Dalrymple's movements were no longer those of a lithe +wood-nymph; she had never felt so weary before. The first shades of +twilight made it harder to distinguish their way amid intervening +objects, and once an elastic bit of underbrush struck her sharply in the +face. The blow smarted like the touch of a whip but she only smiled +faintly. The momentary sting spurred her on faster, until her foot +caught and she stumbled and would have fallen except that Mr. +Heatherbloom had turned at that moment and put out an arm. + +"Forgive me." His voice was full of contrition. "It has been brutal to +make you go on like this, but I had to." + +"It doesn't matter." The slender form slid from him over-quickly. "You, +too, must be very tired," she said with breath coming fast. + +He glanced swiftly back; listened. "We'll rest here," he commanded. +"We've got to. I should have stopped before, but"--the words came in a +harsher staccato--"I dared not." + +"I'll be all right in a few moments," she answered, resting on a fallen +log, "and then--" + +"No, no," he said in a tone of finality. "After all, there is small +likelihood they'll find us now. Besides, it will soon be too dark to go +on. Fortunately, the night is warm, and I've got this cloak for you." + +"And for yourself?" Her voice was very low and quiet, or perhaps it +seemed so because here, in the little recess in the great wood, the hush +was most pronounced. + +"Me?" he laughed. "You seem to forget I'm one of the happy brotherhood +that just drop down anywhere. Shouldn't know what to do with a silk +eiderdown if I had one." + +His gaiety sounded rather forced. She was silent and the quietude +seemed oppressive. The girl leaned back to a great tree trunk and looked +up. The sky wore an ocher hue against which the branches quivered in +zigzags of blackness. Mr. Heatherbloom moved apart to watch, but still +he neither saw nor heard sign of any one drawing near. The sad ocher +merged into a somber blue; the stars came out, one by one, then in +shoals. She could hardly see him now, so fast had the tropical night +descended, but she heard his step, returning. + +"Quite certain there's no danger," he reassured her. "Went back a way." + +"Thank you," she said. And added: "For all." + +"Betty." The stars twinkled madly. Pulsating waves seemed to vibrate in +the air. A moment he continued to stare into the darkness, then again +turned. He had not seen how the girl's hand had suddenly closed, and her +slender form had swayed. As restlessly he resumed his sentinel's duty, +Sonia Turgeinov's last words once more recurred to him. How often had +he thought of them that long afternoon, and wondered who was the one the +young girl would now shortly be free to turn to? There had been many in +the past who had sought her favor. Perhaps the unknown was one of these; +or, more likely, one of the newer many that had arisen, no doubt, since, +in the gayer larger world of New York, or the continent. Betty +Dalrymple's manner at the Russian woman's words indicated that the +latter had--how Mr. Heatherbloom could not imagine--hit upon a great +kernel of truth. Again, in fancy, he saw on her cheek that swift flush +of warm blood. Lucky, thrice lucky, the man who had caused it! Softly +Mr. Heatherbloom moved nearer. + +Was she sleeping? He, himself, felt too fagged to sleep. Like Psyche, in +the glade, she was covered all with starlight. He ventured closer, bent +over; the widely opened eyes looked suddenly into his. + +"The woman told me you had nothing to do with it--that plot of hers and +the prince," she said slowly. "I know now why you were on the boat, +and--all the rest--what it meant for me, your being there." + +"You know, then"--embarrassed--"the awful mess I made of it all--" + +"You dared a great deal," she said softly. + +"And came an awful cropper!" + +She did not answer directly. "At first Francois was most reluctant to +risk going with me," she went on. "I thought it odd, at the time, he +should change so suddenly, become so brave. Now I understand, at least, +a little--in a general way. I have been over-quick to think evil of you, +ever since we met again. Perhaps, in the past, too"--slowly--"I have +been--" + +"Betty!" he cried uneasily, and seemed about once more to move away, +when-- + +"Don't go," she said. "I'll not talk if you command me not to. You've +been the master to-day, you know," with subtle accent. + +"Have I?" His voice showed evidence of distress. "I didn't really +mean--it was necessary," he ended firmly. + +"Of course it was," said the girl. Her accent conveyed no note of +displeasure. Profile-wise he saw her face now--the young moon beyond. +"Don't think I'm blaming you. I'm not quite so hard, perhaps, as I once +was." Mr. Heatherbloom stood back a little farther in the shadow. +"Maybe, my poor little standard of judgment--" she stopped. "I have been +heedless, heartless, perhaps--" + +"You!" he exclaimed. "You!" There was only unfaltering adoration in his +tone--faith, unchanged and unchangeable. + +She spoke with a little catch in her voice: "Oh, I haven't cared. I +_did_ flirt with the prince; he accused me of that. He was right. What +did it matter to me, if I made others suffer? I haven't always had so +good a time as I seemed to--" There was a ring of passion in her tone +now. "What happened?" she said, turning on him swiftly. "What has +happened? I want to know all--" + +"You mean about the prince?" + +"I know all I want to know about him," scornfully. "I mean"--her slender +figure bent toward Mr. Heatherbloom--"you! What has taken place, and +why has it? What does it all mean? Don't you understand?" + +He drew in his breath slowly. + +"Tell me," she said, still tensely poised, her eyes insistent in the +shadow of her hair. + +"Miss Dalrymple--Betty--" he half stammered. + +"I want to know," she repeated. There was an inexorable demand in her +gaze. Mr. Heatherbloom straightened. The ordeal?--it must be met--though +that box of Pandora were best left unopened. He could not refuse her +anything; this she asked of him was not easy to grant, however. + +"Where shall I begin?" he said uncertainly. "You know a great deal. +There doesn't seem much worth talking about." + +"Begin where we left off--" + +"Our boy-and-girl engagement? You broke it. Quite right of you!" She +stirred slightly. "It was, at best, but a perfunctory business, half +arranged by our parents to keep the millions together--" + +"You never blamed me a little, then?" she asked. + +"I--blame you?" wonderingly. "You were as far from me as a star. What +you thought of me, you told me; it was all right--true stuff. Though it +sank in like a blade. I was nothing--worse than nothing. A rich man's +son!--a commonplace type. A good fellow some called me at Monte Carlo, +Paris, elsewhere." He paused. A moment he seemed another +personality--that other one. She saw it anew, caught a glimpse of it +like a flash on a mirror; then he seemed to relapse farther back into +the shadow. "I really don't want to bore you," he said perfunctorily, +raising an uncertain hand to the stray; lock on his forehead. + +"You aren't--doing that. Go on." Her eyes were full of questions. "After +I saw you that last time"--he nodded--"you disappeared. No one ever +heard anything of you; again, or knew what had become of you." + +"As no one cared," he said with a short laugh, "what did it matter?" + +"You were lost to the world--had vanished completely," she went on. +"Sometimes I thought--feared you were dead." Her voice changed. + +"Feared?" he repeated. "Ah, yes! You did not want me to go out like +that." + +"No," she said slowly. "Not like that." + +He looked at her comprehendingly; in spite of the bitter passionate +repudiation of him, she had been a little in earnest--had cared, in the +least, how he went down. + +"Why," he said, with a forced smile, "I didn't think you'd bother to +give the matter a thought." + +"You had some purpose?" she persisted, studying him. "I see--seem to +feel it now. It all--you--were incomprehensible. I mean, when I saw you +again that first time, in New York, after so long--" + +"It was funny, wasn't it?" he said with rather strained lightness. "The +Chariot of Concord--_What's the Matter with Mother_?--the gaping or +jibing crowd--then you, going by--" + +Her eyelids drooped; he stood now erect and motionless; in spite of the +determination to maintain that matter-of-fact pose, visions appeared +momentarily in his eyes. The glamour of the instant he had referred to +caught him. All he had felt then at the unexpected sight of +her--beautiful, far-away--returned to him. She was near now, but still +immeasurably distant. He pulled himself together; he hadn't explained +very much yet. He was forced to go on; her eyes once more seemed to draw +the story from him. + +"Yes; I had some purpose in going away like that. The idea came to me at +the sanatorium, when I was about 'all in'. They'd managed to keep the +drugs and the drink from me, and one day I seemed to wake up and realize +I hadn't ever really lived. Just been a tail-ender who had 'gone the +pace'. Hadn't even had a beginning. Was it too late to start over again? +Probably." His voice came in crisp accents. "But it was a last chance--a +feeble one--a straw to the drowning," he laughed. "That sounds absurd +to you but I don't know how to explain it better." + +"No; it doesn't sound absurd," she said. + +"The idea of mine?--how to carry it out? Ways and means were not hard to +find. I went to"--he mentioned a name--"an old friend of my father's. He +thought I was a fool," bruskly, "but in the end he approved, or seemed +to. Anyhow, I persuaded him to take all my bonds, securities and the +rest of (for me) cursed stuff. At the end of a certain time, if I wanted +back the few millions I hadn't yet run through, he was to give them to +me, minus commissions, wage, etc." + +"You mean," said the girl, "that was the way you took to go back to the +beginning, as you call it?" Her eyes were like stars. "You practically +gave away all your money so as to start by yourself." + +"How could I start with it?" he asked, with a faint smile. "Don't you +see, Betty"--in a momentary eagerness he forgot himself--"there couldn't +be any compromising? Besides, it came to me--you will laugh"--she did +not laugh--"that some day, somewhere else, if not here, I'd have to make +that beginning, to be something myself. Remember that old Hindu fellow +with a red turban who sat on your front lawn, beneath the palms, and had +the women gathered around him in a kind of hypnotic state? He said +something like that--I thought him an old fakir at the time. He used a +lot of flowery language, but I guess, boiled down, it meant start at the +bottom of the ladder. Build yourself up, the way my father did," with a +certain wistful pride. "You remember him?" + +Her head moved. "Fine looking, wasn't he?" ruminatively. "He got there +with his hands and brains, and honestly. While I hadn't ever used +either. I hope," he broke off, "all this doesn't sound like preaching." + +"No," she said. + +An instant his gaze lingered on her. "You're sleepy now," he spoke +suddenly. + +"No, I am not. You found it a little hard, at first?" + +"A little. When a man is relaxed and the reaction is on him--" He +stopped. + +"Tell me--tell me all," she breathed. "Every bit of it, Harry." + +His lips twitched. To hear his almost forgotten name spoken again by +her! A moment he seemed to waver. Temptation of violet eyes; wonder of +the rapt face! Oh, that he might catch her in his arms, claim her anew; +this time for all time! But again he mastered himself and went on +succinctly, as quickly as possible. Between the lines, however, the girl +might read the record of struggles which was very real to her. He had +reverted "to the beginning" with poor tools and most scanty experience. +And there was that other fight that made it a double fight, the fiercer +conflict with self. Hunger, privation, want, which she might divine, +though he did not speak of them, became as lesser details. She listened +enrapt. + +"I guess that's about all," he said at last. + +She continued to look at him, his features, clear-cut in the white +light. "And you didn't ever really go back--to undo it all?" + +"Once I did go back to 'Frisco"--he told her of the relapse with cold +candor--"out at heels, and ready to give up. I wanted the millions. They +were gone." + +"You mean, lost?" + +"Yes; he had speculated; was dead. Poor fellow!" + +"You say that? And you have never tried to get any of the money back?" + +"Fortunately, he died bankrupt," said Mr. Heatherbloom calmly. + +"And you failed to show the world he was a--thief?" Something in the +word seared her. + +"What was the use? He left a wife and children. Besides, he really +served me by what the world would call robbing me. I _had_ to continue +at the beginning. It was the foot of the ladder, all right," he added. + +Her face showed no answering gaiety. "You are going to amount to a great +deal some day," she said. "I think very few of us in this world find +ourselves," she added slowly. + +"Perhaps some don't have to hunt so hard as others," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Don't they?" Her lips wore an odd little smile. + +He threw back his shoulders. "Good night, now. You are very tired, I +know." + +She put out her hand. He took it--how soft and small and cold! The +seconds were throbbing hours; he couldn't release it, at once. The +little fingers grew warmer--warmer in his palm--their very pulsations +seemed throbbing with his. Suddenly he dropped her hand. + +"Good night," he said quickly. + +He remembered he was nothing to her--that they would soon part for ever. + +"Good night," she answered softly. + +Then, silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +AN EXPLANATION + +Morn came. They had heard or seen nothing of the prince and his men. Mr. +Heatherbloom walked back for a cold plunge in a stream that had +whispered not far from their camping spot throughout the night. He and +Betty Dalrymple breakfasted together on an old log; it wasn't much of a +meal--a few crackers and crumbs that were left--but neither appeared to +mind the meagerness of the fare. With much gaiety (the dawn seemed to +have brought with it a special allegrezza of its own) she insisted upon +a fair and equitable division of their scanty store, even to the +apportioning of the crumbs into two equal piles. Then, prodigal-handed +for a castaway who knew not where her next meal might come from, she +tossed a bit or two to the birds, and was rewarded by a song. + +All this seemed very wonderful to Mr. Heatherbloom; there had never +before been such a breakfast; compared to it, the _dejeuner à la +fourchette_ of a Durand or a Foyot was as starvation fare. It was +surprising how beautiful the dark places of the night before looked now; +daylight metamorphosed the spot into a sylvan fairyland. Mr. +Heatherbloom could have lingered there indefinitely. The soft moss wooed +him, somewhat aweary with world contact; she filled his eyes. The faint +shadowy lines beneath hers which he had noted at the dawn had now +vanished; the same sun-god that ordered the forest flowers to lift their +gay heads commanded the rosebuds to unfold their bright petals on her +cheeks. Her lips were as red berries; the cobwebs, behind, alight with +sunshine, gleamed no more than the tossed golden hair. She had striven +as best she might with the last, not entirely to her own satisfaction +but completely to Mr. Heatherbloom's. His untutored masculine sense +rather gloried in the unconventionally of a superfluous tangle or two; +he found her most charming with a few rents in her gown from branch or +brier. They seemed to establish a new bond of camaraderie, to make +blithe appeal to his nomadic soul. It was as if fate had directed her +footsteps until they had touched and lingered on the outer circle of his +vagabondage. Both seemed to have forgotten all about his excellency. + +"Rested?" queried Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Quite," she answered. There was no trace of weariness in her voice. +"And you?" + +"Ditto," he laughed. Then, more gravely, "You see, I fell asleep while +watching," he confessed. + +"I'm glad." + +"You'd make a lenient commanding officer. Shall we go on?" + +"Where?" + +"I don't exactly know," he confessed. + +"That's lovely." Then, tentatively, "It's nice here." + +"Fine," he assented. There was no hardness in the violet eyes as they +rested on him. He did not pause to analyze the miracle; he only +accepted it. A moment he yielded to the temptation of the lotus-eater +and continued to luxuriate in the lap of Arcadia. Then he bestirred +himself uneasily; it was not sufficient just to breathe in the golden +gladness of the moment. "Yes; it's fine," he repeated, "only you see--" + +"Of course!" she said with a little sigh, and rose. "_I_ see you are +going to be very domineering, the way you were yesterday." + +"I? Domineering?" + +"Weren't you?" she demanded, looking at him from beneath long lashes. + +"I'm sure I didn't intend--" He stopped for she was laughing at him. +They went on and her mood continued to puzzle him. Never had he seen her +so blithe, so gay. She waved her hand back at the woodland spot. +"Good-by," she said. + +Then they came upon the little town suddenly--so suddenly that both +appeared bewildered. Only a hillock had separated them from the sight of +it the night before. They looked and looked. It lay beneath an upward +sweep of land, in a cosy indenture of a great circle that swept far +around and away, fringed with cocoanut trees. Small wisps or corkscrews +of smoke defiled the blue of the sky; a wharf, with a steamer at the +end, obtruded abruptly upon the curve of the shore. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded the boat--a link from Arcadia to the mundane world. He should +have been glad but he didn't seem overwhelmed at the sight; he stood +very still. He hardly felt her hand on his sleeve; the girl's eyes were +full of sparkles. + +"What luck!" he said at length, his voice low and somewhat more formal. + +"Isn't it?" she answered. And drawing in her breath--"I can scarcely, +believe it." + +"It's there all right." He spoke slowly. "Come." And they went down. A +colored worker in the fields stared at them, but Betty nodded gaily, and +asked what town it was and the name of the island. He told them, growing +wonderment in his gaze. How could they be here and not know that; where +had they come from? To him they were as mysterious as two visitants +from Mars. Regardless of the effect they produced on the dusky toiler +they walked on. The island proved to be larger than they had thought and +commercially important. They had, the day before, but crossed a neck of +it. + +Soon now they reached the verge of the town and stood on its main artery +of traffic; the cobblestone pavement resounded with the rattling of +carts and rough native vehicles. At a curb stood a dilapidated public +conveyance to which was attached a horse of harmoniously antique aspect. +Miss Dalrymple got in and Mr. Heatherbloom took his place at her side. + +"The cable office," said the girl briefly, whereupon a lad of mixed +ancestry began to whack energetically the protuberant ribs of the drowsy +steed. It woke him and they clattered down the narrow way. Mr. +Heatherbloom leaned back, his gaze straight ahead, but Betty Dalrymple +looked around with interest at the people of divers shades and hues, +and, for the most part, in costumes of varying degrees of picturesque +originality. After having narrowly escaped running over a small +proportion of the juvenile colored population overflowing from odd +little shops and houses, they reached the transportable zinc shed that +served as a cable office. Here Miss Dalrymple indited rapidly a most +voluminous message, paid the clerk in a businesslike manner, and, +unmindful of his amazed expression as he read what she had written, +tranquilly re-entered the carriage. + +"Miss Van Rolsen will be relieved when she gets that," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom mechanically. "It'll be a happy moment for her," +meditatively. + +"And won't she be gladder still when she sees us?" answered the girl +gaily. + +The use of the plural slightly disconcerted Mr. Heatherbloom for the +moment, but he dismissed it as an inadvertence. "Where now?" he asked. + +"Where do you think?" with dancing eyes. "Shopping, of course. +Fortunately I drew plenty of money before starting for California." + +An hour or so later Mr. Heatherbloom sat with parcels in his arms and +bundles galore around him. He accepted the situation gracefully; indeed, +displayed an almost tender solicitude for those especial packages she +herself handed him. + +"What next?" She had at length exhausted the somewhat limited resources +of the thoroughfare. + +"Drive to the best hotel," was her command. She laughed at the picture +he made, or at something in her own thoughts. She had unconsciously +assumed toward him a manner in the least proprietary, but if he noticed +he did not resent it. They went faster; her voice was a low thread of +music running through an accompaniment of crashing dissonances. She wore +a hat now--the best she could find. He considered it most "fetching", +but her thrilling derision overwhelmed his expression of opinion. Though +the way was so rough that they were occasionally thrown rather violently +one against another, they arrived in high spirits at their destination, +Mr. Heatherbloom having performed the commendable feat of preserving +intact the parcels and bundles en route. In the "best hotel" they were +given two rooms overlooking a courtyard redolent with orchids. The girl +nodded a brief farewell to him from the threshold of her room. + +"In about an hour, please, come back." + +He did, brushed up and with shoes shined, as presentable as possible. +She wore the same gown, but the sundry rents were mended and there had +occurred other changes he could divine rather than define. He brought +her information--not agreeable, he said. He was very sorry, but the next +boat for the United States would not call at the island for a fortnight. +He expected her to show dismay, but she received the news with +commendable fortitude, if not resignation. + +"I can cable aunt every day--so there can be no cause for worry--and she +will only be the more pleased when we actually do arrive." + +Again the plural! And once more that prophetic picture which included +Mr. Heatherbloom within the pale of the venerable and austere Miss Van +Rolsen's jubilation. He looked embarrassed but said nothing. During the +hour of his exclusion from Miss Dalrymple's company he had sallied forth +on a small but necessary financial errand of his own. Francois had +placed in the basket of biscuits a revolver, and this latter Mr. +Heatherbloom, rightfully construing it as his own personal property in +lieu of the weapon his excellency had deprived him of, had exchanged for +a bit of cardboard and a greenback. The last named, reinforced by the +small amount Mr. Heatherbloom had left upon reaching the _Nevski_ and of +which the prince had not deprived him, would relieve his necessities for +the moment. After that? Well, he would take up the problem presently; he +had no time for it now. This day, at least, should be consecrated to +Betty Dalrymple. + +He had an inkling that on the morrow he would see less of her; the +girl's story would get around. The American consul would call and tender +his services. The governor, too, Sir Charles Somebody, whose palatial +residence looked down on the town from the side of the hill, might be +expected to become officially and paternally interested. The little +cable office, despite rules and regulations, could not long retain its +prodigious secret; moreover Mr. Heatherbloom, in an absent-minded +moment, had inscribed Miss Dalrymple's name on the register, or +visitors' book. He recalled how the eyes of the old mammy, the +proprietress, had fairly rolled with curiosity. No; he would not be +permitted long to have her to himself, he ruminated; better make the +most of his opportunity now. Besides, his present monetary position +forbade his presence for more than a day or two at the "best hotel"; its +rates were for him distinctly prohibitive. The exigencies of financial +differences would soon separate them; she could draw on Miss Van Rolsen +for thousands; he had but five dollars and twelve cents--or was it +thirteen?--to his name. + +He kept these reflections, however, to himself and continued to bask in +the sunshine of a fool's paradise. They rode, walked and explored. They +went to the fruit and the flower market. He bought her a great bunch of +flowers, and she not only took it but wore it. For a time he stepped on +air; his flowers constituted a fine splash of color on the girl's gown. +Her heart beat beneath them; the thought was as wine. + +"Shall we?" They had partaken of tea (or nectar) in a small shop, and +now she paused before that most modern manifestation of a restless +civilization, a begilded, over-ornamented nickelodeon. "Think of finding +one of them way off here! Just as at home!" + +"More extraordinary your wanting to go in!" he laughed. + +"Why not? It will be an experience." + +They entered; the place was half filled and they took seats toward the +back. There were films, and songs of the usual character; it was very +gay. Gurgles of merriment from Creoles and darkies were heard on all +sides. They, too, yielded freely, gladly to its infection. Happy +Creoles! happy darkies! happy Betty Dalrymple and Horatio +Heatherbloom--heiress and outcast! There is a democracy in laughter; yon +darky smiled at Miss Dalrymple, while Mr. Heatherbloom laughed with +her, with them, and the world. For was she not near, right there by his +side? To Mr. Heatherbloom the tinsel palace had become a temple of +felicity and wonder. Suddenly he started and his face changed. + +"The Great Diamond Robbery," one of the films, was in progress, and +there, depicted on the canvas, amid many figures, he saw himself, the +most pronounced in that realistic group. And Betty Dalrymple saw the +semblance of him, also, for she gave a slight gasp and sat more erect. +In the moving picture he was running away from a crowd. + +"Shall--shall we go?" The face of the flesh-and-blood Mr. Heatherbloom +was very red; he looked toward the door. + +She did not answer; her eyes continued bent straight before her, and she +saw the whole quick scene of the drama unfolded. Then the street became +cleared, the fleeing figure had turned a corner as an automobile, not +engaged for the performance, came around it and went by. A big car--her +own--she was in it. She caught, like a flash on the canvas, a glimpse of +herself looking around; then the scene came to an end. Betty Dalrymple +laughed--a little hysterically. + +"Oh," she said. "Oh, oh!" + +He became, if possible, redder. + +"Oh," she repeated. Then, "Why"--with eyes full of mingled tragedy and +comedy--"did you not explain it all that day, when--" + +Of course she knew even as she spoke why he could not, or would not. + +"You had cause to think so many things," he murmured. + +"But that! How--how strange! I saw you, and--" + +He laughed. "And the manager told me I was a 'rotten bad' actor! Those +were his words; not very elegant. But I believed him, until now--" + +"Say something harsh and hard to me," she whispered, almost fiercely. "I +deserve it." + +The violet eyes were passionate. "Betty!" he exclaimed wonderingly. + +"Do you call that harsh?" she demanded mockingly. "You--you should be +cross with me--scold me--punish me--" + +"Well," he said calmly, "you haven't believed _that_, lately, anyhow." + +"No; I just set it aside as something incomprehensible, not to be +thought of, or to be considered any more. I believed in you, with all my +soul, since last night--a good deal before that, yes, yes!--in my +innermost heart! You believe me, don't you?" + +He answered, he hardly knew what. Some one was singing _Put on Your Old +Gray Bonnet_. Her shoulder touched his arm and lingered there. "Oh, my +dear!" she was saying to herself. The pianist banged; the vocalist +bawled, while Mr. Heatherbloom sat in ecstasy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +GAIETIES + +They took her away the next day. The governor--Sir Charles Somebody--had +heard of her and came and claimed her. His lady--portly, +majestic--arrived with him. Their carriage was the finest on the island +and their horses were the best. The coachman and footman were covered +with the most approved paraphernalia and always constituted an unending +source of wonder and admiration for the natives. The latter gathered in +front of the best hotel on this occasion; they did not quite know what +was taking place, but the sight of the big carriage there drew them +about like flies. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not linger to speculate or to survey. He had seen +but not spoken to Miss Dalrymple that morning; she had smiled at him +across space, behind orchids. A moment or two he had sat dreaming how +fine it would be to live for ever in such a courtyard, with Betty +Dalrymple's face on the other side, then the hubbub below disturbed and +dispelled his reflections. He went down to investigate and to retreat. +Sir Charles and his lady were in the hall; they seemed to charge the +entire hostelry with their presence. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +contemplatively out and down the street. + +His mind, with a little encouragement, would have flitted back to +courtyards and orchids, but he forced it along less fanciful lines. +Mundane considerations were imperative and courtyards were a luxury of +the rich. He calculated that, after paying his bill at the best hotel, +he wouldn't have much more than half a dollar, or two English shillings, +left. The situation demanded calm practical reflection; he strove to +bestow upon it the necessary measure of orderly thinking. Yesterday, +with its nickelodeon, or temple of wonder, was yesterday; to-day, with +its problems, was to-day. He had lingered in the happy valley, or +kingdom of Micomicon, but the carriage was before the door--the golden +chariot had come to bear away the beautiful princess. + +Mr. Heatherbloom asked for employment at the wharf and got it. The +supercargo of the boat, loading there, had been indulging, not wisely +but too well, in "green swizzles", an insidious drink of the country, +and, when last seen was oblivious to the world. A red-haired mate, with +superfluous utterance, informed the applicant he could come that +afternoon and temporarily essay the delinquent one's duties, checking up +the bags of merchandise and bananas the natives were bringing aboard, +and otherwise making himself useful. Mr. Heatherbloom tendered his +thanks and departed. + +He wandered aimlessly for a while, but the charm of the town had +vanished; he gazed with no interest upon quaint bits most attractive +yesterday, and stolidly regarded now those happy faces he had liked so +much but a short time before. He shook himself; this would not do; but +the work would soon cure him of vain imaginings. + +He returned to the hotel and settled with the landlady. Betty Dalrymple +was gone. Of course, there could be no denying Sir Charles and his lady; +one of the young girl's place and position in the world could not, with +reason or good grace, refuse the governor's hospitality. Mr. +Heatherbloom was hardly a suitable chaperon. But she had left a hasty +and altogether charming note for him which he read the last few moments +he spent in the courtyard room. "Come soon;" that was the substance of +it. What more could mortal have asked? Mr. Heatherbloom gazed at an +empty window where he had last seen her (had they been there only +twenty-four hours?), then he took a bit of painting on ivory from his +pocket and wrapped the message around it. Before noon he had engaged +cheap but neat lodgings at the home of an old negro woman. + +Several days passed. After waiting in vain for him to call at the +governor's mansion, Betty Dalrymple drove herself to the hotel; here she +learned that he had gone without leaving an address; a message from Sir +Charles for Mr. Heatherbloom, formally offering to put the latter up at +government house, had not been delivered. Mr. Heatherbloom had failed to +call for his mail. + +"Really, my dear, such solicitude!" murmured the governor's wife, when +Miss Dalrymple came out of the hotel. "An ordinary secret-service man, +too." + +"Oh, no; not an ordinary one," said the girl a little confusedly. She +had not taken the liberty of speaking of Mr. Heatherbloom's private +affairs to her august hosts. His true name, or his story, were his to +reveal when or where he saw fit. In taking her into his confidence he +had sealed her lips until such time as she had his permission to speak. + +"Well, don't worry about the man," observed the elder lady rather +loftily. "There has been a big reward offered, of course, and he'll +appear in due time to claim it." + +"He'll not," began Betty Dalrymple indignantly, and stopped. + +She had been obliged to explain in some way Mr. Heatherbloom's presence, +and the subterfuge he had himself employed toward her on the _Nevski_ +had been the only one that occurred to her. A brave secret-service +officer who had aided her--that's what Mr. Heatherbloom was to the +governor and his better half. Hence the distinct formality of Sir +Charles' note to Mr. Heatherbloom, indited at Miss Dalrymple's special +request and somewhat against the good baronet's own secret judgment. A +police agent may be valiant as a lion, but he is not a gentleman. + +Something of this axiomatic truth the excellent hosts strove to instill +by means, more or less subtle, in the mind of their young guest; but she +clung with odd tenacity to her own ingenuous point of view. Whereupon +Sir Charles figuratively shrugged. Reprehensible democracy of the new +world! She, with the perversity of American womankind, actually spoke +of, and, no doubt, desired to treat the fellow as an equal. + +She found him one morning, a day or two later. She came down to the +wharf, alone, and on foot. He held a note-book and pencil, but that he +had not been above lending physical assistance, on occasion, to the +natives bearing bags and other merchandise, was evident from his hands +which were grimy as a stevedore's. His shirt was open at the throat, and +his face, too, bore marks of toil. Betty Dalrymple stepped impetuously +toward him; she looked as fresh as a flower, and held out a hand gloved +in immaculate white. + +"Dare I?" he laughed. + +"If you don't!" Her eyes dared him not to take it. + +He looked at the hand, such a delicate thing, and seemed still in the +least uncertain; then his fingers closed on it. + +"You see I managed to find you," she said. "Who is that man who stares +so?" + +"That," answered Mr. Heatherbloom smiling, "is my boss." + +"Well," she observed, "I don't like his face." + +"Some of the darkies he's knocked down share, I believe, your opinion," +he laughed. "Excuse me a moment." And Mr. Heatherbloom stepped to the +dumfounded person in question, handed him the note-book and pencil, +with a request to keep tab for a moment, and then returned to the girl. +"Now, I'm at your command," he said with a smile. + +"Suppose we take a walk?" she suggested. "We can talk better if we do." + +A moment Mr. Heatherbloom wavered. "Sorry," he then said, "but I've +promised to stick by the job. You see the old tub sails to-morrow for +South America and it'll be a task to get her loaded before night. Some +of the hands, as well as the supercargo, have been bowled over by +fire-water." + +"I see." There was a strained look about her lips. Before them heavily +laden negroes and a few sailors passed and repassed. The burly +red-headed mate often looked at her; amazement and curiosity were +depicted on his features; he almost forgot the duties Mr. Heatherbloom +had, for a brief interval, thrust upon him. Betty Dalrymple, however, +had ceased to observe him; he, the others, no longer existed for her. +She saw only Mr. Heatherbloom now; what he said, she knew he meant; she +realized with an odd thrill of mingled admiration and pain that even she +could not cause him to change his mind. He would "stick to his job", +because he had said he would. + +"I'm interrupting, I fear," she said, a feeling of strange humility +sweeping over her. "When is your day's work done?" + +"About six, I expect." + +"The governor gives a ball for me to-night," she said. + +"Excellent. All the elite of the port will be there, and," with slow +meditative accent, "I can imagine how you'll look!" + +"Can you?" she asked, bending somewhat nearer. + +"Yes." His gaze was straight ahead. + +The white glove stole toward the black hand. "Why don't you come?" + +"I?" He stared. + +"Yes; the governor has sent you an invitation. He thinks you a +secret-service officer." + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to look at her; then he glanced toward the +boat. Suddenly his hand closed; he hardly realized the white glove was +in it. "I'll do it, Betty," he exclaimed. "That is, if I can. And--there +may be a way. Yes; there will be." + +"You mean, you may be able to rent them?" With a sparkle in her glance. + +"Exactly," he answered gaily, recklessly. + +Both laughed. Then her expression changed; she suppressed an +exclamation, but gently withdrew her hand. + +"How many dances will you give me, Betty?" He had not even noticed that +he had hurt her; his voice was low and eager. + +"Ask and see," she said merrily, and went. But outside the shed, she +stretched her crushed fingers; he was very strong; he had spoiled a new +pair of gloves; she did not, however, seem greatly to mind. As for Mr. +Heatherbloom, for the balance of the day he plunged into his task with +the energy of an Antaeus. + + * * * * * + +Sir Charles regarded rather curiously that night one of his guests who +arrived late. Mr. Heatherbloom's evening garments were not a Poole fit, +and his white gloves, though white enough, had obviously been used and +cleaned often. But the host observed, also, that Mr. Heatherbloom held +himself well, said just the right thing to the hostess, and moved +through the assemblage with quite the proper poise. He didn't look +bored, neither did he appear overimpressed by the almost palatial +elegance of the ball-room. He even managed to suppress any outward signs +of elation at the sight of Miss Dalrymple with whom he had but the +opportunity for a word or two, at first. Naturally the center of +attraction, the young girl found herself forced to dance often. He, too, +whirled around with others, just whom, he did not know; he dipped into +Terpsichorean gaiety to escape the dowager's inquisition regarding that +haphazard flight from the _Nevski_ and other details he did not wish to +converse about. But his turn came with Betty at last, and sooner than he +had reason to expect. + +"Ours is the next?" she said, passing him. + +Was it? He had ventured to write his name thrice on her card, but +neither of the dances he had claimed was the next. + +"I put your name down for this one myself," she confessed to him a few +moments later. "Do you mind?" + +Did he? The evening wore away but too soon; he held her to him a little +while, only over-quickly to be obliged to yield her to another. And now, +after a third period of waiting, the time came for their last dance. He +went for it as soon as the number preceding was over; he wanted, not +only to miss none of it, but he hungered to snatch all the prelude he +could. The conventional-looking young personage she had been dancing +with regarded the approaching Mr. Heatherbloom rather resentfully, but +he moved straight as an arrow for her. At once she stepped toward him, +and he soon found himself walking with her across the smooth shining +floor, on into the great conservatory. Here were soft shadows and +wondrous perfumes. Mr. Heatherbloom breathed deeply. + +"But a few days more, and we're en route for home." It was the girl who +spoke first--lightly, gaily--though there was a thrill in her tones. + +He started and did not answer at once. "That will be great, won't it?" +His voice, too, was light, but it did not seem so spontaneously glad as +her own. + +"You _are_ pleased, aren't you?" she said suddenly. + +"Pleased? Of course!" + +A brief period of inexplicable constraint! He looked at one of her hands +resting on the edge of a great vase--at a flower she held in her +fingers. + +"May I?" he said, and just touched it. + +"Of course!" she laughed. "A modest request, after all you've done for +me!" + +Her fingers placed it in the rented coat. + +"There!" she murmured in a matter-of-fact tone, stepping back. + +His face, turned to the light, appeared paler; his eyes looked +studiously beyond her. + +"It will be jolly on the steamer, won't it?" she went on. + +"Jolly? Oh, yes," he assented, with false enthusiasm, when a black and +white apparition appeared before them, no less a person than Sir +Charles. + +The governor, as the bearer of particular news, had been looking for +her. Mr. Heatherbloom hardly appreciated the preamble or the importance +of what followed. Sir Charles imparted a bit of confidential information +they were not to breathe to any one until he had verified the +particulars. Word had just been brought to him that the _Nevski_ had +gone on a reef near a neighboring island and was a total wreck. A +passing steamer had stood by, taken off the prince and his crew and +landed them. Still Mr. Heatherbloom but vaguely heard; he felt little +interest at the moment in his excellency or his boat. Betty Dalrymple's +face, however, showed less indifference to this startling intelligence. + +"The _Nevski_ a wreck?" she murmured. + +"It must all seem like an evil dream to you now," Mr. Heatherbloom spoke +absently. "Your having ever been on her!" + +"Not all an evil one," she answered. They stood again on the ball-room +floor. "Much good has come from it. I no longer hate the prince. I only +blame myself a great deal for many things--" + +He seemed to hear only her first words. "'Good come from it?' I don't +understand." + +"But for the _Nevski_, and what happened to me, I should have gone on +thinking, as I did, about you." + +"And--would that have made such a difference?" quickly. + +She raised her eyes. "What do you think?" + +"Betty!" + +The music had begun. He who had heretofore danced perfectly, now guided +wildly. + +"Take care!" she whispered. + +But discretion seemed to have left him; he spoke he knew not what--wild +mad words that would not be suppressed. They came in contact with +another couple and were brought to an abrupt stop. Flaming poppies shone +on her cheeks; her eyes were brightly beaming. But she laughed and they +went on. He swept her out of the crowded ball-room now, on to the broad +veranda where a few other couples also moved in the starlight. On her +curved lips a smile rested; it seemed to draw his head lower. + +"Betty, do you mean it?" Again the words were wrested from him, would +come. "What your eyes said just now?" + +She lifted them again, gladly, freely--not only that-- + +"Yes; I mean it--mean it," said her lips. "Of course! Foolish boy! I +have long meant it--" + +"Long?" he cried. + +"You heard what the Russian woman said--" + +"About there being some one? Then it was--" + +"Guess." The sweet laughing lips were close; his swept them +passionately. He found the answer; the world seemed to go round. + +But later, that night, there was no joy on Mr. Heatherbloom's face. In +his room in the old negro woman's house, he indited a letter. It was +brought to Betty Dalrymple the next morning as the early sunshine +entered her chamber overlooking the governor's park. + +"Darling: Forgive me. I am sailing at dawn on the old tub, for South +America--" + +Here the note fell from the girl's hand. Long she looked out of the +window. Then she went back to the bit of paper, took it and held it +against her breast before she again read. She seemed to know now what +would be in it; the strange depression that had come over her after he +had left last night was accounted for. Of course, he would not go back +to New York with her; he would, or could, accept nothing, in the way she +wished, from her or her aunt. It was necessary for him still to be Mr. +Heatherbloom; he had not yet "found himself" fully; the beginning he had +spoken of was only begun. The influential friends of his father in the +financial world had become impossible aids; he had to continue as he had +planned, to go his own way, and his, alone. It would have been easy for +him, as his father's son and the prospective nephew of the influential +Miss Van Rolsen, to have obtained one of those large salaried positions, +or "sinecures", with little to do. But that would be only beginning at +the end once more. + +Again she essayed to read. The letter would have been a little +incomprehensible to any one except herself, but she understood. There +were three "darlings"; inexcusable tautology! She kissed them all, but +she kissed oftenest the end: "You will forgive me for forgetting +myself--God knows I didn't intend to--and you will wait; have faith? It +is much to ask--too much; but if you will, I think my father's son and +he whom you have honored by caring for, may yet prove a little worthy--" + +The words brought a sob to her throat; she threw herself back on the +bed. "A little?" she cried, still holding the note tight in her hand. +But after a spell of weeping, once more she got up and looked out of the +window. The sunshine was very bright, the birds sang to her. Did she +take heart a little? A great wave of sadness bowed her down, but +courage, too, began to revive in her. + +"Have faith?" She looked up at the sky; she would do as he asked--unto +the grave, if need be. Then, very quietly, she dressed and went +down-stairs. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +It is very gay at the Hermitage, in Moscow, just after Easter, and so it +was natural that Sonia Turgeinov should have been there on a certain +bright afternoon some three years later. The theater, at which she once +more appeared, was closed for the afternoon, and at this season +following Holy Week and fasting, fashionables and others were wont to +congregate in the spacious café and grounds, where a superb orchestra +discourses classical or dashing selections. The musicians played now an +American air. + +"Some one at a table out there on the balcony sent a request by the head +waiter for it," said a member of Sonia Turgeinov's party--a Parisian +artist, not long in Moscow. + +"An American, no doubt," she answered absently, sipping her wine. The +three years had treated her kindly; the few outward changes could be +superficially enumerated: A little more embonpoint; a tendency toward a +slight drooping at the corners of the mobile lips, and moments when the +shadows seemed to stay rather longer in the deep eyes. + +"That style of music should appeal to you, Madam," observed the +Frenchman. "You who have been among those favored artists to visit the +land of the free. Did you have to play in a tent, and were you literally +showered with gold?" + +"Both," she laughed. "It is a land of many surprises." + +"I have heard _es ist alles_ 'the almighty dollar'," said a musician +from Berlin, one of the gay company. + +"Exaggeration, _mein Herr_!" she retorted, with a wave of the hand. "It +is also a _komischer romantischer_ land." For a moment she seemed +thinking. + +"Isn't that his excellency, Prince Boris Strogareff?" inquired abruptly +a young man with a beyond-the-Volga physiognomy. + +She started. "The prince?" An odd look came into her eyes. "Do you +believe in telepathic waves, Monsieur?" she said gaily to the Frenchman. + +"Not to any great extent, Madam. _Mais pourquoi?"_ + +"Nothing. But I don't see this prince you speak of." + +"He has disappeared now," replied her countryman, a fellow-player +recently come from Odessa. "It is his first dip again into the gaieties +of the world. For several years," with the proud accents of one able to +impart information concerning an important personage, "he has been +living in seclusion on his vast estates near the Caspian Sea--ruling a +kingdom greater than many a European principality. But have you never +met the prince?" To Sonia Turgeinov. "He used to be a patron of the +arts, according to report, before the sad accident that befell him." + +"I think," observed Sonia Turgeinov, with brows bent as if striving to +recollect, "I did meet him once. But a poor actress is forced to meet +so many princes and nobles, nowadays," she laughed, "that--" + +"True! Only one would not easily forget the prince, the handsomest man +in Asia." + +She yawned slightly. + +"What was this 'sad accident' you were speaking of, _mein Herr_? +observed the German, with a mind trained to conversational continuity. + +"The prince was cruising somewhere and his yacht was wrecked," said the +young Roscius from Odessa. "A number of the crew were drowned; his +excellency, when picked up, was unconscious. A blow on the head from a +falling timber, or from being dashed on the rocks, I'm not sure which. +At any rate, for a long time his life was despaired of, but he recovered +and is as strong and sound as ever. Only, there is a strange sequel; or +not so strange," reflectively, "since cases of its kind are common. The +injury was on his head, as I remarked, and his mind became--" + +"Affected, Monsieur?" said the Frenchman. "You mean this great noble of +the steppe is no longer right, mentally?" + +"He is one of the keenest satraps in Asia, Monsieur. His brain is as +alert as ever, only he has suffered a complete loss of memory." + +Sonia Turgeinov's interest was of a distinctly artificial nature; she +tapped on the floor with her foot; then abruptly arose. "Shan't we go +into the garden for our coffee?" she said. "It is close here." + +They got up and walked out. As they did so they passed a couple at one +of the tables on the balcony and a slight exclamation fell from Sonia +Turgeinov's lips. For an instant she exhibited real interest, then +hastening down the steps, she selected a place some distance aside. A +great bunch of flowers was in the center of the table and she moved her +chair behind them. + +"You see some one you know, _gnädige_ Madam?" asked the observant +Teuton. + +"A great many people," she answered. + +"There's that American over there who asked for the Yankee piece of +music," said the Frenchman, with eyes on the two people Sonia Turgeinov +had started at sight of, a moment before. "_Mon Dieu!_ What charm! What +beauty!" + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner?_" blurted the surprised Berliner. + +"No--_diable!_ His _belle_ companion!" + +"Where?" said Sonia Turgeinov, well knowing. A face that her table +companion regarded, she, too, saw beyond the flowers. The afternoon +sunshine touched the golden hair of her she looked at; the violet eyes +shone with delight upon bizarre details: of the scene--the waiters in +blouses resembling street "white wings" in American cities, the coachmen +outside, big as balloons in their quilted cloaks. + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner_ has the passionate eyes of an admirer, a devout +lover," murmured the sentimental musician from Berlin. + +"Or an American husband!" said Roscius from Odessa. + +"Sometimes!" added the Frenchman cynically. + +"I haf met him," observed the _Herr Musikaner_, "at the hotel. +We haf talked together, once or twice. He has been in South +America--Argentine, _ich glaube_--and has made a fortune there. And +madam, his wife, and he are making a grand tour of the world. Their +wedding trip, I believe. _Sie kommt von einer der ersten Familien_--the +Dalrymples. _Der Herr Direktor_ of the Russicher-Chinese bank told me. +He cashes the drafts--_Her Gott_--_nicht kleine!_" + +These prosaic details the Frenchman, pictorially occupied, hardly, +heard. "_Mon Dieu_! What a _chapeau_!" he sighed. "No wonder he looks +enchanted at that wonderful creation of the Rue de la Paix." + +"He seems quite an exception to some husbands in that respect!" remarked +the Berliner in deep gutturals. + +Sonia Turgeinov lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke at the flowers. +There was a resentful cynicism in the act; she leaned back with greater +abandon in her chair. "After all, the unities have been observed," she +said with an odd laugh. + +"What unities?" asked Roscius, becoming keen as a young hound on the +scent, at the sound of the trite phrase. + +"Oh, I was thinking of a play." Stretching more comfortably. Suddenly +her cigarette waved; behind the flowers, her eyes dilated. Prince Boris +Strogareff was coming down the steps; he passed the American couple they +had been talking about and looked at them. A light of involuntary +admiration shone from his gaze, but there was no recognition in it--only +the instinctive tribute that a man of the world and a gallant Russian is +ever prone to pay at the sight of an unusually charming member of the +other sex. Then, once more impassive--a striking handsome figure--he +moved leisurely down and out of the gardens. The couple, engrossed at +the time in a conversation of some intimate nature or in each other, had +not even seen or noticed the august nobleman. + +Sonia Turgeinov drew harder on the cigarette; a laugh welled from her +throat. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!" she said. + +Young Roscius with the Tartar eyes stared at her. She threw away the +smoking cylinder. + +"I'm off!" + +"Why--" + +"Has not the curtain descended?" enigmatically. + +"I don't see any curtain," said the Frenchman. + +"No? But it's there." At the gate, however, once more she paused--to +listen, to laugh. + +"_Was jetzt_?" asked the mystified Berliner. + +She only shrugged. + +The orchestra, having played a few conventional selections after +_Dixie_, had now plunged into _Marching through Georgia_. + +As Sonia Turgeinov disappeared through the gate, the golden head +surmounted by the "wonderful _chapeau_", bent toward the clean-cut, +strong-looking face of the young man on the other side of the small +table. + +"It's awfully extravagant of you, Harry,--twenty roubles, a tip for +those musicians. But it makes it seem like home, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, darling," he answered. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man and His Money, by Frederic Stewart Isham + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10402 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man and His Money + +Author: Frederic Stewart Isham + +Release Date: December 8, 2003 [EBook #10402] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN AND HIS MONEY *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Dave Morgan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + +_By_ + +FREDERIC S. ISHAM + + + +_Author of_ + +Under the Rose, Half a Chance, +The Social Bucaneer, Etc. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +MAX J. SPERO + + + + +1912 + + + + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE COACH OF CONCORD + +"Well? What can I do for you?" + +The speaker--a scrubby little man--wheeled in the rickety office chair +to regard some one hesitating on his threshold. The tones were not +agreeable; the proprietor of the diminutive, run-down establishment, +"The St. Cecilia Music Emporium," was not, for certain well defined +reasons, in an amiable mood that morning. He had been about to reach +down for a little brown jug which reposed on the spot usually allotted +to the waste paper basket when the shadow of the new-comer fell +obtrusively, not to say offensively, upon him. + +It was not a reassuring shadow; it seemed to spring from an +indeterminate personality. Mr. Kerry Mackintosh repeated his question +more bruskly; the shadow (obviously not a customer,--no one ever sought +Mr. Mackintosh's wares!) started; his face showed signs of a vacillating +purpose. + +"A mistake! Beg pardon!" he murmured with exquisite politeness and began +to back out, when a somewhat brutal command on the other's part to "shut +that d---- door d---- quick, and not let any more d---- hot air out" +arrested the visitor's purpose. Instead of retreating, he advanced. + +"I beg pardon, were you addressing me?" he asked. The half apologetic +look had quite vanished. + +The other considered, muttered at length in an aggrieved tone something +about hot air escaping and coal six dollars a ton, and ended with: "What +do you want?" + +"Work." The visitor's tone relapsed; it was now conspicuous for its want +of "success waves"; it seemed to imply a definite cognizance of +personal uselessness. He who had brightened a moment before now spoke +like an automaton. Mr. Mackintosh looked at him and his shabby garments. +He had a contempt for shabby garments--on others! + +"Good day!" he said curtly. + +But instead of going, the person coolly sat down. The proprietor of the +little shop glanced toward the door and half started from his chair. +Whereupon the visitor smiled; he had a charming smile in these moments +of calm equipoise, it gave one an impression of potential possibilities. +Mr. Mackintosh sank back into his chair. + +"Too great a waste of energy!" he murmured, and having thus defined his +attitude, turned to a "proof" of new rag-time. This he surveyed +discontentedly; struck out a note here, jabbed in another there. The +stranger watched him at first casually. By sundry signs the caller's +fine resolution and assurance seemed slowly oozing from him; perhaps he +began to have doubts as to the correctness of his position, thus to +storm a man in his own castle, or office--even if it were such a +disreputable-appearing office! + +He shifted his feet thoughtfully; a thin lock of dark hair drooped more +uncertainly over his brow; he got up. The composer dashed a blithe +flourish to the tail of a note. + +"Hold on," he said. "What's your hurry?" Sarcastically. + +"Didn't know I was in a hurry!" There was no attempted levity in his +tone,--he spoke rather listlessly, as one who had found the world, or +its problems, slightly wearisome. The composer-publisher now arose; a +new thought had suddenly assailed him. + +"You say you are looking for work. Why did you drift in here?" + +"The place looked small. Those big places have no end of applicants--" + +"Shouldn't think that would phase you. With _your_ nerve!" + +The visitor flushed. "I seem to have made rather a mess of it," he +confessed. "I usually do. Good day." + +"A moment!" said Mr. Mackintosh. "One of my men"--he emphasized "one," +as if their number were legion--"disappointed me this morning. I expect +he's in the lockup by this time. Have you got a voice?" + +"A what?" + +"Can you sing?" + +"I really don't know; haven't ever tried, since"--a wonderful +retrospection in his tones--"since I was a little chap in church and +wore white robes." + +"Huh!" ejaculated the proprietor of the Saint Cecilia shop. "Mama's +angel boy! That must have been a long time ago." The visitor did not +answer; he pushed back uncertainly the uncertain lock of dark hair and +seemed almost to have forgotten the object of his visit. + +"Now see here"--Mr. Mackintosh's voice became purposeful, energetic; he +seated himself before a piano that looked as if it had led a hard +nomadic existence. "Now see here!" Striking a few chords. "Suppose you +try this stunt! _What's the Matter with Mother_? My own composition! +Kerry Mackintosh at his best! Now twitter away, if you've any of that +angel voice left!" + +The piano rattled; the new-comer, with a certain faint whimsical smile +as if he appreciated the humor of his position, did "twitter away"; loud +sounds filled the place. Quality might be lacking but of quantity there +was a-plenty. + +"Bully!" cried Mr. Mackintosh enthusiastically. "That'll start the tears +rolling. _What's the Matter with Mother_? Nothing's the matter with +mother. And if any one says there is--Will it go? With that voice?" He +clapped his hand on the other's shoulder. "Why, man, they could hear you +across Madison Square. You've a voice like an organ. Is it a 'go'?" he +demanded. + +"I don't think I quite understand," said the new-comer patiently. + +"You don't, eh? Look there!" + +A covered wagon had at that moment stopped before the door. It was drawn +by a horse whose appearance, like that of the piano, spoke more +eloquently of services in the past than of hopeful promises for the +future. On the side of the vehicle appeared in large letters: "_What's +the Matter with Mother_? Latest Melodic Triumph by America's Greatest +Composer, Mr. Kerry Mackintosh." A little to the left of this +announcement was painted a harp, probably a reminder of the one Saint +Cecilia was supposed to have played. This sentimental symbol was +obviously intended to lend dignity and respectability to the otherwise +disreputable vehicle of concord and its steed without wings, waiting +patiently to be off--or to lie down and pay the debt of nature! + +"Shall we try it again, angel voice?" asked Mr. Mackintosh, playing the +piano, or "biffing the ivories," as he called it. + +"Drop it," returned the visitor, "that 'angel' dope." + +"Oh, all right! Anything to oblige." + +Before this vaguely apologetic reply, the new-comer once more relapsed +into thoughtfulness. His eye passed dubiously over the vehicle of +harmony; he began to take an interest in the front door as if again +inclined to "back out." Perhaps a wish that the horse _might_ lie down +and die at this moment (no doubt he would be glad to!) percolated +through the current of his thoughts. That would offer an easy solution +to the proposal he imagined would soon be forthcoming--that _was_ +forthcoming--and accepted. Of course! What alternative remained? Needs +must when an empty pocket drives. Had he not learned the lesson--beggars +must not be choosers? + +"And now," said Mr. Mackintosh with the air of a man who had cast from +his shoulders a distinct problem, "that does away with the necessity of +bailing the other chap out. What's your name?" + +The visitor hesitated. "Horatio Heatherbloom." + +The other looked at him keenly. "The right one," he said softly. + +"You've got the only one you'll get," replied the caller, after an +interval. + +Mr. Mackintosh bestowed upon him a knowing wink. "Sounds like a _nom de +plume_," he chuckled. "What was your line?" + +"I don't understand." + +"What did you serve time for? Shoplifting?" + +"Oh, no," said the other calmly. + +"Burglarizing?" With more respect in his tones. + +"What do you think?" queried the caller in the same mild voice. + +"Not ferocious-looking enough for that lay, I should have thought. +However, you can't always tell by appearances. Now, I wonder--" + +"What?" observed Mr. Heatherbloom, after an interval of silence. + +"Yes! By Jove!" Mr. Mackintosh was speaking to himself. "It might +work--it might add interest--" Mr. Heatherbloom waited patiently. "Would +you have any objections," earnestly, "to my making a little addenda to +the sign on the chariot of cadence? _What's the Matter with Mother_? +'The touching lyric, as interpreted by Horatio Heatherbloom, the +reformed burglar'?" + +"I _should_ object," observed the caller. + +"My boy--my boy! Don't be hasty. Take time to think. I'll go further; +I'll paint a few iron bars in front of the harp. Suggestive of a +prisoner in jail thinking of mother. Say 'yes'." + +"No." + +"Too bad!" murmured Mr. Mackintosh in disappointed but not altogether +convinced tones. "You could use another alias, you know. If you're +afraid the police might pipe your game and nab--" + +"Drop it, or--" + +"All right, Mr. Heatherbloom, or any other blooming name!" Recovering +his jocular manner. "It's not for me to inquire the 'why,' or care a rap +for the 'wherefore.' Ethics hasn't anything to do with the realm of +art." + +As he spoke he reached under the desk and took out the jug. "Have some?" +extending the tumbler. + +The thin lips of the other moved, his hand quickly extended but was +drawn as suddenly back. "Thanks, but I'm on the water wagon, old chap." + +"Well, I'm not. Do you know you said that just like a gentleman--to the +manner born." + +"A gentleman? A moment ago I was a reformed burglar." + +"You might be both." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked into space; Mr. Mackintosh did not notice a +subtle change of expression. That latter gentleman's rapt gaze was +wholly absorbed by the half-tumblerful he held in mid air. But only for +a moment; the next, he was smacking his lips. "We'll have a bite to eat +and then go," he now said more cheerfully. "Ready for luncheon?" + +"I could eat" + +"Had anything to-day?" + +"Maybe." + +"And maybe, not!" Half jeeringly. "Why don't you say you've been +training down, taking the go-without-breakfast cure? Say, it must be +hell looking for a job when you've just 'got out'!" + +"How do you know I just 'got out'?" + +"You look it, and--there's a lot of reasons. Come on." + +Half an hour or so later the covered wagon drove along Fourteenth +street. Near the curb, not far from the corner of Broadway, it separated +itself from the concourse of vehicles and stopped. Close by, nickel +palaces of amusement exhibited their yawning entrances, and into these +gilded maws floated, from the human current on the sidewalk, a stream of +men, women and children. Encamped at the edge of this eddy, Mr. +Mackintosh sounded on the nomadic piano, now ensconced within the coach +of concord, the first triumphal strains of the maternal tribute in +rag-time. + +He and the conspiring instrument were concealed in the depths of the +vehicle from the gaze of the multitude, but Mr. Heatherbloom at the back +faced them on the little step which served as concert stage. There were +no limelights or stereopticon pictures to add to the illusion,--only the +disconcerting faces and the light of day. He never before knew how +bright the day could be but he continued to stand there, in spite of the +ludicrous and trying position. He sang, a certain daredevil light in +his eye now, a suspicion of a covert smile on his face. It might be +rather tragic--his position--but it was also a little funny. + +His voice didn't sound any better out of doors than it did in; the +"angel" quality of the white-robed choir days had departed with the soul +of the boy. Perhaps Mr. Heatherbloom didn't really feel the pathos of +the selection; at any rate, those tears Mr. Mackintosh had prophesied +would be rolling down the cheeks of the listening multitude weren't +forthcoming. One or two onlookers even laughed. + +"Pigs! Swine!" murmured the composer, now passing through the crowd with +copies of the song. He sold a few, not many; on the back step Mr. +Heatherbloom watched with faint sardonic interest. + +"Have I earned my luncheon yet?" he asked the composer when that +aggrieved gentleman, jingling a few dimes, returned to the equipage of +melody. + +"Haven't counted up," was the gruff reply. "Give 'em another verse! They +ain't accustomed to it yet. Once they git to know it, every boot-black +in town will be whistling that song. Don't I know? Didn't I write it? +Ain't they all had mothers?" + +"Maybe they're all Topsies and 'just growed'," suggested Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Patience!" muttered the other. "The public may be a little coy at +first, but once they git started they'll be fighting for copies. So +encore, my boy; hammer it into them. We'll get them; you see!" + +But the person addressed didn't see, at least with Mr. Mackintosh's +clairvoyant vision. Mr. Heatherbloom's gaze wandering quizzically from +the little pool of mask-like faces had rested on a great shining +motor-car approaching--slowly, on account of the press of traffic. In +this wide luxurious vehicle reposed a young girl, slender, exquisite; at +her side sat a big, dark, distinguished-appearing man, with a closely +cropped black beard; a foreigner--most likely Russian. + +The girl was as beautiful as the dainty orchids with which the superb +car was adorned, and which she, also, wore in her gown--yellow orchids, +tenderly fashioned but very insistent and bright. Upon this patrician +vision Mr. Heatherbloom had inadvertently looked, and the pathetic +plaint regarding "Mother" died on the wings of nothingness. With +unfilial respect he literally abandoned her and cast her to the winds. +His eyes gleamed as they rested on the girl; he seemed to lose himself +in reverie. + +Did she, the vision in orchids, notice him? Perhaps! The chauffeur at +that moment increased the speed of the big car; but as it dashed past, +the crimson mouth of the beautiful girl tightened and hardened into a +straight line and those wonderful starlike eyes shone suddenly with a +light as hard as steel. Disdainful, contemptuous; albeit, perhaps, +passionate! Then she, orchids, shining car and all were whirled on. + +Rattle! bang! went the iron-rimmed wheels of other rougher vehicles. +Bing! bang! sounded the piano like a soul in torment. + +Horatio Heatherbloom stood motionless; then his figure swayed slightly. +He lifted the music, as if to shield his features from the others--his +many auditors; but they didn't mind that brief interruption; it afforded +a moment for that rough and ready dialogue which a gathering of this +kind finds to its liking. + +"Give him a trokee! Anybody got a cough drop?" + +"It's soothing syrup he wants." + +"No; it's us wants that." + +"What the devil--" Mr. Mackintosh looked out of the wagon. + +Mr. Heatherbloom suddenly laughed, a forced reckless laugh. "Guess it +was the dampness. I'm like some artists--have to be careful where I +sing." + +"Have a tablet, feller, do!" said a man in the audience. + +Horatio looked him in the eye. "Maybe it's you want something." + +The facetious one began to back away; he had seen that look before, the +steely glint that goes before battle. + +"The chord now, if you please!" said Mr. Heatherbloom to the composer +in a still quiet voice. + +Mr. Mackintosh hit viciously; Mr. Heatherbloom sang again; he did more +than that. He outdid himself; he employed bombast,--some thought it +pathos. He threw a tremolo into his voice; it passed for emotion. He +"caught 'em", in Mr. Mackintosh's parlance, and "caught 'em hard". Some +more people bought copies. The alert Mr. Mackintosh managed to gather in +about a dollar, and saw, in consequence, great fortune "coming his way" +at last; the clouds had a golden lining. + +"Say, you're the pard I've been a-looking for!" he jubilantly told Mr. +Heatherbloom as they prepared to move on. "We'll make a beautiful team. +Isn't it a peach?" + +"What?" + +"That song. It made them look like a rainy day. Git up!" And Mr. +Mackintosh prodded the bony ribs of their steed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom absent-mindedly gazed in the direction the big shining +motor had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +VARYING FORTUNES + +Mr. Heatherbloom's new-found employment proved but ephemeral. The next +day the sheriff took possession of the music emporium and all it +contained, including the nomadic piano and the now empty jug. The +contents of the last the composer-publisher took care to put beyond +reach of his many creditors whom he, in consequence, faced with a +seemingly care-free, if artificial, jocularity. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +soberly forth from the shop of concord. + +He had but turned the corner of the street when into the now dissonant +"hole in the wall", amid the scene of wreck and disaster, stepped a tall +dark man, with a closely cropped beard, who spoke English with an accent +and who regarded the erstwhile proprietor and the minions of the law +with ill-concealed arrogance and disfavor. + +"You have," he began in halting tones, "a young man here who sings on +the street like the minstrels of old, the--what you call +them?--troubadours." + +"We _had_," corrected Mr. Mackintosh. "He has just 'jumped the coup,' or +rather been 'shooed out'." + +The new-comer fastened his gaze upon the other; he had superb, almost +mesmeric eyes. "Will you kindly speak the language as I understand it?" +he said. And the other did, for there was that in the caller's manner +which compelled immediate compliance. Immovably he listened to the +composer-publisher's explanation. + +"_Eh bien!"_ he said, his handsome, rather barbaric head high when Mr. +Mackintosh had concluded. "He is gone; it is well; I have fulfilled my +mission." And walking out, the imposing stranger hailed a taxi and +disappeared from the neighborhood. + +Meanwhile Mr. Horatio Heatherbloom had walked slowly on; he was now +some distance from the one-time "emporium." Where should he go? His +fortunes had not been enhanced materially by his brief excursion into +the realms of melody; he had thirty cents in cash and a +"dollar-and-a-half appetite." An untidy place where they displayed a +bargain assortment of creature comforts attracted his gaze. He thought +of meals in the past--of caviar, a la Russe, three dollars and a half a +portion; peaches Melba, three francs each at the Café de Paris; truffled +capon from Normandy; duck after the manner of the incomparable Frederic. +About half a dozen peaches Melba would have appealed to him now; he +looked, instead, with the eyes of longing at a codfish ball. Oh, +glorious appetite, mocking recollections of hours of satiety! + +Should he yield to temptation? He stopped; then prudence prevailed. The +day was yet too young to give way recklessly to casual gastronomic +allurements, so he stepped on again quickly, averting his head from shop +windows. Lest his caution and conservatism might give way, he started +to turn into a side street--but didn't. + +Instead, he laughed slightly to himself. What! flee from an outpost of +time-worn celery? beat an inglorious retreat before a phalanx of +machine-made pies? He would look them (figuratively) in the eye. Having, +as it were, fairly stared out of countenance the bland pies and beamed +with stern contempt upon the "droopy," Preraphaelite celery, he went, +better satisfied, on his way. It is these little victories that count; +at that moment Mr. Heatherbloom marched on like a knight of old for +steadfastness of purpose. His lips veiled a covert smile, as if behind +the hard mask of life he saw something a little odd and whimsical, +appealing to some secret sense of humor that even hunger could not +wholly annihilate. The lock of hair seemed to droop rather pathetically +at that moment; his sensitive features were slightly pinched; his face +was pale. It would probably be paler before the day was over; +_n'importe!_ The future had to be met--for better, or worse. Multitudes +passed this way and that; an elevated went crashing by; devastating +influences seemed to surround him. His slender form stiffened. + +When next he stopped it was to linger, not in front of an eating +establishment, but before a bulletin-board upon which was pasted a page +of newspaper "want ads" for "trained" men, in all walks of life. +"Trained" men? Hateful word! How often had he encountered it! Ah, here +was one advertisement without the "trained"; he devoured it eagerly. The +item, like an oasis in the desert of his general incapacity and +uselessness, exercised an odd fascination for him in spite of the +absolute impossibility of his professing to possess a fractional part of +those moral attributes demanded by the fair advertiser. She--a Miss Van +Rolsen--was seeking a paragon, not a person. Nevertheless, he resolved +to assail the apparently unassailable, and repaired to a certain +ultrafashionable neighborhood of the town. + +Before a brownstone front that bore the number he sought, he paused a +moment, drew a deep breath and started to walk up the front steps. But +with a short laugh he came suddenly to a halt half-way up; looked over +the stone balustrade down at the other entrance below--the +tradesmen's--the butchers', the bakers', the candlestick makers'--and, +yes, the servants'--their way in!--his? + +He went down the steps and walked on and away as a matter of course, but +once more stopped. He had done a good deal of going this way and that, +and then stopping, during the last few months. Things had to be worked +out, and sometimes his brain didn't seem to move very quickly. + +To be worked out! He now surveyed the butchers' and the bakers' (and +yes, the servants') entrance with casual or philosophic interest from +the vantage point of the other side of the street. It wasn't different +from any other of the entrances of the kind but it held his gaze. Then +he walked across the street again and went in--or down. It didn't really +seem now such a bad kind of entrance when you came to investigate it, in +a high impersonal way; not half so bad as the subway, and people didn't +mind that. + +Still Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a peculiar thrill when he put up his +thumb, pressed a button, and wondered what next would happen. Who +answered doors down here,--the maid--the cook--the laundress? He felt +himself to be very indistinct and vague standing there in the shadow, +and tried to assume a nonchalant bearing. He wondered just what bearing +_was_ proper under the circumstances; he cherished indistinct +recollections of having heard or read that the butcher's boy is usually +favored with a broadly defying and independent visage; that he comes in +whistling and goes forth swaggering. A cat-meat man he had once looked +upon from the upper lodge of front steps somewhere in the dim long ago, +had possessed a melancholy manner and countenance. + +How should he comport himself; what should he say--when the inevitable +happened; when the time came to say something? How lead the conversation +by natural and easy stages to the purport of his visit? He rehearsed a +few sentences, then straightway forgot them. Why did they keep him +waiting so long? Did they always keep people as long as that--down here? +He put his thumb again-- + +"Well, what do you want?" The door had opened and a buxom female, arms +akimbo, regarded him. Mr. Heatherbloom repaid her gaze with interest; it +_was_ the cook, then, who acted as door tender of these regions +subterranean. He feared by her expression that he had interrupted her in +the preparation of some esculent delicacy, and with the fear was born a +parenthetical inquiry; he wondered what that delicacy might be? But +forbearing to inquire he stated his business. + +"You'll be the thirteenth that's been 'turned down' to-day for that +job!" observed cook blandly. With which cheering assurance she consigned +him to some one else--a maid with a tipped-up nose--and presently he +found himself being "shown up"; that was the expression used. + +The room into which he was ushered was a parlor. Absently he seated +himself. The maid tittered. He looked at her--or rather the tipped-up +nose, an attractive bit of anatomy. Saucy, provocative! Mr. +Heatherbloom's head tilted a little; he surveyed the detail with the +look of a connoisseur. She colored, went; but remained in the hall to +peer. There were many articles of virtu lying around--on tables or in +cabinets--and the caller's appearance was against him. He would bear +watching; he had the impudence--Just fancy his sitting there in a chair! +He was leaning back now as if he enjoyed that atmosphere of luxury; +surveying, too, the paintings and the bronzes with interest. But for no +good reason, thought the maid; then gave a start of surprise. The hand +of the suspicious-looking caller had lifted involuntarily to his breast +pocket; a mechanical movement such as a young gentleman might make who +was reaching for a cigarette case. Did he intend--actually intend +to--but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge of +his chair and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partook +of the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeous +rug, he abruptly rose. + +Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiff +satin or brocade and with bristling iron-gray hair! He noticed, however, +that unlike the maid, she had a very prominent nose--that _now_ sniffed! + +"Good heavens! What a frightful odor of gasolene. Jane, where are my +salts?" + +Jane rushed in; at the same time four or five dogs that had followed in +the lady's wake began to bark as if they, too, were echoing the plaint: +"What a frightful odor! Salts, Jane, salts!" And as they barked in many +keys, but always fortissimo, they ran frantically this way and that as +though chased by somebody, or something (perhaps the odor of gasolene), +or chasing one another in a mad outburst of canine exuberance. + +"Sardanapolis! Beauty! Curly! Naughty!" the lady called out. + +But in vain. Sardanapolis continued to cut capers; Beauty's conduct was +not beautiful; while as for Naughty (all yellow bows and black curls) +he seemed endeavoring to live up to the fullest realization of his name. + +"Dear me! What _shall_ I do?" + +"Just let 'em alone, ma'am," ventured Jane, "and they'll soon tire +themselves out." + +Fortunately, by this time, the be-ribboned pets showed signs of reaching +that state of ennui. + +"Dear me!" said now the lady anxiously. "How wet the poor dears' tongues +are!" + +"Nature of the b--poor dears, ma'am!" commented Jane. + +The lady looked at her. "_You_ don't like dogs," she said. "You can go." +And then to Mr. Heatherbloom: "What brought you here? Don't answer at +once. Stand farther back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom, who seemed to have been rather enjoying this little +impromptu entertainment, straightened with a start; he retired a few +paces, observing in a mild explanatory tone something about spots on his +garments and the necessity for having them removed at a certain little +Greek shop, before doing himself the honor of calling and-- + +"You're another answer to the advertisement then, I suppose?" the +lady's voice unceremoniously interrupted. + +He confessed himself Another Answer, and in that capacity proceeded now +to reply as best he might to a merciless and rapid fire of questions. +She would have made an excellent cross-examiner for the prosecution; Mr. +Heatherbloom did not seem to enjoy the grilling. A number of queries +he answered frankly; others he evaded. He seemed--ominous +circumstance!--especially secretive regarding certain details of his +past. He did not care to say where he was born, or who his parents were. +What had he done? What occupations had he followed? + +Well--he seemed to hesitate a good deal--he had once tried washing +dishes; but--dreamily--they had discharged him; the man said something +about there being a debit balance on account of damaged crockery. He had +essayed the rôle of waiter but had lasted only through the first +courses; down to the entrées, he thought; certainly not much past the +pottage. He believed he bumped into another waiter; a few guests within +range had seemed put out; afterward, he himself was put out. And +then--well, he had somehow drifted, more or less. + +"Drifted!" said the lady ominously. + +"Oh, yes! Tried his hand at this and that," he added rather blithely. He +once worked for a moving-picture firm; fell from a six-story window for +them. That is, he started to fall; something--a net or a platform--was +supposed to catch him at the fifth, and then a dummy completed the +descent and got smashed on the sidewalk. He was a little doubtful about +their intercepting him at the fifth and that he, instead of the +dummy--But he didn't seem to mind taking the risk--reflectively. They +said he was a great success falling through the air, and they had him, +in consequence, fall from all kinds of places,--through drawbridges into +the water, for example. That's where he contracted a bad cold, and when +he had recovered, another man had been found for the heavier-than-air +rôle-- + +"What are you talking about?" The lady's back was stiffer than a poker. + +"If ever you go to a moving-picture palace of amusement, Madam, and see +a streak in the air, you might reasonably conclude you are"--he +bowed--"beholding me. I went once; it seemed funny. I hardly recognized +myself in the part. I certainly seemed to be 'going some'," he murmured +seriously. "Is there anything else, Madam, you would care to question me +about?" + +"I think," she said significantly, "what I have learned is quite +sufficient. If the occupations you have told me about are so +disreputable--what were those you have kept so carefully concealed? For +example, where were you and what were you doing four--five--six--years +ago? You have already refused to answer. You relate only a few +inconsequential and outré trifles. To cover up--What? What?" she +repeated. + +Then she transfixed him with her eye; the dogs transfixed him with their +eyes. Accusingly? Not all of them. Naughty's glance expressed approval; +his tail underwent a friendly agitation. + +"Naughty!" said the lady sharply. Naughty gamboled around Horatio. + +"How odd!" murmured the mistress, more to herself than the other. "How +very extraordinary!" + +"What, Madam?" he ventured. + +"That Naughty, who so seldom takes to strangers, should--" she found +herself saying. + +"Perhaps it's the scent of the gasolene," he suggested. + +"It's _in spite of_ the gasolene," she retorted sharply. + +And for some moments ruminated. It was not until afterward Mr. +Heatherbloom learned that her confidence in Naughty's instinct amounted +to a hobby. Only once had she thought him at fault in his likes or +dislikes of people; when he had showed a predilection for the assistant +rector's shapely calves. But after that gentleman's elopement with a +lady of the choir and his desertion of wife and children, Naughty's +erstwhile disrespect for the cloth, which Miss Van Rolsen had grieved +over, became illumined with force and significance. Thereafter she had +never doubted him; he had barked at all twelve of Mr. Heatherbloom's +predecessors--the dozen other answers to the advertisement; but here he +was sedulous for fondlings from Horatio. Extraordinary truly! The lady +hesitated. + +"I suppose we shall all be murdered in our beds," she said half to +herself, "but," with sudden decision, "I've concluded to engage you." + +"And my duties?" ventured Mr. Heatherbloom. "The advertisement did not +say." + +"You are to exercise the darlings every day in the park." + +"Ah!" Horatio's exclamation was noncommittal. What he might have added +was interrupted by a light footstep in the hall and the voice of some +one who stopped in passing before the door. + +"I am going now, Aunt," said a voice. + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his hand tightened on the back of a chair; +from where he stood he could see but the rim of a wonderful hat. He +gazed at a few waving roses, fitting notes of color as it were, for the +lovely face behind, concealed from him by the curtain. + +The elderly lady answered; Mr. Heatherbloom heard a Prince Someone's +name mentioned; then the roses were whisked back; the voice--musical as +silver bells--receded, and the front door closed. Mr. Heatherbloom gazed +around him--at the furnishings in the room--she who stood before him. He +seemed bewildered. + +"And now as to your wages," said a voice--not silver bells!--sharply. + +"I hardly think I should prove suitable--" he began in somewhat +panic-stricken tones, when-- + +"Nonsense!" The word, or the energy imparted to it, appeared to crush +for the moment further opposition on his part; his faculties became +concentrated on a sound without, of a big car gathering headway in front +of the door. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; perhaps he would have liked to +retreat then and there from that house; but it was too late! Fate had +precipitated him here. A mad tragic jest! He did not catch the amount +of his proposed stipend that was mentioned; he even forgot for the +moment he was hungry. He could no longer hear the car. It had gone; but, +it would return. Return! And then--? His head whirled at the thought. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +AN ENCOUNTER + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a few days later, sat one morning in Central Park. His +canine charges were tied to the bench and while they chafed at restraint +and tried vainly to get away and chase squirrels, he scrutinized one of +the pages of a newspaper some person had left there. What the young man +read seemed to give him no great pleasure. He put down the paper; then +picked it up again and regarded a snap-shot illustration occupying a +conspicuous position on the society page. + +"Prince Boris Strogareff, riding in the park," the picture was labeled. +The newspaper photographer had caught for his sensational sheet an +excellent likeness of a foreign visitor in whom New York was at the time +greatly interested. A picturesque personality--the prince--half +distinguished gentleman, half bold brigand in appearance, was depicted +on a superb bay, and looked every inch a horseman. Mr. Heatherbloom +continued to stare at the likeness; the features, dark, rather +wild-looking, as if a trace of his ancient Tartar ancestry had survived +the cultivating touch of time. Then the young man on the bench once more +turned his attention to the text accompanying the cut. + +"Reported engagement of Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple to Prince Boris +Strogareff ... the prince has vast estates in Russia and Russia-Asia ... +his forbears were prominent in the days when Crakow was building and the +Cossacks and the Poles were engaged in constant strife on the steppe ... +Miss Dalrymple, with whom this stalwart romantic personage is said to be +deeply enamored, is niece and heiress of the eccentric Miss Van Rolsen, +the third richest woman in New York, and, probably, in the world ... +Miss Dalrymple is the only surviving daughter of Charles Dalrymple of +San Francisco, who made his fortune with Martin Ferguson of the same +place, at the time--" + +The paper fell from Mr. Heatherbloom's hand; for several moments he sat +motionless; then he got up, unloosened his charges and moved on. They +naturally became once more wild with joy, but he heeded not their +exuberances; even Naughty's demonstrations brought no answering touch of +his hand, that now lifted to his breast and took something from his +pocket--an article wrapped in a pink tissue-paper. Mr. Heatherbloom +unfolded the warm-tinted covering with light sedulous fingers and looked +steadily and earnestly at a miniature. But only for a brief interval; by +this time Curly et al. had become an incomprehensible tangle of dog and +leading strings about Mr. Heatherbloom's legs. So much so, indeed, that +in the effort to extricate himself he dropped the tiny picture; with a +sudden passionate exclamation he stooped for it. The anger that +transformed his usually mild visage seemed about to vent itself on his +charges but almost at once subsided. + +Carefully brushing the picture on his coat, he replaced it in his +pocket and quietly started to disentangle his charges from himself. This +was at length accomplished; he knew, however, that the unraveling would +have to be done all over again ere long; it constituted an important +part of his duties. The promenade was punctuated by about so many +"mix-ups"; Mr. Heatherbloom accepted them philosophically, or +absent-mindedly. At any rate, while untying knots or disengaging things, +he usually exhibited much patience. + +It might have been noticed some time later that Mr. Heatherbloom, +retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen's, betrayed a rather +vacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to go +into, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house. +For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter? With +Miss Van Rolsen's niece? So far he had not seen her since that first +day. Perhaps he congratulated himself on his good fortune in this +respect. If so, he reckoned without his host. + +It is possible for two people to frequent the same house for quite a +while without meeting when one of them lives on the avenue side and +flits back and forth via the front steps, while the other comes and goes +only by the subterranean route; but, sooner or later, though belonging +to widely different worlds, these two are bound to come face to face, +even in spite of the determination of one of the persons to avert such a +contingency! + +Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from the +house with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when he +returned. He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when the +front door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment. It was +opened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such a +moment. And he had been planning, after reading the newspaper article in +the park, to tender his resignation that very afternoon! + +It availed him nothing now to regret indecision, his being partly +coerced by the masterful mistress of the house into remaining as long +as he had remained; or to lament that other sentiment, conspiring to +this end--the desire or determination, not to flee from what he most +feared. Empty bravado! If he could but flee now! But there was no +fleeing, turning, retreating, or evading. The issue had to be met. + +Miss Dalrymple, gowned in a filmy material which lent an evanescent +charm to her slender figure, came down the front steps as he was about +to enter the area way below. The girl looked at him and her eyes +suddenly widened; she stopped. Mr. Heatherbloom, quite pale, bowed and +would have gone on, when something in her look, or the first word that +fell from her lips, held him. + +"You!" she said, as if she did not at all comprehend. + +He repaid her regard with less steady look; he had to say something and +he didn't wish to. Why couldn't people just meet and pass on, the way +dumb creatures do? The gift of speech has its disadvantages--on +occasions; it forces one to insufficient answer or superfluous +explanation. "Yes," he said, "your--Miss Van Rolsen engaged me. I +didn't really want to stay, but it came about. Some things do, you know. +You see," he added, "I didn't know she was your aunt when I answered the +advertisement." + +She bent her gaze down upon him as if she hardly heard; beneath the +bright adornment of tints, the lovely face--it was a very proud +face--had become icy cold; the violet eyes were hard as shining crystal. +To Mr. Heatherbloom that slender figure, tensely poised, seemed at once +overwhelmingly near and inexpressibly remote. He started to lean on an +iron picket but changed his mind and stood rather too stiffly, without +support. Before his eyes the flowers in her hat waved and waved; he +tried to keep his eyes on them. + +"I had been intending," he observed in tones he endeavored to make +light, "to tell Miss Van Rolsen she must find some one else to take my +place. It would not be very difficult. It is not a position that +requires a trained man." + +"Difficult?" She seemed to have difficulty in speaking the word; her +cold eyes suddenly lighted with unutterable scorn. If any one in this +world ever experienced thorough disdain for any one else, her expression +implied it was she that experienced it for him. "Valet for dogs!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom flushed. "They are very nice dogs," he murmured. +"Indeed, they are exceptional." + +She gave an abrupt, frozen little laugh; then bent down her face +slightly. "And do you wash and curl and perfume them?" she asked, her +small white teeth setting tightly after she spoke. + +"Well, I don't perfume them," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "Miss Van +Rolsen attends to that herself. She knows the particular essences better +than I." A slightly strained smile struggled about his lips. "You see +Beauty has one kind, and Naughty another. At least, I think so. While +Sardanapolis isn't given any at all." + +Can violet eyes shine fiercely? Hers certainly seemed to. "How," she +said, examining him as one would study something very remote and +impersonal, "did my aunt happen to employ--you? I know she is very +particular--about recommendations. What ones did you have? Were they +forged ones," suddenly, "or stolen ones?" The red lips like rosebuds had +become straightly drawn now. + +"No," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "I didn't have any. I just came, and--" + +"Saw and conquered!" said the girl. But there was no levity in her tone. +She continued to gaze at him and yet through him; at something +beyond--afar--"I don't understand why she should have taken you--" + +"Shall I explain?" + +"And I don't care why she did!" Not noticing his interruption. "The +principal thing is, why did you want this position? What ulterior motive +lay behind?" She was speaking now almost automatically, as if he were +not present. "For, of course, there was some other motive." + +"The truth is," observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly, but passing an +uncertain hand over his brow, "I had reached that point--I should +qualify by saying I have long been at the point where one is willing to +take any 'honest work of any kind'. I suppose you have heard the phrase +before; it's a common one. But believe me, it was quite by accident I +came here; quite!" + +"'Believe you'," said the girl, as one would address an inferior for the +purpose of putting him into the category where he belongs. "'Honest +work'! When have you been particular as to that; whether or not"--with +mocking irony in the pitiless violet eyes--"it was 'honest'?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his gaze met hers unwaveringly. "You don't +think, then, that I--" + +"Think?" said the girl. "I know." + +"Would you mind--explaining?" he asked quietly. He didn't need any +support now, but stood with head well back, a steady gleam in his look. +"What you--know?" + +"I know--you are a thief!" She spoke the Words fiercely. + +His face twitched. "How do you know?" + +"By the kind of evidence I can believe." + +"And that?" he said in the same quiet voice. + +"The evidence of my own eyes!" + +He was still, as if thinking. He looked down; then away. + +"Why don't you protest?" she demanded. + +"Protest," he repeated. + +"Or ask me to explain further--" + +"Well, explain further," he said patiently. + +"Put your mind back three weeks ago--at about eleven o'clock in the +morning. Where were you? what were you doing? what was happening?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked very thoughtful. + +"At the corner of"--she mentioned the streets--"not far from Riverside +Drive. We passed at that time in the car. Need I say more?" + +His head was downbent. "I think I understand." His hand stroked +tentatively his chin. + +The silence grew; Beauty barked, but neither seemed to notice. + +"Of course you can't deny?" she observed. + +"Of course not," he said, without moving. + +"You won't defend yourself; plead palliating causes?" ironically. + +He picked at the ground with the toe of a shoe. "If I told you, on my +honor, I am not--what you have called me just now, would you believe +me?" he asked gravely. + +"On your honor," said the girl with a cruel smile. "Yours? No!" + +"Then," he spoke as if to himself, "I don't suppose there's any use in +denying. Your mind is made up." + +"My mind!" she answered. "Can I not see; hear? Can _you_ not hear--those +voices? Do they not follow you?" + +He seemed striving for an answer but could not find it. Once he looked +into the violet eyes questioningly, deeply, as if seeking there to read +what he should say, but they flashed only the hard rays of diamonds at +him, and he turned his head slowly away. + +"I see," she remarked, "you remember; but you do not care." + +"I--you reconcile the idea of my being _that_ very easily with--" + +"It fits perfectly," said the girl, "with the rest of the picture; what +one has already pieced together; it is just another odd-shaped black bit +that goes in snugly. You appreciate the comparison?" + +"I think I do," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "You are alluding to picture +puzzles. Is there anything more?" He started as if to go. + +"One moment--of course, you can't stay here," said the girl. + +"I had intended to go at once, as I told you," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"You had? You mean you will?" + +"No; I won't go now. That is," he added, "of my own volition." + +"You do well to qualify. Would you not prefer to go of your own volition +than to have me inform my aunt who you are--what you are?" + +He shook his head. "I won't resign now," he said. + +"And so show yourself a fool as well as--" She did not speak the word, +but it trembled on the sweet passionate lips. + +He did not answer. + +"Suppose," she went on, "I offer you the chance and do not speak, if you +will go--immediately?" + +"I can't," he answered. + +Her brows bent; her little hand seemed to clench. But he stood without +looking at her, appearing absorbed in a tiny bit of cloud in the sky. + +"Very well!" she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. + +He looked quite insignificant at the moment; she was far above him; his +clothes were threadbare, the way thieves' clothes, or pickpockets', +usually are. + +"If you expect any mercy from me--" she began. + +But she did not finish; a figure, approaching, caught her eye--the +handsome stalwart figure of a man; whose features lighted at sight of +her. + +"Ah, Miss Dalrymple!" + +Her face changed. "An unexpected pleasure, Prince," she said with +almost an excess of gaiety. + +He answered in kind; she came down the steps quickly, offering him her +hand. And as he gallantly raised the small perfumed fingers to his lips, +Mr. Heatherbloom seemed to fade away into the dark subterranean +entrance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +FATE AT THE DOOR + +Although Mr. Heatherbloom waited expectantly that day for his dismissal, +it did not come. This surprised him somewhat; then he reflected that +Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple was probably so absorbed in the +prince--remembering her rather effusive greeting of that fortunate +individual--she had forgotten such a small matter as having the dog +valet ejected from the premises. She would remember on the morrow, of +course. + +But she didn't! The hours passed, and he was suffered to go about the +even, or uneven, tenor of his way. This he did mechanically; he scrubbed +and combed Beauty beautifully. With a dire sense of fate knocking at the +door, he passed her on to Miss Van Rolsen, to be freshly be-ribboned by +that lady's own particular hand. The thin bony finger he thought would +be pointed accusingly at him, busied itself solely with the knots and +bows of a new ribbon; after which the grim lady dismissed him--from her +presence, not the house--curtly. + +Several days went by; still no one accused him; he was still suffered to +remain. Why? He could not understand. At the end of a long--seemingly +interminable week--he put himself deliberately in the way of finding +out. Coming to, or going from the house, he lingered around the area +entrance, purposely to encounter her whom he had heretofore, above all +others, wished to avoid. A feverish desire possessed him to meet the +worst, and then go about his way, no matter where it might lead him. He +was past solicitude in that regard. He did at length manage to meet +her--not as before in the full daylight but toward dusk, as she +returned, this time on foot, to the house. + +"Miss Dalrymple, may I speak to you?" he said to the indistinctly seen, +slender figure that started lightly up the front steps. + +She did not even stop, although she must have heard him; a moment he +saw her like a shadow; then the front door opened. He heard a crisp +metallic click; the door closed. Slowly with head a little downbent he +walked out, up the way she had come; then around the corner a short +distance to the stables over which he had his room. + +It was a nice room, he had at first thought, probably because he liked +horses. They--four or five thoroughbreds--whinnied as he opened the +door. He had started up the dark narrow stairs to his chamber, but +stopped at that sound and groped about from stall to stall passing +around the expected lumps of sugar. After which all seemed well as far +as he and they were concerned. + +Only that other problem!--he could not shake it from him. To resign +now?--under fire? How he wished he might! But to remain?--his situation +was intolerable. He went up to his room feeling like a ghost; his mind +was full of dark presences, as if he had lived a thousand times before +and had been surrounded only by hostile influences that now came back +in the still watches of the night to haunt him. + +He dreaded going to the house the next day, but he went. Perhaps, he +reflected, she was only allowing him to retain his present position +under a kind of espionage; to trap him and put him beyond the pale of +respectable society. He remembered the cruel lips, the passionate +dislike--contempt--even hatred--in her eyes. Yes; that might be it--the +reason for her temporary silence; the house was full of valuable things; +sooner or later-- + +"Are you quite satisfied, Madam, with my services?" said Mr. +Heatherbloom that afternoon to Miss Van Rolsen. + +"You seem to do well enough," she answered shortly. + +He brightened. "Perhaps some one else would do better." + +"Perhaps," she returned dryly. "But I'm not going to try." + +"But," he said desperately, "I--I don't think they--the dogs, like me +quite so much as they did. Naughty, in particular," he added quickly. +"I--I thought yesterday he would have liked to--growl and nip at me." + +"Did he," she asked, studying him with disconcerting keenness, "actually +do that?" + +"No. But--" + +"Do I understand you wish to give me notice?" she interrupted sharply. + +"Not at all." In an alarmed tone. "I couldn't--I mean I wouldn't do +that. Only I thought you might have felt dissatisfied--people usually do +with me," he added impressively. "So if you would like to give me--" + +She made a gesture. "That will do. I am very busy this morning. The +begging list, though smaller than usual--only three hundred and +seventy-six letters--has to be attended to." + +Thus the matter of Mr. Heatherbloom's staying or going continued, much +to that person's discomfiture, _in statu quo_. It is true he found, +later, a compromising course; a way out of the difficulty--as he +thought, little knowing the extraordinary new web he was weaving!--but +before that time came, several things happened. In the first place he +discovered that Miss Dalrymple was not entirely pleased at the +publication of the story of her engagement to the prince; her +position--her family's and that of Miss Van Rolsen, was such that +newspaper advertising or notoriety could not but be distasteful. + +"I hope people won't think I keep a social secretary," Mr. Heatherbloom +heard her say. + +Yes, heard her. He was in the dogs' "boudoir"; the conservatory +adjoined. He could not help being where he was; he belonged there at the +time. Nor could he help hearing; he didn't try to listen; he certainly +didn't wish to, though she had a very sweet voice--that soothed one to a +species of lotus dream--forgetfulness of soap-suds, or the odor of +canine disinfectant permeating the white foam-- + +"Why should they think you have a social secretary?" the voice of a +man--the prince--inquired. + +He had deep fine tones; truly Russian tones, with a subtle vibration in +them. + +"Because when such things are published about people their secretaries +usually put them in," returned the girl. + +He was silent a moment; Mr. Heatherbloom thought he heard the breaking +of the stem of a flower. + +"You were very much irritated--angry?" observed the prince at length, +quietly. + +"Weren't you?" she asked. + +"I? No. It is a bourgeois confession, perhaps." + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up straighter; the water dripped from his fingers. + +"I was pleased," went on the sonorous low voice. "I wished--it were so!" + +There was a sudden movement in the conservatory; a rustling of leaves, +or of a gown; then--Mr. Heatherbloom relaxed in surprise--a peal of +merry laughter filled the air. + +"How apropos! How well you said that!" + +"Miss Dalrymple!" There was a slightly rising inflection in the man's +tones. "You doubt my sincerity?" + +"The sincerity of a Russian prince? No, indeed!" she returned gaily. + +"I am in earnest," he said simply. + +"Don't be!" Mr. Heatherbloom could, in fancy, see the flash of a white +hand amid red flowers; eyes dancing like violets in the wind. He could +perceive, also, as plainly as if he were in that other room, the deep +ardent eyes of the prince downbent upon the blither ones, the commanding +figure of the man near that other slender, almost illusive presence. A +flower to be grasped only by a bold wooer, like the prince! + +"Don't be," she repeated. "You are so much more charming when you are +not. I think I heard that line in a play once. One of the Robertson +kind; it was given by a stock company in San Francisco. That's where I +came from, you know. Have you ever been there?" + +"No," said the prince slowly. + +Dark eyes trying to beat down the merriment in the blue ones! Mr. +Heatherbloom could, in imagination, "fill in" all the stage details. If +it only were "stage" dialogue; "stage" talk; not "playing with love", in +earnest! + +"Playing with love!" He had read a book of that name once; somewhere. +In Italy?--yes. It sounded like an Italian title. Something very +disagreeable happened to the heroine. A woman, or a girl, can not +lightly "play with love" with a Sicilian. But, of course, the prince +wasn't a Sicilian. + +"No," he was saying now with admirable poise, in answer to her question, +"I haven't visited your wonderful Golden Gate, but I hope to go there +some day--with you!" he added. His words were simple; the accent alone +made them sound formidable; it seemed to convey an impregnable purpose, +one not to be shaken or disturbed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom felt vaguely disturbed; his heart pounded oddly. He +half started to get up, then sank back. He waited for another peal of +laughter; it didn't come. Why? + +"Of course I should have no objection to your being one of a train +party," said Miss Dalrymple at length. + +"That isn't just what I mean," returned the prince in his courtliest +tones. But it wasn't hard to picture him now with a glitter in his +gaze,--immovable, sure of himself. + +There was a rather long pause; broken once more by Miss Dalrymple: +"Shall we not return to the music room?" + +That interval? What had it meant? Mute acquiescence on her part, a +down-turning of the imperious lashes before the steadfastness of the +other's look?--tacit assent? The casting off of barriers, the opening of +the gates of the divine inner citadel? Mr. Heatherbloom was on his feet +now. He took a step toward the door, but paused. Of course! Something +clammy had fallen from his hand; lay damp and dripping on the rag. He +stared at it--a bar of soap. + +What had he been about to do--he!--to step in there--into the +conservatory, with his bar of soap?--grotesque anomaly! His face wore a +strange expression; he was laughing inwardly. Oh, how he was laughing at +himself! Fortunately he had a saving sense of humor. + +What had next been said in the conservatory? What was now being said +there? He heard words but they had no meaning for him. "I will send you +the second volume of _The Fire and Sword_ trilogy," went on the prince. +"One of my ancestors figures in it. The hero--who is not exactly a hero, +perhaps, in the heroine's mind, for a time--does what he must do; he has +what he must have. He claims what nature made for him; he knows no other +law than that of his imperishable inner self. I, too, must rise to those +heights my eyes are set on. It must be; it is written. We are fatalists, +we Russians near the Tartar line! And you and I"--fervently--"were +predestined for each other." + +Mr. Heatherbloom had but dimly heard the prince's words and failed to +grasp them; he didn't want to; his head was humming. Her light answer +sounded as if she might be very happy. Yes; naturally. She was made to +be happy, to dance about like sunshine. He liked to think of the +picture. The prince, too, was necessary to complete it; necessary, +reaffirmed Mr. Heatherbloom to himself, pulling with damp fingers at +the inconsequential lock of hair over his brow. Of course, if the prince +could be eliminated from that mental picture of her felicity?--but he +was a part of the composition; big, barbaric, romantic looking! In fact, +it wouldn't have been an adequate composition at all without him; no, +indeed! + +And something rose in Mr. Heatherbloom's throat; one of his eyes--or was +it both of them?--seemed a little misty. That confounded soap! It was +strong; a bit of it in the corner of the eyes made one blink. + +The two in the conservatory said something more; but the young man in +the "boudoir" didn't catch it at all well. By some intense mental +process, or the sound of the scrubber on the edge of the tub, he found +he could shut a definite cognizance of words almost entirely from his +sense of hearing. The prince's voice seemed slightly louder; that, in a +general way, was patent; no doubt the occasion warranted more fervor on +his part. Mr. Heatherbloom tried to imagine what she would look like +in--so to say, a very complaisant mood; not with flaming glance full of +aversion and scorn! + +Violet eyes replete only with love lights! Mr. Heatherbloom bent lower +over the tub; his four-footed charge Beauty, contentedly immersed to the +neck in nice comfortably warm water, licked him. He did not feel the +touch; the fragrance of orchids seemed to come to him above that other +more healthful, less agreeable odor of special cleansing preparation. + +Her accents were heard once more. Those final words sounded like a soft +command. Naturally! She could command the prince--now! Mr. Heatherbloom +heard a door close--a replica of the harsh click he had listened to when +she had shut the front door so unceremoniously on him a short time +before. Then he heard nothing more. He gazed around him as he sat with +his hands tightly closed. Had it been only a dream? Naughty whined; +Sardanapolis edged toward him and mechanically he began to brush him +down until he shone as sleek and shining as his Assyrian namesake. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +A CONTRETEMPS + +More days passed and Mr. Heatherbloom continued to linger in his last +position. It promised to be a record-making situation from the +standpoint of longevity; he had never "lasted" at any one task so long +before. Miss Van Rolsen, to his consternation, seemed to unbend somewhat +before him, as if she were beginning--actually!--to be more prepossessed +in his favor. These evidences that he was rising in the stern lady's +good graces filled Mr. Heatherbloom with new dismay; destiny certainly +seemed to be making a mock of him. + +A week went by; two weeks--three, and still twice a day he continued to +march to and from the park with his charges. The faces of all the +nurse-maids and others who frequented the big parallelogram of green +became familiar to him; he learned to know by sight the people who rode +in the park and had a distant acquaintance with the squirrels. + +He became, for the first time, aware one day, from the perusal of a +certain newspaper he always purchased now, that the prince had returned +to Russia. Although Miss Dalrymple refused to be interviewed, or to +confirm or deny any statement, it was generally understood (convenient +phrase!) that the wedding would take place in the fall at the old Van +Rolsen home. The prince had left America in his yacht--the _Nevski_--for +St. Petersburg, announced the society editor. After a special interview +with the czar and a few necessary business arrangements, the nobleman +would return at once for his bride. And, perhaps, he--Mr. +Heatherbloom--would still be at his post of duty at the Van Rolsen +house! + +Since the day the prince had been with Miss Dalrymple in the +conservatory, Mr. Heatherbloom had not seen, or rather heard, that +gentleman at the house. But then he--Mr. Heatherbloom--belonged in the +rear, and, no doubt, the prince had continued to be a daily, or twice, +or three-times-a-day visitor to Miss Van Rolsen's elegant, if somewhat +stiff, reception rooms. Now, however, he would come no more until he +came finally to "take with him the bride--" + +The thought was in Horatio's mind when for a third time he encountered +her, face to face, on a landing, near a stair, or somewhere in the +house, he couldn't afterward just exactly recall where, only that she +looked through him, without recognition, speech or movement of an +eyelash, as if he had been a thing of thin air! But a thing that became +suddenly imbued with real life; inspired with purpose! She had permitted +him to remain in the house, knowing his professed helplessness in the +matter--she _must_ have divined that--playing with him as a tigress with +a victim (yes; a tigress! Mr. Heatherbloom wildly, on the spur of the +moment, compared her in his mind to that fierce beautiful creature). He +would force her to tell him to go; she would certainly not suffer him +to remain there another day if he told her-- + +"Miss Dalrymple, there is something I ought to say. I could not help +overhearing you and the prince, one day, several weeks ago, in the +conservatory." + +After he said it, he asked himself what excuse he had for saying it. If +he had stopped to analyze the impulse, he would have seen how absurd, +unreasonable and uncalled for his words were. But he had no time to +analyze; like a diver who plunges suddenly, on some mad impulse, into a +whirlpool, he had cast himself into the vortex. + +She looked at him and there was nothing _in nubibus_ to her about his +presence now. The violet eyes saw a substance--such as it was; +recognized a reality--of its kind! Before the clouds gathering in their +depths, Mr. Heatherbloom felt inclined to excuse himself and go on; but +instead, he waited. There was even a furtive smile on his lips that +belied a quick throbbing in his breast; he thrust one hand as debonairly +as possible into his trousers pocket. His attitude might have been +interpreted to express indifference, recklessness, or one or more of the +synonymous feelings. She thought so badly of him already that she +couldn't think much worse, and-- + +"So,"--had she been paler than her wont, or had excess of passion sent +the color from her face?--"you are a spy as _well!_" + +His head shot back a little at the accent on the "well", but he thrust +his hand yet deeper into the pocket and strove not to lose that assumed +expression of ease. + +"I--a spy? I did not intend to--you--" He paused; if he wished to set +himself right in her eyes, why should he have spoken at all? Mr. +Heatherbloom saw he had not quite argued out this matter as he should +have done; his bearing became less assured. + +"Is there"--her voice low and tense--"anything despicable, mean, paltry +enough that you are not?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom moistened his lips; he strove to think of a reply, +sufficiently comprehensive to cover all the features of the case, but +not finding one at once apologetic and yet not so, remained silent. He +made, however, a little gesture with his hand--the one that wasn't in +the pocket. That seemed to imply something; he didn't quite know what. + +She came slightly closer and his heart began to pound harder. A breath +of perfume seemed to ascend between them; the arrows in her eyes darted +into his. "How much--_what_ did you hear?" she demanded. + +"I--am really not sure--" Was it the orchids which perfumed the air? He +had always heard they were odorless. The question intruded; his brain +seemed capable of a dual capacity, or of a general incapacity of +simultaneous considerations. He might possibly have stepped back a +little now but there was a wall, the broad blank wall behind him. He +wished he were that void she had first seemed to see--or not to see--in +him. "I didn't hear very much--the first part, I imagine--" + +"The first part?" Roses of anger burned on her cheek. "And +afterward?--spy!" Her little hands were tight against her side. + +He hesitated; her foot moved; all that was passionate, vibrant in her +nature seemed concentrated on him. + +"I don't think I caught much; but I heard him say something about fate, +or destiny, and men coming into their own--that old Greek kind of talk, +don't you know--" He spoke lightly. Why not? There was no need of being +melodramatic. What had to be must be. He couldn't alter her, or what she +would think. "Then--then I was too busy to catch more--that is, if I had +wanted to--which I didn't!" He was forced to add the last; it burst from +his lips with sudden passion; then they curved a little as if to ask +excuse for a superfluity. + +She continued to look at him, and he looked at her now, squarely; a +strange calm descended upon him. + +"And that," he said, "is all I heard, or knew, until this morning, when +I saw in the paper," dreamily, "he was coming back in the fall for--" + +The color concentrated with sudden swift brightness in her cheeks. "You +saw that--any one--every one saw--Oh--" + +She started to speak further, then bit her lip, while the lace stirred +beneath the white throat. Mr. Heatherbloom had not followed what she +said, was cognizant only of her anger. Her eyes were fastened on +something beyond him, but returned soon, very soon. + +"Oh," she said, "I might have known--if I let you stay, through pity, +you would--" + +"Pity!" said Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Because I did not want to turn you out into the street--" + +She spoke the words fiercely. Mr. Heatherbloom seemed now quite +impervious to stab or thrust. + +"I permitted you to remain for"--she stopped--"remembering what you once +were; who your people were! What"--flinging the words at him--"you might +have been. Instead--of what you are!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed now without wincing; an unnatural absence of +feeling seemed to have passed over his features, making them almost +mask-like. It was as if he stood in some new pellucid atmosphere of his +own. + +"Of course," he said, as half speaking to himself, "I must have earned +my salary, or Miss Van Rolsen wouldn't have retained me. So I am not a +recipient of charity. Therefore,"--did the word suggest far-away +school-boy lessons on syllogisms and sophistries--"I have no right to +feel offended in that you let me remain, you say, 'through pity', when +as a matter of fact it was impossible for me to tender my resignation, +in view of--" He finished the rest of a rather involved logical +conclusion to himself, taking his hand out of his pocket now and passing +it lightly, in a somewhat dragging fashion, over his eyes. Then he gazed +momentarily beyond, as if he saw something appertaining to the "auld +lang syne", but recalled himself with a start to the beautiful face, the +threads of gold, the violet eyes. + +"You will see to it now, of course"--his manner became brisk, almost +businesslike--"that I, as a factor, am eliminated here? That, I may +conclude, is your intention?" + +"Perhaps," said the girl, a sibyl for intentness now, "you would prefer +to go? To be asked to! You would find the streets"--with swift +discerning contempt--"more profitable for your purpose than here, where +you are known." + +"Perhaps," assented Mr. Heatherbloom. He spoke quite airily; then +suddenly stiffened. + +At his words, the sight of him as he uttered them, she came abruptly yet +nearer; her breath swept and seemed to scorch his cheek. + +"I should think," she said, "you would be ashamed to live!" + +"Ashamed?" he began; then stopped. There was no need of speaking further +for she had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT + +Mr. Heatherbloom drifted; not "looking for a way", one was forced upon +him. It came to him unexpectedly; chance served him. He would have +thrust it from him but could not. During his more or less eccentric +peregrinations in Central Park he had formed visual acquaintances with +sundry folk; pictures of some of them were very dimly impressed on his +consciousness, others--and the major part--on his subconsciousness. + +Flat faces, big faces, red faces, pale faces! One countenance in the +last class made itself a trifle more insistent than the others. Its +possessor had watched with interest his progress, interrupted with +entanglements, and had listened to the music of his march, the canine +fantasia, staccato, affettuoso! Mr. Heatherbloom's halting footsteps +in the park generally led him to the heights; it wasn't a very high +point, but it was the highest he could find, and he could look off on +something--a lake, or reservoir of water, he didn't know just which, and +a jagged sky-line. + +The person that exhibited casual curiosity in his movements and his +coming thither was a woman. She seemed slight and sinuous, sitting there +against the stone parapet, and deep dark eyes accentuated the pallor of +her face. He did not think it strange she should always be at this spot +when he came; in fact, it was quite a while before he noticed the almost +daily coincidence of their mutual presence at the same place, at about +the same time. After her first half-sly, half-sedulous regard of him, +she would look away; her face then wore a soft and melancholy +expression; she appeared very sad. + +It took quite a while for this fact to be communicated to Mr. +Heatherbloom. Though she shifted her figure often, as if to call +attention to the pale profile of her face against a leaden sky, his +thoughts remained introspective. Only the sky-line seemed to interest +him. But one day something white came dancing in the breeze to his feet. +Absorbed in deep neutral tones afar, he did not see it; his four-footed +charges, however, were quick to perceive the object. + +"Oh!" said the lady. + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked. "Is--is it yours?" he asked. + +"It--was," she remarked with a slight accent on the last word. + +He got up; there seemed little use endeavoring to rescue the +handkerchief now. + +"I'm afraid I've been rather slow," he remarked. "Quite stupid, I'm +sure." + +She may have had her own opinion but maintained a discreet silence. Mr. +Heatherbloom stooped and gathered in the remnants. "You will permit me," +he observed, "to replace it, of course." + +"But it was not your fault." + +"It was that of my charges, then." + +"No; the wind. Let's blame it on the wind." She laughed, her dark eyes +full on his, though Mr. Heatherbloom seemed hardly to see them. + +After that when they met on this little elevation, she bowed to him and +sometimes ventured a remark or two. He did not seem over-anxious to talk +but he met her troubled face with calm and unvarying, though somewhat +absent-minded courtesy. He replied to her questions perfunctorily, told +her whom he served, betraying, however, in turn, no inquisitiveness +concerning her. For him she was just some one who came and went, and +incidentally interfered with his study of the sky-line. + +By degrees she confided in him; as one so alone she was glad of almost +any one to confide in. She wanted, indeed, needed badly, a situation as +lady's maid or second maid. She had tried and tried for a position; +unfortunately her recommendations were mostly foreign--from Milan, +Moscow, Paris. People either scrutinized them suspiciously, or _mon +Dieu_! couldn't read them. It was hard on her; she had had such a time! +She, a Viennese, with all her experience in France, Italy, Russia, +found herself at her wits' end in this golden America. Wasn't it odd, +_très drôle?_ She had laughed and laughed when she hadn't cried about +it. + +She had even tried singing in a little music-hall, a horribly common +place, but her voice had failed her. Perhaps there was a vacancy at Miss +Van--what was her name? There _was_ a place vacant; the maid with the +saucy nose, Mr. Heatherbloom indifferently vouchsafed, had just left to +marry out of service. + +"How fortunate!" the fair questioner cried; then sighed. Miss Van +Rolsen, being a maiden lady, would probably be most particular about +recommendations; that they should be of the home-made, intelligible +brand, from people you could call up by telephone and interrogate. Had +she been very particular in his case? Mr. Heatherbloom said "no"--not +joyfully, and explained. Though she drew words from him, he talked to +the sky-line. She listened; seemed thinking deeply. + +"You are not pleased to be there?" Keenly. + +"I?--Oh, of course!" Quickly. + +She did not appear to note his changed manner. "This Miss +Van Rolsen,--isn't she the one whose niece--Miss Elizabeth +Dalrymple--recently refused the hand and heart of a Russian prince?" she +said musingly. + +"Refused?" he cried suddenly. "You mean--" He stopped; the words had +been surprised from him. + +"Accepted?" She looked at him closer. "Of course; I remember now seeing +it in the paper; I was thinking of some one else. One of the other +lords, dukes, or noblemen the town is so full of just now." + +He got up rather suddenly, bowed and went. With narrowing eyes she +watched him walk away, but when he had gone all melancholy disappeared +from her face; she stretched herself and laughed. "_Voila!_ Sonia +Turgeinov, comédienne!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not repair to the point of elevation the next day, +nor the day after; but she met him the third day near the Seventy-second +Street entrance. More than that, she insinuated herself at his side; at +first rather to his discomfort. Later he forgot the constraint her +presence occasioned him, when something she said caused him to look upon +her with new favor. Beauty had momentarily escaped his vigilance and +enjoyed a mad romp after a squirrel before she was captured. + +What, his companion laughingly suggested, would have happened if Beauty +had really escaped, and he, Mr. Heatherbloom, had been forced to return +to the house without her? What? Mr. Heatherbloom started. He might lose +his position, _n'est-cepas?_ He did not answer. + +The idea was born; why _not_ lose Beauty? No, better still, Naughty; the +prime favorite, Naughty. He looked into Naughty's eyes, and they seemed +full of liquid reproach. Naughty had been his friend--supposititiously, +and to abandon him now to the world, a cold place devoid of French lamb +chops? A hard place for homeless dogs and men, alike! About to waive the +temptation, Mr. Heatherbloom paused; the idea was capable of +modification or expansion. Most ideas are. + +But he shortly afterward dismissed the entire matter from his mind; it +would, at best, be but a compromise, an evasion of the pact he had made +with himself. It was not to be thought of. At this moment his companion +swayed and Mr. Heatherbloom had just time to put out his arm; then +helped her to a bench. + +She partly recovered; it was nothing, she remarked bravely. One gets +sometimes a little faint when--it was the old, old story of privation +and want that now fell with seeming reluctance from her lips. Mr. +Heatherbloom had become all attention. More than that he seemed greatly +distressed. A woman actually in need, starving--no use mincing +words!--in Central Park, the playground of the most opulent metropolis +of the world. It was monstrous; he tendered her his purse, with several +weeks' pay in it. Her reply had a spirited ring; he felt abashed and +returned the money to his pocket. She sat back with eyes half-closed; he +saw now that her face looked drawn and paler than usual. + +He, thought and thought; had he not himself found out how difficult it +was to get a position, to procure employment without friends and +helpers? He, a man, had walked in search of it, day after day and felt +the griping pangs of hunger; had wished for night, and, later, wished +for the morn, only to find both equally barren. + +Suddenly he spoke--slowly, like a man stating a proposition he has +argued carefully in his own mind. She listened, approved, while hope +already transfigured her face. She would have thanked him profusely but +he did not remain to hear her. In fact, he seemed hardly to see her now; +his features had become once more reserved and introspective. + +He reappeared at the Van Rolsen house that day without Naughty. Miss Van +Rolsen, when she heard the news, burst into tears; then became furious. +She was sure he had sold Naughty, winner of three blue ribbons, and "out +of the contest" no end of times because superior to all competition! + +A broken leash! Fiddlesticks! She penned advertisements wildly and +summoned her niece. That young lady responded to protestations and +questions with a slightly indifferent expression on her proud languid +features. What did she think of it? She didn't really know; her manner +said she really didn't care. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing with the light of the window falling +pensively upon him, she didn't seem to see at all; he had once more +become a nullity. He rather preferred that rôle, however; perhaps he +felt it was easier to impersonate annihilation, in the inception, than +to have it, or a wish for it, thrust later too strongly upon him. + +"I adhere to my opinion that he sold Naughty. I should never have +employed this man," asserted Miss Van Rolsen, fastening her fiery eyes +on Mr. Heatherbloom. "Why don't you speak, my dear, and give me your +opinion?" To her niece. + +"I haven't any, Aunt." + +"You are discerning; you have judgment." Miss Van Rolsen spoke almost +hysterically. "Remember he"--pointing a finger--"came without our +knowing anything about him." + +Miss Dalrymple did not stir; a bunch of bizarre-looking orchids on her +gown moved to her even rhythmical breathing. "What was he? Who was he? +Maybe, nothing more than--" She paused for want of breath, not of words, +to characterize her opinion of Mr. Heatherbloom. + +He readjusted his posture. It was very bright outdoors; people went by +briskly, full of life and importance; children whirled along on roller +skates. + +"When I asked your opinion, my dear, as to the wisdom of having employed +this person in the first place, under the circumstances, why did you +keep silent?" Was Miss Van Rolsen still talking, or rambling on to the +impervious beautiful girl? "You should have called me foolish, +eccentric; yes, that's what I was, to have taken him in as I did." + +Miss Dalrymple raised her brows and moved to a piano to adjust the +flowers in a vase; she smiled at them with soft enigmatic lips. + +"If I may venture an opinion, Madam," observed Mr. Heatherbloom in a +far-away voice, "I should say Naughty will surely return, or be +returned." + +"You venture an opinion!" said Miss Van Rolsen. "You!" + +Miss Dalrymple breathed the fragrance of the flowers; she apparently +liked it. + +"You are discharged!" said Miss Van Rolsen violently to Mr. +Heatherbloom. "I give you the two-weeks' notice agreed upon." + +"I'll waive the notice," suggested the young man at the window quickly. + +"You'll do nothing of the sort." Sharply. "It'll take me that time to +find another incompetent keeper for them. And, meanwhile, you may be +sure," grimly, "you will be very well watched." + +"Under the circumstances, I should prefer--since you _have_ discharged +me--to leave at once." + +"Your preferences are a matter of utter indifference. You were employed +with a definite understanding in this regard." + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed rather wildly out of the window; two weeks.--that +much longer! He was about to say he would not be well watched; he would +take himself off--that she couldn't keep him; but paused. A contract was +a contract, though orally made; she could hold him yet a little. But why +did she wish to? He had not calculated upon this; he tried to think but +could not. He looked from the elder to the younger woman. The latter did +not look at him. + +Miss Dalrymple had seated herself at the piano; her fingers--light as +spirit touches--now swept the keys; a Debussey fantasy, almost as +pianissimo as one could play it, vibrated around them. Outside the whir! +whir! of the skates went on. A little girl tumbled. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded her; ribbons awry; fat legs in the air. The music continued. + +"You may go," said a severe voice. + +He aroused himself to belated action, but at the door he looked back. +"I'm sure it will be all right," he repeated to Miss Van Rolsen. "On my +word"--more impetuously. + +At the piano some one laughed, and Mr. Heatherbloom went. + +"Why on earth, Aunt, did you want to keep him two weeks longer?" he +heard the girl's now passionate tones ask as he walked away. + +"For a number of reasons, my dear," came the response. "One, because he +wanted to leave me in the lurch. Another--it will be easier to keep an +eye on him until Naughty is returned, or"--her voice had the vindictive +ring of a Roman matron's--"this person's culpability is proven. Naughty +is a valuable dog and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's footsteps hastened; he had caught quite enough, but +as he disappeared to the rear, the dream chords on the piano, now +louder, continued to follow him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +DEVELOPMENTS + +That night, as if his rest were not already sufficiently disturbed, a +disconcerting possibility occurred abruptly to Mr. Heatherbloom. It was +born in the darkness of the hour; he could not dispel it. What if the +person in whom he had confided in the park were not all she seemed? He +hated the insinuating suggestion but it insisted on creeping into his +brain. He had once, not so long ago, in his search for cheap lodgings, +stumbled upon a roomful of alleged cripples and maimed disreputables who +made mendicancy a profession; their jibes and jests on the credulity of +the public yet rang in his ears. What if she--his casual acquaintance of +the day before--belonged to that yet greater class of dissemblers who +ply their arts and simulations with more individualism and intelligence? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up in bed. Naughty might be worth five or even ten +thousand dollars. He remembered having read at some previous time about +a certain canine whose proud mistress and owner was alleged to have +refused twenty thousand for him. The perspiration broke out on Mr. +Heatherbloom's face. Was Naughty of this category? He looked very +"classy," as if there couldn't be another beast quite like him in the +world. What had been the twenty-thousand-dollar mistress' name; not +Van--impossible! + +But the more he told himself "impossible", the more positive grew a +certain perverse inner asseveration that it was quite possible. And what +if the person in the park had known it? He reviewed the circumstances of +their different meetings; details that had not impressed themselves upon +him at the time--that had almost escaped his notice, now stood out +clearer--too clear, in his mind. He remembered how she had brightened +astonishingly after the brief fainting spell when he had made his +ill-advised proposal. It had been as elixir to her. He recalled how she +had met him every day. Had it been mere chance? Or--disconcerting +suspicion!--had she deliberately planned-- + +For Mr. Heatherbloom there was no sleep that night. At the first signs +of dawn he was up and out, directing his steps toward the park, as a +criminal returns to the haunts of his crime. No faces of any kind now +greeted him there; only trees confronted him, gaunt, ghostlike in the +early morning mists. Even the squirrels were yet abed in their miniature +Swiss chalets in the air. The sun rose at last, red and threatening. He +now met a policeman who looked at him questioningly. Mr. Heatherbloom +greeted him with a blitheness at variance with his mood. Officialdom +only growled and gazed after the young man as if to say: "We'll gather +you in, yet." + +It was past nine o'clock before Mr. Heatherbloom ventured to approach +the house; as he did so, the front door closed; some one had been +admitted. He himself went in through the area way; from above came +joyous barks, a woman's voice; pandemonium. Mr. Heatherbloom listened. +Later he learned what had happened; a young woman had brought back +Naughty; a very honest young woman who refused all reward. + +"Sure," said the cook, who had the story from the butler, "and she spoke +loike a quane. 'I can take nothing for returning what doesn't belong to +me, ma'am. I am but doing my jooty. But if ye plaze, would ye be lookin' +over these recommends av mine--they're from furriners--and if yez be +havin' ony friends who be wanting a maid and yez might be so good as to +recommind me, I'd be thankin' of yez, for it's wurrk I wants.' Think av +that now. Only wurrk! Who says there arn't honest servin' gurrls, +nowadays? The mistress was that pleased with her morals an' her +manners--so loidy-loike!--she gave her the job that shlip av a Jane had; +wid an advance av salary on the sphot." + +"You mean Miss Van Rolsen has actually engaged her?" Mr. Heatherbloom, +face abeam, repeated. + +"Phawt have I been saying just now?" Scornfully. "Sure, an' is it ears +you have on your head?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a weight lifted from his shoulders, departed from the +kitchen. He had wronged her--this poor girl, or young woman, who, in her +dire distress, had appealed to him. How he despised now the uncharitable +dark thoughts of the night! How he could congratulate himself he had +obeyed impulse, and not stopped to reason too closely, or to question +too suspiciously, when he had decided to act the day before! + +All is well that ends well. All he had to do now was to complete as +unostentatiously as possible his term of service--But perhaps he would +be released at once? + +No; not at once! Those anxious to supersede him began to dribble in, it +is true; but they faded away, one by one, after interviews with Miss Van +Rolsen, and returned no more. They were a mournful lot, these would-be, +ten-dollar-a-week custodians; Mr. Heatherbloom wondered if his own +physiognomy in a general way would merge nicely in a composite +photograph of them? + +His duties he performed now as quietly as he could. Two weeks more, ten +days, nine, eight! Then? Ah, then! + +He did not see Miss Van Rolsen again nor Miss Dalrymple. He encountered +the fair unknown, though, his acquaintance of the park, occasionally, as +she in demure cap and white ruffled apron glided softly her allotted +way. Sometimes he nodded to her in distant fashion, sometimes she got by +before he actually realized he had passed her. She seemed to move so +quickly and with such little ado; or, it may be, he was not very +observant. He didn't feel very keen on mere minor details these days; he +experienced principally the sensation of one who was now merely "marking +time", as it were--figuratively performing a variety of goose-step, the +way the German soldiers do. + +But one day she--Marie, they called her--stopped him. + +"I understand from one of the servants that it cost you your position +to--do what you did. You know what I mean--" + +He looked alarmed. "Don't worry about that." + +"But shouldn't I?" Steady dark eyes upon him. + +"On the contrary!" Vigorously. + +"I don't understand--unless.--" + +"The salary--it is nothing here"--Mr. Heatherbloom gestured airily. "I +should do much better--one of my ability, you understand!--elsewhere." + +"Could you?" She regarded him doubtfully. "But, perhaps, they--It was +not very pleasant for you here, anyway. Miss Van Rolsen--her niece, Miss +Dalrymple--does not like you." He started. "It was easy to see that; +when I mentioned regretfully that the good fortune that brought me where +there is plenty; to eat should have been the cause of your being in +disfavor, she stopped me short." Mr. Heatherbloom studied the distance. +"'The person you speak of intended leaving anyhow,' she said, and her +voice was--_mon Dieu_!--ice." + +The listener swallowed. "Quite so," he said jauntily. "Miss Dalrymple +is absolutely correct." + +She regarded him an instant with sudden, very mature gaze. "I can't +quite make you out." + +"No one ever can. Don't try. It isn't worth while. Which reminds me"--he +rattled on--"I did you an injury; an injustice--" + +"Ah?" she said quickly. + +"In my mind! You will excuse me, but do you know that night after I had +consigned him to your care in the park, I afterward felt quite +anxious--" + +"For what?" She came closer. + +"Wondering if you--Ha! ha!" Mr. Heatherbloom stopped; in his confusion, +his endeavor to turn the conversation from himself and Miss Dalrymple, +he seemed to be getting into deep waters. + +"You wondered what?" In a low tone. + +Since he now felt obliged to speak, he did, coolly enough. "If you had +some ulterior motive!" he said with a quiet smile. + +She it was who now started back, and her face paled slightly. +"Why?--what ulterior motive? What do you mean?" + +He told her in plain words. She breathed more evenly; then smiled +sweetly. She had a strange face sometimes. "Thank you," she said. "You +are very frank, _mon ami_. I like you none the less for it. Though you +did so injure me--in your thoughts!" Her eyes had an enigmatic light. +"Well, I must go now to Miss Dalrymple. She is beginning to be so fond +of me." She drawled the last words as if she liked to linger on them. +"You see I, too, have a little Russian blood in me." Mr. Heatherbloom +looked down. "And I think she loves to hear me tell of that wonderful +country--the white nights of St. Petersburg--the splendid steppes--the +grandeur of our Venice of the north. Of course, she is immensely +interested in Russia now." Significantly. "Its ostentation, its +splendor, its barbaric picturesqueness! But tell me, what is her prince +like? He is very handsome, naturally! Or she would not so dote on him!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's features had hardened; he did not answer directly. +"She likes to talk about Russia?" he said, half to himself. + +Marie shrugged. "Is it not to be her country some day?" + +"No, it isn't!" The words seemed forced from his lips; he spoke almost +fiercely. "She may live there with him, but it will never be her +country. This is her country. She is its product; an American to her +finger-tips. And all the grand dukes and princes of the Winter Palace +can't change her. She belongs to old California; she grew up among the +orange trees and the flowers, and her heart will ever yearn for them in +your frozen land of tyranny!" + +"Oh! oh! oh!" said Mademoiselle Marie. "How eloquent monsieur can be! +Quite an orator! One would say he, too, has known this land of orange +trees and flowers!" + +"I?" Mr. Heatherbloom bit his lip. + +But she only shook a finger. "Oh! oh!" Altogether like a different +person from his casual acquaintance of the park! He gazed at her +closer; how quickly the marks of trouble, anxiety, had faded from her +face; as if they had never existed. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, looking into eyes now full of a new and +peculiar understanding. + +"Nothing," she said and vanished. + +He gazed where she had been; he could not account for a sudden strange +emotion, as if some one had trailed a shadow over him. A premonition of +something going to happen; that could not be foreseen, or averted! +Something worse than anything that had gone before! What nonsense! He +pressed his lips tightly and went about his duties like an automaton. + +Eight days--seven days--six days more!--only six-- + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +THE UNEXPECTED + +The blow fell, a thunderbolt from the clear sky. It dazed certain people +at first; it was difficult to realize what had happened, or if anything +_had_ really happened. For might not what seemed a deep and dire mystery +turn out to be nothing so very mysterious after all? A message would +soon come; everything would then be "cleared up" and those most +concerned would laugh at their apprehensions. But the hours went by, and +the affair remained inexplicable; no word was heard concerning Miss +Dalrymple's whereabouts; she seemed to have disappeared as completely as +if she had vanished on the Persian magic carpet. What could it mean? The +circumstances briefly were: + +Miss Dalrymple, four or five days before Mr. Heatherbloom's term of +service came to an end, had expressed a desire to revisit her old home +and friends in the West. One of a party made up mostly of other +Californians--now residents of New York city--the girl had failed to +appear on the private car at the appointed time, and the train had +pulled out, leaving her behind. At the first important stop a telegram +had been handed to a gentleman of the party from Miss Dalrymple; it +expressed her regret at having reached the station too late owing to +circumstances she would explain later, and announced her intention of +coming on, with her maid, in a few days. They were not to wait anywhere +for her but to go right along. + +The party did; it was sorry to have lost one of its most popular members +but no one thought anything more of the matter until at Denver, after a +telegram had been forwarded to the Van Rolsen house, in New York, asking +just when Miss Dalrymple would arrive, as camping preparations for a +joyous pilgrimage in the mountains were in progress. + +Miss Van Rolsen gasped when this message reached her. Miss Dalrymple +and her maid--a young woman newly engaged by Miss Van Rolsen--had left +the house for the train to which the private car was attached; neither +had been heard from since. The aunt had, of course, presumed her niece +had gone as planned; she had received no word from her, but supposing +she was of a light-hearted, heedless company thought nothing of that. It +was possible Miss Dalrymple had actually missed her train; but if so, +why had she not returned to her aunt's house? + +Where had she gone? What had become of her? No trace of her could be +found. Certain forces in the central railroad office at New York could +not discover any evidence that the young girl had taken a subsequent +train. There was no record of her name at any ticket office; no +state-room had been reserved by, or for her; in fact, telegrams to +officials in Chicago and other points west failed to elicit satisfactory +information of any kind. + +Miss Van Rolsen found herself with something real to worry about; she +rose to the occasion; her niece, after all, was everything to her. The +Van Rolsen millions were ultimately for her, and the old lady's every +ambition was centered in the girl. She had been proud of her beauty, her +social triumphs. + +With great determination she set herself to solve the puzzling problem. +Could people thus completely disappear nowadays? It seemed impossible, +she asserted, sitting behind closed doors in her library, to the private +agent of the secret-service bureau whom she had just "called in." + +He begged to differ from her and pointed to a number of cases which had +seemed just as strange and mysterious in the beginning. Ransom--the +"Black Hand"--Who could say what secret influences had been at work in +this case? It was a very important one; Miss Dalrymple had money of her +own; she was known to be her aunt's heiress. The conclusion?--But this +was not Morocco, or Turkey, Miss Van Rolsen somewhat vehemently +returned. + +True; we have had, however, our "civilized" Ransuilis, answered the +agent and mentioned a number of names in support of his theory. No +doubt, after an interval, Miss Van Rolsen would have news of her +niece--through those who had perpetrated the outrage; or she might even +receive a few written words from the girl herself. After that it was a +question of negotiating, or, while professing to deal with the +perpetrators, to ferret them out if one could. The latter course was +dangerous, for those who stoop to this particular crime are usually of a +desperate type; he and Miss Van Rolsen could consider that question +later. Meanwhile she must avoid worry as much as possible. The young +girl would, no doubt, be well treated. + +Had the speaker looked around at this moment, he might have observed +that the heavy curtains, drawn before the door leading into the hall and +closed by Miss Van Rolsen, moved suddenly, but neither the agent nor +Miss Van Rolsen, engrossed at the far end of the room, noticed. The +drapery wavered a moment; then settled once more into its folds. + +The telegram purporting to be from Miss Dalrymple to one of the party on +the train, could--the agent went on--very easily have been sent by some +one else; no doubt, had been. The miscreants had seized upon a lucky +combination of circumstances; for two or three days, while Miss +Dalrymple was supposed to be speeding across the continent, they, +unsuspected and unmolested, would be afforded every opportunity to +convey her to some remote and, for them, safe refuge. It was a cleverly +planned coup, and could not have been conceived and consummated +without--here he spoke slowly--inside assistance. + +The curtain at the doorway again stirred. + +"And now, Madam, we come to your servants," said the police agent. "I +should like to know something about them." + +"My servants, sir, are, for the most part, old and trusted." + +"'For the most part'!" He caught at the phrase. "We will deal first with +those who do _not_ come in that category." + +"There's a young man recently employed that I have not been at all +pleased with. He leaves to-morrow." + +"Ah!" said the visitor. "Not the person I met going out of the area +way, with the dogs as I came in?" + +She answered affirmatively. + +"H--mn!" He paused. "But tell me why you have not been pleased with him, +and, in brief, all the circumstances of his coming here." + +Miss Van Rolsen did so in a voice she strove to make patient although +she could not disguise its tremulousness, or the feverish anxiety that +consumed her. She related the most trivial details, seeming +irrelevances, but the visitor did not interrupt her. Instead, he studied +carefully her face, pinched and worn; the angular figure, slightly bent; +the fingers, nervously clasping and unclasping as she spoke. He watched +her through habit; and still forbore speaking, even when she referred to +the escape of her canine favorite from his caretaker and how the dog had +later been returned, though the listener's eyes had, at this point, +dilated slightly. + +"After his carelessness in this matter, he seemed to want to get away +from the house at once," observed Miss Van Rolsen, "without availing +himself of the two-weeks' notice I had agreed to give him." + +The visitor relapsed into his chair; an ironical light appeared in his +eyes. + +"Perhaps," added Miss Van Rolsen, "you attach no significance to the +fact?" + +"On the contrary, I attach every importance to it. Has it not occurred +to you there was a little collusion in this matter of the lost dog?" + +"Collusion?" Miss Van Rolsen's accents expressed incredulity. "You must +be wrong. Why, the young woman wouldn't even accept the reward. And it +was not a small one!" + +"Two hundred or so dollars, ma'am! Not her stake!" he murmured +satirically. "I am afraid two hundred thousand dollars would be nearer +the mark these people have set for themselves!" + +"But she didn't ask for a place here; only for me to look over her +references--one was from a lady I knew in Paris--and to recommend her to +my friends--" + +"She knew your other maid had left; this confederate had, of course, +told her. It was all arranged that she should come here. Rest assured of +that. And having accomplished her purpose--clever that she is!--she at +once started to ingratiate herself with your niece, to make herself +useful. As a mistress of languages she _was_ useful, in fact more so +than any ordinary maid. Where did she come from? Find out whom she +represents, and--we'll have the key to the mystery. But she, too, has +disappeared; after turning the game over to the others, perhaps. I would +suggest cabling those foreign references this young woman gave you. They +will, of course, including your Paris friend, know nothing of her; the +name she gave you was not her own." + +"But by what unfortunate combination of circumstances"--Miss Van Rolsen +spoke somewhat incoherently--"should these people have been led to +settle on my niece as the victim of their cowardly designs? There are so +many others--" + +"You forget the publicity concerning this prince your niece is to +marry." The old lady stiffened. "Pardon my mentioning it, but Miss +Dalrymple has in this connection been very much before the public gaze." + +"Against her wish, sir, and mine!" snapped Miss Van Rolsen. +"She--I--have both lamented the fact. But what can one do? The +journalists settled on the prince as a fruitful source for speculation. +He is of noble family, very wealthy, no fortune-hunter; which has made +it all the more distressing for him and us." She seemed about to say +something further; then her lips suddenly tightened. "As I say, it has +been very distressing," she ended, after a pause. "I expect it was one +of the reasons my niece wanted to get away from New York for a time." + +"No doubt!" The caller's voice was courtesy itself although he probably +but half-credited Miss Van Rolsen's protestations in the matter. People +liked to complain of the press and newspaper notoriety, when in their +hearts, perhaps, they were not so displeased to be in that terrible +lime-light; especially when the person associated with them happened to +be a count, or a duke, or a prince. "Unfortunately, one has to put up +with these things," he now added. "But you are positive you have told me +everything?" + +An instant she seemed to hesitate. "I am positive you know everything +relative to the subject." + +He arose. "In that event"--his manner indicated a sudden +resolution--"there is one little preliminary to be attended to." + +"Which is--" + +"To arrest this fellow, Heatherbloom!" + +"Arrest? When?" + +"At once! There is no time to be lost. Already--" He gave a sudden +exclamation. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +He stepped toward the curtain; it moved perceptibly. + +"Some one has been listening," exclaimed Miss Van Rolsen excitedly. + +"Yes, some one." Significantly. As he spoke he threw back the curtain +and revealed the door partly ajar. + +"It must have been--Not one of my old servants--- They would not +have--" + +He stopped her. "There's the front way out of this house and the area +way below," he said rapidly. "Is there any other way of escaping to the +street?" + +"No." + +He darted out of the room to the front door. She followed. + +"Quite in time!" he said, casting a quick look both ways along the +avenue and then letting his glance fall to the servants' entrance below. + +"You think he will try to--" + +He regarded her swiftly. "While I stand guard here, would you mind +getting some one to 'phone my office and ask two or three of my men to +step over at once? Not that I doubt my own ability to cope with the +case"--fingering the handle of a weapon on his pocket--"only it is +always well to take no chances. Especially now!" + +"Now?" + +"Since he has practically convicted himself and confirmed my theory. We +shall get at the truth through him. We're nearer the solution of the +matter than I dared hope for." + +"I'll telephone myself!" she cried. And started back to do so when an +excited face confronted her. + +"If ye plase, ma'am!" It was the cook. + +"What is it?" Miss Van Rolsen spoke sharply. + +"If ye plase, I think, ma'am, this Mr. Heatherbloom has taken lave av +his senses." + +"Why, what has he been doing?" + +"He has, faith, just jumped over the fence into our neighbor's yard on +the corner, and--" + +The man on the steps did not wait to hear more; with something that +sounded like an imprecation he sprang quickly down to the sidewalk and +ran toward the corner. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS + +As Mr. Heatherbloom prepared to issue from his neighbor's gate opening +on the side street, the feminine voice of one of the servants in the +rear of the corner house called out in alarm at sight of the strange +figure speeding across their metropolitan imitation of a back yard. If +anything were needed to stimulate the fugitive's footsteps, it was the +sound of that voice. He stayed not on the order of his going, but +pushing back the heavy bolt--fortunately his egress was not barred by a +locked door--he tore open the gate and sprang to the sidewalk. Then +without stopping, he ran on, away from the fashionable avenue. The +street he traversed like many thoroughfares of its kind was +comparatively deserted most of the time; nobody impeded his progress, +though one or two people gazed after him from their windows. + +He had gone about three-quarters of a block when the window spectators +discerned a heavier built figure come lumbering around the corner, +apparently in hot pursuit. Mr. Heatherbloom, glancing over his shoulder, +also observed this person; his capture and subsequent incarceration +seemed inevitable. Already the fugitive was drawing near to busier +Fourth Avenue; there he would be obliged to relax his pace; he could not +sprint down that thoroughfare without attracting undue attention. +Behind, the pursuer called out; he was, however, too short of breath for +compelling vocal effect. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, on the contrary, had good control of his breathing and +was, moreover, yet fresh and physically capable. Which fact made it the +more difficult for him to settle down to a forced, albeit sharp walk as +he approached the corner, when his gait suddenly accelerated once more. + +A street-car had just started not very far from him and Mr. Heatherbloom +ran after it. A fine pretext for speed was offered him; as he "let +himself go" in the way he had once gone somewhere in the past in a +hundred-yards' dash, he felt joyously conscious both of covering space +quickly and that he did so without making himself particularly +prominent. Fools who ran after street-cars were born every moment; he +was happy to be relegated to that idiotic class by any onlookers. He +caught the car while it was going; he didn't want it to stop for him. + +Neither did it stop to pick up any one else for several blocks; there +was a space before it unobstructed by traffic. The motorman turned on +more power and Mr. Heatherbloom listened gratefully to the humming +wheels. At the same time he looked back; at the corner where he had +turned into Fourth avenue he fancied a number of people were gathering. +He could surmise the cause; the stockily-built man--his pursuer--was +asking questions; he had learned what had become of the fugitive and was +presumably looking around for a "taxi." In vain. At least, Mr. +Heatherbloom so concluded, because one did not appear in hot chase +behind them. + +The motorman still gave "rapid service"; the conductor looked at his +watch, by which Mr. Heatherbloom imagined they had time to make up. He +hoped so, then resented a pause at a corner for an old lady. How he +wished she had not been afflicted with rheumatism, and could have got on +without help! But at length the light-weight conductor did manage to +pull the heavy-weight passenger aboard. Time lost, thirty seconds! The +motorman manipulated the lever more deliberately now and they gathered +headway slowly. Mr. Heatherbloom dared not remain longer where he was; +as the car approached a corner near an elevated station, he got off. He +was obliged to walk now a short distance but he did so hastily. Drawing +near the iron steps, leading upward, he once more looked back; a "taxi" +_was_ whirling after him and he had no doubt as to its occupant. The +street-car could easily have been kept in sight and his leaving it been +noted. + +Mr. Heatherbloom now threw discretion to the winds; dashing toward the +stairway he ran up. Just as he reached the ticket window, the pursuing +vehicle stopped below. Some one sprang out, did not pause to pay the +chauffeur, but calling out to him his name, started after Mr. +Heatherbloom. That gentleman had by this time boarded the train waiting +above; he stood on the rear platform. Any moment the pursuer would +appear. He did appear as the gates of the train were closed and the cars +had started on their way. + +Yet he did not give up for running alongside the last car he called out +to the guard: + +"Fugitive from justice! Criminal--on this train! Open the gate for me!" + +An instant the guard hesitated; rules, however, were rules. + +"Five hundred dollars if you let me on!" the voice panted. + +The guard in his own mind decided he would let the other on--too late; +the last car dashed past the end of the platform. A faint sigh of relief +from Mr. Heatherbloom was drowned in the tumult of the wheels; then he +endeavored to appear indifferent, apathetic. It was not easy to do so; +the secret-service agent had been heard by many others. + +A "fugitive from justice" on the train! Mr. Heatherbloom tried to look +as little the part as possible, to simulate by his expression a +preoccupied young business man of heavy responsibilities. Fortunately +the train was crowded; nevertheless he fancied people glanced especially +at him. He wished now he were better dressed; good clothes may cover a +multitude of sins. Still there was no reason why he should be suspected +more than sundry other indifferently-dressed people. He would dismiss +the thought, tell himself he was going down town on some little errand; +he even devised what that errand should be--to procure theater tickets. +But his brain did not seem quite capable of concentrating itself solely +on desirable orchestra chairs; it constantly and perversely reverted to +that other disagreeable subject--a "fugitive from--" + +Whoever could the fellow be? He endeavored by a mental process to +eliminate himself and see but a mythical some one else in a mythical +background. A short person; a tall one? What kind of person would the +imaginary individual be, anyhow? And what had he done, what crime +committed? Mr. Heatherbloom tried to think with the minds of all these +other people on the train, to put himself figuratively in their shoes. + +One young sprig of a girl, about fourteen, with sallow complexion and +bead-like black eyes, kept regarding him. He conceived a profound +dislike for her, shifted a foot; then straightened and banished her +peremptorily from his environment. His principal interest lay now in +casual glimpses of windows and speculation as to what was behind them. +He varied this employment in a passing endeavor to decipher sundry signs +that obtruded incidentally within range of vision. + +He had made out only a few when the, train slackened and came to a +standstill. Mr. Heatherbloom told himself he would get off as quickly as +possible; then changed his mind and remained. People would, of course, +argue that, under the circumstances, the unknown criminal would be +among those to leave the train at the first opportunity. + +A number got out; Mr. Heatherbloom noted the passengers who remained +aboard and watched closely the departing ones. A few of the latter +seemed slightly self-conscious, notably, an elderly spinster who, having +never done anything wrong, was possessed of an unusual sensitiveness. + +"See that slouchy chap--By jove, I believe--" + +"Does look like a tough customer--" + +"On the contrary, he just looks poor." Mr. Heatherbloom turned upon the +two speakers warmly. + +Why could he not have kept silent; why was he obliged to obtrude his +opinion into their conversation? + +They stared and he half turned as the train banged itself along once +more. Where should he go? Reaching for a paper that some one had +discarded, he sank into a vacant seat and opened the sheet with +misgiving. + +What would the big types say? Nothing! Miss Van Rolsen had managed to +keep the strange affair of her niece's disappearance out of the columns +of the papers. They knew nothing about it as yet--Only a single little +item in the shipping news, in fine print, which suddenly caught his gaze +bore in any way, and that a remote one, upon her niece and her affairs. +Mr. Heatherbloom regarded it with dull glance. The few lines meant +nothing to him--then; later he had cause to turn to them with abrupt +wondering avidity. Now his eyes swept with simulated interest the +general news of the day; he professed to read cable dispatches. + +But an odd reaction seemed to have settled on him; the excitement of the +chase became, for the moment, forgotten. The scope of his mental +visuality no longer included the figure of the agent from the private +detective bureau. An anxiety more poignant moved him; his thoughts +centered on that other matter--the cause of Miss Van Rolsen's +apprehensions--the while those emotions that had held him a listener +behind the curtain in her library again stirred in his breast. He had +not played the eavesdropper for any selfish purpose or through a sense +of personal apprehension. The sudden realization of his own danger, had, +perforce, awakened in him the need for quick action if he would save +himself. + +If? What chance had he? But for one compelling reason, one consuming +purpose, he would not have fled at all; he would have faced them, +instead! But he had work to do--he! A fugitive, a logical candidate for +the prison cell! Ironical situation! Even now he heard a voice at his +elbow. + +"Mr. Heatherbloom!" Some one spoke suddenly to him and he wheeled with +abrupt swift fierceness. + +"Well, are you going to eat me up?" the voice laughed. + +He looked into the pert face of Jane--the maid with the provoking +nose--who had been at Miss Van Rolsen's. She had got on at the other end +of the car at the last station, and after waiting a few moments for him +to see her, had moved toward him, or a seat at his side just then +vacated by some one preparing to leave. Mr. Heatherbloom's face cleared; +he banished the belligerent expression. + +"You look edible enough!" he said with forced jocularity. + +"Indeed?" she retorted, surprised at such gallantry from one who had +heretofore not deigned to pay her compliments. "I'll have to tell my +husband about you." Playfully. "But how are things at Miss Van Rolsen's? +Anything new?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom murmured something about the customary routine; then, +even as he spoke, became conscious of a sudden new disconcerting +circumstance. The tracks for the up and the down trains on the elevated +had widely separated and ran now on the extreme sides of the broad +thoroughfare. From his side of the car the young man was afforded a view +of the pavement below, between the two sustaining iron structures. A +chill shot through him and his smile became set. Gazing down he +discerned, on the street beneath and a little to one side of them, a +motor-car, speeding fast, apparently bent on keeping up with them. + +"How--how's your husband?" he said irrelevantly. The car _was_ keeping +up with them. + +"Very well, thank you." (Would _it_ reach the next station before them?) + +"You--you have a pleasant home?" he asked. (A slight blockade below +impeded, momentarily, the "taxi". Mr. Heatherbloom raised his +handkerchief to his moist brow.) + +"Lovely," she answered. "Are you going far?" + +"Brooklyn," he said at random. What _were_ they talking about? (The car +was once more under way; fortunately their progress overhead would not +be impeded by a press of vehicles.) + +"That's where we live--Brooklyn," she said. + +"Is it? Got a nice house?" He had practically asked this question +before; but he hardly knew what he was saying. A policeman had stopped +the "taxi" and was shaking his head, as at a rather "fishy" story. Mr. +Heatherbloom by a species of telepathy, seemed to overhear the excited +talk waging below. + +"Oh, yes; lovely!" Jane's accents were but parenthetical to something +else. The "taxi" had been allowed to proceed, in spite of the detaining +thought-waves Mr. Heatherbloom had launched toward the officer of the +law. The occupant had probably showed a badge; Mr. Heatherbloom +stretched his neck out of the window. + +"You can come around and see, sometime, if you want to." Pride in her +voice. "And meet my husband." Husband was a very substantial baker. + +"Charmed, I'm sure! Ha! ha!" He suddenly laughed. + +"What is it?" She looked startled. + +"Funniest accident!" He waved his hat, as at some one, out of the +window. "See that taxi! Bumped into a dray. Ha! ha!" + +"I don't see anything so funny in that." Straightening. + +"No? You should have seen the expression on his face--" + +"His? Whose?" + +"The--ah, drayman's, of course! He--looked so mad." + +"I should have thought," she observed, "the man in the car would have +been the maddest It couldn't have hurt the dray much." + +"No? Perhaps that's what made it seem so funny to me." + +"Well," she said, "I never noticed before that you had a great sense of +humor." + +"You never knew me." Jauntily. + +They got off at Brooklyn Bridge together. As they made their way through +the crowd, Mr. Heatherbloom appeared most care-free and very sedulous of +his companion's welfare, especially when they passed one or two +loiterers who seemed eying the passengers rather closely. + +"Two for Brooklyn." Mr. Heatherbloom laid down a dime at the ticket +office. + +Soon, unmolested, he sped on once more; but as they crossed the busy +river all his light-heartedness seemed suddenly to desert him; the +questions he had been vainly asking himself earlier that day were +reiterated in his brain. Where was she? What had become of her? His +hands clasped closely. A red spot burned on his cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A NEW-FOUND THEORY + +"No; the prince isn't coming back to America, and she--Miss +Dalrymple--isn't going to marry him!" + +Jane's voice, running on rather at random, suddenly with unusual force +penetrated Mr. Heatherbloom's consciousness. + +"Not going--isn't--What are you talking about?" The young man's wavering +attention focused itself on her now with swift completeness. He had +hardly heard her, until a few moments before, when her conversation had +first drifted to that ever fascinating feminine topic of foreign lords +and American heiresses, then narrowed down, much to his inward +disapproval, to one particular titled individual and one particular +heiress "But you are mistaken, of course!" he said bruskly. + +"Oh, am I?" she retorted. "I suppose you believe everything you read in +the newspapers?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not answer now; he was staring out of the window. +Against the sky the jutting lines of buildings seemed to waver; new +extraordinary angles and jogs seemed to assert themselves. His gaze had +a glittering brightness when it turned. "Have you any better authority?" + +His tone was a challenge. "I heard her tell him so myself," she said +succinctly. "That she could never marry him and that he must never come +back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's hand crumpled the newspaper; then mechanically he +folded it and put it in his pocket. His look was once more bent outward; +tiny specks, that were big steamboats going very fast, seemed motionless +on the sparkling surface of the water afar. His thoughts scattered; he +tried to collect them, to realize where he was, how he happened to be +there; the identity of the speaker and what she had been saying! Certain +preconceived, fixed ideas and conclusions had been toppled over, +brushed aside in an instant. Was it possible? + +"I was waiting to trim and fill the lamps," said Jane. (Miss Van Rolsen +clung to oil lamps for reading.) "The prince and she were in the +library. He has a loud voice, you know." + +The young man did. "But why--" + +"Search me!" Vivaciously. "He was the very pick of the whole cargo of +dukes and the like. There isn't another girl in New York would have done +it." + +"But surely," scarcely hearing her last words, "no newspaper would dare +to announce such a thing without--" + +"Oh, wouldn't it? When it called up the house every day, almost, and +got: 'There is nothing to say'? Didn't I answer the 'phone once or twice +myself? 'Miss Van Rolsen declines to be interviewed concerning her +niece. She has nothing to say.' I think I once giggled, the man's voice +at the other end was so aggressive. He said he was the city editor +himself. Is that very high up?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not seem to hear. He scarcely saw his companion +now; nevertheless, he was conscious of a desire to be alone, in order to +concentrate, consider, reach for light and find it. But where could he +discover a safe spot; his problem was a dual one; primarily, he must +consider himself; he must not forget his own desperate situation and +danger. The train, beginning to slacken, brought the sense of it once +more poignantly to mind. His companion hadn't reached the station yet +but he suddenly rose. The car stopped with a jerk; Mr. Heatherbloom +murmured something hurriedly and dived for the door. + +On the street he breathed deeply, standing as in a daze while the +thunder of iron-rimmed wheels surrounded him. He was cognizant +principally of certain words humming in his brain: The prince and she +were not engaged! The nobleman not returning to America in the fall! +Never coming back! + +But that item in fine print in the newspaper he had in his pocket--what +did it mean? Nothing, of course, beyond what it said; still-- + +Some one bumped into Mr. Heatherbloom; whereupon he suddenly realized +that he was standing on one of the busiest corners and had been making +himself as conspicuous as possible. Hastily he moved on. To what +destination? He glanced toward a convenient saloon; it looked hospitable +and inviting. Then he remembered they--man-hunters, in general--always +searched the saloons first for criminals. + +He started toward a side street but paused, reasoning that he was more +prominent on comparatively isolated thoroughfares than on the swarming +ones. A stream of women flowing into a big department store, exercised +an odd attraction for him. Safety lay, perhaps, among numbers; at least, +for the time, until he could devise a course of action. If he could +conceive of one! If-- + +He must; he would. Every nerve in his body seemed to respond. Had he not +embarked before this on desperate adventures; had he not fought in the +face of overwhelming odds, and managed to hold his head up? A peculiar +little smile played around the corner of his thin lips; it was like the +flash of light on a blade. He joined the inflowing eddy. + +Bargain day! He was crushed and crumpled but found himself ultimately on +a stool in the rear of the store. No; he didn't want any marked-down +collars or cuffs; he conveyed an impression to the solicitous clerk of +some one waiting for some one. Patiently, uncomplainingly! With an +unseeing eye for the hurrying and scurrying myriads! Time passed; he +remained oblivious to the babble of voices. Timon in the wilderness, +Diogenes in his tub, could not have been mentally more isolated from +annoying human consociation than was at the moment Mr. Heatherbloom, +perched on a rickety stool amid a conglomeration of females struggling +for lingerie. + +Suddenly he stirred. "Have you a book department?" he asked an employee. + +"Straight across; last aisle to the left." + +Mr. Heatherbloom got up; his tread was slow; a somnambulistic gleam +appeared in his eye. Yet he was very much awake; he had never felt more +keenly alert. He reached the book section. + +Did they have any Russian fiction? Oh, yes; what kind did he want, +nihilistic or psychological? _The Fire and Sword_ kind, whatever that +was; the second volume of the trilogy, if they had it in stock? Sure +they had; but had he read the first volume? No; he didn't want that; he +would begin in the middle of the trilogy. He always read trilogies that +way. + +The young lady in charge looked what she thought as she handed him the +book. He paid her; unfortunately it cost more than the popular novels of +the day. He rather gravely contemplated the few small bills he had left; +the amount of his capital would not carry him very far, especially if +unusual expenses should occur. Miss Van Rolsen still owed him a little +money but he didn't see how he could collect that now. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, armed with his book, sought a different part of the +store--- a small reception-room, where customers of both sexes were at +liberty to read, write, or indulge in mental rest-cure, after bargain +purchases. There he perused hurriedly, and by snatches, the volume; +there was plenty of fire and plenty of sword in it; human passions +bubbled and seethed. Suddenly he sat up straight and a suppressed +exclamation fell from his lips; he closed the book sharply. + +One or two old ladies looked at him but he did not see them. His vision, +clairvoyant-like, seemed to have lifted, to traverse broad seas, +limitless steppes. His hands opened and closed, as if striving to reach +and clutch something beyond flame of battle, scenes of rapine. + +He got up dizzily. As he stepped once more into the street, the shadows +had lengthened; twilight was falling. He stopped at a pawnbroker's, +purchased a revolver and cartridges. He might need the weapon now more +than ever. And money--he needed far more of that than he had. He spread +in his palm the little wad of greenbacks he took from his pocket; +counted them and a few silver pieces. Then seeking a ticket office, he +made a few casual inquiries; a shadow rested on his countenance as he +emerged from the place. + +Next door to it a pile of gold pieces in a bank window shone mockingly +before his eyes. So near--with only the plate-glass between him and the +bright discs! Mechanically he began to count them, but suddenly turned +from that profitless occupation and stood with his back to the window. + +What availed resolution without dollars? His purpose might be strong, +but poverty, a Brobdingnagian giant, laid its hand on his shoulder, +crushing him down, holding him there, impotent, until the stocky man and +his cohorts of the private detective office should come over and get +him--to send him to the little island he had thought of when crossing +the bridge to Brooklyn! + +He fell back into a doorway. More money!--he must get it; must! He +folded his arms tight over his breast. To think that this should be his +one great, crying need--his! + +Above, he heard footsteps descending the stairway at the foot of which +he stood; Mr. Heatherbloom slipped out of the passage to the sidewalk +and moved on. Chance took him back the way he had come; he had no choice +of direction. Now he looked once more at the window of the pawnbroker, +where he had stopped a short time before. He regarded the unredeemed +pledges; seal-rings, watches, flutes, old violins; what not? If he only +had something left; but all had gone--long ago. + +All? He started slightly; considered; walked on. But he turned around, +hesitatingly, and came slowly back. As he approached the door, his step +grew more resolute. He walked briskly in. Without giving the proprietor +time to come to the front of the shop, Mr. Heatherbloom moved at once to +the back where the other sat behind his dusty glass cases. + +"Here I am once more." He spoke with forced gaiety. + +"What you want to buy now?" + +"I don't want to buy anything; I want to sell something." + +The pawnbroker's interest in the visitor at once departed. + +"I have everythings! Everythings!" he grumbled. "Nearly every one wants +to sell. I have no room for noddings more. Good night!" + +"But I've something special," said Mr. Heatherbloom. As he spoke he took +from an inner pocket a little parcel in pink tissue-paper; he fingered +it a moment, removing an ivory miniature from a frame, passed the paper +quickly about the picture once more, and returned it to his pocket. Then +he handed the frame, over the case, to the pawnbroker. "What do you +think of that, my Christian friend?" he said with a show of jocularity +that didn't ring quite true. + +The pawnbroker bent his dull face close to the article; it was gold. A +pretty trinket, set with a number of brilliants, it might have come from +the Rue Royale or the Rue de la Paix. + +"Cost about five hundred francs," observed Mr. Heatherbloom, watching +the other closely. "One hundred dollars, without the duty." + +"Where'd you get it?" + +"None of your business." With a smile. + +The man moved toward a telephone at his back. "Do you know what I'm +going to do?" + +"I am curious." + +"'Phone the police." + +"Is that an invitation for me to depart? If so--" Mr. Heatherbloom +reached for the little gold frame. + +"Oh, no," said the man, retaining the graceful article. "The police will +find out who this belongs to." + +"Tut! tut!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly. Something on the edge of +the showcase pointed over it; the hand the proprietor professed to raise +toward the telephone fell to his side; he seemed about to call out. +"Don't!" said the visitor. "It's loaded; you saw me put in the +cartridges yourself. Your little game is very passe; I had it worked on +me once before, and placed you in your class--a fourth-rater, with a +crib for loot!" + +The other considered; this customer's manner was ominously quiet and +easy; he didn't like it. A telepathic message that flashed from the +gleaming gaze above the shining tube suggested an utterly frivolous +indifference to tragic consequences. The proprietor moved away from the +telephone. + +"Fifteen dollars," he said. + +"Twenty," breathed Mr. Heatherbloom insinuatingly. + +The man put his hand in his pocket and counted out the money. The caller +took it, said something in those same blithe significant accents about +what would happen if the other made a move in the next two or three +minutes, then vanished from the store. He did not keep to the busy +thoroughfare now, but shot into a side street. Would the pawnbroker hide +the frame and then call the police? It was quite possible he might thus +seek to get into their good graces and revenge himself at the same time. +Mr. Heatherbloom turned from dark byway to dark byway. He knew there was +a possibility that he might keep going throughout the night without +being taken; but what would he attain by so doing, how would that profit +him? + +He had to get back to New York at once, and as speedily as possible! +The shining face of a street clock that a short time before he had +looked at, admonished him there were no moments to spare, if he would +carry out his plan, his headstrong purpose--to verify or disprove a +certain wild theory--which would take him where, lead to what? No +matter! Above, between black shadows of tall buildings, he saw a star, +bright, beautiful. Something in him seemed to leap up to it--to that +light as frostily clear as her eyes! A taxi passed; he hailed it. + +"How much to Jersey City?" he asked in feverish tones. + +The man approximated a figure; it was large, but Mr. Heatherbloom at +once got in. + +"All right," he said. "Only let her go! I've a train to catch." + +"You don't want to land us in the police court, do you?" asked the +chauffeur. + +Mr. Heatherbloom devoutly hoped not. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +MISCALCULATIONS + +Two days later, on a bright afternoon, a young man stood on the edge of +a sea-wall called the Battery. It was not _the_ Battery, commanding a +view of the outgoing and incoming maritime traffic of the continent's +metropolis, but another Battery, overlooking another harbor, or estuary, +landlocked save for an entrance about a mile in width. Behind him lay, +not a great, but a little, city; hardly more than a big town; before him +a few vessels of moderate tonnage placidly plied the main or swash +channels. + +The scene was tranquilizing; nevertheless the young man appeared out of +harmony with it. His face wore a feverish flush; his eyes had a restless +gleam. He had only a short time before come to town, entering in +unconventional fashion. As the train had slackened at a siding on the +outskirts he had quietly, and unperceived, slipped off the back platform +of the rear car; then made his way by devious and little frequented side +streets to the sea-front. + +There, his eager gaze scanned the craft, moving in the open, or +motionless at the distant wharfs. An expression of acute disappointment +passed over his features; his eyes did not find what they sought. Had +that mad flight been for nothing? Had he but run into a new kind of +"pocket" here, all to no purpose? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat down; he was weary and worn. The dancing sparkles +laughed at him; he did not feel like "laughing back". Even as he leaned +against the parapet a newsboy close at hand called out: + +"All about the mysterious abduction! One of the miscreants traced to +this city! Superintendent of police warned of his probable arrival!" + +The lad looked at Mr. Heatherbloom as he shouted; that gentleman +returned his gaze with unflinching stolidness. + +"What abduction?" he asked. + +"Beautiful New York heiress." + +The voice passed on; the fugitive was once more alone with his thoughts. +If they had been wild, turbulent before, what were they now? His hands +closed; at the moment he did not bemoan his own probable fate, only the +fact that the clue bringing him here had been false--false! + +Another voice--this time a man's--accosted him. Mr. Heatherbloom sprang +swiftly to his feet but the person, an old darky, did not appear very +formidable. + +"Got a match, boss?" he inquired mildly. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's bright suspicious glance shot into the good-humored, +open look of the other; that person's manner betrayed no ulterior +motive. Perhaps he had not yet heard the newsboy; did not +know--Mechanically the young man answered that he did not possess the +article required, but the intruder still lingered; he had accosted the +other partly because of a desire for desultory conversation. Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a moment's careful scrutiny, showed a disposition to +be accommodating in this regard; he even took the initiative--suddenly, +asking question after question about this boat and that. Her name; when +she had come; where she was going; of what her cargo consisted? The +other replied willingly. Like many of his kind in the port, although he +could not read or write, he was wise in harbor-front knowledge, knew all +the floating tramps and the sailing craft. + +"I suppose it's always about the same old boats drop in here?" Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a little, observed insinuatingly. + +"Yes, always de same ole tubs," assented the darky. + +A shadow crossed the other's face, but he managed to assume a light air. +"Battered hulks and sailing brigs of a past generation, eh?" He put the +case strongly, but the darky only nodded smilingly. His strong point in +conversation was in agreeing with people; he even forgot patriotism +toward his own port in being amiable. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glanced now beyond them to the right and the left; but +no one whom he had reason to fear came within scope of his vision. His +figure relaxed. When would they come to take him? The newsboy's words +reiterated themselves in his mind. "Traced to this city!" Of course; +Miss Van Rolsen's millions were at the command of the secret-service +bureau; his description had been telegraphed far and wide. And when it +should be fruitful of results, what would become of his theory? +Nevertheless, he would go on, while he could, to the last. + +If he tried to explain they would consider it but a paltry blind to +cover his own criminality. He could expect no help from them; he had to +triumph or fail through his own efforts. To fail, certainly; it was +decreed. + +For the moment something in his breast pocket seemed to burn there, a +tiny object, now without the frame. Involuntarily he raised his hand; +then his figure swayed; the street waved up and down. He had eaten +little during the last two or three days. Scornfully in his own mind he +berated that momentary weakness and steadied himself. His eyes, cold and +clear, now returned to the colored man; he groped for and took up the +thread of the talk where he had left it. + +"Old hulks and brigs! You don't ever happen to have any really fine +boats come in here, do you? Like Mr. Morgan's big private yacht, for +example?" + +"No; we ain't never seen dat craft yere. Dis port's more for lumber +and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "I saw an item in the paper"--he strove to +speak unconcernedly--"a Marconigram--that a certain Russian prince's +private yacht--the _Nevski_--had damaged her propeller, or some other +part of her gear, and was being towed into this harbor for emergency +repairs." + +"Oh, yes, boss!" said the man. The listener took a firmer grip on the +parapet. "You done mean de big white boat w'at lies on de odder side ob +de island; can't see her from yere. Dey done fix her up mighty quick an' +she gwine ter lebe to-night." + +"Leave to-night!" Mr. Heatherbloom's face changed; suppressed eagerness, +expectancy shone from his eyes; he turned away to conceal it from the +other. "Looks like good fishing over there near the island," he observed +after a pause. + +"Tain't so much for fishin' as crabbin'," returned the other. + +"Crabbing!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "A grand sport! Now if--are you a +crabber?" The darky confessed that crabbing was his main occupation; his +boat swung right over there; for a dollar he would give the other +several hours' diversion. + +Mr. Heatherbloom accepted the offer with alacrity. A few moments later, +seated in a dilapidated cockle-shell, he found himself slamming over the +water. The boat didn't ship the tops of many seas but it took in enough +spray over the port bow to drench pretty thoroughly the passenger. In +the stern, the darky handling the sheet of a small, much patched sail, +kept himself comparatively dry. But Mr. Heatherbloom didn't seem to mind +the drenching; though the briny drops stung his cheek, his face +continued ever bent forward, toward a point of land to the right of +which lay the island that came ever nearer, but slowly--so slowly! + +He could see the top of the spars of a vessel now over the high +sand-hills; his body bent toward it; in his eyes shone a steely light. +Their little boat drew closer to the near side of the island; the +hillocks stood up higher; the tapering topmasts of the craft on the +other side disappeared. The crabber's cockle-shell came to anchor in a +tranquil sandy cove. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, although inwardly chafing, felt obliged to restrain +impatience; he could not afford to awaken the darky's suspicions, +therefore he simulated interest and--"crabbed". He enjoyed a streak of +good luck, but his artificial enthusiasm soon waned. He at length +suggested trying the other side of the island, whereupon his pilot +expostulated. + +What more did his passenger want? The latter thought he would stretch +his legs a bit on the shore; it made him stiff to sit still so long. He +would get out and walk around--he had a predilection for deserted +islands. While he was gratifying his fancy the darky could return to his +more remunerative business of gathering in the denizens of the deep. + +Five minutes later Mr. Heatherbloom stood on the sandy beach; he started +as if to walk around the island but had not gone far before he turned +and moved at a right angle up over the sand-hill. The dull-hued bushes +that somehow found nourishment on the yellow mound now concealed his +figure from the boatman; the same hardy vegetation afforded him a +shelter from the too inquisitive gaze of any persons on the yacht when +he had gained the summit of the sands. + +There, he peered through the leaves down upon a beautiful vessel. She +lay near the shore; whatever her injury, it seemed to have been repaired +by this time for few signs of life were apparent on or about her. Steam +was up; a faint dun-colored smoke swept, pennon-like, from her white +funnels. Some one was inspecting her stern from a platform swung over +the rail, and to Mr. Heatherbloom's strained vision this person's +interest, or concern, centered in the mechanism of her rudder. The +trouble had been there no doubt, and if so, the yacht had probably come, +or been brought near the island at high water, and at low tide any +damage she might have suffered had been attended to. Her injury must +have been more vexatious than serious. Would she, as the darky had +affirmed, leave when the tide was once more at its full? Her lying in +the outer, instead of in the inner harbor, seemed significant. Time +passed; the person on the platform regained the deck and disappeared. In +the bushes the watcher suddenly started. + +Something at one of the port windows had caught his glance. A ribbon? A +fluttering bit of lace? A woman's features that phantom-like had come +and vanished? He looked hard--so steadily that spots began to dance +before his sight, but he could not verify that first impression. Yet he +remained. The shadows on the furze grew longer, falling in strange +angular shapes down the hillside; the sun dipped low. At length Mr. +Heatherbloom, after the manner of one who had made up his mind to +something, abruptly rose. + +He walked back toward the cove where he had disembarked. As he drew near +the darky caught sight of him, pulled up "anchor" and paddled his boat +to the shore. But Mr. Heatherbloom did not at once get in; his eyes +rested on the bushel or so of freshly caught, bubble-blowing crabs. He +strove to appear calm and matter-of-fact. + +"What do you expect to get for them?" he asked, pointing. + +"'Bout fifty cents de dozen, boss. Crab market ain't what it ought ter +be jest now." + +"Why don't you try to sell them to the yacht over there?" Mr. +Heatherbloom managed to speak carelessly but it was a difficult task. + +"Jest becos she is 'over there', boss," returned the darky lazily. +"Mighty swift tide sweeping around de head of dat island!" he +explained. + +"And you don't like rowing against it?" Quickly. "See here, I'll tell +you what I'll do. I like a bit of exercise, and just for the gamble, +I'll give you sixty cents a dozen for the lot, and keep all I can get +over that. The owner of that craft is a Russian and all Russians like +sea food. When they can't get caviar, they'll no doubt make a bid for +crabs." + +"Dat sounds like berry good argumentation, boss. Make it +seventy"--avarice struggling on the dusky countenance--"an'--" + +"Done!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, endeavoring to disguise the fierce +eagerness welling within him. "Here's on account!" Tossing his last bill +to the other. "And now, get out. It'll be easier pulling without you." + +The darky grinned and obeyed. This was a strenuous passenger truly, not +averse to stiff rowing, after a stiff walk, "jest for pleasure". But the +dusky pilot had met these anomalous white beings before--"spo'tsmen", +they called themselves. And a certain sense of humor, as Mr. +Heatherbloom sat down to the oars, caused the colored man involuntarily +to hum: _I'se got a white man a-workin' for me_. He had only finished a +bar or two, however, when the tune abruptly ceased on his lips. "Dat's +too bad," he said. "I guess de deal's off, boss." Regretfully. + +"Eh?" Mr. Heatherbloom looked around. He meant to keep the man to his +bargain now, by force if necessary. + +"Look dar!" continued the darky. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did look in the direction indicated. A puff of black +smoke could be seen rising over the island, and--significant fact!--the +dark smudge seemed to be crawling along beyond the sky-line of the +sand-hill. The young man turned pale. + +"It's de Russian yacht, boss. She's under way all right!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to gaze. Where the island was lower he saw +the topmasts moving along--then the boat herself, white, beautiful, +swinging out from behind, with bow pointed seaward and steaming fast. + +"Dat's too bad," murmured the colored man. "I done be powerful +disappointed, boss!" + +The other did not answer. Going! going! He had waited too long to board +her. He could not reach her now--he would never reach her. The flame of +the dying sun flared in Mr. Heatherbloom's face, but he continued +motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +ON THE ROAD + +Gone! It was the only word he, could think of. Every thought, every +emotion centered around it. He could not reason or argue. No plan +occurred to him now. He continued to sit still, seeing but one +picture--a boat vanishing. Night had begun to fall as they returned to +the city. Its lights played mockingly in the darkness. Mr. Heatherbloom +viewed them with apathetic gaze. The secret-service man, the chief of +police and his assistants were on shore somewhere waiting to capture +him, but he did not care. Let them take him now! What did it matter? + +When the boat reached land he got out like an automaton. Perhaps he made +answer to the darky's last cheerful good night, but if so he spoke +without knowing it. The boatman let him go, willingly; Mr. Heatherbloom +hadn't asked for his last bill back again and the other overlooked +reminding him of his remissness. The greenback was considerably more +than the fare. + +Indifferent to his fate, Mr. Heatherbloom moved on; no one molested him. +He walked along dark highways, not through fear of being apprehended, +but because his mood was dark. He did not even notice where he went; he +just kept going. He forgot he was hungry, but at length, as in a dream, +he began to realize a physical weariness. Overwrought nature asserted +itself; he was not made of iron; his muscles responded reluctantly. +Without observing his surroundings, he sank listlessly to the earth; the +cool grass received his exhausted frame. Beyond, some distance away, the +lights of the city threw now a sullen glow on the sky. All was +comparatively still about him; the noise of the city was replaced by the +lighter sound of vehicles on the well kept, almost non-resounding +country road. It seemed to be a main thoroughfare, but with little life +and animation about it at that evening hour. A buggy did go by +occasionally, however, and, not far from Mr. Heatherbloom, at a curb, +stood a motor-car. + +He had suffered himself to relax on the ground in front of a small house +set well back among spectral-looking trees and surrounded by a stone +wall overgrown with foliage. Mr. Heatherbloom remained unmindful of his +surroundings. The lamps of the car near by were not lighted; a single +figure on the front seat was barely distinguishable. Now this person got +down and lighted a cigarette; he seemed restless, walked to and fro, and +glanced once or twice at the house. From a single window a faint light +gleamed; then it vanished, only to reappear a few moments later at +another window. Among the masses of foliage fireflies glistened; a +tree-toad began to make a sound but almost immediately stopped. The +front door had apparently opened and some person or persons came out. +The faint crunchings on the gravel indicated more than one person. Now +they stepped on the grass, for there were no audible indications of +their approach. The man near the machine threw quickly away his +cigarette and opened the door of the car. Several people, issuing from +the gate, crossed the sidewalk and got in. Mr. Heatherbloom was hardly +aware of the fact; they seemed but unmeaning shadows. + +The driver bent over and lighted one of his lamps. As he did so, the +flare revealed for an instant his face--square, rather handsome and +bearded. A faint flicker of interest, for some reason undefinable to +himself at the moment, swept over Mr. Heatherbloom. He had been lying +where the grass was tall and now raised himself on his elbow, the better +to peer over the waving tops. The car had gathered headway and swung out +into the road, when suddenly some one in it laughed and uttered an +exclamation in a foreign tongue. That musical note--a word he did not +understand--was wafted to Mr. Heatherbloom. It acted upon him like a +galvanic shock; he sprang to his feet and, bewildered, stared after the +machine. What had happened; was he dreaming? He could hardly at first +believe the evidence of his senses, for the laugh, coming back to him in +the night, was that of the woman for whom he had procured employment at +Miss Van Rolsen's. He could have sworn to the fact now. And the man +whose countenance he had so briefly seen was, no doubt, of her own +nationality--a Russian! + +Involuntarily, without realizing what he did, Mr. Heatherbloom started +to run in the direction the car had gone, but he soon stopped. What +madness!--to attempt to catch a sixty-horse-power machine! Why, it was +nearly a mile away already. The young man stood stock-still while a +cogent reaction swept over him. The woman had passed within fifty feet +of where he had lain, head near the earth, moping. A mocking desire to +atone for a great remissness found him impotent. There seemed nothing +for him to do now but to reconcile himself to the irreconcilable, to +stay here, while every desire urged him to follow her, to learn why this +woman was in the car and who was with her. Naturally, he had expected +she would be on the yacht now steaming away out to sea, and here she +was. A new enigma confronted him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to stand in the center of the road. His head +whirled; he panted hard, out of breath from his recent dash. A loud +honk! honk! from another machine coming unexpectedly up behind, caused +him to leap aside just in time. The second car whizzed by, although +obeying an impulse born on the instant, he called out wildly, waving his +arms to bring it to a halt. If they saw his strange motions--which was +unlikely, the night being dark--they did not heed them. Soon the second +machine was some distance away; then its rear light gleamed like a +vanishing coal and suddenly disappeared altogether around a bend of the +road. + +He looked back; no other vehicle of any description was in sight now. +But it profited nothing to continue passive, immovable. He had to act, +to walk on, no matter how slowly; his face, at least, was set in the +direction the woman had gone. How long it took him to reach the turn of +the thoroughfare he could not tell, but at length there, he came again +to an abrupt stop. Some distance ahead in the road appeared a machine, +motionless--waiting, or broken down. + +Which car was it? The one containing the woman, or the other that came +after? If the former--He pressed on eagerly, yet keeping to the shadows, +alive once more to the need of caution. His heart pounded hard; he could +see a form passing in front of the machine; the light of the lamp +enabled him now to make out the other occupants--three men. No woman was +with them. This became poignantly, irrefutably evident as he drew +nearer. He could see plainly the empty car and the trio of figures; he +could hear them talking but was not yet able to distinguish what they +said. These were the people whose attention he had tried to attract back +there in the road. His purpose then, occurring to him in a flash, +renewed itself strongly now. He would ask their aid; circumstances might +enable him to do so now with better grace. He had had a good deal of +experience with cars of divers kinds and makes at different times in the +past. Why not proffer these strangers his fairly expert services? He +felt sure he could soon learn, and repair, what was wrong with the +machine. Having made himself useful, he could then intimate that a +"lift" down the road would be acceptable. And he would probably get it. + +But he did not carry out his intention. Something he heard as he came +closer to them caused him to hesitate and reconsider. Mixed with +anathemas directed against the car, of rather a cheap type, were words +that had for him more than passing significance. These men were after +some one, and that the some one was none other than himself, Mr. +Heatherbloom soon became fully convinced. Fate had been kinder to him +than he knew when he had endeavored, and failed, to win their notice. He +crouched back now against a rail fence; their low disgruntled tones were +still borne to him. For some moments they continued to work over the +machine without apparently being able to set it to rights. + +"If this goes on much longer," said one of them, "he'll get away from +Brownville." + +"Providin' he's there!" grumbled another. "People are always seeing an +escaped criminal in a dozen different localities at the same time." + +Brownville! The listener soon divined, from a sentence dropped here and +there, that the place was a little fishing village a short distance down +the coast. He surmised, also, that they had by this time the main harbor +of the city fairly watched as far as outgoing vessels were concerned, +and were reaching out to prevent a possible exit from the smaller +community. Fishing craft leaving from there could easily take out a +fugitive and thus enable him to escape. This contingency the authorities +were now endeavoring to avert; that they also had some kind of a clue, +pointing to their present destination and inciting them to make haste +thither, was evident from the skeptical remark Mr. Heatherbloom had +overheard. + +A series of explosions, as sudden as spasmodic, broke in on the +listener's thoughts. "Hurray!" said one. "We're off!" + +And they were, quickly. Mr. Heatherbloom also moved with extreme +abruptness and expedition. Waiting in the shadow until they had all +sprung into the car and the machine had fairly started, he then darted +forward, seized a strap and clinging as best he might, hoisted himself +to the place in the rear designed for a trunk. One desire only, in +resorting to this expedient, moved him--to get in touch as soon as +possible, if possible, with the other car. This machine, of inferior +build, suggested, it is true, a dubious way to that end but it was the +best that offered. + +He did not see the incongruity of his position, of being a passenger, +though secretly and surreptitiously, of the car containing those +embarked on a mission so closely concerning himself. Instead of fleeing +from them he was actually courting their company, pursuing himself, as +it were! At another time he might have smiled; now the situation had for +him nothing of the comic; it was tragically grim, also decidedly +unpleasant. A strong odor of gasolene permeated his nostrils until he +was nearly suffocated by it and all the dust, stirred by their flight, +swirled up on him, making it difficult to refrain from coughing. +Fortunately the machine had a monopoly on noises, and any sound from him +would have passed unnoticed. He had ridden the "bumpers" not so long ago +on freights, and, perforce, indulged in kindred uncomfortable methods of +free transportation in the course of his recent career, but he had never +experienced anything quite so little to be desired as this. + +The driver had begun to speed; as if to make up for lost time, he was +forcing the engine to its limit. The machine, of light construction, +shook violently, negotiated the steep places with jumps and slid down on +the other side with breakneck velocity. The dust thickened about Mr. +Heatherbloom's head so that he could scarcely see. His arms ached and +every bump nearly tore him loose. He wound the strap around his wrist +and strove to ensconce himself deeper in a place not large enough for +him. He was on an edge all the time, and felt as if he were falling +over every moment; the edge, too, was sharp and dug into him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, however, had little thought of bodily discomfort; he +was more concerned in making progress and the difficulty of maintaining +his position. His only fear was that he would be compelled to abandon +his place because his physical energy might not be equal to the demands +put upon it. He set his teeth now and began to count the seconds. The +faster they went, the better was his purpose served; he strove to find +encouragement in the thought. The other car could make a superior +showing in the way of speed, but it might stop voluntarily somewhere +after a while, or something might happen to arrest its progress. The +race did not always belong to the swift. He endeavored to formulate some +plan as to just what he would do if he did finally manage to overtake +the woman and her party, but at length ceased trying. Sufficient unto +the moment were the problems thereof; he could but strive in the +present. He dispelled the fear that he could not hold on much longer, +and filled himself with new determination not to yield. But even as he +did so, a bigger bump than any they had yet encountered jerked him +abruptly from his place. + +When finally he managed to collect himself and his senses and sit up +uncertainly in the road, the car was far away. The snap of exploding +gasolene grew faint--fainter--then ceased altogether. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +IN THE NIGHT + +A wayworn figure, some time thereafter, moved slowly along the deserted +road, where it ran like a winding ribbon over the top of a great bluff. +A sea wind, coming in varying gusts, bent low the long grass and rustled +in the bushes. The moon had escaped from behind dark clouds in a stormy +sky and threw its rays far and wide. They imparted a frosty sheen to the +wavy surface between road and sea and brightened the thoroughfare, +which, lengthening tortuously, disappeared beneath in a tangle of forest +or underbrush. + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed wearily down the road, then over the grass. In +the latter direction, afar, a strip of ocean lay like an argent stream +flowing between the top of the bank and the horizon. Toward that +illusory river he, leaving the main highway, walked in somewhat +discouraged fashion. It might avail him little, so much time had +elapsed, but from the edge of the bluff he would be afforded a view of +the surrounding country and the topography of the coast. + +A vast spread of the ocean unfolded to his gaze before he had reached +the brink of the prominence. His heavy-lidded eyes, sweeping to the +right, rested on a heterogeneous group of dwellings scattered well above +the sands and directly below a wooded uprising of land. Myriad specks of +light glimmered amid shadowy roofs. Brownville? Undoubtedly! A board +walk ran along the ocean and a small pier extended like an arm over the +water. On the faintly glistening sands old boats, drawn up here and +there, resembled so many black footprints. + +Not far from where Mr. Heatherbloom stood a path went downward, a +shorter way to the village than by the road he had just left. He stared +unthinkingly a moment at the narrow walk; then began mechanically to +descend. A dull realization weighed on him that when he reached his +destination the woman would be far away. He wondered why he had gone on, +under the circumstances--why he had ever thought he stood a ghost of a +chance of overtaking her? Only the hopelessness of the situation, in all +its grim verity, faced him now. + +The path zigzagged through the bushes. At a turn the village was lost to +sight; in front was a sheer fall to the sea. As he kept on, projecting +branches struck him and raising his hand to guard his face, he, tripped +and almost fell. Recovering himself, he glanced down; something had +caught on his shoe and he leaned over to loosen it. His fingers closed +on a long strip of soft substance--a veil, the kind worn by women +motoring! Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes rested on it apathetically, then with +a sudden flash of interest; a faint but heavy perfume emanated from the +silky filament. It was darkish in hue--brown, he should say; the Russian +woman was partial to that color. The thought came to him quickly; he +stood bewildered. What if it were hers? Then how had it come here, on +this narrow foot-path, unless--Had the big car stopped at the top of the +promontory and discharged its passengers there? But why should it have +done so; for what possible reason? + +He could think of none. Other women came this way--the path was not +difficult. Other women wore brown veils. And yet that odd familiar +fragrance--It seemed to belong to a foreign bizarre personality such as +Sonia Turgeinov's. + +Crushing in his palm the veil he thrust it into his pocket. He would +find out more below, possibly; if she had actually passed this way. A +feverish zest was born anew; the authorities were looking for her as +well as for himself, he remembered. She, apparently, had so far cleverly +evaded them; if he could but lead them to her he would not mind so much +his own apprehension. Her presence in the locality at the same time the +_Nevski_ had been in the harbor would fairly prove the correctness of +his theory of Miss Dalrymple's whereabouts. If he could now deliver the +Russian woman into the hands of the law, he would have a wedge to force +the powers that be to give credence to at least the material part of his +story--that the prince had left port with the young girl--and to compel +them to see the necessity of acting at once. That he, himself, would be +held equally culpable with the woman was of no moment. + +Fatigue seemed to fall from his shoulders. He went along more swiftly, +inspired with new vague hopes. Down--down! The voice of the sea grew +nearer; now he could hear the dull thud of the waves, then the weird +whistling sounds that succeeded. Springing from a granite out-jutting to +the sands, he looked eagerly, searchingly, this way and that. He saw no +one. His gaze lowered and he walked from the dry to the wet strand. +There he stopped, an exclamation escaping his lips. + +A faint light, falling between black rocks, revealed fresh footprints on +the surface of the sands, and, yes!--a long furrow--the marks of the +keel of a boat. He studied the footprints closer, but without +discovering signs of a woman's; only the indentations of heavy seamen's +boots were in evidence. Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a keen +disappointment; then felt abruptly reassured. The impress of her lighter +tread had been eliminated by the men in lifting and pushing to launch +the boat. Their boots had roughly kicked up the sand thereabouts. + +He was fairly satisfied the woman had embarked. The seclusion of the +spot favored the assumption; the fishing-boats were all either stranded, +or at anchor, nearer the village. But why and whither had she gone? The +ocean, in front, failed to answer the latter question, and his glance +turned. On the one hand was the village; on the other, high, almost +perpendicular rocks ran seaward, obscuring the view. It would not be +easy to get around that point; without a boat it could not be done. + +Mr. Heatherbloom began to walk briskly toward the village; the moon +threw his shadow in odd bobbing motions here and there. Once he stopped +abruptly; some one on the beach afar was approaching. A fisherman? Mr. +Heatherbloom crouched back among the rocks, when the person came to a +halt. Clinging to the shadows on the landward side of the beach the +young man continued to advance, but cautiously, for a single voice might +now start a general hue and cry. Beyond, closer to town, he could see +other forms, small dark moving spots. Not far distant, however, lay the +nearest boat; to get to her he had to expose himself to the pale +glimmer. No alternative remained. He stepped quickly across the sand, +reached the craft and strove to launch her. But she was clumsy and +heavy, and resisted his efforts. The man, whoever he might be, was +coming closer; he called out and Mr. Heatherbloom pushed and struggled +more desperately--without avail! He cast a quick glance over his +shoulder; the man was running toward him--his tones now rang out loudly, +authoritatively. Mr. Heatherbloom did not obey that stern command to +halt; instead he made a wild abrupt dash for the sea. The report of a +revolver awoke the echoes and a bullet whizzed close. Recklessly he +plunged into the water. + +The man on the shore emptied his weapon, but with what success he could +not tell. A head amid the dark waves was not easily discernible. Another +and larger object, however, was plainly apparent about a hundred yards +from land--a fishing-boat that swung at anchor. Would the other succeed +in reaching it, for that was, no doubt, his purpose, or had one of the +leaden missives told? The man, with weapon hot, waited. He scanned the +water, then looked toward the town. A number of figures on the beach +were hastening in his direction; from the pier afar, a naphtha put out; +he could hear faintly the sound of the engine. + +Suddenly, above the boat at anchor near the man on shore, a sail shot +up, then fluttered and snapped in the wind. A moment later it was drawn +in, the line holding the craft to the buoy slipped out, and the bow +swung sharply around. Mr. Heatherbloom worked swiftly; one desire moved +him--to get around that point before being overtaken--to discover what +lay beyond. Then let happen what would! He reached for a line and +hoisted a jib, though it was almost more canvas than his small craft +could carry. She careened and plunged, throwing the spray high. He +turned a quick glance back toward the naphtha. The sky had become +overcast, and distant objects were not so easily discernible on the +surface of the water, but he made out her lights--two! She was head on +for him. + +He looked steadily ahead again. The grim line of out-jutting rocks--a +black shadow against the sky--exercised a weird fascination for him. He +was well out in the open now where the wind blew a half-gale. His figure +was wet from the sea but he felt no chill. Suddenly the hand gripping +the tiller tightened, and his heart gave a great bound; then sank. Not +far from that portentous point of land he saw another light--green! A +boat was emerging from the big basin of water beyond. The starboard +signal, set high above the waves, belonged to no small craft such as the +woman had embarked in. The sight of it fitted a contingency that had +flashed through his brain on the beach. The realization left him +helpless now--his last opportunity was gone! + +He shifted the tiller violently, recklessly. At that moment a shrill +whistle from behind reminded him once more of the naphtha; he could have +laughed. What was the wretched little puffing thing to him now? The +single green light--that alone was the all in all. It belonged to the +_Nevski_ he was sure; for one reason or another she had but made +pretense of going to sea, and, instead, had come here--to wait. The +woman was on her now, and, also--The thought maddened him. + +Again that piercing whistle! The naphtha was coming up fast; amid the +turmoil of his thoughts he realized this vaguely. He did not wish to +find himself delivered unto them yet--not just yet! A wilder +recklessness seized him. Clouds sped across the heavens like gripping +furies' hands; the water ran level to his boat's gunwales but he refused +to ease her. All the while he was drawing nearer the single green +light--a mocking light, signal of a mocking chase that had led, and +could lead, to nothing. Still he went on, tossed by the waves--sport of +them. He had to play the play out. Oh, to see better, to visualize to +the utmost the last scene of his poignant drama of failure! + +In the naphtha some one's voice belched through a megaphone; he laughed +outright now. Come and get him, if they wanted him! He would give them +as merry a dash as possible. His boat raced madly through the +water--nearer, yet nearer the green light. Now a large dark outline +loomed before him; he would have to stop, to come about in a moment, +or--A great wave struck him, half filling his boat, but he did not seem +to notice. + +A dazzling white glow suddenly surrounded him; from the naphtha a +search-light had been flashed. It fell on him fully, sprinkled over on +the wild hurtling waves beyond, and just touched the side of the +outgoing vessel. Mr. Heatherbloom looked toward the vessel and his +pupils dilated. The light leaped into the air with the motion of the +naphtha, and, in an instant was gone, but the impress of a single detail +remained on his retina--of a side ladder, lowered, no doubt, for the +woman, and not yet hoisted into place on the big boat. + +The wildness of the sea seemed to surge through Mr. Heatherbloom's +veins; he did not come about; he did not try to. Now it was too late! +That ladder!--he would seize it as they swept by. Closer his boat ran; a +swirl of water caught him, threw him from his course. He made a frantic +effort to regain it but without avail. The big steel bow of the great +boat struck and overwhelmed the little craft. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +THE CRISIS + +On the _Nevski_, the lookout forward walked slowly back and forth. Once +or twice he shook his head. But a few moments before the yacht had run +down a small boat, he had reported the matter, and--the _Nevski_ had +continued ahead, full speed. She had not even slackened long enough to +make the usual futile pretense of extending assistance to the +unfortunate occupant, or occupants. His excellency, Prince Boris, +evidently did not wish, or had no time, to bother with blunderers; if +they got in his way so much the worse for them. The lookout, pausing to +stare once more ahead, suddenly started. Though apathetic, like most of +the lower class of his countrymen, he uttered a faint guttural of +surprise and peered over the bow. A voice had seemed to rise from the +very seething depths of the sea. Naturally superstitious, he made the +sign of the cross on his breast while tales of dead seamen who came back +played through his dull fancy. + +Once more he heard it--that voice that seemed to mingle with the wailing +tones of the deep! The little swinging lantern beneath the bowsprit +played on his bearded face as he bent farther forward, and, with growing +wonder not unmixed with fear, now made out something dark clinging to +one of the steel lines that ran from the projecting timber to the ship. +It took the lookout a few moments to realize that this dark object that +had a voice--albeit a faint one--could not be other than a recent +occupant of the small boat he had seen disappear. This person must have +leaped upward at the critical moment, and caught one of the taut strands +upon which he had somehow managed to hoist himself and to which he now +clung desperately. It was a precarious position and one that the motion +of the yacht made but briefly tenable. + +Satisfied that the dark object was a reality and not an unwonted +visitation, the lookout began deliberately to unloosen a gasket. Moments +might be eternity to the man below, but Muscovite slowness is not to be +hurried. The yacht's bow poised in mid air a breathless instant; chaos +seemed leaping upward toward Mr. Heatherbloom, when something--a +line--struck and rubbed against his cheek. He seized and trusted himself +to it eagerly. The sailor was strong; he pulled in the rope. Mr. +Heatherbloom came up, but his strength was almost gone. He would have +let go when iron fingers closed on his wrists, and after that he +remembered no more. + +He awoke in a berth in a fo'castle, and it was daylight. Through a +partly-opened hatch he could see the fine spray that came over the side +of the yacht. Amid misty particles touched by the sun shone a tiny +segment of rainbow. This Mr. Heatherbloom watched with a kind of +childish interest; then stretched himself more luxuriously on the hard +bunk. It was very fine having nothing more important and arduous to do +than watching prismatic hues; his thoughts floated back to long +forgotten wonder-days when he had possessed that master-marvel of toys, +a kaleidoscope, and on occasion had importantly permitted the +golden-haired child in the big house on the top of the hill to-- + +The dream was abruptly dispelled by some one laying a tarry hand on his +shoulder. Mr. Heatherbloom raised himself. The person had a +characteristic Russian face. For a moment the young man stared at the +stolid features, then looked around him. He saw the customary +furnishings of such a place; hammocks, bags and chests, several of the +last marked with Russian characters. A trace of color sprang to Mr. +Heatherbloom's face; he realized now what boat he was actually on, and +what it all meant to him. He could hardly believe, however, and +continued to regard the upside down odd lettering, when the sailor, who +had so unceremoniously disturbed him, motioned him to get out. Mr. +Heatherbloom obeyed; he felt very stiff and somewhat light-headed, but +he steadied himself against the woodwork. The sailor drew a dipperful +of hot tea from a samovar and thrust it into his hand. He drank with +avidity; after which the sailor made him to understand he was to follow. + +The young man hesitated--a new risk confronted him. To whom would he be +taken? The prince? He had once been standing in the area way of the Van +Rolsen house when the nobleman had approached. Had the distinguished +visitor then been so absorbed in the sight of Miss Dalrymple coming down +the steps that he had utterly failed to observe the humble caretaker of +canines? Possibly--and again possibly not. In the former contingency he +might yet have a brief breathing-spell to think--to plan for the future, +unless--There was another to reckon with--the woman he had met in the +park, whose automobile he had attempted to follow. She, too, was on the +boat! He had been her dupe once. Was he now to become her victim? + +The young man's jaw set. There was no holding back now, however; he had +to go on--and he did, with seeming indifference and bold enough step. +At the top of the ladder the sailor passed him on to some one else--an +officer--who led him this way and that until they reached a secluded +part of the deck, where, near the rail, stood a tall dark figure, glass +in hand. Until the last moment Mr. Heatherbloom had hoped it might be +only the captain he would be called on to encounter, and that that +august person would summarily dispose of him, ordering him somewhere out +of sight, below, to work his passage in the sailors' galley, perhaps. He +would have welcomed the most ignominious service to have found now a +respite--to be enabled to escape discovery a little longer. But the +wished-for contingency had not arisen. He faced the inevitable. + +"The man, your Excellency!" + +His excellency looked. He had been scanning the horizon and his +expression was both moody and preoccupied. Mr. Heatherbloom bent +slightly forward; his lids fell to conceal a sudden glitter in his eyes; +his hand touched something hard in his pocket. If his excellency +recognized him--There was one way--a last mad desperate way to serve, +to save her. It would be the end-all for him, but his life was a very +small thing to give to her. He did not value it greatly--that physical +self that had been such an ill servant. He gazed at the prince now with +veiled expectancy, his attitude seemingly relaxed, innocent of +strenuosity. Would the prince's gaze flare back with a spark of +remembrance? If in that tense instant it had done so, then-- + +But his excellency regarded Mr. Heatherbloom blankly; his eyes were +emotionless. + +"You mean the fellow we ran down?" The prince spoke as if irritated by +the intrusion. + +"The same, Excellency!" The officer stepped back. Mr. Heatherbloom did +not move. + +"What did you get in our way for?" The prince's voice had a metallic +ring; he towered, harshly arrogant, over his uninvited passenger. "Don't +you know enough to get out of the way?" + +"It appears not, sir." Heatherbloom wondered at the sound of his own +voice. It seemed to come, small and quiet, from so far off. His +excellency had not recognized him, but was he suspicious? Maybe not. No +one would be fool enough to get deliberately in the way of the +fast-steaming _Nevski_. Small craft were numerous in the bay and +accidents to them would happen. There was nothing so out of the ordinary +for a big boat to run down a tiny craft. It was somewhat uncommon for +any one in the wee boat to save himself, truly, but even in this feature +of the present case the prince experienced but a mild interest. + +"Who are you?" he said. "A fisherman?" + +"Not exactly," answered Mr. Heatherbloom, "though sometimes I crab. I +was crabbing yesterday." + +As he spoke his gaze swept beyond to not far-distant cabin doors and +windows. He and the prince were standing on the starboard side of the +boat; it was this side that had faced the island when the young man had +gazed down upon the yacht from the big sand-hill, and fancied he had +seen-- + +"What am I going to do with you?" The prince seemed more out of temper +now. "My crew are all Russians and I don't want any of your--" He +stopped; shifting lights played ominously in his gaze; a few +dissatisfied lines on his face deepened. "I didn't ask you to come +aboard," he ended with an angry gesture. + +"Sorry to intrude!" Mr. Heatherbloom spoke at random. "But I really +couldn't help it, don't you know. No time to ask permission." + +His excellency frowned. Did he suspect in these words an attempt at that +insidious American humor he had often vainly endeavored to fathom? Mr. +Heatherbloom gazed at him now with seemingly innocent but really very +attentive eyes. + +A superb specimen of over six feet of masculinity, the prince was +picturesquely attired in Russian yachting-garb while a Cossack cap +adorned a visage as bold and romantic as any young woman might wish to +gaze upon. And gazing upon it himself--that rather stunning picture the +prince presented on his own yacht--a sudden chill ran through Mr. +Heatherbloom. This titled paragon refused by Miss Dalrymple? A feudal +lord who made your dapper French counts and Hungarian barons appear but +small fry indeed, by contrast! The light of the sea seemed suddenly to +dazzle Mr. Heatherbloom. A wild thought surged through his brain. Betty +Dalrymple, bewildering, confusing, made up of captivating +inconsistencies, had sometimes been accused by people of a capacity for +doing the wildest things. Had she for excitement--or any other +reason--eloped with the prince? Were they, perhaps, married even now? He +dismissed the thought quickly. All the circumstances pointed against +this theory; his original one was--must be--correct. + +"Well, now you are here, I suppose I've got to keep you." The prince had +again spoken. + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Heatherbloom absently. He was studying now the +near-by cabin windows. One, with beautiful lace and glimpses of pink +beyond, caught his glance. + +"What can you do?" Sharply. + +"Oh, a lot of things!" Had the curtain waved? His heart thumped hard--he +scarcely saw the prince now. + +"Not manage a sail-boat, I'm convinced." He forced himself to turn +again, as through a mist was aware of his excellency's sneering +countenance. "Judging from your recent performance!" + +"That was hardly a fair test," Mr. Heatherbloom replied anyhow. His +thoughts were keyed to a straining-point; his glance _would_ swerve; he +strove his best to control it. She was there--there--Shrouds and stays +seemed to sing the words. He would have sworn he caught the flash of a +white wrist. + +"Why not?" Was the prince still examining, questioning him? Again a +primal impulse was suppressed, though his muscles were like whipcords. +He yet compelled himself to endure the ordeal. What was the query about? +Ah, he remembered. + +"Well, you see, I must have lost my head." It was not a bright answer +but he did not care; it was the best that occurred. + +The prince strode restlessly away a few paces, then returned. "Were you +ever at sea before?" + +"I once owned a y----" Mr. Heatherbloom paused--with an effort resumed +his part and a smile somewhat strained: "I once went on a cruise on a +gentleman's yacht." Some one _was_ in the state-room; was overhearing. +His head hummed; the refrain of the taut lines rang louder. + +"What as? Cabin-boy, cook?" + +"Why, you see--" The prince certainly did not see him--he was once more +staring away, over the dark water--"I acted in a good many capacities. +Kind of general utility, as it were. Doing this, that, and the other!" + +"'The other', I should surmise." Contemptuously. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved; the curtain had moved again. "Where are you +going?" he asked a little wildly. "You see I might have important +business on shore." Foolish talk,--yet it fitted in as well as anything. + +The prince, for his part, did not at first seem to catch the other's +words; when he did he laughed loudly, sardonically. "That is good; +excellent! _You_ have 'important business'!" + +"Yes; important," repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "I--" He got no further. +His eyes met another's at the window, rested a moment on a woman's face +which then suddenly vanished. But not before he realized that she, too, +had seen him--seen and recognized. He had caught in that fleeting +instant, wonder, irony, incredulity--a growing understanding! Then he +heard a soft laugh--a musical but devilish laugh--Sonia Turgeinov's! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES + +Mr. Heatherbloom stood as if stunned, his face very pale. For the +instant all his suppressed emotion concentrated on this woman--his evil +genius--who had betrayed him before and who would betray him again, now. +He waited, breathing hard. Why did she not appear? Why did not the blow +fall? He could not understand that interval--nothing happening. Was she +but playing with him? The prince had abruptly turned; apparently he had +not heard that very low laugh. Bored, no doubt, by the interview, he had +started to walk away, almost at the same time Mr. Heatherbloom had +caught sight of the face at the window. As in a dream Mr. Heatherbloom +now heard his excellency's brusk voice addressing a command to the +officer, listened to the latter a moment or two later, addressing him. + +"Come along!" The officer's English was labored and guttural. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes swung swiftly from the near-by door through +which he had momentarily expected the woman to emerge. Involuntarily he +would have stepped after the vanishing figure of the prince--what to do, +he knew not, when-- + +"_Non, non_," said the officer, intervening. "Hees excellenz dislikes to +be--importuned." The last word cost the speaker an effort; to the +listener it was hardly intelligible, but the officer's manner indicated +plainly his meaning. Mr. Heatherbloom managed to hold himself still; he +seemed standing in the center of a vortex. The prince had by this time +gone; the woman did not step forth. This lame and impotent conclusion +was out of all proportion to the seemingly inevitable. He could scarcely +realize it was he--actually he!--who, after another pause, followed the +officer, with scant interest, hardly any at all, to some inferno where +flames leaped and hissed. + +He could not but be aware of them, although the voice telling him that +he would remain here, make himself useful, and, incidentally, work his +way among the stokers, sounded very far off. He could have exclaimed +scoffingly after the disappearing officer, not anxious to linger any +longer than necessary here. Work his way, indeed! How long would he be +permitted to do so? When would he be again sent for, and dealt with--in +what manner? + +He shoveled coal feverishly though the irony of the task smote him, for +in feeding the insatiable beds, he was with his own hand helping to +furnish the energy that wafted her, he would have served, farther and +farther from the home land. Every additional mile put between that shore +and the boat, increased the prince's sense of power. He was working for +his excellency and against her. In a revulsion of feeling he leaned on +his shovel, whereupon a besooted giant of the lower regions tapped his +shoulder. This person--foreman of the gang--pointed significantly to the +inactive implement. His brow was low, brutish, and he had a fist like a +hammer. Mr. Heatherbloom lifted the shovel and looked at the low brow +but, fortunately, he did not act on the impulse. It was as if some +detaining angel reached down into those realms of Pluto and, at the +critical moment, laid a white hand where the big paw had touched him. + +The young man resumed his toil. After all, what did it matter?--some one +would shovel the stuff. That brief revolt had been spasmodic, +sentimental. Here where the heat was almost intolerable and the red +tongues sprang like forked daggers before dulled eyes, brutality and +hatred alone seemed to reign. The prince might be the prodigal, +free-handed gentleman to his officers; he was the slave-driver, by +proxy, to his stokers. He who dominated in that place of torment had +been an overseer from one of the villages the prince owned; these men +were the descendants of serfs. + +Once or twice Heatherbloom rather incoherently tried to engage one or +two of them in conversation, to learn where the yacht was going--to +Southern seas, across the Atlantic?--but they only stared at him as if +he were some strange being quite beyond their ken. So he desisted; of +course they could not understand him, and, of course, they knew nothing +he wished to know. In this prison a sense of motion and direction was as +naught. + +Fortunately Mr. Heatherbloom's muscles were in good condition and there +was not a superfluous ounce on him, but he needed all his energies to +escape the fist and the boot that day, to keep pace with the others. The +perspiration poured from his face in sooty rivulets; he knew if he gave +way what kind of consideration to expect. He was being tested. The +foreman's eyes, themselves, seemed full of sparks; there was something +tentative, expectant in their curious gleam as they rested on him. +Heatherbloom now could hardly keep to his feet; his own eyes burned. The +flames danced as if with a living hatred of him; in a semi-stupor he +almost forgot the sword, without, that swung over him, held but by a +thread that might be cut any instant. + +He could not have lasted many minutes more when relief came; sodden +sullen men took the places. Heatherbloom staggered out with his own +herd; he felt the need of food as well as rest. He groped his way +somewhere--into a dark close place; he found black-looking bread--or, +was it handed to him? He ate, threw himself down, thought of her!--then +ceased to think at all. The sword, his companions or specters no longer +existed for him. + +It may be some spiritual part of him during that physical coma, drew +from a supermundane source beatific drafts, for he awoke refreshed, his +mind clear, even alert. He gazed around; he, alone, moved. His +companions resembled so many bags of rags cast here and there; only the +snores, now diminuendo, then crescendo, dispelled the illusion. A +smoking lamp threw a paucity of light and a good deal of odor around +them. Was it night? The shadows played hide-and-seek in corners; there +was no sound of the sea. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved toward a door. His pulses seemed to throb in +rhythm with the engines whose strong pulsations shook those limp +unconscious forms. He opened the iron door and looked out. Only +blackness, relieved by a low-power electric light, met his gaze. He +crept from the place. + +Why did not some one rise up to detain him? Surely he was watched. He +experienced an uncanny sense of being allowed to proceed just so far, +when invisible fingers would pounce upon him, to hurl him back. The soot +still lay on his face; he had seen no bucket and water. At the mouth of +a tunnel-like aperture, he hesitated, but still no one sprang in front, +or glided up from behind to interfere with his progress. He went on; a +perpendicular iron ladder enabled him to reach an open space on the +deserted lower deck. Another ladder led to the upper deck. Could he +mount it and still escape detection? And in that case--to what end? + +A bell struck the hour. Nine o'clock! He counted the strokes. Much time +had, indeed, passed since leaving port. The yacht, he judged, should be +capable of sixteen knots. Where were they now? And where was she--in +what part of the boat had they confined the young girl? Come what might, +he would try to ascertain. Creeping softly up the second ladder, he +peered around. Still he saw no one. It was a dark night; a shadow lay +like a blanket on the sea. He felt for his revolver--they had not taken +it from him--- and started to make his way cautiously aft, when +something he saw brought him to an abrupt halt. + +A figure!--a woman's!--or a young girl's?--not far distant, looking +over the side. The form was barely discernible; he could but make out +the vague flutterings of a gown. Was it she whom he sought? How could he +find out? He dared not speak. She moved, and he realized he could not +let her go thus. It might be an opportunity--no doubt they would suffer +the young girl the freedom of the deck. It would be along the line of a +conciliatory policy on the prince's part to attempt to reassure her as +much as possible after the indignities' she had suffered. The watcher's +eyes strained. She was going. He half started forward--to risk all--to +speak. His lips formed a name but did not breathe it, for at that moment +the swaying of the boat had thrown a flicker of light on the face and +Mr. Heatherbloom drew back, the edge of his ardor dulled. + +The woman moved a few steps, this way and that; he heard the swish of +her skirts. Now they almost touched him, standing motionless where the +shadows were deepest, and at that near contact a blind anger swept over +him, against her--who held him in her power to eliminate, when she +would--When? What was her cue? But, of course, she must have spoken +already--it was inconceivable otherwise. Then why had the prince not +acted at once, summarily? His excellency was not one to hesitate about +drastic measures. Mr. Heatherbloom could not solve the riddle at all. He +could only crouch back farther now and wait. + +Through the gloom he divined a new swiftness in her step, a certain +sinuosity of movement that suddenly melted into immobility. A red spot +had appeared close by, burned now on blackness; it was followed by +another's footstep. A man, cigar in hand, joined her. + +"Ah, Prince!" she said. + +He muttered something Heatherbloom did not catch. + +"What?" she exclaimed lightly. "No better humored?" + +His answer was eloquent. A flicker of light he had moved toward revealed +his face, gallant, romantic enough in its happier moments, but now +distinctly unpleasant, with the stamp of ancestral Sybarites of the +Petersburg court shining through the cruelty and intolerance of +semi-Tartar forbears. + +The woman laughed. How the young man, listening, detested that musical +gurgle! "Patience, your Highness!" + +The red spark leaped in the air. "What have I been?" + +"That depends on the standpoint--yours, or hers," she returned in the +same tone. + +"It is always the same. She is--" The spark described swift angry +motions. + +"What would you--at first?" she retorted laughingly. "After all that +has taken place? _Mon Dieu_! You remember I advised you against this +madness--I told you in the beginning it might not all be like Watteau's +masterpiece--the divine embarkation!" + +"Bah!" he returned, as resenting her attitude. "You were ready enough +for your part." + +She shrugged. "_Eh bien?_ Our little Moscow theatrical company had come +to grief. New York--cruel monster!--did not want us. _C'en est fait de +nous_! Your Excellency met and recognized me as one you had once been +presented to at a merry party at the Hermitage in our beloved city of +churches. Would I play the _bon camarade_ in a little affair of the +heart, or should I say _une grande passion_? The honorarium offered was +enormous for a poor ill-treated player whose very soul was ready to sing +_De Profundis_. Did it tempt her--forlorn, downhearted--" + +She paused. Close by, the spark brightened, dimmed--brightened, dimmed! +Mr. Heatherbloom bent nearer. "At any rate, she was honest enough to +attempt to dissuade you--in vain! And then"--her voice changed--"since +you willed it so, she yielded. It sounded wild, impossible, the plan you +broached. Perhaps because it did seem so impossible it won over poor +Sonia Turgeinov--she who had thrown her cap over the windmills. There +would be excitement, fascination in playing such a thrilling part in +real life. Were you ever hungry, Prince?" She broke off. "What an absurd +question! What is more to the point, tell me it was all well done--the +device, or excuse, of substituting another motor-car for her own, the +mad flight far into the night, down the coast where save for that +mishap--But I met all difficulties, did I not? And, believe me, it was +not easy--to keep your little American inamorata concealed until the +_Nevski_ could be repaired and meet us elsewhere than we had originally +planned. _Dieu merci!_ I exclaimed last night when the little spitfire +was brought safely aboard." Mr. Heatherbloom breathed quickly. Betty +Dalrymple, then, had been with the woman in the big automobile-- + +"Why don't you praise me?" the woman went on. "Tell me I well earned +the _douceur_? Although"--her accents were faintly scoffing--"I never +dreamed _you_ would not afterward be able to--" Her words leaped into a +new channel. "What can the child want? _Est-ce-qu'elle aime un autre_? +That might explain--" + +An expletive smacking more of Montmartre than of the Boulevard +Capucines, fell from the nobleman's lips. He brushed the ash fiercely +from his cigar. "It is not so--it won't explain anything," he returned +violently. "Didn't I once have it from her own lips that, at least, she +was not--" He stopped. "_Mon Dieu!_ That contingency--" + +Suddenly she again laughed. "Delicious!" + +"What?" + +"Nothing. My own thoughts. By the way, what has become of the man we +picked up from the sail-boat?" + +The prince made a gesture. "He's down below--among the stokers. Why do +you ask?" + +"It is natural, I suppose, to take a faint interest in a poor fisherman +you've almost drowned." + +"Not I!" Brutally. + +"No?" A smile, enigmatical, played around her lips. "How droll!" + +"Droll?" + +"Heartless, then. But you great nobles are that, a little, eh, _mon +ami_?" + +He shrugged and returned quickly to that other more interesting subject. + +"_Elle va m'epouser!_" he exclaimed violently. "I will stake my life on +it. She will; she must!" + +"Must!" The woman raised her hand. "You say that to an American girl?" + +"We're not at the finis yet!" An ugly crispness was manifest in his +tones. "There are ports and priests a-plenty, and this voyage is apt to +be a long one, unless she consents--" + +"Charming man!" She spoke almost absently now. + +"Haven't I anything to offer? _Diable_! One would think I was a beggar, +not--am I ill-looking, repugnant? Your sex," with a suspicion of a +sneer, "have not always found me so. I have given my heart before, you +will say! But never as now! For she is a witch, like those that come out +of the reeds on the Volga--to steal, alike, the souls of fisherman and +prince." He paused; then went on moodily. "I suppose I should have +gone--allowed myself to be dismissed as a boy from school. 'I have +played with you; you have amused me; you no longer do so. Adieu!' So she +would have said to me, if not in words, by implication. No, _merci_," he +broke off angrily. "_Tant s'en faut_! I, too, shall have something to +say--and soon--to-night--!" + +He made a swift gesture, threw his cigar into the sea and walked off. + +"How tiresome!" But the words fell from the woman's lips uneasily. She +stretched her lithe form and looked up into the night. Then she, too, +disappeared. Mr. Heatherbloom stood motionless. She knew who he was and +yet she had not revealed his secret to the prince. Because she deemed +him but a pawn, paltry, inconsequential? Because she wished to save the +hot-headed nobleman from committing a deed of violence--a crime, +even--if he should learn? + +The reason mattered little. In Mr. Heatherbloom's mind his excellency's +last words--all they portended--excluded now consideration of all else. +He gazed uncertainly in the direction the nobleman had gone; suddenly +started to follow, stealthily, cautiously, when another person +approached. Mr. Heatherbloom would have drawn back, but it was too +late--he was seen. His absence from the stokers' quarters had been +discovered; after searching for him below and not finding him, the giant +foreman had come up here to look around. He was swinging his long arms +and muttering angrily when he caught sight of his delinquent helper. The +man uttered a low hoarse sound that augured ill for Mr. Heatherbloom. +The latter knew what he had to expect--that no mercy would be shown him. +He stepped swiftly backward, at the same time looking about for +something with which to defend himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +THE DESPOT + +Prince Boris, upon leaving Sonia Turgeinov, ascended to the officers' +deck. For some moments he paced the narrow confines between the +life-boats, then stepped into the wheel-house. + +"How is she headed?" + +An officer standing near the man at the helm, answered in French. + +"This should bring us to"--the nobleman mentioned a group of +islands--"by to-morrow night?" + +"Hardly, Excellency." + +The prince stared moodily. "Have you sighted any other vessels?" + +"One or two sailing-craft that have paid no attention to us. The only +boat that seemed interested since we left port was the little naphtha." + +The nobleman stood as if he had not heard this last remark. About to +move away, he suddenly lifted his head and listened. "What was that?" he +said sharply. + +"What, your Highness?" + +"I thought I heard a sound like a cry." + +"I heard nothing, Excellency. No doubt it was but the wind--it is loud +here." + +"No doubt." A moment the nobleman continued to listen, then his +attention relaxed. + +"Shall I come to your excellency later for orders?" said the officer as +the prince made as if to turn away. + +"It will not be necessary. If I have any I can 'phone from the cabin--I +do not wish to be disturbed," he added and left. + +"His excellency seems in rather an odd mood to-night," the officer, +gazing after, muttered. "Nothing would surprise me--even if he commanded +us to head for the pole next. Eh, Fedor?" The man at the helm made +answer, moving the spokes mechanically. Nor' west, or sou' east--it was +all one to him. + +Prince Boris walked back; before a little cabin that stood out like an +afterthought, he again paused. + +Click! click! The wireless! His excellency, stepping nearer, peered +through a window in upon the operator, a slender young man--French. A +message was being received. Who were they that thus dared span space to +reach out toward him? _Ei! ei_! "The devil has long arms." He recalled +this saying of the Siberian priests and the mad Cossack answer: +"Therefore let us ride fast!" The swaying of the yacht was like the +rhythmic motion of his Arab through the long grass beyond the Dnieper, +in that wild land where conventionality and laws were as naught. + +He saw the operator now lean forward to write. The apparatus, which had +become silent again, spoke; the words came now fast, then slow. Flame of +flames! What an instrument that harnessed the sparks, chased destiny +itself with them! They crackled like whips. The operator threw down his +pen. + +"Excellency!" He almost ran into the tall motionless figure. "Pardon! A +message--they want to establish communication with the _Nevski_--to +learn if we picked up a man from--" + +"Have I not told you to receive all messages but to establish +communication with no one? _Mon Dieu_! If I thought--" + +"Your excellency, can depend upon me," Francois protested. "Did not my +father serve your illustrious mother, the Princess Alix, all his life at +her palace at Biarritz? Did not--" + +The prince made a gesture. "I can depend upon you because it is to your +advantage to serve me well," he said dryly. "Also, because if you +didn't--" He left the sentence unfinished but Francois understood; in +that part of the Czar's kingdom where the prince came from, life was +held cheap. Besides, the lad had heard tales from his father--a +garrulous Gascon--of his excellency's temper--those mad outbursts even +when a child. There was a trace of the fierce, or half-insane +temperament of the great Ivan in the uncontrollable Strogareff line, so +the story went. Francois returned to his instrument; his excellency's +look swept beyond. He heard now only the sound of the sea--restless, in +unending tumult. The wind blew colder and he went below. + +But not to rest! He was in no mood for that. What then? He hesitated, at +war with himself. "Patience! patience!" What fool advice from Sonia +Turgeinov! He helped himself liberally from a decanter on a Louis Quinze +sideboard in the beautiful _salle à manger_. The soft lights revealed +him, and him only, a solitary figure in that luxurious place--master of +all he surveyed but not master of his own thoughts. He could order his +men, but he could not order that invisible host. They made him their +servant. He took a few steps back and forth; then suddenly encountered +his own image reflected in a mirror. + +"Boris, the superb"; "a tartar toreador of hearts"; "Prince of roubles +and kopecs"! So they had jestingly called him in his own warm-cold +capital of the north, or in that merry-holy city of four hundred +churches. His glance now swept toward a distant door. "Faint heart ne'er +won--" + +Had he a faint heart? In the past--no! Why, then, now? The passionate +lines of the poets sang in his ears--rhythms to the "little dove", the +"peerless white flower"! He passed a big hand across his brow. His +heart-beats were like the galloping hoofs of a horse, bearing him +whither? Gold of her hair, violet of her eyes! Whither? The raving mad +poets! Wine seemed running in his blood; he moved toward the distant +door. + +It was locked--of course! For the moment he had forgotten. Thrusting his +hand into his pocket, he drew out a key and unsteadily fitted it. But +before turning it he stood an instant listening. No sound! Should he +wait until the morrow? Prudence dictated that course; precipitancy, +however, drove him on. Now, as well as ever! Better have an +understanding! She would have to accede to his plans, anyway--and the +sooner, the better. He had burned his bridges; there was no drawing back +now-- + +He turned slowly the knob, applied a sudden pressure to the door and +entered. + +A girl looked up and saw him. It was a superbly decorated salon he had +invaded. Soft-hued rugs were on the floor and draperies of cloth of gold +veiled the shadows. Betty Dalrymple had been standing at a window, +gazing out at night--only night--or the white glimmer from an electric +light that frosting the rail, made the dark darker. She appeared neither +surprised nor perturbed at the appearance of the nobleman--doubtlessly +she had been expecting that intrusion. He stopped short, his dark eyes +gleaming. It was enough for the moment just to look at her. Place and +circumstance seemed forgotten; the spirit of an old ancestor--one of the +great khans--looked out in his gaze. Passion and anger alternated on his +features; when she regarded him like that he longed to crush her to him; +instead, now, he continued to stand motionless. + +"Pardon me," he could say it with a faint smile. Then threw out a hand. +"Ah, you are beautiful!" All that was oriental in him seemed to vibrate +in the words. + +Betty Dalrymple's answer was calculated to dispel illusion and glamour. +"Don't you think we can dispense with superfluous words?" Her voice was +as ice. "Under the circumstances," she added, full mistress of herself. + +His glance wavered, again concentrated on her, slender, warm-hued as an +houri in the ivory and gold palace of one of the old khans--but an houri +with disconcerting straightness of gaze, and crisp matter-of-fact +directness of utterance. "You are cruel; you have always been," he said. +"I offer you all--everything--my life, and you--" + +"More superfluous words," said Betty Dalrymple in the same tone, the +flash of her eyes meeting the darkening gleam of his. "Put me ashore, +and as soon as may be. This farce has gone far enough." + +"Farce?" he repeated. + +"You have only succeeded in making yourself absurd and in placing me in +a ridiculous position. Put me ashore and--" + +"Ask of me the possible--the humanly possible--" He moved slightly +nearer; her figure swayed from him. + +"You are mad--mad--" + +"Granted!" he said. "A Russian in love is always a madman. But it was +you who--" + +"Don't!" she returned. "It is like a play--" The red lips curved. + +He looked at them and breathed harder. Her words kindled anew the flame +in his breast. "A play? That is what it has been for you. A mild comedy +of flirtation!" The girl flushed hotly. "Deny it if you can--that you +didn't flirt, as you Americans call it, outrageously." + +An instant Betty Dalrymple bit her lip but she returned his gaze +steadily enough. "The adjective is somewhat strong. Perhaps I might have +done what you say, a little bit--for which," with an accent of +self-scorn, "I am sorry, as I have already told you." + +He brought together his hands. "Was it just a 'little bit' when at +Homburg you danced with me nearly every time at the grand duchess' ball? +_Sapristi_! I have not forgotten. Was it only a 'little bit' when you +let me ride with you at Pau--those wild steeplechases!--or permitted +me to follow you to Madrid, Nice, elsewhere?--wherever caprice took +you?" + +"I asked you not to--" + +"But with a sparkle in your eyes--a challenge--" + +"I knew you for a nobleman; I thought you a gentleman," said Betty +Dalrymple spiritedly. + +Prince Boris made a savage gesture. "You thought--" He broke off. "I +will tell you what you thought: That after amusing yourself with me you +could say, _'Va-t-en!'_ with a wave of the hand. As if I were a clod +like those we once had under us! American girls would make serfs of +their admirers. Their men," contemptuously, "are fools where their women +are concerned. You dismiss them; they walk away meekly. Another comes. +_Voila!_" He snapped his fingers. "The game goes on." + +A spark appeared in her eyes. "Don't you think you are slightly +insulting?" she asked in a low tense tone. + +"Is it not the truth? And more"--with a harsh laugh--"I am even told +that in your wonderful country the rejected suitor--_mon Dieu!_--often +acts as best man at the wedding--that the body-guard on the holy +occasion may be composed of a sad but sentimental phalanx from the army +of the refused. But with us Russians these matters are different. We can +not thus lightly control affairs of the heart; they control us, +and--those who flirt, as you call it, must pay. The code of our honor +demands it--" + +"Your honor?" It was Betty Dalrymple who laughed now. + +"You find that--me--very diverting?" slowly. "But you will learn this is +no jest." + +She disdained to answer and started toward a side door. + +"No," he said, stepping between her and the threshold. + +"Be good enough!" Miss Dalrymple's voice sounded imperiously; her eyes +flashed. + +"One moment!" He was fast losing self-control. "You hold yourself from +me--refuse to listen to me. Why? Do you know what I think?" Vehemently. +The words of Sonia Turgeinov--"_Est ce qu'elle aime un autre_?"--flamed +through his mind. "That there is some one else; that there always was. +And that is the reason you were so gay--so very gay. You sought to +forget--" + +A change came over Betty Dalrymple's face; she seemed to grow whiter--to +become like ice-- + +"You let me think there wasn't any one; but there was. That story of +some one out west?--you laughed it away as idle gossip. And I believed +you then--but not now. Who is he--this American?" With a half-sneer. + +"There is no one!--there never has been!" said the girl with sudden +passion, almost wildly. "I told you the truth." + +"Ah," said Prince Boris. "You speak with feeling. When a woman denies in +a voice like that--" + +"Let me by!" The violet eyes were black now. + +"Not yet!" He studied her--the cheeks aflame like roses. "He shall never +have you, that some one--I will meet him and kill him first--I swear +it--" + +"Let me by!" + +"_Carissima!_ Your eyes are like stars--the stars that look down on one +alone on the wild steppe. Your lips are red flowers--poppies to lure to +destruction. They are cruel, but the more beautiful--" + +He suddenly reached out, took her in his arms. + +The cry on her lips was stifled as his sought and almost touched them. +At the same moment the door of the cabin, by which the prince had +entered, was abruptly thrown open. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +THE PRINCE IS PUZZLED + +His excellency turned. The intruder's eyes were bloodshot from the glare +of the furnaces, his face black, unrecognizable, from the soot. "What +the dev--" began the nobleman, as if doubting the evidence of his +senses. + +He must have relaxed his hold, for the girl tore herself loose. She did +not pause, but running swiftly to the inner door she had just turned +toward, she hastily closed and locked it behind her. As she disappeared +Mr. Heatherbloom stopped an instant to gaze after her; but the prince, +with sagging jaw and amazement in his eyes, continued to regard only +him. + +"Who the--" he began again furiously. + +The intruder's reply was a silent one. His excellency would have stepped +back but it was too late. Mr. Heatherbloom's fist struck him fairly on +the forehead. Behind the blow was the full impetus of the lithe form +fairly launched across the spacious cabin. The prince went down, +striking hard. + +But he was up in a moment and, mad with rage, made a rush. The other, +quick, agile, evaded him. The prince's muscles had lost some of their +hardness from high living and he was, moreover, unversed in the great +Anglo-American pastime. He strove to seize his aggressor, to strangle +him, but his fingers failed to grip what they sought. At the same time +Mr. Heatherbloom's arms shot up, down and around, with marvelous +precision, seeking and finding the vulnerable spots. The prince soon +realized he was being badly punished and the knowledge did not serve to +improve his temper. Had he only been able to get hold of his opponent he +could have crushed him with his superior weight. A stationary table, +however, in the center of the room assisted Mr. Heatherbloom in eluding +the wild dashes, the while he continued to lunge and dodge in a most +businesslike manner. + +Panting, the prince had, at length, to pause. His face revealed several +marks of the contest and the sight did not seem displeasing to Mr. +Heatherbloom. A quiet smile strained his lips; a cold satisfaction shone +in the bloodshot eyes. + +"Come on," he said, stepping a little from the table. + +The prince did not respond to the invitation. His dazed mind was working +now. Through bruised lids he regarded the soot-masked intruder--a +nihilist, no doubt! His excellency had had one or two experiences with +members of secret societies in the past. There was a nest of them in New +Jersey. Though how one of them could have managed to get aboard the +_Nevski_, he had no time just then to figure out. The nobleman looked +over his shoulder toward a press-button. + +"Come on!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom softly. + +The nobleman sprang, instead, the other way, but he did not reach what +he sought. Mr. Heatherbloom's arm described an arc; the application +was made with expert skill and effectiveness. His excellency swayed, +relaxed, and, this time, remained where he fell. Mr. Heatherbloom locked +the door leading into the dining _salle_--the other, opening upon the +deck, he had already tried and found fastened--and drew closer the +draperies before the windows. Then returning to the prince, he prodded +gently the prostrate figure. + +"Get up!" His excellency moved, then staggered with difficulty to his +feet and gazed around. "You'll be able to think all right in a moment," +said Heatherbloom. "Sit down. Only," in crisp tones, "I wouldn't move +from the chair if I were you. Because--" His excellency understood; +something bright gleamed close. + +"Are you going to murder me?" he breathed hoarsely. His excellency's +cousin--a grand duke--had been assassinated in Russia. + +"I wouldn't call it that." The prince made a movement. "Sit still." The +cold object pressed against the nobleman's temples. "If ever a scoundrel +deserved death, it is you." + +Plain talk! The prince could scarcely believe he heard aright; yet the +thrill of that icy touch on his forehead was real. His dark face showed +growing pallor. One may be brave--heroic even, but one does not like to +die like a dog, to be struck down by a miserable unclean +terrorist--hardly, from his standpoint, a human being--unfortunately, +however, something that must be dealt with--not at first, under these +circumstances, with force--but afterward! Ah, then? The prince's eyes +seemed to grow smaller, to gleam with Tartar cunning. + +"What do you want?" he said. + +"Several things." Mr. Heatherbloom's own eyes were keen as darts. +"First, you will give orders that the _Nevski_ is to change her +course--to head for the nearest American port." + +"Impossible!" the prince exclaimed violently. + +"On the contrary, it is quite possible. We have the fuel, as I can +testify." + +His excellency's thoughts ran riot; it was difficult to collect them, +with that aching head. The fellow must be crazy; people of his class +usually are, more or less, though they generally displayed a certain +method in their madness, while this one-- + +"I must remind your excellency that time is of every importance to me," +murmured Mr. Heatherbloom. "Hence, you will do what I ask, _at once_, +or--" + +"Very well." His excellency spoke quickly--too quickly. "I'll give the +order." And, rising, he started toward the door. + +"Stop!" + +The prince did. Venom and apprehension mingled in his look. Mr. +Heatherbloom made a gesture. "You will give the order; but here--and as +I direct." His voice was cold as the gleaming barrel. "That 'phone," +indicating one on the wall, "connects with the bridge, of course. Don't +deny. It will be useless." + +His excellency didn't deny; he had a suspicion of what was coming. + +"You will call up the officer in command on the bridge and give him the +order to make at once for the nearest American port. You will ask him +how far it is and how soon we can get there? Beyond that, you will say +nothing, make no explanations, or utter a single superfluous word." + +"Very well." The prince, seemingly acquiescent, but with a dangerous +glitter in his eyes, moved toward the telephone. + +"One moment!" + +The nobleman stopped with his hand near a receiver. His fingers +trembled. + +"You will speak in French. A syllable of Russian, just one, and--" Mr. +Heatherbloom's expression left no doubt as to his meaning. + +"Dog!" His excellency's swollen face became the hue of paper. An instant +he seemed about to spring--then managed to control himself. "But why +should I not speak in Russian? My officers know no French." + +"A lie! Nearly all Russian officers speak French. I happen to know yours +do." A newspaper article had made the statement and he did not doubt it. +"Anyhow, you give the order in French and we'll see what happens." + +The blood surged in the nobleman's face. The fierce desire to avenge +himself at once on this man who threw the lie at him--august, +illustrious--mingled, however, with yet another feeling--one of +bewilderment. The fellow had spoken these last words in French, and +choice French at that. His accents had all the elegance of the Faubourg +Saint Germain. + +"Quick!" The decision in the intruder's manner was unmistakable. "I have +wasted all the time I intend to. My finger trembles on the trigger." + +The prince, perforce, _was_ quick. The telephone of foreign design, had +two receivers. His excellency took one. Mr. Heatherbloom reached for the +other and held it to his ear with his left hand. His right, holding the +weapon, was behind the prince, as the latter poignantly realized. +Ill-suppressed rage made his excellency's tones now slightly wavering: + +"Are you there, M. le Capitaine?" + +"Steady!" Mr. Heatherbloom whispered warningly in his excellency's free +ear, emphasizing the caution with a significant pressure from his right +hand. At the same time he caught the answer from afar--a deferential +voice: + +"_Oui,_ Excellence." There was, fortunately, on the wires a singing +sound that would serve to drown evidences of emotion in the nobleman's +tone. "Excellence wishes to speak with me?" went on the distant voice. + +"I do." The prince breathed fast--paused. "You will change the boat's +course, and--" He spoke with difficulty. A warmer breath fanned his +cheek; he felt a sensation like ice on the back of his neck. "Make for +the nearest American port. How far is it?" Mr. Heatherbloom's prompting +whisper was audible only to his excellency. + +"Five hours," came over the wire. + +Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a thrill of satisfaction. They were nearer +the coast than he had supposed. He knew the yacht had been taking a +southerly course; he had considered that when the bold idea came to act +as he was doing. Possibly the prince had been driven out of the last +port by the publicity attendant upon Mr. Heatherbloom's presence there, +before certain needed repairs had been completed. These, Mr. +Heatherbloom now surmised, it was his excellency's intention to have +attended to in some island harbor before proceeding with a longer +voyage. + +Only five hours! + +"Good-by!" now burst from the nobleman so violently that Mr. +Heatherbloom's momentary exultation changed to a feeling of +apprehension. But M. le Capitaine had evidently become accustomed to +occasional explosive moments from his august patron. He concerned +himself only with the command, not the manner in which it was given. + +"Eh? _Mon Dieu_! Do I hear your excellency aright?" His accents +expressed surprise, but not of an immoderate nature. He, no doubt, +received many arbitrary and unexpected orders when his excellency went +a-cruising. + +"Repeat the order." Heatherbloom's whisper seemed fairly to sting the +nobleman's disengaged ear. + +The latter did repeat--savagely--jerkily, but the humming wires tempered +the tones. M. le Capitaine understood fully; he said as much; his +excellency should be obeyed--Mr. Heatherbloom pushed the nobleman's head +abruptly aside, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. Perhaps he +divined that irresistible malediction about to fall from his +excellency's lips. + +"Hang it up," he said. + +The nobleman's breath was labored but he placed his receiver where it +belonged; Mr. Heatherbloom did likewise. Both now stepped back. Upon the +prince's brow stood drops of perspiration. The yacht had already slowed +up and was turning. His excellency listened. + +"May I ask how much longer you are desirous of my company here?" + +"Oh, yes; you may ask." + +The boat had begun to quiver again; she was going at full speed once +more. Only now she headed directly for the land Mr. Heatherbloom wished +to see. Five hours to an American port! Then? He glanced toward the door +through which the girl had disappeared. Since that moment he had caught +no sound from her. Had she heard, did she know anything of what was +happening--that the yacht was now turned homeward? He dared not linger +on the thought. The prince was watching him with eyes that seemed to +dilate and contract. A moment's carelessness, the briefest cessation of +watchfulness would be at once seized upon by his excellency, enabling +him to shift the advantage. The young man met that expectant gleam. + +"Sorry to seem officious, but if your excellency will sit down once +more? Not here--over there!" Indicating a stationary arm-chair before a +desk in a recess of the room. + +The prince obeyed; he had no alternative. The fellow must, of course, be +a madman, the prince reiterated in his own mind unless-- + +"I told your excellency I had no wish for a long sea voyage." A mocking +voice now made itself heard. + +The nobleman started, and looked closer; a mist seemed to fall from +before his gaze. He recognized the fellow now--the man they had run +down. The shock of that terrible experience, the strain of the +disaster, had turned the fellow's brain. That would explain +everything--this extraordinary occurrence. There was nothing to do but +to humor him for the moment, though it was awkward--devilish!--or might +soon be!--if this game should be continued much longer. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glided silently toward the hangings near the alcove. +What now?--the prince asked with his eyes. Mr. Heatherbloom unloosened +from a brass holder a silk cord as thick as his thumb. + +"If your excellency will permit me--" He stepped to the prince's side. + +That person regarded the cord, strong as hemp. + +"What do you mean?" burst from him. + +"It is quite apparent." + +An oath escaped the prince's throat; regardless of consequences, he +sprang to his feet. "Never!" + +A desperate determination gleamed in his eyes. This crowning outrage! +He, a nobleman!--to suffer himself to be bound ignominiously by some +low _polisson_ of a raffish mushroom country! It was inconceivable. +"_Jamais!_" he repeated. + +"Ah, well!" said Mr. Heatherbloom resignedly. "Nevertheless, I shall +make the attempt to do what I propose, and if you resist--" + +"You will assassinate me?" stammered the nobleman. + +"We won't discuss how the law might characterize the act. Only," the +words came quickly, "don't waste vain hopes that I won't assassinate +you, if it is necessary. I never waste powder, either--can clip a coin +every time. One of my few accomplishments." Enigmatically. "And"--as the +prince hesitated one breathless second--"I can get you straight, first +shot, sure!" + +His excellency believed him. He had heard how in this bizarre America a +single man sometimes "held up" an entire train out west and had his own +sweet way with engineer, conductor and passengers. This madman, on the +slightest provocation now, was evidently prepared to emulate that +extraordinary and undesirable type. What might he not do, or attempt to +do? The nobleman's figure relaxed slightly, his lips twitched. Then he +sank back once more into the strong solid chair at the desk. + +"Good," said Mr. Heatherbloom. A cold smile like a faint ripple on a +mountain lake swept his lips. "Now we shall get on faster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +THE COUP + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with fingers deft as a sailor's, secured the prince. +The single silken band did not suffice; other cords, diverted from the +ornamental to a like practical purpose, were wound around and around his +excellency's legs and arms, holding him so tightly to the chair he could +scarcely move. Having completed this task, Mr. Heatherbloom next, with +vandal hands, whipped from the wall a bit of priceless embroidery, threw +it over the nobleman's head and, in spite of sundry frenzied objections, +effectually gagged him. Then drawing the heavy curtains so that they +almost concealed the bound figure in the dim recess, the young man +stepped once more out into the salon. + +How still it suddenly seemed! His glance swept toward the door through +which the young girl had vanished. Why had he heard no sound from her? +Why did she not appear now? She must have caught something of what had +been going on. He went swiftly to the door. + +"Miss Dalrymple!" + +No answer. He rapped again--louder--then tried the door. It resisted; he +shook it. + +"Betty!" Yes; he called her that in the alarm and excitement of the +moment. "It's--it's all right. Open the door." + +Again that hush--nothing more. Mr. Heatherbloom pulled rather wildly at +the lock of hair over his brow; then a sudden frenzy seemed to seize +him. He launched himself forward and struck fairly with his +shoulder--once--twice. The door, at length, yielded with a crash. He +rushed in--fell to his knees. + +"Betty! Oh, Betty!" For the moment he stared helplessly at the +motionless form on the floor, then, lifting the girl in his arms, he +laid her on a couch. One little white hand swung limp; he seized it with +grimy fingers. It was oddly cold, and a shiver went over him. He felt +for her pulse--her heart--at first caught no answering throb, for his +own heart was beating so wildly. The world seemed to swim--then he +straightened. The filmy dress, not so white now in spots, had fluttered +beneath her throat. He gazed rapturously. + +"It'll be all right," he said again. "Darling!" + +He could say it now, when she couldn't hear. "Darling! Darling!" he +repeated. It constituted his vocabulary of terms of endearment. He felt +the need of no other. She lay like a lily. He saw nothing anomalous in +certain stains of soot, even on the wonderful face where his had +unconsciously touched it when he had raised her and strained her to him +one mad instant in his arms. In fact, he did not see those stains; his +eyes were closed to such details--and the crimson marks, too, on her +gown! His knuckles were bleeding; he was unaware of it. He was not, +outwardly, a very presentable adorer but he became suddenly a most +daring one. His grimy hand touched the shining hair, half-unbound; he +raised one of the marvelous tresses--his hungry lips swept it +lightly--or did he but breathe a divine fragrance? By some inner process +his spirit seemed to have come that instant very near to hers. He forgot +where he was; time and space were annihilated. + +He was brought abruptly back to the living present by a sudden knock at +the door without, which he had locked after entering that way from the +deck. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; the person, whoever he was, on +receiving no response, soon went away. Had they discovered what had +happened to the foreman of the stokers whom Heatherbloom had struck down +with a heavy iron belaying-pin? The man had attacked him with murderous +intent. In defending himself, Heatherbloom believed he had killed the +fellow. The chance blow he had delivered with the formidable weapon had +been one of desperation and despair. It had been more than a question of +his life or the other's. Her fate had been involved in that critical +moment. He had dragged the unconscious figure to the shadows behind a +life-boat. They would not be likely to stumble across the incriminating +evidence while it was dark. Nor was it likely that the foreman's absence +below would cause the men to look for him. The overworked stokers would +be but too pleased to escape, for a spell, their tyrannous master. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing near the threshold of the dressing-room, +glanced now toward the little French clock without. Over four hours yet +to port! How slowly time went. He turned out all the lights, save one +shaded lamp of low candle-power in the cabin; then he did the same in +the room where the girl was. No one must peer in on him from unexpected +places. He looked up, and saw that the skylights were covered with +canvas. Mr. Heatherbloom remained in the salon; he needed to continue +master of his thoughts. In the dressing-room he had just now forgotten +himself. That would not do; he must concentrate all his faculties, every +energy, to bringing this coup, born on the inspiration of the moment, +to a successful conclusion. Desperate as his plan was, he believed now +he would win out. By the vibrations he knew the boat was still steaming +full speed on her new course. The conditions were all favorable. They +would reach port before dawn; at break of day the health officers would +come aboard. And after that-- + +The telephone suddenly rang. Should he answer that imperious summons? +Perhaps the man who had just knocked at the door had been one of the +officers, or the captain himself, come in person to speak with his +excellency about the unexpected change in the boat's course, or some +technical question or difficulty that might have arisen in consequence +thereof. + +He looked toward the recess; between the curtains he caught sight of the +prince's eyes and in the dim light he fancied they shone with sudden +hope--expectancy. The nobleman must have heard the crashing of the door +to the dressing-room. What he had thought was of no moment. A viperish +fervor replaced that other brief expression in his excellency's gaze. + +Once more that metallic call--harsh, loud, as not to be denied! Mr. +Heatherbloom made up his mind; perhaps all depended on his decision; he +would answer. Stepping across the salon, he took down the receivers. The +singing on the wires had been pronounced; he could imitate the prince's +autocratic tones, and the person at the other end would not discover, in +all likelihood, the deception. + +"Well?" said Mr. Heatherbloom loudly, in French. "What do you want? +Haven't I given orders not to be--" + +His voice died away; he nearly dropped the receivers. A woman answered. +Moreover, the wires did not seem to "sing" so much now. Sonia +Turgeinov's tones were transmitted in all their intrinsic, flute-like +lucidity. + +"What has happened, your Excellency?" she asked anxiously. + +"Happened?" the young man managed to say. "Nothing." + +"Then why has the yacht's course been changed? I can tell by the stars +from my cabin window that we are not headed at all in the same direction +we were going--" + +He tried to speak unconcernedly: "Just changed for a short time on +account of some reefs and the currents! Go to sleep," he commanded, "and +leave the problems of navigation to others." + +"Sleep? _Mon Dieu_! If I only could--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom dared talk no more, so rang off. The prince might have +been capable of such bruskness. Sonia Turgeinov had not seemed to +suspect anything wrong; she had merely been inquisitive, and had taken +it for granted the nobleman was at the other end of the wire. Mr. +Heatherbloom strode restlessly to and fro. Seconds went by--minutes. He +counted the tickings of the clock--suddenly wheeled sharply. + + * * * * * + +The young girl stood in the doorway--he had heard and now saw her. She +came forward quickly, though uncertainly; in the dim light she looked +like a shadow. He drew in his breath. + +"Miss--" he began, then stopped. + +Her gaze rested on him, almost indistinguishable on the other side of +the salon. + +"What does it mean? Who are you?" She spoke intrepidly enough but he saw +her slender form sway. + +Who was he? About to explain in a rush of words, Mr. Heatherbloom +hesitated. To her he had been, of course, but a conspirator of the +Russian woman in the affair. Miss Van Rolsen had deemed him culpable; +the detective had been sure of it. Would Miss Dalrymple think more +leniently of him than mere unprejudiced people, those who knew less of +him than she? His very presence on the yacht, although somewhat +inexplicably complicated in recent occurrences, was _per se_ a primal +damning circumstance. But she spared him the necessity of answering. She +divined now from his blackened features what his position on the yacht +must be. He was only a poor stoker, but-- + +"You are a brave fellow," cried Betty Dalrymple, "and I'll not forget +it. You interfered--I remember--" + +"A brave fellow!" It was well he had not betrayed himself. Let her think +that of him, for the moment. A poignant mockery lent pain to the thrill +of her words. + +"You rushed in, struck him. What then?" + +"He won't play the bully and scoundrel again for some time!" burst from +Mr. Heatherbloom. His tones were impetuous; once more he seemed to see +what he had seen during those last moments on the deck--when he had been +unable to restrain himself longer--and had yielded to a single +hot-blooded impulse. "The big brute!" he muttered. + +She seemed to regard him in slight surprise. "Where is he? What has +become of him?" + +"He is safe--" + +"You mean you conquered him, beat him--you?" Her voice thrilled. + +"You bet I did," said Mr. Heatherbloom with the least evidence of +incoherency. Her words had been verbal champagne to him. "I gave him +the dandiest best licking--" He stopped. Perhaps he realized that his +explanation was beginning to seem slightly tinged with too great +evidence of personal satisfaction if not boastfulness. "You see I had a +gun," he murmured rather apologetically. + +"But," said the girl, coming nearer, "I don't understand." + +He started to meet that advance, then backed away a little. "I've got +him safe, where he can't move, or bother you any more." Mr. Heatherbloom +glanced over his shoulder; but he did not tell her where he "had him". +"And the yacht's going back to the nearest American port," he couldn't +help adding, impetuously, to reassure her. + +"Going back? Impossible!" Wonder, incredulity were in her voice. + +"It's true as shooting, Bet--" + +She was too bewildered to notice that slight slip of the tongue. "It's a +fact, miss," he added more gruffly. + +"But how?" Her tones betrayed reticence in crediting the miracle. Yet +this blackened figure must have prevailed over the prince or the latter +would not have so mysteriously disappeared. "How did it happen?" + +"Well, you see I just happened around." + +"You, a stoker?" + +Stokers, he was reminded by her tone, did not usually "happen around" on +decks of palatial private yachts. He must seek a different, more +definite explanation. He thought he saw a way; he could let her know +part of the truth. "The fact is, I was looking for this boat at the last +port she stopped at. I had cause to think you would be on her. Couldn't +stop the yacht from going to sea, for reasons too numerous to mention, +so I just slipped out and came aboard in a kind of disguise--" + +"A disguise? Then you are a detective?" + +"I think I may truthfully say I am, but in a sort of private capacity. +When a really important case occurs, it interests me. Now this was an +important case, and--and it interested me." He hardly knew what he was +saying, her eyes were so insistent. Betty Dalrymple had always had the +most disconcerting eyes. "Because, you see, your--your aunt was so +anxious--and"--with a flash of inspiration--"the reward was a big one." + +"The reward? Of course." Her voice died away. "You hoped to get it. That +is the reason--" + +He let his silence answer in the affirmative; he felt relieved now. She +had not recognized him--yet. In the recess behind the draperies the +chair in which his excellency was bound, creaked. Was he struggling to +release himself? Mr. Heatherbloom had faith in the knots and the silken +cords. The girl turned her head. + +"Don't you think it would be better"--he spoke quickly--"for you to +return to your cabin? I'll let you know when I want you and--" + +"But if I prefer to stay here? May I not turn on the lights?" + +"Not for worlds!" Hastily. "It is necessary they should not see me. If +they did--" + +He was obliged to explain a little of the real situation to her; of the +stratagem he had employed. This he did in few words. She listened +eagerly. The mantle of the commonplace, which to her eyes had fallen a +few moments before on his shoulders, became at least partly withdrawn. +She divined the great hazard, the danger he had faced--was facing now. +Detective or not, it had been daringly done. Her voice, with a warm +thrill in it, said as much. Her eyes shone like stars. She came of a +live virile stock, from men and women who had done things themselves. + +"If only I, too, had a weapon!" she said, leaning toward him. "In case +they should discover--" + +"No, no. It wouldn't do at all." + +"Why not?" the warm lips breathed. "I can shoot. Some one once taught +me--" + +She stopped short. A chill seemed descending. "You were saying--" he +prompted eagerly. + +But she did not answer. The sweep of her hair made a shadowy veil around +her; his mind harked swiftly back. She had always had wondrous hair. It +had taken two big braids to hold it; most girls could get their hair in +one braid. He had been very proud, for her, of those two +braids--once--with their blue or pink ribbons that had popped below the +edge of her skirts. He continued to see blue and pink ribbons now. + +Both were for some time silent. At length she stirred--seated herself. +Mr. Heatherbloom mechanically did likewise, but at a distance from her. +He tried not to see her, to become mentally oblivious of her presence, +to concentrate again solely on the matter in hand. A long, long interval +passed. Chug! chug! the engines continued to grind. How far away they +sounded. Another sound, too, at length broke the stillness--a stealthy +footfall on the deck. It sent him at once softly to the window; he gazed +out. She followed. + +"Are--are we getting anywhere near port?" + +He did not tell her that it was not port he was looking for so soon as +he gazed out searchingly into the night. + +"What is it?" She had drawn the curtain a little. Her shoulder touched +him. + +Suddenly his arm swept her back. "What do you mean"--he turned on her +sternly--"by drawing that curtain?" + +"Was any one there?" + +"Any one--" he began almost fiercely; then paused. The figure he had +seen in that flash looked like that of the foreman of the stokers. In +that case, then, the fellow was not dead; he had recovered. Through a +mistaken sense of mercy Mr. Heatherbloom had not slipped the seemingly +lifeless body over the side. Now he, and she, too, were likely to pay +dearly for that clemency. Bitterly he clenched his hands. Had the man +caught a glimpse of him at the window? A flicker of electric light, +without, shone on it. + +The girl started again to speak. "Hush!" He drew her back yet farther. +Above, some one had raised the corner of the canvas covering the +skylight. It was too dark, however, for the person, whoever it might be, +to discern very much below. Neither Mr. Heatherbloom nor his companion +now moved. The tenseness and excitement of the moment held them. The +girl breathed quickly; her hand was at his sleeve. Even in that moment +of suspense and peril he was conscious of the nearness of her--the lithe +young form so close! + +The creaking of the chair in the recess was again heard. Had his +excellency caught sight of the person above? Was he endeavoring to +attract attention? And could the observer at the skylight discern the +nobleman? It seemed unlikely. The glass above did not appear to extend +quite over the recess. Through a slight opening of the draperies Mr. +Heatherbloom, however, could see his captive and noticed he seemed to be +trying to tip back farther in his chair, to reach out behind with his +bound hands--toward what? The young man abruptly realized, and half +started to his feet--but not in time! The chair went over backward and +came down with a crash, but not before his excellency's fingers had +succeeded in touching an electric button near the desk. A flood of light +filled the place. + +It was answered by a shout--a signal for other voices. Fragments of +glass fell around; a figure dropped into the salon; others followed. The +door to the deck yielded to force from without. Mr. Heatherbloom, though +surprised and outnumbered, struggled as best he might; his weapon rang +out; then, as they pressed closer, he defended himself with the butt of +his revolver and his fist. + +There could be but one end to the unequal contest. The girl--a helpless +spectator--realized that, though she could with difficulty perceive what +took place, it was all so chaotic. She tried to draw nearer, but bearded +faces intervened; rough hands thrust her back. She would have called out +but the words would not come. It was like an evil dream. As through a +mist she saw one among many who had entered from the deck--a giant in +size. He carried an oaken bar in his hand and now stole sidewise with +murderous intent toward the single figure striving so gallantly. + +"No, no!" Betty Dalrymple's voice came back to her suddenly; she +exclaimed wildly, incoherently. + +But the foreman of the stokers raised the bar, waited. He found his +opportunity; his arm descended. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +AND THEN-- + +Mr. Heatherbloom regained consciousness, or semi-consciousness, in an +ill-smelling place. His first impulse was to raise his hands to his +aching head, but he could not do this on account of two iron bands that +held his wrists to a stanchion. His legs, too, he next became vaguely +aware, were fastened by a similar contrivance to the deck. He closed his +eyes, and leaned back; the throbbings seemed to beat on his brain like +the angry surf, smiting harder and harder until nature at length came to +his relief and oblivion once more claimed him. + +How long it was before he again opened his eyes he could not tell. The +shooting throes were still there but he could endure them now and even +think in an incoherent fashion. He gazed around. The light grudgingly +admitted by a small port-hole revealed a bare prison-like cell. +Realization of what it all meant, his being there, swept over him, and, +in a semi-delirious frenzy, he tugged at his fastenings. He did not +succeed in releasing himself; he only increased the hurtling waves of +pain in his head. What did she think of her valiant rescuer now, he who +had raised her hopes so high but to dash them utterly? + +Some one, some time later, brought him water and gave him bread, +releasing his wrists while he ate and fastening them again when he had +finished. The hours that seemed days passed. During that time he half +thought he had another visitor but was not sure. The delirium had +returned; he strove to think lucidly, but knew himself very +light-headed. He imagined Sonia Turgeinov came to him, that she looked +down on him. + +"_Mon Dieu_! It is my canine keeper; the man with the dogs. What a lame +and impotent conclusion for one so clever! I looked for something better +from you, my intrepid friend, who dared to come aboard in that +thrilling manner--who managed to follow me, through what arts, I do not +know. How are the mighty fallen!" + +Her tone was low, mocking. He disdained to reply. + +"Really, I am disappointed, after my not having betrayed who you were to +the prince." + +"Why didn't you?" he said. + +She laughed. "Perhaps because I am an artist, and it seemed inartistic +to intervene--to interrupt the action at an inopportune moment--to +stultify what promised to be an unusually involved complication. When +first I saw and recognized you on the _Nevski_, it was like one of those +divine surprises of the master dramatist, M. Sardou. Really, I was +indebted for the thrill of it. Besides, had I spoken, the prince might +have tossed you overboard; he is quite capable of doing so. That, too, +would have been inartistic, would have turned a comedy of love into rank +melodrama." + +Rank nonsense! Of course such a conversation could not be real. But he +cried out in the dream: "What matter if his excellency had tossed me +overboard? What good am I here?" + +"To her, you mean?" + +"To her, of course." Bitterly. + +The vision's eyes were very bright; her plastic, rather mature form bent +nearer. He felt a cool hand at the bandage, readjusting it about his +head. That, naturally, could not be. She who had betrayed Betty +Dalrymple to the prince would not be sedulous about Mr. Heatherbloom's +injury. + +"Foolish boy!" she breathed. Incongruous solicitude! "Who are you? No +common dog-tender--of that I am sure. What have you been?" + +"What--" Wildly. + +"There! there!" said half-soothingly that immaterial, now maternal +visitant. "Never mind." + +"How is she? Where is she?" he demanded, incoherently. + +"She is well, and is going to be, very soon now, the prince's bride." + +"Never." + +"Don't let his excellency hear you say so in that tone. He thinks you +only a detective, not an ardent, though secret wooer yourself. The +Strogareffs brook no rivals," she laughed, "and he is already like a +madman. I should tremble for your life if he dreamed--" + +"Help me to help her--" he said. "It will be more than worth your while. +You did this for--" + +She shook her head. "I have descended very low, indeed, but not so low +as that. Like the bravos of old"--was it she who spoke bitterly +now?--"Sonia Turgeinov is, at least, true to him who has given her the +little _douceur_. No, no; do not look to me, my young and Quixotic +friend. You have only yourself to depend upon--" + +"Myself!" He felt the sharp iron cut his flesh. That seemed +indubitable--no mere fantasy of pain but pain itself. + +"Let well enough alone," she advised. "The prince will probably put you +ashore somewhere--I'll beg him to do that. He'll be better natured +after--after the happy event," she laughed. "Perhaps, he'll even slip a +little purse into your pocket though you did hurt a few of his men. Not +that he cares much for them--mere serfs. You could find a little +consolation, eh? With a bottle, perhaps. Besides, I have heard these +island girls have bright eyes." He could not speak. "Are you adamant, +save for one?" she mocked. "Content yourself with what must be. It is a +good match for her. The little fool might scour the world for a better +one. As for you--your crazy infatuation--what have you to offer? _Très +drôle!_ Do dog-tenders mate with such as she? No; destiny says to her, +be a grand lady at the court of Petersburg. I am doing her a great +favor. Many American families would pay me well, I tell you--" + +She paused. "You will smile at it all, some day, my friend. You played +and lost. At least, it was daringly done. You deceived even me over the +telephone. 'Go to sleep,' forsooth! You commanded in a right princely +tone. And I obeyed." + +An instant her hand lingered once more near the bandage. It was +ridiculous, that tentative, almost sympathetic touch. Then, she--a +figment of disordered imagination--receded; there was no doubt about his +light-headedness now. + +They sent again bread and water, and, after what seemed an intolerable +interval, he found himself eating with zest; he was exceedingly hungry. +He also began to feel mentally normal, although his thoughts were the +reverse of agreeable. Days had, no doubt, gone by. He chafed at this +enforced inaction, but sometimes through sheer weariness fell into a +semblance of natural sleep despite the sitting posture he was obliged to +maintain. On one such occasion he was abruptly awakened by a light +thrown suddenly on his face. He would have started to his feet but the +fetters restrained him. + +It was night; a lantern, held by a hand that shook slightly, revealed a +face he did not know. He felt assured, however, of his mental lucidity +at the moment. The new-comer, though a stranger, was undoubtedly flesh +and blood. + +"What do you want?" said the prisoner. + +"A word with you, Monsieur." The speaker had a smooth face and dark +soulful eyes. His manner was both furtive and constrained. He looked +around as if uncomfortable at finding himself in that place. + +"Well, I guess you can have it. I can't get away," muttered the manacled +man. + +"Miss Dalrymple sent me." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's interest was manifest; he strove to suppress outward +signs of it. "What--what for?" + +"She wanted to make sure you were not dead." + +The prisoner did not answer; his emotion was too great at the moment to +permit his doing so. She was in trouble, yet she considered the poor +detective. That was like her--straight as a string--true blue-- + +The visitor started to go. "Hold on!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, whose ideas +were surging fast. This youth had managed to come here at her +instigation. Had she made a friend of him, an ally? He did not appear an +heroic one, but he was, no doubt, the best that had offered. Betty +Dalrymple was not one to sit idly; she would seek ways and means. She +was clever, knew how to use those violet eyes. (Did not Mr. Heatherbloom +himself remember?) Who was he--this nocturnal caller? Not an officer--he +was too young. Cabin-boy, perhaps? More likely the operator. Mr. +Heatherbloom had noticed that the yacht was provided with the wireless +outfit. + +"How long have I been here?" he now asked abruptly. + +"It is three days since monsieur was knocked on the head." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "Three days? Well, it cost me a fortune," +he sighed, remembering the rôle of detective that had been thrust upon +him. "I could have stood for the sore head." + +The other had his foot at the threshold but he lingered. "How much of a +fortune? What was the reward?" He strove to speak carelessly but there +was a trace of eagerness in his tones. + +"You mean what _is_ it?" returned Mr. Heatherbloom, and named an amount +large enough to make the soulful eyes open. "And to think," watchfully, +"one little message to the shore might procure for the sender such a +sum!" + +"Monsieur!" Indignantly. "You think that I would--" + +"Then you _are_ the wireless operator?" + +"I was." Francois spoke more calmly. "His excellency has had the +apparatus destroyed. He will take no chances of other spies or +detectives being aboard who might understand its use." + +The prisoner hardly heard the last words; for the moment he was +concerned only with his disappointment. A sudden hope had died almost as +soon as it had been born. "Too bad!" he murmured. Then--"How did you get +here?" + +"The third officer has the keys and our cabins are adjoining. I seized +an opportune moment, slipped in, and took a wax impression of what I +wanted. Then with an old key and a file--Monsieur is a great detective, +perhaps, but I, too," with Gaston boastfulness, "can aspire to a little +cleverness." + +"A great deal," said Mr. Heatherbloom, the while his brain worked +rapidly. Betty Dalrymple must have paid the youth well for serving her +thus far. Thrift, as well as sentiment, seemed to shine from Francois' +eloquent dark eyes. Could he be induced to espouse her cause yet +further? + +"Monsieur must not think I would prove disloyal to his excellency, my +employer," spoke up the youth as if reading what had been passing +through the other's mind. "There could be no harm in a mere inquiry as +to monsieur's state of health." + +"None at all," assented the prisoner quickly. "Though"--a sudden +inspiration came to Mr. Heatherbloom--"contingencies may arise when one +can best serve those who employ him by secretly opposing them." + +"I don't understand, Monsieur," said Francois cautiously. + +"The prince is a madman. By incurring the enmity of his Imperial Master +he would rush on to his own destruction. Suppose by this misalliance, +the very map of Europe itself were destined to be changed?" + +The words sounded portentous, and Francois stared. He had imagination. +The beautiful American girl had told him that this man before him was a +great and daring detective. He spoke now even as an emissary of the czar +himself. The prince was a high lord, close to the throne. These were +deep waters. The youth looked troubled; Mr. Heatherbloom allowed the +thought he had inspired to sink in. + +"What is our first port?" his voice, more authoritative, now demanded. + +Francois mentioned an island. + +"When do we get there?" + +"We are near it to-night but on account of the rocks and reefs, I heard +the captain say we would slow down, so as not to enter the harbor until +daybreak." + +Daybreak! And then? Mr. Heatherbloom closed his eyes; when he again +opened them they revealed none of the poignant emotion that had swept +over him. "What time is it now?" + +"About ten." + +"My jailer--the third officer, you say--visits this cell once every +night. Do you know what time he comes?" + +"I shouldn't be here, Monsieur, at this moment, if I didn't know that. +He comes in an hour, after his watch is over, with the bread and +water--monsieur's frugal fare. And now"--those apprehensions, +momentarily dulled by wonderment seemed returning to Francois--"I will +bid monsieur--" + +"Stay! One moment!" Mr. Heatherbloom's accents were feverish, +commanding. "You must--in the name of the czar!--for the prince's +sake!--for hers--for--for the reward--" + +"Monsieur!" Again that flicker of indignation. + +Mr. Heatherbloom swept it aside. "She has asked you to help her escape?" +he demanded swiftly. + +Francois did not exactly deny. There were no listeners here. "It would +be impossible for her to escape," he answered rather sullenly. + +"Then she did broach a plan--one you refused to accede to. What was it?" + +"Mere madness!" Scoffingly. "Mademoiselle may be generous, and _mon +Dieu_! very persuasive, but she doesn't get me to--" + +"What _was_ her proposal? Answer." Sternly. "You can't incriminate +yourself here." + +Francois knew that. The cell was remote. There could be no harm in +letting the talk drift a little further. He replied, briefly outlining +the plan. + +"Excellent!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Mere madness!" reiterated Francois. + +"Not at all. But if it were, some people would, under the +circumstances," with subtle accent, "gladly undertake it--just as you +will!" he added. + +"Oh, will I?" Ironically. + +"Yes, when you hear all I have to say. In the first place, I relinquish +all claim to the reward. Sufficient for me--" And Mr. Heatherbloom +mumbled something about the czar. + +"Bah! That sounds very well, only there wouldn't be any reward," +retorted Francois. "The prince would only capture us again and then--" +He shrugged. "I know his temper and have no desire for the longer voyage +with old man Charon--" + +"Wait!" More aggressively. "I have not done. No one will suspect that +you have been here to-nigh't?" he asked. + +"Does monsieur think I am a fool? No, no! And now my little errand for +mademoiselle being finished--" + +"You can do as Miss Dalrymple wishes, achieve an embarrassment of +riches, and run no risk whatever yourself." + +"Indeed?" Starting slightly. + +"At least, no appreciable one." Mr. Heatherbloom explained his plan +quickly. Francois listened, at first with open skepticism, then with +growing interest. + +"_Mon Dieu_! If it were possible!" he muttered. South-of-France +imagination had again been appealed to. "But no--" + +"Remember all the reward will be for you"--swiftly--"sufficient to buy +vineyards and settle down for a life of peace and plenty--" Francois' +eyes wavered; any Frenchman would have found the picture enticing. +Already the beautiful American girl had, as Mr. Heatherbloom suspected, +surreptitiously thrust several valuable jewels upon the youth as a +reward for this preliminary service. Having experienced a foretaste of +riches, Francois perhaps secretly longed for more of the glittering gems +and for some of those American dollars which sounded five times as large +in francs. Besides, this man, the great detective, or emissary, inspired +confidence; his tones were vibrant, compelling. + +"And for you, Monsieur?--the risk for you--" Francois faltered. + +"Never mind about me. You consent?" + +The other swallowed, muttered a monosyllable in a low tone. + +"Then--" Heatherbloom murmured a few instructions. "Miss Dalrymple is +not to know." + +"I understand," said Francois quickly. And going out stealthily, he +closed and locked the door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +INTO THE INFINITE + +The midnight hour drew near, and, above deck, tranquillity reigned. It +was, however, the comparative quiet that follows a storm. A threatening +day had culminated in a fierce tropical downpour--a cloud-burst--when +the very heavens had seemed to open. The _Nevski_, steaming forward at +half speed, had come almost to a stop; struck by the masses of water, +she had fairly staggered beneath the impact. Now she lay motionless, +while every shroud and line dripped; the darkness had become inky. Only +the light from cabin windows which lay on the wet deck like shafts of +silver relieved that Cimmerian effect. The sea moaned from the lashing +it had received--a faint undertone, however, that became suddenly +drowned by loud and harsh clangor, the hammering on metal somewhere +below. Possibly something had gone wrong with a hatch or iron +compartment door inadvertently left open, or one of the ventilators may +have got jammed and needed adjusting. The captain, as he hastened down a +companionway, muttered angrily beneath his breath about water in the +stoke room. The decks, in the vicinity of the cabins, seemed now +deserted, when from the shadows, a figure that had merged in the general +gloom, stepped out and passed swiftly through one of the trails of +light. Gliding stealthily toward the stern, this person drew near the +rail, and, peering cautiously over, looked down on one of the small +boats swung out in readiness for the landing party at dawn. + +"Mademoiselle," he breathed low. + +"Is that you, Francois?" came up softly from the boat. + +He murmured something. "Is all in readiness?" + +"Quite! Make haste." + +The person above, about to swing himself over the rail, paused; a cabin +door, near by, had been thrown open and a stream of light shot near him. +Some one came out; moreover, she--for the some one was a woman--did not +close the door. The youth crouched back, trying to draw himself from +sight but the woman saw him, and coming quickly forward spoke. She +thought him, no doubt, one of the sailors. He did not answer, perhaps +was too frightened to do so, and his silence caused her to draw nearer. +More sharply she started to address him in her own native Russian but +the words abruptly ceased; a sudden exclamation fell from her lips. He, +as if made desperate by what the woman, now at the rail, saw or divined, +seemed imbued with extraordinary strength. The success or failure of the +enterprise hung on how he met this unexpected emergency. Heroic, if +needs be, brutal measures were demanded. Her outcry was stifled but +Sonia Turgeinov was strong and resisted like a tigress. Perhaps she +thought he meant to kill her, and in an excess of fear she managed to +call out once. Fortunately for the youth, the hammering below +continued, but whether she had made herself heard or not was uncertain. +Confronted by a dire possibility, he exerted himself to the utmost to +still that warning voice. In frenzied haste he seized the heavy scarf +she had thrown around her shoulders upon leaving the cabin and wound it +about her face and head. The sinuous body seemed to grow limp in his +arms. His was not a pleasant task but a necessary one. This woman had +delivered the girl to the prince in the first place; would now attempt +to frustrate her escape. Any moment some one else might come on deck and +discover them. + +"Quick! Why don't you come?" Betty Dalrymple's anxious voice ascended +from the darkness. + +The youth knew well that no time must be lost, but what to do? He could +not leave the woman. She might be only feigning unconsciousness. And +anyway they would soon find her and learn the truth. That would mean +their quick recapture. Already he thought he heard a footstep descending +from the bridge--approaching--With extraordinary strength for one of +Francois' slender build, he swung the figure of the woman over the side, +dropped her into the boat and followed himself. A breathless moment of +suspense ensued; he listened. The approaching footsteps came on; then +paused, and turned the other way. The youth waited no longer. The little +boat at the side was lowered softly; it touched the water and floated +away from the _Nevski_ like a leaf. Then the darkness swallowed it. + + +"How far are we from the yacht now, Francois?" + +"Only a few miles, Mademoiselle." + +"Do you think we'll be far enough away at daybreak so they can't see +us?" + +"Have no fear, Mademoiselle." The voice of Francois in the stern, +thrilled. "There's a fair sailing wind." + +"Isn't it strange"--Betty Dalrymple, speaking half to herself, regarded +the motionless form in the bottom of the boat--"that she, of all +persons, and I, should be thus thrust together, in such a tiny craft, +on such an enormous sea?" + +"I really couldn't help it, Mademoiselle"--apologetically--"bringing her +with us. There was no alternative." + +"Oh, I'm not criticizing you, who did so splendidly." The girl's eyes +again fell. "She is unconscious a long time, Francois." + +The youth's reply was lost amid the sound of the waters. Only the sea +talked now, wildly, moodily; flying feathers of foam flecked the night. +The boat took the waves laboriously and came down with shrill seething. +She seemed ludicrously minute amid that vast unrest. The youth steered +steadily; to Betty Dalrymple he seemed just going on anyhow, dashing +toward a black blanket with nothing beyond. It was all very wonderful +and awe-inspiring as well as somewhat fearsome. The waves had a cruel +sound if one listened to them closely. A question floating in her mind +found, after a long time, hesitating but audible expression: + +"Do you think there's any doubt about our being able to make one of the +islands, Francois?" + +"None whatever!" came back the confident, almost eager reply. "Not the +slightest doubt in the world, Mademoiselle. The islands are very near +and we can't help seeing one of them at daybreak." + +"Daybreak?" she said. "I wish it were here now." + +Swish! swish! went the sea with more menacing sound. For the moment +Francois steered wildly, and the boat careened; he brought her up +sharply. The girl spoke no more. Perhaps the motion of the little craft +gradually became more soothing as she accustomed herself to it, for, +before long, her head drooped. It was dry in the bow; a blanket +protected her from the wind, and, weary with the events of the last few +days, she seemed to rest as securely on this wave-rocked couch as a +child in its cradle. The youth, uncertain whether she slept or not, +forbore to disturb her. Hours went by. + +As the night wore on a few stars came out in a discouraged kind of way. +Heretofore he had been steering by the wind; now, that scanty +peripatetic band, adrift on celestial highways, assisted him in keeping +his course. When one sleepy-eyed planet went in, another, not far away +(from the human scope of survey) came out, and Francois, with the +perspicacity of a follower of the sea, seemed to have learned how to +gage direction by a visual game of hide-and-seek with the pin-points of +infinitude. Between watching the stars, the sea and the sail, he found +absorbing occupation for mind and muscle. Sometimes, in the water's +depressions, a lull would catch them, then when the wind boomed again +over the tops of the crests, slapping fiercely the canvas, a brief +period of hazard had to be met. The boat, like a delicate live creature, +needed a fine as well as a firm hand. + +His faculties thus concentrated, Francois had remained oblivious to the +dark form in the center of the boat, although long ago Sonia Turgeinov +had first moved and looked up. If she made any sound, he whose glance +passed steadily over her had not heard it. She raised herself slightly; +sat a long time motionless, an arm thrown over a seat, her eyes +alternating in direction, from the seas near the downward gunwale, to +the almost indistinguishable figure of him in the stern, the while her +fingers played with a scarf--the one that had been wound around her +head. Once she leaned back, her cheek against the sharp thwart, her gaze +heavenward. She remained thus a long while, with body motionless, though +her fingers continued to toy with the bit of heavy silk, as if keeping +pace with some mercurial rush of thoughts. + +A wastrel, she had been in many strange places, but never before had she +found herself in a situation so extraordinary. To her startled outlook, +the boat might well have seemed a chip tossed on the mad foam of chaos. +This figure, almost indistinguishable, yet so steadfastly present at the +stern of the little craft, appeared grim and ghostlike. But that he was +no ghost--His grip had been real; certainly that. He had been, too, +perforce, a master of action. She leaned her head on her elbow. +Strangely, she felt no resentment. + +The tired stars, as by a community of interest and common +understanding, slowly faded altogether. The woman bent her glance +bow-ward. The day--what would it reveal? She understood a good deal, yet +much still puzzled her. As through a dream, she had seemed to hear the +name, "Francois"--to listen to a crystalline voice, fresh as the +tinkling bells in some temple at the dawn. The darkness of the sky fused +into a murky gray, and as that somber tone began, in turn, to be +replaced by a lighter neutral tint, she made out dimly the figure of the +girl. As by a species of fascination, she continued to look at her while +the morn unfolded slowly. From behind a dark promontory of vapor, +Aurora's warm hand now tossed out a few careless ribbons. They lightened +the chilly-looking sea; they touched a golden tress--just one, that +stole out from under the gray blanket. The girl's face could not be +seen; the heavy covering concealed the lines of the lithe young form. + +As she continued to sleep--undisturbed by the first manifestations of +the dawn--the woman's glance swept backward to him at the helm. The +shafts of light showed now his face, worn and set, yet strangely +transfigured. He did not seem to notice her; beneath heavy lids his +quick glances shot this way and that to where wisps of mist on the +surface of the sea partly obscured the outlook. Sonia Turgeinov divined +his purpose; he was looking for the _Nevski_. But although he continued +to search in the direction of the yacht, he did not catch sight of her. +Only the winding and twining diaphanous veils played where he feared she +might have been visible. An expression of great satisfaction passed over +his features. + +Then he swayed from sheer weariness; he could have dropped gladly to the +bottom of the boat. Brain as well as sinew has its limitations and the +night had been long and trying. He had done work that called for +tenseness and mental concentration every moment. He had outlasted divers +and many periods when catastrophe might have overwhelmed them, and now +that the blackness which had shrouded a thousand unseen risks and perils +had been swept aside, an almost overpowering reaction claimed him. This +natural lassitude became the more marked after he had scanned the +horizon in vain for the prince's pleasure-yacht. + +His task, however, was far from over, and he straightened. To Sonia +Turgeinov, his gaze and his expression were almost somnambulistic. He +continued steering, guiding their destinies as by force of habit. +Luckily the breeze had waned and the boat danced more gaily than +dangerously. It threw little rainbows of spray in the air; he blinked at +them, his eyes half closed. In the bow the old dun-colored blanket +stirred but he did not see it. A glorious sun swept up, and began to lap +thirstily the wavering mists from the surface of the sea. + +Sonia Turgeinov spoke now softly to the steersman. What she said he did +not know; his lack-luster gaze met hers. All dislike and disapproval +seemed to have vanished from it; he saw her only as one sees a face in a +daguerreotype of long ago, or looks at features limned by a soulless +etcher. + +"Do you see it?" he asked. + +"What?" + +"Trees? Aren't those trees?" + +"I see nothing." + +"You do. You must. They are there." He spoke almost roughly, as if she +irritated him. + +"Oh, yes. I think I do see something," she said, and started. "Like a +speck?--a film?--a bird's wing, perhaps?" + +In the bow the blanket again stirred. Then, as from the dull chrysalis +emerge brightness and beauty, so from those dun folds sprang into the +morning light a red-lipped, lovely vision. + +"Trees," repeated the steersman to Sonia Turgeinov. "I am positive--" he +went on, but lost interest in his own words. Fatigue seemed to fall from +him in an instant; he stared. + +From beneath her golden hair Betty Dalrymple's eyes flashed full upon +him. + +"You!" she said. + +Mr. Heatherbloom appeared to relapse; his expression--that smile--vague, +indefinite--again partook of the somnambulistic. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +AN ANOMALOUS SITUATION + +The most unexpected and extraordinary thing in the world had happened, +yet Betty Dalrymple asked no questions. Had she done so, it is probable +that Mr. Heatherbloom would have been physically unequal to the +labyrinthine explanation the occasion demanded. For a brief spell the +girl had continued to regard him and she had seemed about to speak +further. Then the blue light of her gaze had slowly turned and her lips +remained mute. He was glad of this; of course he would later have to +tell something, but sufficient unto that unlucky hour were the +perplexities thereof. Sonia Turgeinov had been surprised, too, but it +was Betty Dalrymple's surprise that had most awakened her wonder. "Why, +didn't you know it was he?" the dark eyes seemed to say to the young +girl. "Who else, on earth, did you think it was?" The mystery for her, +as well as for Betty Dalrymple, deepened. Only for Mr. Heatherbloom +there existed no mystery; it was all now clear as day. He had done what +he had set out to do. She would soon be enabled to find her way back to +civilization. His present concern lay with the occupation of the moment. + +The tree _was_ a tree; this was the most momentous immediate +consideration; a few more miles had established that fact with +positiveness. But distances on the water are long, and they three would +have to journey together on the sea yet a while. He bethought him of his +duties, as host; these--his two passengers-were in his care. + +"You should find biscuits in a basket and water in a cask," he said, +speaking to both of them, and, at the same time, to immeasurable +distance. "If you don't mind looking--I can't very well." + +At that, a nervous laugh welled from Sonia Turgeinov's throat; she had +to give way. Possibly the absurd thought seized her that all the +tragedies and comedies might be simmered down to one thing. Were there +biscuits in the basket? But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh; her eyes were +like stars on a wintry night; her face was white as paper. It was turned +now from the steersman--ahead. She saw the blur before them become a +definite line of green; later she made out details, the large heads of +small trees. The former looked like big overflowing cabbages; the +trunks, beneath, sprawled this way and that, as the vagaries of the wind +had directed their growth. In front of them and the vernal strip, a +white line slowly resolved itself into moving foam. She--they all could +hear it now, faintly--they were very near; no thunderous anthem it +pealed forth; its voice seethed in soft cadences. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with sheet taut, ran his craft toward the sands but +the boat grounded some little distance from the shore. It was useless to +attempt to go farther so he let his sail out, got up and stepped +overboard. The water was rather more than knee deep; he tugged at the +boat and attempted to draw her up farther without much success. She was +too heavy, and desisting from his efforts, he approached Miss Dalrymple. +The young girl shrank back slightly, but seeming not to notice that +first instinctive movement, he reached over and lifted her out. It was +done in a businesslike manner and with no more outward concern than a +Kikuji porter might have displayed in meeting the exigencies of a like +situation. The bubbles seethed around Mr. Heatherbloom's legs; unmindful +of them or the shifting sands beneath foot, he strode straight as might +be for the shore. His burden was not a heavy one but it seemed very +still and unyielding. He released her at the earliest possible +opportunity and in the same matter-of-fact way (still that of a human +ferry on the banks of the turbulent Chania) he returned for his other +passenger. Around Sonia Turgeinov's rich lips a mocking smile seemed to +play; she arose at once. + +"How charming! How very gallant!" she murmured. "First, you nearly +strangle one, and then--" + +Her soft arm stole about his neck, and her warm breath swept his cheek +as, stony-faced, he trudged along. This time his burden was heavier, +although there were men who would not have minded that under the +circumstances. The dark eyes, full of sparkles and enigmas, turned upon +his frosty ones. But she did not see very far into that so-called medium +of the soul; she received only an impression one gets in looking at a +wall. + +He put her down--gently. Whereupon, her dark brows lifted ironically. +He, gentle--to her? Did she dream? She felt again that fierce clasp of +the night before, and mentally told herself she would like to label him +an artistic study in contrasts. Really the adventure began to be "worth +while"; she felt almost reconciled to it. He had carried her off as the +rough, old-fashioned pirates bear away feminine prizes from a town they +have looted. From dog-tender to bucaneer--he appealed to her +imagination. She experienced a childlike desire to sit down where he had +left her and play with the shells. But instead she looked toward Betty +Dalrymple. That young girl, however, did not return her regard, though +the golden head, a few moments before, had lifted once, with a swift, +bird-like motion toward Sonia Turgeinov, en route beachward. Now the +girl's features were steadfastly bent away; whatever gladness she may +have felt in thus, after many vicissitudes, reaching land safely, she +kept to herself. + +Mr. Heatherbloom resumed the task of porter; his next burden--the +water-cask--was the heaviest of all. He struggled with it and once +nearly went down, so tired was he, but he got it ashore, and the basket +of biscuits, too, and some other things. The boat, floating more +lightly, he now pulled to the strand; then he took out the spar and the +sail. This done, he gazed around; the place was deserted by man, though +of birds and crabs and other crawling objects there were a-plenty. Mr. +Heatherbloom stood with knitted brow; it was a time for contemplation, +visual and mental. For the latter he did not feel very fit as he strove +to think what was best to do next. The other two--he still forced +himself to keep to the purely impersonal aspect of the case--were his +charges. Being women, they were mutually and equally (the mockery of +it!) dependent on him. He was responsible for their welfare and +well-being. In the sail-boat he had been captain; ashore, he became +commandant, an answerable factor. He began to plan. + +What kind of place had they come to?--was it big or small?--inhabited, +or deserted? All this would have to be ascertained, later. Meanwhile, +temporary headquarters were needed; he would erect a tent. The spar and +boom served for the ridge and front poles, the sail for the canvas +covering, the sheet and halyards for the restraining lines. Sonia +Turgeinov again watched him; her interest was now of that vague kind she +had sometimes experienced when the manager appeared on a darkened stage, +with a fresh crackling manuscript. Then she had lolled back and listened +to the first reading. She would have lolled back now--for the air was +soporific--but, instead, she started suddenly. The old wound on Mr. +Heatherbloom's head, heretofore concealed by the cap Francois had +procured for him, had reopened as he exerted himself; he raised his hand +quickly and seemed a little at a loss. She stepped to him at once. + +"The scarf, Monsieur?" + +"Thank you." He took it absently. + +"It serves divers purposes," she murmured. And Mr. Heatherbloom, +remembering the more violent employment he had found for it the night +before, flushed slightly. + +She added delicate emphasis to her remark by assisting him. With her own +fingers she tied a knot, and rather painstakingly spread out the ends. +He endured grimly. Miss Dalrymple appeared not to have observed the +episode but, of course, it had in reality been all quite fully revealed +to her. It was in keeping with certain circumstances of the past that +the Russian woman should not be unmindful of him, her confrère in the +conspiracy. That much was patent; but other happenings were not so +easily reconciled. What had taken place on the deck of the _Nevski_ in +those breathless last few moments as they were escaping, was in ill +conformity with those amicable relations which should have existed +between the two. This man's presence in the boat, in the place of +Francois, could be explained by no logical process with the premises she +had at her command. + +The bandage possessed a subtly weird and bizarre interest for the young +girl. He had been injured. How? For what reason? Betty Dalrymple's mind +swept, seemingly without very definite cause, to another scene, one of +violence. Again she heard the crashing of glass and saw forms leaping +into the cabin. Her thoughts reverted, on the instant, to the unknown +helper she had been obliged to leave behind. Somehow, real as he had +been, he seemed at this moment strangely apart, something in the +abstract. Then all illusive speculations merged abruptly into a +realization that needed no demonstration. Sonia Turgeinov possessed a +certain outré attractiveness the young girl had never noted before. The +violet eyes, shining through the long shading lashes, rested a moment on +her; then passed steadily beyond. + +"I'm off for a look around." Mr. Heatherbloom, having transferred their +meager possessions to the tent, now addressed Miss Dalrymple, or Sonia +Turgeinov, or an indefinite space between them. "Better stay right here +while I'm gone." His tones had a firm accent. "Sorry there are only +biscuits for breakfast, but perhaps there'll be better fare before long. +If you should move around"--his eye lingered authoritatively on Betty +Dalrymple--"keep to the beach." + +"How very solicitous!" laughed Sonia Turgeinov as the young man strode +off. "That was intended especially for you, Mademoiselle. As for me, it +does not matter." With a shrug. "I might stroll into the wood, be +devoured by wild beasts, and who would care?" + +Betty Dalrymple did not answer. + +"A truce, Mademoiselle!" said the other in the same gay tone. "I know +very well what you think of me. You told me very clearly on the +_Nevski_, and before that, on shore. In this instance, however, since it +is through no fault or choice of mine that we are thrown thus closely +together, would it not be well to make the best of the situation?" + +"There seems, indeed, no choice in the matter," answered the young girl +coldly. + +"None, unless like those in the admirable play, we elect to pitch our +respective camps at different parts of the beach. But that would be +absurd, wouldn't it? Besides, I have my punishment--no light one for +Sonia Turgeinov who herself has been accustomed to a little adulation in +the past. I am _de trop_." + +"_De trop_?" There was a faint uplifting of the brow. "_You_ should not +be altogether that." + +"You mean I should be very friendly with him, my colleague and +confidant, _n'est ce pas_?" Sonia's dark eyes swept swiftly the proud +lovely face. "In truth he proved an able assistant." Her voice was a +little mocking. "What if I should tell you it was he who planned it all +--devised the ways and means?" A statue could, not have been more +immovable than Betty Dalrymple. "Or," suddenly, "what if I should say +quite--_au contraire_." The girl stirred. Sonia Turgeinov seemed to +ruminate. "Should I be so forgiving--after last night?" she murmured. +"It would be inconsistent, wouldn't it?--or angelic? And I am no angel." + +The girl's lips started to form a question but she did not speak. Afar, +Mr. Heatherbloom's figure could be seen, almost at the vanishing point. +He was toiling up an incline. Then the green foliage swallowed him. +Sonia Turgeinov smiled at vacancy. "Though I do owe him a little," she +went on, half meditative. "He _was_ kind to me in the park. He was sorry +for me. Think of it, and without admiring me. Other men have professed +for poor Sonia Turgeinov a little interest or solicitude at divers times +and places, but it has always been accompanied with something else. Is +that beyond the understanding of your pure soul, nourished in a +hothouse, Mademoiselle?" There was a sudden hard ring of rebellion in +her tones. "Am I handsome? Your eyes said it not long ago. _Ma foi_!" +Her voice becoming light again. "It was Parsifal himself who talked with +me in the park--that place for rendezvous and romances." Her thoughts +leaped over time and space. "The first light of the sun revealed to you +this day the last face you expected to see. It was as if a bit of +miracle, or a little diablerie had happened. I, too, was in a haze, not +so great--though on the deck the night before I little expected to +encounter one I had last seen in chains, a prisoner--" + +"A prisoner--in chains--he--" Betty Dalrymple stared. + +"You did not know? What on earth did you expect? That the prince would +give him the _suite de luxe_ after the beating his excellency +received--" + +"The beating?" half-stammered the girl. "Then the man in the salon who +claimed to be a detective was--" + +"What? He claimed that?" laughed Sonia Turgeinov. "_Très drôle!"_ + +But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh. Her eyes, bent seaward, saw nothing +now of the leaping waves; her face was fixed as a cameo's. Only her hair +stirred, wind-tossed, all in motion like her thoughts. And regarding +her, Sonia Turgeinov's eyes began to harden a little. Did the woman +regret for the moment what she had said, divining again some play within +a play? Yet what could there be in common between this beautiful heiress +and the _gardeurde chiens_? No! it was absurd to conceive anything of +the kind. Nevertheless Sonia Turgeinov unaccountably began to experience +a vague hostility for the young girl; this she might partly attribute to +the great gaps of convention separating them. Her own life, in confused +pictures, surged panorama-like before her mental vision: The garret +beginning; the cold and hunger hardships; the beatings, when a child; +the girl problems--so hard; the woman's--Faugh! what a life! Would that +the flame of the artist had burned more brightly or not at all. She +tried to imagine what she would have been, if she, too, had been born to +a golden cradle. + +A great ennui swept over her. How old she felt on a sudden! And how +homesick, too. Yes; that was it--homesickness. She could have stretched +out her arms toward her much beloved and, sometimes, a little hated, +Russia. The bright domes of her native city seemed to shine now in her +eyes. She walked in spirit the stony pavement of the Kremlin. Cruelty, +intolerance, suffering--all these reigned in the city of extremes, but +she would have kissed even the cold marble at the feet of dead tyrants, +the way the people did, if she could have stood at that moment in one of +the old, old sacred places. Her brief flight into the new world had led +her to no pots of gold at rainbow end. The little honorarium from his +excellency for her part in this adventure, she did not want now. She +regretted that she had ever embarked upon it. What penalty might she not +have to pay yet? The law, with dragon fingers would reach out--no doubt +was reaching out now--to grip her. Well, let it. + +A crisp, matter-of-fact voice--concealing any agitation the speaker may +have felt--broke in upon these varied reflections. Mr. Heatherbloom, +rather out of breath but quiet and determined, stood before them. + +"Miss Dalrymple!--Mademoiselle! There is no occasion for alarm but it +will be necessary; for us to leave here at once!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +AN UNEXPECTED OFFER + +"To leave?" It was Sonia Turgeinov who spoke. "You mean--" Her eyes +turned oceanward but saw nothing. + +He made a quick gesture toward a break in the outline of the shore where +the island swept around. "Beyond!" he said succinctly and she had no +doubt as to his meaning. The tent he had put up where it could not be +seen from the sea. But their boat--He looked at the little craft, a too +distinct object on the sands. Those on a vessel skirting the shore could +not fail to discover that incriminating bit of evidence with their +glasses. And there was no way of getting rid of it. He could not destroy +it with his bare hands. It was unsinkable. If he set it adrift, wind and +sea would drive it straight back. + +"They probably discovered our absence about daybreak and surmised +correctly the direction the breeze would carry us," he muttered half +bitterly. "We must go at once." These last words he spoke firmly. + +"But where?" Again it was Sonia Turgeinov who questioned him. Betty +Dalrymple remained silent; her eyes shone with a new inscrutable light; +her cheek, though pale, had the warmth of a live pearl. She touched the +sands with the tip of her shoe. + +But he did not regard her, nor did he answer Sonia Turgeinov. Going to +the tent, he bent over the basket of biscuits and hastily filled his +pockets. Then, throwing a woman's heavy cloak over his arm, he stepped +quickly to Miss Dalrymple's side. + +"Come," he said laconically. + +Her foot, Cinderella's for daintiness, ceased its motion; she turned at +once. Around her lips a strange little smile flitted but faded almost +immediately. Save for her straightness and that proud characteristic +poise of the head, she might have seemed, at that moment of emergency, +a veritable Griselda for acquiescence. He started to walk away, when-- + +"What about me?" cried Sonia Turgeinov. + +"You can come or you can stay," said Mr. Heatherbloom. "The chances are +that the prince will see the boat, land and get you." + +"And if he doesn't?" + +"There are plenty of biscuits, and I'll send back for you when I can." + +"That prospect is not very inviting," she demurred. "Suppose I elect not +to risk it--to go with you?" + +"It is for you to decide, and quickly," he said in a cold crisp tone. + +"You dismiss my fate bruskly, Monsieur," she returned. + +"There is no time to bandy words, Madam," he retorted warmly. "I am not +oblivious to you--I trust I would not be to any woman--but every minute +now is precious." + +"Of course!" An instant she looked at the girl and a spark appeared in +the dark eyes. Then Sonia Turgeinov's features abruptly relaxed and she +waved her hand carelessly. "I have decided," she said in her old +manner. "Go! My best adieus, Monsieur--Mademoiselle." With a gay +courtesy. "Farewell! babes in the wood!" Her voice was once more +mocking. They moved silently away but before they had gone far enough to +disappear in the forest she suddenly ran toward them. "No, no!" she said +in a different voice. "I have changed my mind. It is such a tiny, thing, +that boat--in the glare and shine. They might not see it, and then--" +She shuddered, "How frightfully lonesome!--the terrible nights--" + +He made an impatient gesture. "After me, then! You, Miss Dalrymple, will +come last." + +"Ah, you think I am coming because I may wish to help them?" Sonia +Turgeinov said quickly. + +"I intend to take no chances," he returned in the same tone. And the +three moved on. + +He set a sharp pace; if there was need for haste at all it was now, at +the beginning of their flight. They plunged deeper into the forest; no +one spoke; only the crackling under foot and certain wood sounds broke +the stillness. Unfortunately the soil was soft so that their footprints +might be followed by any one versed in woodcraft. At times they were +forced to skirt unusually thick places, but in spite of these deviations +Mr. Heatherbloom was enabled generally to keep to their course by +consulting a small compass he had found in the boat. It was essential to +maintain as straight a line as possible. People sometimes walked round +and round in forests; he took no chance of that; better a moment lost +now and then, while stopping to wait for the quivering pointer to +settle, than returning, perhaps, to the very spot they had left. + +As thus they advanced, often he looked around to reassure himself that +the young girl, in spite of the roughness of the way, yet followed. Once +Sonia Turgeinov arrested that swift backward look; her own shone with +curiosity. + +"How in heaven's name did you do it, Monsieur?" she asked suddenly, +drawing nearer. "Get out of that cell, I mean. When last I saw you on +the ship, you were as securely fastened as a prisoner in the fortress at +Petersburg. Of course you must have had some one to help--" + +He answered coldly, recalling a promise to protect Francois. He could, +however, and did, tell her the truth in this without involving the +youth. "When the third officer, my jailer, came to the cell and released +my hands--well, I did the best I could, surprised him, got the keys and +left him there in my stead. A little Jap trick for handling men that I +learned in San Francisco long ago," he added. + +Her dark eyes lingered on him not without a trace of admiration. +"Mademoiselle is fortunate, indeed, in her champion," she murmured. "And +yet that does not explain the preparations for departure--the provisions +in the boat--other little details. How came you by that compass, for +example?" + +"It explains all that will be explained." + +"Which means, once more, you do not trust me?" She shrugged. "_Eh +bien_!" And again they went on in silence. + +Toward noon, reaching a fringe of the forest, they found before them a +wide open space where the ground was higher and dry, but the walking +more difficult. The grass, long and tenacious, twined snake-like around +their ankles; they had to go more slowly, but reached, at length, the +top of the eminence. Here Mr. Heatherbloom stopped. They ate their +biscuit and rested, but only for a brief while. Scanning the distance, +in the direction they had come, he suddenly discerned moving forms on +the farthest edge of the open space--forms which advanced toward them. +No doubt as to their purpose could be entertained; his excellency had +landed and was already in pursuit. A smoldering fire leaped from Mr. +Heatherbloom's eyes while rage that she should thus be driven harder +filled his breast. Fool! that he had not killed the prince when +opportunity had offered that night in the cabin. His clemency +might--probably would--cost her dear. + +"We've got to go on, and faster," said the young man. His hands were +clenched; his arms were stiff at his side. "Can you do it?" he asked +Betty Dalrymple. She answered; standing in a green recess, she had never +appeared more beautiful to him than in that moment of peril. Green and +red things flashed behind her--tiny feathered creatures that shone like +jewels. The dewdrops from the branches in sunless places were glistening +brilliants in the gold of her hair. But he had no time to gaze. The +figures were drawing nearer. + +"You used to be able to run, Betty. It seems as if it's all my +fault"--hoarsely--"but you'll have to do so now." + +Again that ready response from her! Did she, in the excitement of the +moment, call him by a Christian name not Horatio? He did not take +cognizance of it; neither did Sonia Turgeinov seem to. + +The latter spoke quickly: "I remain here." + +"Of course," said Mr. Heatherbloom, with a glance back toward the open +space. + +She overlooked the significance or bitterness in his accent. "Keep to +the right," she said swiftly. "Believe me or not, I'll send them to the +left. It's your only chance. Otherwise they would overtake you in an +hour. Among the prince's men are Cossacks trained to feats of +endurance." + +"You would do that?" He looked at her quickly. The dark eyes did not +swerve from the gray ones. + +"Did I betray you on the boat?" said Sonia Turgeinov rather haughtily. + +"No," he conceded. + +"And yet I knew you! You know that," she affirmed. + +"Yes; you knew me." Slowly. + +"Did I tell his excellency who you were, when he had you, a prisoner?" +she demanded. + +And--"No," he was obliged to say again. + +"See." She took from her breast a tiny cross. "I had that as a child. +Would I kiss it, and--tell you a lie in the next breath?" He did not +answer. "I have lived up to the letter of my contract with his +excellency. It is at an end. Perhaps I am a little sorry for my own +part"--with a laugh slightly reckless--"or maybe"--with a flash of +seriousness--- "I have become, in the least, afraid. Your laws are very +severe, and--I had not counted on mademoiselle's steadfast resistance +to--_mon Dieu!_--a prince who had been considered irresistible--whose +principality is larger than one of your states--who would have made her, +in truth, a czaritza. I had fancied," in a rush of words, "the mad +episode might end as it did in the prince's favorite _Fire and Sword_ +trilogy, with wedding-bells and rejoicing." She paused abruptly. "I had +also not counted on the all-important possibility that mademoiselle +might have bestowed her heart on another--" + +"Madam!" It was Betty Dalrymple who spoke quickly. + +Sonia Turgeinov laughed maliciously. "Go," she said, "or"--almost +fiercely--"I may change my mind." + +They went; Sonia Turgeinov turned and looked out over the open space. +The approaching figures were now much nearer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +STARLIGHT + +Dusk had begun to fall, but still two figures went on through the +forest--slowly, with obvious effort. One turned often to the other, held +back a branch, or proffered such service as he might over rough places, +for Betty Dalrymple's movements were no longer those of a lithe +wood-nymph; she had never felt so weary before. The first shades of +twilight made it harder to distinguish their way amid intervening +objects, and once an elastic bit of underbrush struck her sharply in the +face. The blow smarted like the touch of a whip but she only smiled +faintly. The momentary sting spurred her on faster, until her foot +caught and she stumbled and would have fallen except that Mr. +Heatherbloom had turned at that moment and put out an arm. + +"Forgive me." His voice was full of contrition. "It has been brutal to +make you go on like this, but I had to." + +"It doesn't matter." The slender form slid from him over-quickly. "You, +too, must be very tired," she said with breath coming fast. + +He glanced swiftly back; listened. "We'll rest here," he commanded. +"We've got to. I should have stopped before, but"--the words came in a +harsher staccato--"I dared not." + +"I'll be all right in a few moments," she answered, resting on a fallen +log, "and then--" + +"No, no," he said in a tone of finality. "After all, there is small +likelihood they'll find us now. Besides, it will soon be too dark to go +on. Fortunately, the night is warm, and I've got this cloak for you." + +"And for yourself?" Her voice was very low and quiet, or perhaps it +seemed so because here, in the little recess in the great wood, the hush +was most pronounced. + +"Me?" he laughed. "You seem to forget I'm one of the happy brotherhood +that just drop down anywhere. Shouldn't know what to do with a silk +eiderdown if I had one." + +His gaiety sounded rather forced. She was silent and the quietude +seemed oppressive. The girl leaned back to a great tree trunk and looked +up. The sky wore an ocher hue against which the branches quivered in +zigzags of blackness. Mr. Heatherbloom moved apart to watch, but still +he neither saw nor heard sign of any one drawing near. The sad ocher +merged into a somber blue; the stars came out, one by one, then in +shoals. She could hardly see him now, so fast had the tropical night +descended, but she heard his step, returning. + +"Quite certain there's no danger," he reassured her. "Went back a way." + +"Thank you," she said. And added: "For all." + +"Betty." The stars twinkled madly. Pulsating waves seemed to vibrate in +the air. A moment he continued to stare into the darkness, then again +turned. He had not seen how the girl's hand had suddenly closed, and her +slender form had swayed. As restlessly he resumed his sentinel's duty, +Sonia Turgeinov's last words once more recurred to him. How often had +he thought of them that long afternoon, and wondered who was the one the +young girl would now shortly be free to turn to? There had been many in +the past who had sought her favor. Perhaps the unknown was one of these; +or, more likely, one of the newer many that had arisen, no doubt, since, +in the gayer larger world of New York, or the continent. Betty +Dalrymple's manner at the Russian woman's words indicated that the +latter had--how Mr. Heatherbloom could not imagine--hit upon a great +kernel of truth. Again, in fancy, he saw on her cheek that swift flush +of warm blood. Lucky, thrice lucky, the man who had caused it! Softly +Mr. Heatherbloom moved nearer. + +Was she sleeping? He, himself, felt too fagged to sleep. Like Psyche, in +the glade, she was covered all with starlight. He ventured closer, bent +over; the widely opened eyes looked suddenly into his. + +"The woman told me you had nothing to do with it--that plot of hers and +the prince," she said slowly. "I know now why you were on the boat, +and--all the rest--what it meant for me, your being there." + +"You know, then"--embarrassed--"the awful mess I made of it all--" + +"You dared a great deal," she said softly. + +"And came an awful cropper!" + +She did not answer directly. "At first Francois was most reluctant to +risk going with me," she went on. "I thought it odd, at the time, he +should change so suddenly, become so brave. Now I understand, at least, +a little--in a general way. I have been over-quick to think evil of you, +ever since we met again. Perhaps, in the past, too"--slowly--"I have +been--" + +"Betty!" he cried uneasily, and seemed about once more to move away, +when-- + +"Don't go," she said. "I'll not talk if you command me not to. You've +been the master to-day, you know," with subtle accent. + +"Have I?" His voice showed evidence of distress. "I didn't really +mean--it was necessary," he ended firmly. + +"Of course it was," said the girl. Her accent conveyed no note of +displeasure. Profile-wise he saw her face now--the young moon beyond. +"Don't think I'm blaming you. I'm not quite so hard, perhaps, as I once +was." Mr. Heatherbloom stood back a little farther in the shadow. +"Maybe, my poor little standard of judgment--" she stopped. "I have been +heedless, heartless, perhaps--" + +"You!" he exclaimed. "You!" There was only unfaltering adoration in his +tone--faith, unchanged and unchangeable. + +She spoke with a little catch in her voice: "Oh, I haven't cared. I +_did_ flirt with the prince; he accused me of that. He was right. What +did it matter to me, if I made others suffer? I haven't always had so +good a time as I seemed to--" There was a ring of passion in her tone +now. "What happened?" she said, turning on him swiftly. "What has +happened? I want to know all--" + +"You mean about the prince?" + +"I know all I want to know about him," scornfully. "I mean"--her slender +figure bent toward Mr. Heatherbloom--"you! What has taken place, and +why has it? What does it all mean? Don't you understand?" + +He drew in his breath slowly. + +"Tell me," she said, still tensely poised, her eyes insistent in the +shadow of her hair. + +"Miss Dalrymple--Betty--" he half stammered. + +"I want to know," she repeated. There was an inexorable demand in her +gaze. Mr. Heatherbloom straightened. The ordeal?--it must be met--though +that box of Pandora were best left unopened. He could not refuse her +anything; this she asked of him was not easy to grant, however. + +"Where shall I begin?" he said uncertainly. "You know a great deal. +There doesn't seem much worth talking about." + +"Begin where we left off--" + +"Our boy-and-girl engagement? You broke it. Quite right of you!" She +stirred slightly. "It was, at best, but a perfunctory business, half +arranged by our parents to keep the millions together--" + +"You never blamed me a little, then?" she asked. + +"I--blame you?" wonderingly. "You were as far from me as a star. What +you thought of me, you told me; it was all right--true stuff. Though it +sank in like a blade. I was nothing--worse than nothing. A rich man's +son!--a commonplace type. A good fellow some called me at Monte Carlo, +Paris, elsewhere." He paused. A moment he seemed another +personality--that other one. She saw it anew, caught a glimpse of it +like a flash on a mirror; then he seemed to relapse farther back into +the shadow. "I really don't want to bore you," he said perfunctorily, +raising an uncertain hand to the stray; lock on his forehead. + +"You aren't--doing that. Go on." Her eyes were full of questions. "After +I saw you that last time"--he nodded--"you disappeared. No one ever +heard anything of you; again, or knew what had become of you." + +"As no one cared," he said with a short laugh, "what did it matter?" + +"You were lost to the world--had vanished completely," she went on. +"Sometimes I thought--feared you were dead." Her voice changed. + +"Feared?" he repeated. "Ah, yes! You did not want me to go out like +that." + +"No," she said slowly. "Not like that." + +He looked at her comprehendingly; in spite of the bitter passionate +repudiation of him, she had been a little in earnest--had cared, in the +least, how he went down. + +"Why," he said, with a forced smile, "I didn't think you'd bother to +give the matter a thought." + +"You had some purpose?" she persisted, studying him. "I see--seem to +feel it now. It all--you--were incomprehensible. I mean, when I saw you +again that first time, in New York, after so long--" + +"It was funny, wasn't it?" he said with rather strained lightness. "The +Chariot of Concord--_What's the Matter with Mother_?--the gaping or +jibing crowd--then you, going by--" + +Her eyelids drooped; he stood now erect and motionless; in spite of the +determination to maintain that matter-of-fact pose, visions appeared +momentarily in his eyes. The glamour of the instant he had referred to +caught him. All he had felt then at the unexpected sight of +her--beautiful, far-away--returned to him. She was near now, but still +immeasurably distant. He pulled himself together; he hadn't explained +very much yet. He was forced to go on; her eyes once more seemed to draw +the story from him. + +"Yes; I had some purpose in going away like that. The idea came to me at +the sanatorium, when I was about 'all in'. They'd managed to keep the +drugs and the drink from me, and one day I seemed to wake up and realize +I hadn't ever really lived. Just been a tail-ender who had 'gone the +pace'. Hadn't even had a beginning. Was it too late to start over again? +Probably." His voice came in crisp accents. "But it was a last chance--a +feeble one--a straw to the drowning," he laughed. "That sounds absurd +to you but I don't know how to explain it better." + +"No; it doesn't sound absurd," she said. + +"The idea of mine?--how to carry it out? Ways and means were not hard to +find. I went to"--he mentioned a name--"an old friend of my father's. He +thought I was a fool," bruskly, "but in the end he approved, or seemed +to. Anyhow, I persuaded him to take all my bonds, securities and the +rest of (for me) cursed stuff. At the end of a certain time, if I wanted +back the few millions I hadn't yet run through, he was to give them to +me, minus commissions, wage, etc." + +"You mean," said the girl, "that was the way you took to go back to the +beginning, as you call it?" Her eyes were like stars. "You practically +gave away all your money so as to start by yourself." + +"How could I start with it?" he asked, with a faint smile. "Don't you +see, Betty"--in a momentary eagerness he forgot himself--"there couldn't +be any compromising? Besides, it came to me--you will laugh"--she did +not laugh--"that some day, somewhere else, if not here, I'd have to make +that beginning, to be something myself. Remember that old Hindu fellow +with a red turban who sat on your front lawn, beneath the palms, and had +the women gathered around him in a kind of hypnotic state? He said +something like that--I thought him an old fakir at the time. He used a +lot of flowery language, but I guess, boiled down, it meant start at the +bottom of the ladder. Build yourself up, the way my father did," with a +certain wistful pride. "You remember him?" + +Her head moved. "Fine looking, wasn't he?" ruminatively. "He got there +with his hands and brains, and honestly. While I hadn't ever used +either. I hope," he broke off, "all this doesn't sound like preaching." + +"No," she said. + +An instant his gaze lingered on her. "You're sleepy now," he spoke +suddenly. + +"No, I am not. You found it a little hard, at first?" + +"A little. When a man is relaxed and the reaction is on him--" He +stopped. + +"Tell me--tell me all," she breathed. "Every bit of it, Harry." + +His lips twitched. To hear his almost forgotten name spoken again by +her! A moment he seemed to waver. Temptation of violet eyes; wonder of +the rapt face! Oh, that he might catch her in his arms, claim her anew; +this time for all time! But again he mastered himself and went on +succinctly, as quickly as possible. Between the lines, however, the girl +might read the record of struggles which was very real to her. He had +reverted "to the beginning" with poor tools and most scanty experience. +And there was that other fight that made it a double fight, the fiercer +conflict with self. Hunger, privation, want, which she might divine, +though he did not speak of them, became as lesser details. She listened +enrapt. + +"I guess that's about all," he said at last. + +She continued to look at him, his features, clear-cut in the white +light. "And you didn't ever really go back--to undo it all?" + +"Once I did go back to 'Frisco"--he told her of the relapse with cold +candor--"out at heels, and ready to give up. I wanted the millions. They +were gone." + +"You mean, lost?" + +"Yes; he had speculated; was dead. Poor fellow!" + +"You say that? And you have never tried to get any of the money back?" + +"Fortunately, he died bankrupt," said Mr. Heatherbloom calmly. + +"And you failed to show the world he was a--thief?" Something in the +word seared her. + +"What was the use? He left a wife and children. Besides, he really +served me by what the world would call robbing me. I _had_ to continue +at the beginning. It was the foot of the ladder, all right," he added. + +Her face showed no answering gaiety. "You are going to amount to a great +deal some day," she said. "I think very few of us in this world find +ourselves," she added slowly. + +"Perhaps some don't have to hunt so hard as others," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Don't they?" Her lips wore an odd little smile. + +He threw back his shoulders. "Good night, now. You are very tired, I +know." + +She put out her hand. He took it--how soft and small and cold! The +seconds were throbbing hours; he couldn't release it, at once. The +little fingers grew warmer--warmer in his palm--their very pulsations +seemed throbbing with his. Suddenly he dropped her hand. + +"Good night," he said quickly. + +He remembered he was nothing to her--that they would soon part for ever. + +"Good night," she answered softly. + +Then, silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +AN EXPLANATION + +Morn came. They had heard or seen nothing of the prince and his men. Mr. +Heatherbloom walked back for a cold plunge in a stream that had +whispered not far from their camping spot throughout the night. He and +Betty Dalrymple breakfasted together on an old log; it wasn't much of a +meal--a few crackers and crumbs that were left--but neither appeared to +mind the meagerness of the fare. With much gaiety (the dawn seemed to +have brought with it a special allegrezza of its own) she insisted upon +a fair and equitable division of their scanty store, even to the +apportioning of the crumbs into two equal piles. Then, prodigal-handed +for a castaway who knew not where her next meal might come from, she +tossed a bit or two to the birds, and was rewarded by a song. + +All this seemed very wonderful to Mr. Heatherbloom; there had never +before been such a breakfast; compared to it, the _dejeuner à la +fourchette_ of a Durand or a Foyot was as starvation fare. It was +surprising how beautiful the dark places of the night before looked now; +daylight metamorphosed the spot into a sylvan fairyland. Mr. +Heatherbloom could have lingered there indefinitely. The soft moss wooed +him, somewhat aweary with world contact; she filled his eyes. The faint +shadowy lines beneath hers which he had noted at the dawn had now +vanished; the same sun-god that ordered the forest flowers to lift their +gay heads commanded the rosebuds to unfold their bright petals on her +cheeks. Her lips were as red berries; the cobwebs, behind, alight with +sunshine, gleamed no more than the tossed golden hair. She had striven +as best she might with the last, not entirely to her own satisfaction +but completely to Mr. Heatherbloom's. His untutored masculine sense +rather gloried in the unconventionally of a superfluous tangle or two; +he found her most charming with a few rents in her gown from branch or +brier. They seemed to establish a new bond of camaraderie, to make +blithe appeal to his nomadic soul. It was as if fate had directed her +footsteps until they had touched and lingered on the outer circle of his +vagabondage. Both seemed to have forgotten all about his excellency. + +"Rested?" queried Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Quite," she answered. There was no trace of weariness in her voice. +"And you?" + +"Ditto," he laughed. Then, more gravely, "You see, I fell asleep while +watching," he confessed. + +"I'm glad." + +"You'd make a lenient commanding officer. Shall we go on?" + +"Where?" + +"I don't exactly know," he confessed. + +"That's lovely." Then, tentatively, "It's nice here." + +"Fine," he assented. There was no hardness in the violet eyes as they +rested on him. He did not pause to analyze the miracle; he only +accepted it. A moment he yielded to the temptation of the lotus-eater +and continued to luxuriate in the lap of Arcadia. Then he bestirred +himself uneasily; it was not sufficient just to breathe in the golden +gladness of the moment. "Yes; it's fine," he repeated, "only you see--" + +"Of course!" she said with a little sigh, and rose. "_I_ see you are +going to be very domineering, the way you were yesterday." + +"I? Domineering?" + +"Weren't you?" she demanded, looking at him from beneath long lashes. + +"I'm sure I didn't intend--" He stopped for she was laughing at him. +They went on and her mood continued to puzzle him. Never had he seen her +so blithe, so gay. She waved her hand back at the woodland spot. +"Good-by," she said. + +Then they came upon the little town suddenly--so suddenly that both +appeared bewildered. Only a hillock had separated them from the sight of +it the night before. They looked and looked. It lay beneath an upward +sweep of land, in a cosy indenture of a great circle that swept far +around and away, fringed with cocoanut trees. Small wisps or corkscrews +of smoke defiled the blue of the sky; a wharf, with a steamer at the +end, obtruded abruptly upon the curve of the shore. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded the boat--a link from Arcadia to the mundane world. He should +have been glad but he didn't seem overwhelmed at the sight; he stood +very still. He hardly felt her hand on his sleeve; the girl's eyes were +full of sparkles. + +"What luck!" he said at length, his voice low and somewhat more formal. + +"Isn't it?" she answered. And drawing in her breath--"I can scarcely, +believe it." + +"It's there all right." He spoke slowly. "Come." And they went down. A +colored worker in the fields stared at them, but Betty nodded gaily, and +asked what town it was and the name of the island. He told them, growing +wonderment in his gaze. How could they be here and not know that; where +had they come from? To him they were as mysterious as two visitants +from Mars. Regardless of the effect they produced on the dusky toiler +they walked on. The island proved to be larger than they had thought and +commercially important. They had, the day before, but crossed a neck of +it. + +Soon now they reached the verge of the town and stood on its main artery +of traffic; the cobblestone pavement resounded with the rattling of +carts and rough native vehicles. At a curb stood a dilapidated public +conveyance to which was attached a horse of harmoniously antique aspect. +Miss Dalrymple got in and Mr. Heatherbloom took his place at her side. + +"The cable office," said the girl briefly, whereupon a lad of mixed +ancestry began to whack energetically the protuberant ribs of the drowsy +steed. It woke him and they clattered down the narrow way. Mr. +Heatherbloom leaned back, his gaze straight ahead, but Betty Dalrymple +looked around with interest at the people of divers shades and hues, +and, for the most part, in costumes of varying degrees of picturesque +originality. After having narrowly escaped running over a small +proportion of the juvenile colored population overflowing from odd +little shops and houses, they reached the transportable zinc shed that +served as a cable office. Here Miss Dalrymple indited rapidly a most +voluminous message, paid the clerk in a businesslike manner, and, +unmindful of his amazed expression as he read what she had written, +tranquilly re-entered the carriage. + +"Miss Van Rolsen will be relieved when she gets that," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom mechanically. "It'll be a happy moment for her," +meditatively. + +"And won't she be gladder still when she sees us?" answered the girl +gaily. + +The use of the plural slightly disconcerted Mr. Heatherbloom for the +moment, but he dismissed it as an inadvertence. "Where now?" he asked. + +"Where do you think?" with dancing eyes. "Shopping, of course. +Fortunately I drew plenty of money before starting for California." + +An hour or so later Mr. Heatherbloom sat with parcels in his arms and +bundles galore around him. He accepted the situation gracefully; indeed, +displayed an almost tender solicitude for those especial packages she +herself handed him. + +"What next?" She had at length exhausted the somewhat limited resources +of the thoroughfare. + +"Drive to the best hotel," was her command. She laughed at the picture +he made, or at something in her own thoughts. She had unconsciously +assumed toward him a manner in the least proprietary, but if he noticed +he did not resent it. They went faster; her voice was a low thread of +music running through an accompaniment of crashing dissonances. She wore +a hat now--the best she could find. He considered it most "fetching", +but her thrilling derision overwhelmed his expression of opinion. Though +the way was so rough that they were occasionally thrown rather violently +one against another, they arrived in high spirits at their destination, +Mr. Heatherbloom having performed the commendable feat of preserving +intact the parcels and bundles en route. In the "best hotel" they were +given two rooms overlooking a courtyard redolent with orchids. The girl +nodded a brief farewell to him from the threshold of her room. + +"In about an hour, please, come back." + +He did, brushed up and with shoes shined, as presentable as possible. +She wore the same gown, but the sundry rents were mended and there had +occurred other changes he could divine rather than define. He brought +her information--not agreeable, he said. He was very sorry, but the next +boat for the United States would not call at the island for a fortnight. +He expected her to show dismay, but she received the news with +commendable fortitude, if not resignation. + +"I can cable aunt every day--so there can be no cause for worry--and she +will only be the more pleased when we actually do arrive." + +Again the plural! And once more that prophetic picture which included +Mr. Heatherbloom within the pale of the venerable and austere Miss Van +Rolsen's jubilation. He looked embarrassed but said nothing. During the +hour of his exclusion from Miss Dalrymple's company he had sallied forth +on a small but necessary financial errand of his own. Francois had +placed in the basket of biscuits a revolver, and this latter Mr. +Heatherbloom, rightfully construing it as his own personal property in +lieu of the weapon his excellency had deprived him of, had exchanged for +a bit of cardboard and a greenback. The last named, reinforced by the +small amount Mr. Heatherbloom had left upon reaching the _Nevski_ and of +which the prince had not deprived him, would relieve his necessities for +the moment. After that? Well, he would take up the problem presently; he +had no time for it now. This day, at least, should be consecrated to +Betty Dalrymple. + +He had an inkling that on the morrow he would see less of her; the +girl's story would get around. The American consul would call and tender +his services. The governor, too, Sir Charles Somebody, whose palatial +residence looked down on the town from the side of the hill, might be +expected to become officially and paternally interested. The little +cable office, despite rules and regulations, could not long retain its +prodigious secret; moreover Mr. Heatherbloom, in an absent-minded +moment, had inscribed Miss Dalrymple's name on the register, or +visitors' book. He recalled how the eyes of the old mammy, the +proprietress, had fairly rolled with curiosity. No; he would not be +permitted long to have her to himself, he ruminated; better make the +most of his opportunity now. Besides, his present monetary position +forbade his presence for more than a day or two at the "best hotel"; its +rates were for him distinctly prohibitive. The exigencies of financial +differences would soon separate them; she could draw on Miss Van Rolsen +for thousands; he had but five dollars and twelve cents--or was it +thirteen?--to his name. + +He kept these reflections, however, to himself and continued to bask in +the sunshine of a fool's paradise. They rode, walked and explored. They +went to the fruit and the flower market. He bought her a great bunch of +flowers, and she not only took it but wore it. For a time he stepped on +air; his flowers constituted a fine splash of color on the girl's gown. +Her heart beat beneath them; the thought was as wine. + +"Shall we?" They had partaken of tea (or nectar) in a small shop, and +now she paused before that most modern manifestation of a restless +civilization, a begilded, over-ornamented nickelodeon. "Think of finding +one of them way off here! Just as at home!" + +"More extraordinary your wanting to go in!" he laughed. + +"Why not? It will be an experience." + +They entered; the place was half filled and they took seats toward the +back. There were films, and songs of the usual character; it was very +gay. Gurgles of merriment from Creoles and darkies were heard on all +sides. They, too, yielded freely, gladly to its infection. Happy +Creoles! happy darkies! happy Betty Dalrymple and Horatio +Heatherbloom--heiress and outcast! There is a democracy in laughter; yon +darky smiled at Miss Dalrymple, while Mr. Heatherbloom laughed with +her, with them, and the world. For was she not near, right there by his +side? To Mr. Heatherbloom the tinsel palace had become a temple of +felicity and wonder. Suddenly he started and his face changed. + +"The Great Diamond Robbery," one of the films, was in progress, and +there, depicted on the canvas, amid many figures, he saw himself, the +most pronounced in that realistic group. And Betty Dalrymple saw the +semblance of him, also, for she gave a slight gasp and sat more erect. +In the moving picture he was running away from a crowd. + +"Shall--shall we go?" The face of the flesh-and-blood Mr. Heatherbloom +was very red; he looked toward the door. + +She did not answer; her eyes continued bent straight before her, and she +saw the whole quick scene of the drama unfolded. Then the street became +cleared, the fleeing figure had turned a corner as an automobile, not +engaged for the performance, came around it and went by. A big car--her +own--she was in it. She caught, like a flash on the canvas, a glimpse of +herself looking around; then the scene came to an end. Betty Dalrymple +laughed--a little hysterically. + +"Oh," she said. "Oh, oh!" + +He became, if possible, redder. + +"Oh," she repeated. Then, "Why"--with eyes full of mingled tragedy and +comedy--"did you not explain it all that day, when--" + +Of course she knew even as she spoke why he could not, or would not. + +"You had cause to think so many things," he murmured. + +"But that! How--how strange! I saw you, and--" + +He laughed. "And the manager told me I was a 'rotten bad' actor! Those +were his words; not very elegant. But I believed him, until now--" + +"Say something harsh and hard to me," she whispered, almost fiercely. "I +deserve it." + +The violet eyes were passionate. "Betty!" he exclaimed wonderingly. + +"Do you call that harsh?" she demanded mockingly. "You--you should be +cross with me--scold me--punish me--" + +"Well," he said calmly, "you haven't believed _that_, lately, anyhow." + +"No; I just set it aside as something incomprehensible, not to be +thought of, or to be considered any more. I believed in you, with all my +soul, since last night--a good deal before that, yes, yes!--in my +innermost heart! You believe me, don't you?" + +He answered, he hardly knew what. Some one was singing _Put on Your Old +Gray Bonnet_. Her shoulder touched his arm and lingered there. "Oh, my +dear!" she was saying to herself. The pianist banged; the vocalist +bawled, while Mr. Heatherbloom sat in ecstasy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +GAIETIES + +They took her away the next day. The governor--Sir Charles Somebody--had +heard of her and came and claimed her. His lady--portly, +majestic--arrived with him. Their carriage was the finest on the island +and their horses were the best. The coachman and footman were covered +with the most approved paraphernalia and always constituted an unending +source of wonder and admiration for the natives. The latter gathered in +front of the best hotel on this occasion; they did not quite know what +was taking place, but the sight of the big carriage there drew them +about like flies. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not linger to speculate or to survey. He had seen +but not spoken to Miss Dalrymple that morning; she had smiled at him +across space, behind orchids. A moment or two he had sat dreaming how +fine it would be to live for ever in such a courtyard, with Betty +Dalrymple's face on the other side, then the hubbub below disturbed and +dispelled his reflections. He went down to investigate and to retreat. +Sir Charles and his lady were in the hall; they seemed to charge the +entire hostelry with their presence. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +contemplatively out and down the street. + +His mind, with a little encouragement, would have flitted back to +courtyards and orchids, but he forced it along less fanciful lines. +Mundane considerations were imperative and courtyards were a luxury of +the rich. He calculated that, after paying his bill at the best hotel, +he wouldn't have much more than half a dollar, or two English shillings, +left. The situation demanded calm practical reflection; he strove to +bestow upon it the necessary measure of orderly thinking. Yesterday, +with its nickelodeon, or temple of wonder, was yesterday; to-day, with +its problems, was to-day. He had lingered in the happy valley, or +kingdom of Micomicon, but the carriage was before the door--the golden +chariot had come to bear away the beautiful princess. + +Mr. Heatherbloom asked for employment at the wharf and got it. The +supercargo of the boat, loading there, had been indulging, not wisely +but too well, in "green swizzles", an insidious drink of the country, +and, when last seen was oblivious to the world. A red-haired mate, with +superfluous utterance, informed the applicant he could come that +afternoon and temporarily essay the delinquent one's duties, checking up +the bags of merchandise and bananas the natives were bringing aboard, +and otherwise making himself useful. Mr. Heatherbloom tendered his +thanks and departed. + +He wandered aimlessly for a while, but the charm of the town had +vanished; he gazed with no interest upon quaint bits most attractive +yesterday, and stolidly regarded now those happy faces he had liked so +much but a short time before. He shook himself; this would not do; but +the work would soon cure him of vain imaginings. + +He returned to the hotel and settled with the landlady. Betty Dalrymple +was gone. Of course, there could be no denying Sir Charles and his lady; +one of the young girl's place and position in the world could not, with +reason or good grace, refuse the governor's hospitality. Mr. +Heatherbloom was hardly a suitable chaperon. But she had left a hasty +and altogether charming note for him which he read the last few moments +he spent in the courtyard room. "Come soon;" that was the substance of +it. What more could mortal have asked? Mr. Heatherbloom gazed at an +empty window where he had last seen her (had they been there only +twenty-four hours?), then he took a bit of painting on ivory from his +pocket and wrapped the message around it. Before noon he had engaged +cheap but neat lodgings at the home of an old negro woman. + +Several days passed. After waiting in vain for him to call at the +governor's mansion, Betty Dalrymple drove herself to the hotel; here she +learned that he had gone without leaving an address; a message from Sir +Charles for Mr. Heatherbloom, formally offering to put the latter up at +government house, had not been delivered. Mr. Heatherbloom had failed to +call for his mail. + +"Really, my dear, such solicitude!" murmured the governor's wife, when +Miss Dalrymple came out of the hotel. "An ordinary secret-service man, +too." + +"Oh, no; not an ordinary one," said the girl a little confusedly. She +had not taken the liberty of speaking of Mr. Heatherbloom's private +affairs to her august hosts. His true name, or his story, were his to +reveal when or where he saw fit. In taking her into his confidence he +had sealed her lips until such time as she had his permission to speak. + +"Well, don't worry about the man," observed the elder lady rather +loftily. "There has been a big reward offered, of course, and he'll +appear in due time to claim it." + +"He'll not," began Betty Dalrymple indignantly, and stopped. + +She had been obliged to explain in some way Mr. Heatherbloom's presence, +and the subterfuge he had himself employed toward her on the _Nevski_ +had been the only one that occurred to her. A brave secret-service +officer who had aided her--that's what Mr. Heatherbloom was to the +governor and his better half. Hence the distinct formality of Sir +Charles' note to Mr. Heatherbloom, indited at Miss Dalrymple's special +request and somewhat against the good baronet's own secret judgment. A +police agent may be valiant as a lion, but he is not a gentleman. + +Something of this axiomatic truth the excellent hosts strove to instill +by means, more or less subtle, in the mind of their young guest; but she +clung with odd tenacity to her own ingenuous point of view. Whereupon +Sir Charles figuratively shrugged. Reprehensible democracy of the new +world! She, with the perversity of American womankind, actually spoke +of, and, no doubt, desired to treat the fellow as an equal. + +She found him one morning, a day or two later. She came down to the +wharf, alone, and on foot. He held a note-book and pencil, but that he +had not been above lending physical assistance, on occasion, to the +natives bearing bags and other merchandise, was evident from his hands +which were grimy as a stevedore's. His shirt was open at the throat, and +his face, too, bore marks of toil. Betty Dalrymple stepped impetuously +toward him; she looked as fresh as a flower, and held out a hand gloved +in immaculate white. + +"Dare I?" he laughed. + +"If you don't!" Her eyes dared him not to take it. + +He looked at the hand, such a delicate thing, and seemed still in the +least uncertain; then his fingers closed on it. + +"You see I managed to find you," she said. "Who is that man who stares +so?" + +"That," answered Mr. Heatherbloom smiling, "is my boss." + +"Well," she observed, "I don't like his face." + +"Some of the darkies he's knocked down share, I believe, your opinion," +he laughed. "Excuse me a moment." And Mr. Heatherbloom stepped to the +dumfounded person in question, handed him the note-book and pencil, +with a request to keep tab for a moment, and then returned to the girl. +"Now, I'm at your command," he said with a smile. + +"Suppose we take a walk?" she suggested. "We can talk better if we do." + +A moment Mr. Heatherbloom wavered. "Sorry," he then said, "but I've +promised to stick by the job. You see the old tub sails to-morrow for +South America and it'll be a task to get her loaded before night. Some +of the hands, as well as the supercargo, have been bowled over by +fire-water." + +"I see." There was a strained look about her lips. Before them heavily +laden negroes and a few sailors passed and repassed. The burly +red-headed mate often looked at her; amazement and curiosity were +depicted on his features; he almost forgot the duties Mr. Heatherbloom +had, for a brief interval, thrust upon him. Betty Dalrymple, however, +had ceased to observe him; he, the others, no longer existed for her. +She saw only Mr. Heatherbloom now; what he said, she knew he meant; she +realized with an odd thrill of mingled admiration and pain that even she +could not cause him to change his mind. He would "stick to his job", +because he had said he would. + +"I'm interrupting, I fear," she said, a feeling of strange humility +sweeping over her. "When is your day's work done?" + +"About six, I expect." + +"The governor gives a ball for me to-night," she said. + +"Excellent. All the elite of the port will be there, and," with slow +meditative accent, "I can imagine how you'll look!" + +"Can you?" she asked, bending somewhat nearer. + +"Yes." His gaze was straight ahead. + +The white glove stole toward the black hand. "Why don't you come?" + +"I?" He stared. + +"Yes; the governor has sent you an invitation. He thinks you a +secret-service officer." + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to look at her; then he glanced toward the +boat. Suddenly his hand closed; he hardly realized the white glove was +in it. "I'll do it, Betty," he exclaimed. "That is, if I can. And--there +may be a way. Yes; there will be." + +"You mean, you may be able to rent them?" With a sparkle in her glance. + +"Exactly," he answered gaily, recklessly. + +Both laughed. Then her expression changed; she suppressed an +exclamation, but gently withdrew her hand. + +"How many dances will you give me, Betty?" He had not even noticed that +he had hurt her; his voice was low and eager. + +"Ask and see," she said merrily, and went. But outside the shed, she +stretched her crushed fingers; he was very strong; he had spoiled a new +pair of gloves; she did not, however, seem greatly to mind. As for Mr. +Heatherbloom, for the balance of the day he plunged into his task with +the energy of an Antaeus. + + * * * * * + +Sir Charles regarded rather curiously that night one of his guests who +arrived late. Mr. Heatherbloom's evening garments were not a Poole fit, +and his white gloves, though white enough, had obviously been used and +cleaned often. But the host observed, also, that Mr. Heatherbloom held +himself well, said just the right thing to the hostess, and moved +through the assemblage with quite the proper poise. He didn't look +bored, neither did he appear overimpressed by the almost palatial +elegance of the ball-room. He even managed to suppress any outward signs +of elation at the sight of Miss Dalrymple with whom he had but the +opportunity for a word or two, at first. Naturally the center of +attraction, the young girl found herself forced to dance often. He, too, +whirled around with others, just whom, he did not know; he dipped into +Terpsichorean gaiety to escape the dowager's inquisition regarding that +haphazard flight from the _Nevski_ and other details he did not wish to +converse about. But his turn came with Betty at last, and sooner than he +had reason to expect. + +"Ours is the next?" she said, passing him. + +Was it? He had ventured to write his name thrice on her card, but +neither of the dances he had claimed was the next. + +"I put your name down for this one myself," she confessed to him a few +moments later. "Do you mind?" + +Did he? The evening wore away but too soon; he held her to him a little +while, only over-quickly to be obliged to yield her to another. And now, +after a third period of waiting, the time came for their last dance. He +went for it as soon as the number preceding was over; he wanted, not +only to miss none of it, but he hungered to snatch all the prelude he +could. The conventional-looking young personage she had been dancing +with regarded the approaching Mr. Heatherbloom rather resentfully, but +he moved straight as an arrow for her. At once she stepped toward him, +and he soon found himself walking with her across the smooth shining +floor, on into the great conservatory. Here were soft shadows and +wondrous perfumes. Mr. Heatherbloom breathed deeply. + +"But a few days more, and we're en route for home." It was the girl who +spoke first--lightly, gaily--though there was a thrill in her tones. + +He started and did not answer at once. "That will be great, won't it?" +His voice, too, was light, but it did not seem so spontaneously glad as +her own. + +"You _are_ pleased, aren't you?" she said suddenly. + +"Pleased? Of course!" + +A brief period of inexplicable constraint! He looked at one of her hands +resting on the edge of a great vase--at a flower she held in her +fingers. + +"May I?" he said, and just touched it. + +"Of course!" she laughed. "A modest request, after all you've done for +me!" + +Her fingers placed it in the rented coat. + +"There!" she murmured in a matter-of-fact tone, stepping back. + +His face, turned to the light, appeared paler; his eyes looked +studiously beyond her. + +"It will be jolly on the steamer, won't it?" she went on. + +"Jolly? Oh, yes," he assented, with false enthusiasm, when a black and +white apparition appeared before them, no less a person than Sir +Charles. + +The governor, as the bearer of particular news, had been looking for +her. Mr. Heatherbloom hardly appreciated the preamble or the importance +of what followed. Sir Charles imparted a bit of confidential information +they were not to breathe to any one until he had verified the +particulars. Word had just been brought to him that the _Nevski_ had +gone on a reef near a neighboring island and was a total wreck. A +passing steamer had stood by, taken off the prince and his crew and +landed them. Still Mr. Heatherbloom but vaguely heard; he felt little +interest at the moment in his excellency or his boat. Betty Dalrymple's +face, however, showed less indifference to this startling intelligence. + +"The _Nevski_ a wreck?" she murmured. + +"It must all seem like an evil dream to you now," Mr. Heatherbloom spoke +absently. "Your having ever been on her!" + +"Not all an evil one," she answered. They stood again on the ball-room +floor. "Much good has come from it. I no longer hate the prince. I only +blame myself a great deal for many things--" + +He seemed to hear only her first words. "'Good come from it?' I don't +understand." + +"But for the _Nevski_, and what happened to me, I should have gone on +thinking, as I did, about you." + +"And--would that have made such a difference?" quickly. + +She raised her eyes. "What do you think?" + +"Betty!" + +The music had begun. He who had heretofore danced perfectly, now guided +wildly. + +"Take care!" she whispered. + +But discretion seemed to have left him; he spoke he knew not what--wild +mad words that would not be suppressed. They came in contact with +another couple and were brought to an abrupt stop. Flaming poppies shone +on her cheeks; her eyes were brightly beaming. But she laughed and they +went on. He swept her out of the crowded ball-room now, on to the broad +veranda where a few other couples also moved in the starlight. On her +curved lips a smile rested; it seemed to draw his head lower. + +"Betty, do you mean it?" Again the words were wrested from him, would +come. "What your eyes said just now?" + +She lifted them again, gladly, freely--not only that-- + +"Yes; I mean it--mean it," said her lips. "Of course! Foolish boy! I +have long meant it--" + +"Long?" he cried. + +"You heard what the Russian woman said--" + +"About there being some one? Then it was--" + +"Guess." The sweet laughing lips were close; his swept them +passionately. He found the answer; the world seemed to go round. + +But later, that night, there was no joy on Mr. Heatherbloom's face. In +his room in the old negro woman's house, he indited a letter. It was +brought to Betty Dalrymple the next morning as the early sunshine +entered her chamber overlooking the governor's park. + +"Darling: Forgive me. I am sailing at dawn on the old tub, for South +America--" + +Here the note fell from the girl's hand. Long she looked out of the +window. Then she went back to the bit of paper, took it and held it +against her breast before she again read. She seemed to know now what +would be in it; the strange depression that had come over her after he +had left last night was accounted for. Of course, he would not go back +to New York with her; he would, or could, accept nothing, in the way she +wished, from her or her aunt. It was necessary for him still to be Mr. +Heatherbloom; he had not yet "found himself" fully; the beginning he had +spoken of was only begun. The influential friends of his father in the +financial world had become impossible aids; he had to continue as he had +planned, to go his own way, and his, alone. It would have been easy for +him, as his father's son and the prospective nephew of the influential +Miss Van Rolsen, to have obtained one of those large salaried positions, +or "sinecures", with little to do. But that would be only beginning at +the end once more. + +Again she essayed to read. The letter would have been a little +incomprehensible to any one except herself, but she understood. There +were three "darlings"; inexcusable tautology! She kissed them all, but +she kissed oftenest the end: "You will forgive me for forgetting +myself--God knows I didn't intend to--and you will wait; have faith? It +is much to ask--too much; but if you will, I think my father's son and +he whom you have honored by caring for, may yet prove a little worthy--" + +The words brought a sob to her throat; she threw herself back on the +bed. "A little?" she cried, still holding the note tight in her hand. +But after a spell of weeping, once more she got up and looked out of the +window. The sunshine was very bright, the birds sang to her. Did she +take heart a little? A great wave of sadness bowed her down, but +courage, too, began to revive in her. + +"Have faith?" She looked up at the sky; she would do as he asked--unto +the grave, if need be. Then, very quietly, she dressed and went +down-stairs. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +It is very gay at the Hermitage, in Moscow, just after Easter, and so it +was natural that Sonia Turgeinov should have been there on a certain +bright afternoon some three years later. The theater, at which she once +more appeared, was closed for the afternoon, and at this season +following Holy Week and fasting, fashionables and others were wont to +congregate in the spacious café and grounds, where a superb orchestra +discourses classical or dashing selections. The musicians played now an +American air. + +"Some one at a table out there on the balcony sent a request by the head +waiter for it," said a member of Sonia Turgeinov's party--a Parisian +artist, not long in Moscow. + +"An American, no doubt," she answered absently, sipping her wine. The +three years had treated her kindly; the few outward changes could be +superficially enumerated: A little more embonpoint; a tendency toward a +slight drooping at the corners of the mobile lips, and moments when the +shadows seemed to stay rather longer in the deep eyes. + +"That style of music should appeal to you, Madam," observed the +Frenchman. "You who have been among those favored artists to visit the +land of the free. Did you have to play in a tent, and were you literally +showered with gold?" + +"Both," she laughed. "It is a land of many surprises." + +"I have heard _es ist alles_ 'the almighty dollar'," said a musician +from Berlin, one of the gay company. + +"Exaggeration, _mein Herr_!" she retorted, with a wave of the hand. "It +is also a _komischer romantischer_ land." For a moment she seemed +thinking. + +"Isn't that his excellency, Prince Boris Strogareff?" inquired abruptly +a young man with a beyond-the-Volga physiognomy. + +She started. "The prince?" An odd look came into her eyes. "Do you +believe in telepathic waves, Monsieur?" she said gaily to the Frenchman. + +"Not to any great extent, Madam. _Mais pourquoi?"_ + +"Nothing. But I don't see this prince you speak of." + +"He has disappeared now," replied her countryman, a fellow-player +recently come from Odessa. "It is his first dip again into the gaieties +of the world. For several years," with the proud accents of one able to +impart information concerning an important personage, "he has been +living in seclusion on his vast estates near the Caspian Sea--ruling a +kingdom greater than many a European principality. But have you never +met the prince?" To Sonia Turgeinov. "He used to be a patron of the +arts, according to report, before the sad accident that befell him." + +"I think," observed Sonia Turgeinov, with brows bent as if striving to +recollect, "I did meet him once. But a poor actress is forced to meet +so many princes and nobles, nowadays," she laughed, "that--" + +"True! Only one would not easily forget the prince, the handsomest man +in Asia." + +She yawned slightly. + +"What was this 'sad accident' you were speaking of, _mein Herr_? +observed the German, with a mind trained to conversational continuity. + +"The prince was cruising somewhere and his yacht was wrecked," said the +young Roscius from Odessa. "A number of the crew were drowned; his +excellency, when picked up, was unconscious. A blow on the head from a +falling timber, or from being dashed on the rocks, I'm not sure which. +At any rate, for a long time his life was despaired of, but he recovered +and is as strong and sound as ever. Only, there is a strange sequel; or +not so strange," reflectively, "since cases of its kind are common. The +injury was on his head, as I remarked, and his mind became--" + +"Affected, Monsieur?" said the Frenchman. "You mean this great noble of +the steppe is no longer right, mentally?" + +"He is one of the keenest satraps in Asia, Monsieur. His brain is as +alert as ever, only he has suffered a complete loss of memory." + +Sonia Turgeinov's interest was of a distinctly artificial nature; she +tapped on the floor with her foot; then abruptly arose. "Shan't we go +into the garden for our coffee?" she said. "It is close here." + +They got up and walked out. As they did so they passed a couple at one +of the tables on the balcony and a slight exclamation fell from Sonia +Turgeinov's lips. For an instant she exhibited real interest, then +hastening down the steps, she selected a place some distance aside. A +great bunch of flowers was in the center of the table and she moved her +chair behind them. + +"You see some one you know, _gnädige_ Madam?" asked the observant +Teuton. + +"A great many people," she answered. + +"There's that American over there who asked for the Yankee piece of +music," said the Frenchman, with eyes on the two people Sonia Turgeinov +had started at sight of, a moment before. "_Mon Dieu!_ What charm! What +beauty!" + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner?_" blurted the surprised Berliner. + +"No--_diable!_ His _belle_ companion!" + +"Where?" said Sonia Turgeinov, well knowing. A face that her table +companion regarded, she, too, saw beyond the flowers. The afternoon +sunshine touched the golden hair of her she looked at; the violet eyes +shone with delight upon bizarre details: of the scene--the waiters in +blouses resembling street "white wings" in American cities, the coachmen +outside, big as balloons in their quilted cloaks. + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner_ has the passionate eyes of an admirer, a devout +lover," murmured the sentimental musician from Berlin. + +"Or an American husband!" said Roscius from Odessa. + +"Sometimes!" added the Frenchman cynically. + +"I haf met him," observed the _Herr Musikaner_, "at the hotel. +We haf talked together, once or twice. He has been in South +America--Argentine, _ich glaube_--and has made a fortune there. And +madam, his wife, and he are making a grand tour of the world. Their +wedding trip, I believe. _Sie kommt von einer der ersten Familien_--the +Dalrymples. _Der Herr Direktor_ of the Russicher-Chinese bank told me. +He cashes the drafts--_Her Gott_--_nicht kleine!_" + +These prosaic details the Frenchman, pictorially occupied, hardly, +heard. "_Mon Dieu_! What a _chapeau_!" he sighed. "No wonder he looks +enchanted at that wonderful creation of the Rue de la Paix." + +"He seems quite an exception to some husbands in that respect!" remarked +the Berliner in deep gutturals. + +Sonia Turgeinov lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke at the flowers. +There was a resentful cynicism in the act; she leaned back with greater +abandon in her chair. "After all, the unities have been observed," she +said with an odd laugh. + +"What unities?" asked Roscius, becoming keen as a young hound on the +scent, at the sound of the trite phrase. + +"Oh, I was thinking of a play." Stretching more comfortably. Suddenly +her cigarette waved; behind the flowers, her eyes dilated. Prince Boris +Strogareff was coming down the steps; he passed the American couple they +had been talking about and looked at them. A light of involuntary +admiration shone from his gaze, but there was no recognition in it--only +the instinctive tribute that a man of the world and a gallant Russian is +ever prone to pay at the sight of an unusually charming member of the +other sex. Then, once more impassive--a striking handsome figure--he +moved leisurely down and out of the gardens. The couple, engrossed at +the time in a conversation of some intimate nature or in each other, had +not even seen or noticed the august nobleman. + +Sonia Turgeinov drew harder on the cigarette; a laugh welled from her +throat. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!" she said. + +Young Roscius with the Tartar eyes stared at her. She threw away the +smoking cylinder. + +"I'm off!" + +"Why--" + +"Has not the curtain descended?" enigmatically. + +"I don't see any curtain," said the Frenchman. + +"No? But it's there." At the gate, however, once more she paused--to +listen, to laugh. + +"_Was jetzt_?" asked the mystified Berliner. + +She only shrugged. + +The orchestra, having played a few conventional selections after +_Dixie_, had now plunged into _Marching through Georgia_. + +As Sonia Turgeinov disappeared through the gate, the golden head +surmounted by the "wonderful _chapeau_", bent toward the clean-cut, +strong-looking face of the young man on the other side of the small +table. + +"It's awfully extravagant of you, Harry,--twenty roubles, a tip for +those musicians. But it makes it seem like home, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, darling," he answered. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man and His Money, by Frederic Stewart Isham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN AND HIS MONEY *** + +***** This file should be named 10402-8.txt or 10402-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/4/0/10402/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Audrey Longhurst, Dave Morgan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Man and His Money + +Author: Frederic Stewart Isham + +Release Date: December 8, 2003 [EBook #10402] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN AND HIS MONEY *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Dave Morgan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + +_By_ + +FREDERIC S. ISHAM + + + +_Author of_ + +Under the Rose, Half a Chance, +The Social Bucaneer, Etc. + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS BY + +MAX J. SPERO + + + + +1912 + + + + +A MAN AND HIS MONEY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +THE COACH OF CONCORD + +"Well? What can I do for you?" + +The speaker--a scrubby little man--wheeled in the rickety office chair +to regard some one hesitating on his threshold. The tones were not +agreeable; the proprietor of the diminutive, run-down establishment, +"The St. Cecilia Music Emporium," was not, for certain well defined +reasons, in an amiable mood that morning. He had been about to reach +down for a little brown jug which reposed on the spot usually allotted +to the waste paper basket when the shadow of the new-comer fell +obtrusively, not to say offensively, upon him. + +It was not a reassuring shadow; it seemed to spring from an +indeterminate personality. Mr. Kerry Mackintosh repeated his question +more bruskly; the shadow (obviously not a customer,--no one ever sought +Mr. Mackintosh's wares!) started; his face showed signs of a vacillating +purpose. + +"A mistake! Beg pardon!" he murmured with exquisite politeness and began +to back out, when a somewhat brutal command on the other's part to "shut +that d---- door d---- quick, and not let any more d---- hot air out" +arrested the visitor's purpose. Instead of retreating, he advanced. + +"I beg pardon, were you addressing me?" he asked. The half apologetic +look had quite vanished. + +The other considered, muttered at length in an aggrieved tone something +about hot air escaping and coal six dollars a ton, and ended with: "What +do you want?" + +"Work." The visitor's tone relapsed; it was now conspicuous for its want +of "success waves"; it seemed to imply a definite cognizance of +personal uselessness. He who had brightened a moment before now spoke +like an automaton. Mr. Mackintosh looked at him and his shabby garments. +He had a contempt for shabby garments--on others! + +"Good day!" he said curtly. + +But instead of going, the person coolly sat down. The proprietor of the +little shop glanced toward the door and half started from his chair. +Whereupon the visitor smiled; he had a charming smile in these moments +of calm equipoise, it gave one an impression of potential possibilities. +Mr. Mackintosh sank back into his chair. + +"Too great a waste of energy!" he murmured, and having thus defined his +attitude, turned to a "proof" of new rag-time. This he surveyed +discontentedly; struck out a note here, jabbed in another there. The +stranger watched him at first casually. By sundry signs the caller's +fine resolution and assurance seemed slowly oozing from him; perhaps he +began to have doubts as to the correctness of his position, thus to +storm a man in his own castle, or office--even if it were such a +disreputable-appearing office! + +He shifted his feet thoughtfully; a thin lock of dark hair drooped more +uncertainly over his brow; he got up. The composer dashed a blithe +flourish to the tail of a note. + +"Hold on," he said. "What's your hurry?" Sarcastically. + +"Didn't know I was in a hurry!" There was no attempted levity in his +tone,--he spoke rather listlessly, as one who had found the world, or +its problems, slightly wearisome. The composer-publisher now arose; a +new thought had suddenly assailed him. + +"You say you are looking for work. Why did you drift in here?" + +"The place looked small. Those big places have no end of applicants--" + +"Shouldn't think that would phase you. With _your_ nerve!" + +The visitor flushed. "I seem to have made rather a mess of it," he +confessed. "I usually do. Good day." + +"A moment!" said Mr. Mackintosh. "One of my men"--he emphasized "one," +as if their number were legion--"disappointed me this morning. I expect +he's in the lockup by this time. Have you got a voice?" + +"A what?" + +"Can you sing?" + +"I really don't know; haven't ever tried, since"--a wonderful +retrospection in his tones--"since I was a little chap in church and +wore white robes." + +"Huh!" ejaculated the proprietor of the Saint Cecilia shop. "Mama's +angel boy! That must have been a long time ago." The visitor did not +answer; he pushed back uncertainly the uncertain lock of dark hair and +seemed almost to have forgotten the object of his visit. + +"Now see here"--Mr. Mackintosh's voice became purposeful, energetic; he +seated himself before a piano that looked as if it had led a hard +nomadic existence. "Now see here!" Striking a few chords. "Suppose you +try this stunt! _What's the Matter with Mother_? My own composition! +Kerry Mackintosh at his best! Now twitter away, if you've any of that +angel voice left!" + +The piano rattled; the new-comer, with a certain faint whimsical smile +as if he appreciated the humor of his position, did "twitter away"; loud +sounds filled the place. Quality might be lacking but of quantity there +was a-plenty. + +"Bully!" cried Mr. Mackintosh enthusiastically. "That'll start the tears +rolling. _What's the Matter with Mother_? Nothing's the matter with +mother. And if any one says there is--Will it go? With that voice?" He +clapped his hand on the other's shoulder. "Why, man, they could hear you +across Madison Square. You've a voice like an organ. Is it a 'go'?" he +demanded. + +"I don't think I quite understand," said the new-comer patiently. + +"You don't, eh? Look there!" + +A covered wagon had at that moment stopped before the door. It was drawn +by a horse whose appearance, like that of the piano, spoke more +eloquently of services in the past than of hopeful promises for the +future. On the side of the vehicle appeared in large letters: "_What's +the Matter with Mother_? Latest Melodic Triumph by America's Greatest +Composer, Mr. Kerry Mackintosh." A little to the left of this +announcement was painted a harp, probably a reminder of the one Saint +Cecilia was supposed to have played. This sentimental symbol was +obviously intended to lend dignity and respectability to the otherwise +disreputable vehicle of concord and its steed without wings, waiting +patiently to be off--or to lie down and pay the debt of nature! + +"Shall we try it again, angel voice?" asked Mr. Mackintosh, playing the +piano, or "biffing the ivories," as he called it. + +"Drop it," returned the visitor, "that 'angel' dope." + +"Oh, all right! Anything to oblige." + +Before this vaguely apologetic reply, the new-comer once more relapsed +into thoughtfulness. His eye passed dubiously over the vehicle of +harmony; he began to take an interest in the front door as if again +inclined to "back out." Perhaps a wish that the horse _might_ lie down +and die at this moment (no doubt he would be glad to!) percolated +through the current of his thoughts. That would offer an easy solution +to the proposal he imagined would soon be forthcoming--that _was_ +forthcoming--and accepted. Of course! What alternative remained? Needs +must when an empty pocket drives. Had he not learned the lesson--beggars +must not be choosers? + +"And now," said Mr. Mackintosh with the air of a man who had cast from +his shoulders a distinct problem, "that does away with the necessity of +bailing the other chap out. What's your name?" + +The visitor hesitated. "Horatio Heatherbloom." + +The other looked at him keenly. "The right one," he said softly. + +"You've got the only one you'll get," replied the caller, after an +interval. + +Mr. Mackintosh bestowed upon him a knowing wink. "Sounds like a _nom de +plume_," he chuckled. "What was your line?" + +"I don't understand." + +"What did you serve time for? Shoplifting?" + +"Oh, no," said the other calmly. + +"Burglarizing?" With more respect in his tones. + +"What do you think?" queried the caller in the same mild voice. + +"Not ferocious-looking enough for that lay, I should have thought. +However, you can't always tell by appearances. Now, I wonder--" + +"What?" observed Mr. Heatherbloom, after an interval of silence. + +"Yes! By Jove!" Mr. Mackintosh was speaking to himself. "It might +work--it might add interest--" Mr. Heatherbloom waited patiently. "Would +you have any objections," earnestly, "to my making a little addenda to +the sign on the chariot of cadence? _What's the Matter with Mother_? +'The touching lyric, as interpreted by Horatio Heatherbloom, the +reformed burglar'?" + +"I _should_ object," observed the caller. + +"My boy--my boy! Don't be hasty. Take time to think. I'll go further; +I'll paint a few iron bars in front of the harp. Suggestive of a +prisoner in jail thinking of mother. Say 'yes'." + +"No." + +"Too bad!" murmured Mr. Mackintosh in disappointed but not altogether +convinced tones. "You could use another alias, you know. If you're +afraid the police might pipe your game and nab--" + +"Drop it, or--" + +"All right, Mr. Heatherbloom, or any other blooming name!" Recovering +his jocular manner. "It's not for me to inquire the 'why,' or care a rap +for the 'wherefore.' Ethics hasn't anything to do with the realm of +art." + +As he spoke he reached under the desk and took out the jug. "Have some?" +extending the tumbler. + +The thin lips of the other moved, his hand quickly extended but was +drawn as suddenly back. "Thanks, but I'm on the water wagon, old chap." + +"Well, I'm not. Do you know you said that just like a gentleman--to the +manner born." + +"A gentleman? A moment ago I was a reformed burglar." + +"You might be both." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked into space; Mr. Mackintosh did not notice a +subtle change of expression. That latter gentleman's rapt gaze was +wholly absorbed by the half-tumblerful he held in mid air. But only for +a moment; the next, he was smacking his lips. "We'll have a bite to eat +and then go," he now said more cheerfully. "Ready for luncheon?" + +"I could eat" + +"Had anything to-day?" + +"Maybe." + +"And maybe, not!" Half jeeringly. "Why don't you say you've been +training down, taking the go-without-breakfast cure? Say, it must be +hell looking for a job when you've just 'got out'!" + +"How do you know I just 'got out'?" + +"You look it, and--there's a lot of reasons. Come on." + +Half an hour or so later the covered wagon drove along Fourteenth +street. Near the curb, not far from the corner of Broadway, it separated +itself from the concourse of vehicles and stopped. Close by, nickel +palaces of amusement exhibited their yawning entrances, and into these +gilded maws floated, from the human current on the sidewalk, a stream of +men, women and children. Encamped at the edge of this eddy, Mr. +Mackintosh sounded on the nomadic piano, now ensconced within the coach +of concord, the first triumphal strains of the maternal tribute in +rag-time. + +He and the conspiring instrument were concealed in the depths of the +vehicle from the gaze of the multitude, but Mr. Heatherbloom at the back +faced them on the little step which served as concert stage. There were +no limelights or stereopticon pictures to add to the illusion,--only the +disconcerting faces and the light of day. He never before knew how +bright the day could be but he continued to stand there, in spite of the +ludicrous and trying position. He sang, a certain daredevil light in +his eye now, a suspicion of a covert smile on his face. It might be +rather tragic--his position--but it was also a little funny. + +His voice didn't sound any better out of doors than it did in; the +"angel" quality of the white-robed choir days had departed with the soul +of the boy. Perhaps Mr. Heatherbloom didn't really feel the pathos of +the selection; at any rate, those tears Mr. Mackintosh had prophesied +would be rolling down the cheeks of the listening multitude weren't +forthcoming. One or two onlookers even laughed. + +"Pigs! Swine!" murmured the composer, now passing through the crowd with +copies of the song. He sold a few, not many; on the back step Mr. +Heatherbloom watched with faint sardonic interest. + +"Have I earned my luncheon yet?" he asked the composer when that +aggrieved gentleman, jingling a few dimes, returned to the equipage of +melody. + +"Haven't counted up," was the gruff reply. "Give 'em another verse! They +ain't accustomed to it yet. Once they git to know it, every boot-black +in town will be whistling that song. Don't I know? Didn't I write it? +Ain't they all had mothers?" + +"Maybe they're all Topsies and 'just growed'," suggested Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Patience!" muttered the other. "The public may be a little coy at +first, but once they git started they'll be fighting for copies. So +encore, my boy; hammer it into them. We'll get them; you see!" + +But the person addressed didn't see, at least with Mr. Mackintosh's +clairvoyant vision. Mr. Heatherbloom's gaze wandering quizzically from +the little pool of mask-like faces had rested on a great shining +motor-car approaching--slowly, on account of the press of traffic. In +this wide luxurious vehicle reposed a young girl, slender, exquisite; at +her side sat a big, dark, distinguished-appearing man, with a closely +cropped black beard; a foreigner--most likely Russian. + +The girl was as beautiful as the dainty orchids with which the superb +car was adorned, and which she, also, wore in her gown--yellow orchids, +tenderly fashioned but very insistent and bright. Upon this patrician +vision Mr. Heatherbloom had inadvertently looked, and the pathetic +plaint regarding "Mother" died on the wings of nothingness. With +unfilial respect he literally abandoned her and cast her to the winds. +His eyes gleamed as they rested on the girl; he seemed to lose himself +in reverie. + +Did she, the vision in orchids, notice him? Perhaps! The chauffeur at +that moment increased the speed of the big car; but as it dashed past, +the crimson mouth of the beautiful girl tightened and hardened into a +straight line and those wonderful starlike eyes shone suddenly with a +light as hard as steel. Disdainful, contemptuous; albeit, perhaps, +passionate! Then she, orchids, shining car and all were whirled on. + +Rattle! bang! went the iron-rimmed wheels of other rougher vehicles. +Bing! bang! sounded the piano like a soul in torment. + +Horatio Heatherbloom stood motionless; then his figure swayed slightly. +He lifted the music, as if to shield his features from the others--his +many auditors; but they didn't mind that brief interruption; it afforded +a moment for that rough and ready dialogue which a gathering of this +kind finds to its liking. + +"Give him a trokee! Anybody got a cough drop?" + +"It's soothing syrup he wants." + +"No; it's us wants that." + +"What the devil--" Mr. Mackintosh looked out of the wagon. + +Mr. Heatherbloom suddenly laughed, a forced reckless laugh. "Guess it +was the dampness. I'm like some artists--have to be careful where I +sing." + +"Have a tablet, feller, do!" said a man in the audience. + +Horatio looked him in the eye. "Maybe it's you want something." + +The facetious one began to back away; he had seen that look before, the +steely glint that goes before battle. + +"The chord now, if you please!" said Mr. Heatherbloom to the composer +in a still quiet voice. + +Mr. Mackintosh hit viciously; Mr. Heatherbloom sang again; he did more +than that. He outdid himself; he employed bombast,--some thought it +pathos. He threw a tremolo into his voice; it passed for emotion. He +"caught 'em", in Mr. Mackintosh's parlance, and "caught 'em hard". Some +more people bought copies. The alert Mr. Mackintosh managed to gather in +about a dollar, and saw, in consequence, great fortune "coming his way" +at last; the clouds had a golden lining. + +"Say, you're the pard I've been a-looking for!" he jubilantly told Mr. +Heatherbloom as they prepared to move on. "We'll make a beautiful team. +Isn't it a peach?" + +"What?" + +"That song. It made them look like a rainy day. Git up!" And Mr. +Mackintosh prodded the bony ribs of their steed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom absent-mindedly gazed in the direction the big shining +motor had vanished. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +VARYING FORTUNES + +Mr. Heatherbloom's new-found employment proved but ephemeral. The next +day the sheriff took possession of the music emporium and all it +contained, including the nomadic piano and the now empty jug. The +contents of the last the composer-publisher took care to put beyond +reach of his many creditors whom he, in consequence, faced with a +seemingly care-free, if artificial, jocularity. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +soberly forth from the shop of concord. + +He had but turned the corner of the street when into the now dissonant +"hole in the wall", amid the scene of wreck and disaster, stepped a tall +dark man, with a closely cropped beard, who spoke English with an accent +and who regarded the erstwhile proprietor and the minions of the law +with ill-concealed arrogance and disfavor. + +"You have," he began in halting tones, "a young man here who sings on +the street like the minstrels of old, the--what you call +them?--troubadours." + +"We _had_," corrected Mr. Mackintosh. "He has just 'jumped the coup,' or +rather been 'shooed out'." + +The new-comer fastened his gaze upon the other; he had superb, almost +mesmeric eyes. "Will you kindly speak the language as I understand it?" +he said. And the other did, for there was that in the caller's manner +which compelled immediate compliance. Immovably he listened to the +composer-publisher's explanation. + +"_Eh bien!"_ he said, his handsome, rather barbaric head high when Mr. +Mackintosh had concluded. "He is gone; it is well; I have fulfilled my +mission." And walking out, the imposing stranger hailed a taxi and +disappeared from the neighborhood. + +Meanwhile Mr. Horatio Heatherbloom had walked slowly on; he was now +some distance from the one-time "emporium." Where should he go? His +fortunes had not been enhanced materially by his brief excursion into +the realms of melody; he had thirty cents in cash and a +"dollar-and-a-half appetite." An untidy place where they displayed a +bargain assortment of creature comforts attracted his gaze. He thought +of meals in the past--of caviar, a la Russe, three dollars and a half a +portion; peaches Melba, three francs each at the Cafe de Paris; truffled +capon from Normandy; duck after the manner of the incomparable Frederic. +About half a dozen peaches Melba would have appealed to him now; he +looked, instead, with the eyes of longing at a codfish ball. Oh, +glorious appetite, mocking recollections of hours of satiety! + +Should he yield to temptation? He stopped; then prudence prevailed. The +day was yet too young to give way recklessly to casual gastronomic +allurements, so he stepped on again quickly, averting his head from shop +windows. Lest his caution and conservatism might give way, he started +to turn into a side street--but didn't. + +Instead, he laughed slightly to himself. What! flee from an outpost of +time-worn celery? beat an inglorious retreat before a phalanx of +machine-made pies? He would look them (figuratively) in the eye. Having, +as it were, fairly stared out of countenance the bland pies and beamed +with stern contempt upon the "droopy," Preraphaelite celery, he went, +better satisfied, on his way. It is these little victories that count; +at that moment Mr. Heatherbloom marched on like a knight of old for +steadfastness of purpose. His lips veiled a covert smile, as if behind +the hard mask of life he saw something a little odd and whimsical, +appealing to some secret sense of humor that even hunger could not +wholly annihilate. The lock of hair seemed to droop rather pathetically +at that moment; his sensitive features were slightly pinched; his face +was pale. It would probably be paler before the day was over; +_n'importe!_ The future had to be met--for better, or worse. Multitudes +passed this way and that; an elevated went crashing by; devastating +influences seemed to surround him. His slender form stiffened. + +When next he stopped it was to linger, not in front of an eating +establishment, but before a bulletin-board upon which was pasted a page +of newspaper "want ads" for "trained" men, in all walks of life. +"Trained" men? Hateful word! How often had he encountered it! Ah, here +was one advertisement without the "trained"; he devoured it eagerly. The +item, like an oasis in the desert of his general incapacity and +uselessness, exercised an odd fascination for him in spite of the +absolute impossibility of his professing to possess a fractional part of +those moral attributes demanded by the fair advertiser. She--a Miss Van +Rolsen--was seeking a paragon, not a person. Nevertheless, he resolved +to assail the apparently unassailable, and repaired to a certain +ultrafashionable neighborhood of the town. + +Before a brownstone front that bore the number he sought, he paused a +moment, drew a deep breath and started to walk up the front steps. But +with a short laugh he came suddenly to a halt half-way up; looked over +the stone balustrade down at the other entrance below--the +tradesmen's--the butchers', the bakers', the candlestick makers'--and, +yes, the servants'--their way in!--his? + +He went down the steps and walked on and away as a matter of course, but +once more stopped. He had done a good deal of going this way and that, +and then stopping, during the last few months. Things had to be worked +out, and sometimes his brain didn't seem to move very quickly. + +To be worked out! He now surveyed the butchers' and the bakers' (and +yes, the servants') entrance with casual or philosophic interest from +the vantage point of the other side of the street. It wasn't different +from any other of the entrances of the kind but it held his gaze. Then +he walked across the street again and went in--or down. It didn't really +seem now such a bad kind of entrance when you came to investigate it, in +a high impersonal way; not half so bad as the subway, and people didn't +mind that. + +Still Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a peculiar thrill when he put up his +thumb, pressed a button, and wondered what next would happen. Who +answered doors down here,--the maid--the cook--the laundress? He felt +himself to be very indistinct and vague standing there in the shadow, +and tried to assume a nonchalant bearing. He wondered just what bearing +_was_ proper under the circumstances; he cherished indistinct +recollections of having heard or read that the butcher's boy is usually +favored with a broadly defying and independent visage; that he comes in +whistling and goes forth swaggering. A cat-meat man he had once looked +upon from the upper lodge of front steps somewhere in the dim long ago, +had possessed a melancholy manner and countenance. + +How should he comport himself; what should he say--when the inevitable +happened; when the time came to say something? How lead the conversation +by natural and easy stages to the purport of his visit? He rehearsed a +few sentences, then straightway forgot them. Why did they keep him +waiting so long? Did they always keep people as long as that--down here? +He put his thumb again-- + +"Well, what do you want?" The door had opened and a buxom female, arms +akimbo, regarded him. Mr. Heatherbloom repaid her gaze with interest; it +_was_ the cook, then, who acted as door tender of these regions +subterranean. He feared by her expression that he had interrupted her in +the preparation of some esculent delicacy, and with the fear was born a +parenthetical inquiry; he wondered what that delicacy might be? But +forbearing to inquire he stated his business. + +"You'll be the thirteenth that's been 'turned down' to-day for that +job!" observed cook blandly. With which cheering assurance she consigned +him to some one else--a maid with a tipped-up nose--and presently he +found himself being "shown up"; that was the expression used. + +The room into which he was ushered was a parlor. Absently he seated +himself. The maid tittered. He looked at her--or rather the tipped-up +nose, an attractive bit of anatomy. Saucy, provocative! Mr. +Heatherbloom's head tilted a little; he surveyed the detail with the +look of a connoisseur. She colored, went; but remained in the hall to +peer. There were many articles of virtu lying around--on tables or in +cabinets--and the caller's appearance was against him. He would bear +watching; he had the impudence--Just fancy his sitting there in a chair! +He was leaning back now as if he enjoyed that atmosphere of luxury; +surveying, too, the paintings and the bronzes with interest. But for no +good reason, thought the maid; then gave a start of surprise. The hand +of the suspicious-looking caller had lifted involuntarily to his breast +pocket; a mechanical movement such as a young gentleman might make who +was reaching for a cigarette case. Did he intend--actually intend +to--but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge of +his chair and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partook +of the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeous +rug, he abruptly rose. + +Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiff +satin or brocade and with bristling iron-gray hair! He noticed, however, +that unlike the maid, she had a very prominent nose--that _now_ sniffed! + +"Good heavens! What a frightful odor of gasolene. Jane, where are my +salts?" + +Jane rushed in; at the same time four or five dogs that had followed in +the lady's wake began to bark as if they, too, were echoing the plaint: +"What a frightful odor! Salts, Jane, salts!" And as they barked in many +keys, but always fortissimo, they ran frantically this way and that as +though chased by somebody, or something (perhaps the odor of gasolene), +or chasing one another in a mad outburst of canine exuberance. + +"Sardanapolis! Beauty! Curly! Naughty!" the lady called out. + +But in vain. Sardanapolis continued to cut capers; Beauty's conduct was +not beautiful; while as for Naughty (all yellow bows and black curls) +he seemed endeavoring to live up to the fullest realization of his name. + +"Dear me! What _shall_ I do?" + +"Just let 'em alone, ma'am," ventured Jane, "and they'll soon tire +themselves out." + +Fortunately, by this time, the be-ribboned pets showed signs of reaching +that state of ennui. + +"Dear me!" said now the lady anxiously. "How wet the poor dears' tongues +are!" + +"Nature of the b--poor dears, ma'am!" commented Jane. + +The lady looked at her. "_You_ don't like dogs," she said. "You can go." +And then to Mr. Heatherbloom: "What brought you here? Don't answer at +once. Stand farther back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom, who seemed to have been rather enjoying this little +impromptu entertainment, straightened with a start; he retired a few +paces, observing in a mild explanatory tone something about spots on his +garments and the necessity for having them removed at a certain little +Greek shop, before doing himself the honor of calling and-- + +"You're another answer to the advertisement then, I suppose?" the +lady's voice unceremoniously interrupted. + +He confessed himself Another Answer, and in that capacity proceeded now +to reply as best he might to a merciless and rapid fire of questions. +She would have made an excellent cross-examiner for the prosecution; Mr. +Heatherbloom did not seem to enjoy the grilling. A number of queries +he answered frankly; others he evaded. He seemed--ominous +circumstance!--especially secretive regarding certain details of his +past. He did not care to say where he was born, or who his parents were. +What had he done? What occupations had he followed? + +Well--he seemed to hesitate a good deal--he had once tried washing +dishes; but--dreamily--they had discharged him; the man said something +about there being a debit balance on account of damaged crockery. He had +essayed the role of waiter but had lasted only through the first +courses; down to the entrees, he thought; certainly not much past the +pottage. He believed he bumped into another waiter; a few guests within +range had seemed put out; afterward, he himself was put out. And +then--well, he had somehow drifted, more or less. + +"Drifted!" said the lady ominously. + +"Oh, yes! Tried his hand at this and that," he added rather blithely. He +once worked for a moving-picture firm; fell from a six-story window for +them. That is, he started to fall; something--a net or a platform--was +supposed to catch him at the fifth, and then a dummy completed the +descent and got smashed on the sidewalk. He was a little doubtful about +their intercepting him at the fifth and that he, instead of the +dummy--But he didn't seem to mind taking the risk--reflectively. They +said he was a great success falling through the air, and they had him, +in consequence, fall from all kinds of places,--through drawbridges into +the water, for example. That's where he contracted a bad cold, and when +he had recovered, another man had been found for the heavier-than-air +role-- + +"What are you talking about?" The lady's back was stiffer than a poker. + +"If ever you go to a moving-picture palace of amusement, Madam, and see +a streak in the air, you might reasonably conclude you are"--he +bowed--"beholding me. I went once; it seemed funny. I hardly recognized +myself in the part. I certainly seemed to be 'going some'," he murmured +seriously. "Is there anything else, Madam, you would care to question me +about?" + +"I think," she said significantly, "what I have learned is quite +sufficient. If the occupations you have told me about are so +disreputable--what were those you have kept so carefully concealed? For +example, where were you and what were you doing four--five--six--years +ago? You have already refused to answer. You relate only a few +inconsequential and outre trifles. To cover up--What? What?" she +repeated. + +Then she transfixed him with her eye; the dogs transfixed him with their +eyes. Accusingly? Not all of them. Naughty's glance expressed approval; +his tail underwent a friendly agitation. + +"Naughty!" said the lady sharply. Naughty gamboled around Horatio. + +"How odd!" murmured the mistress, more to herself than the other. "How +very extraordinary!" + +"What, Madam?" he ventured. + +"That Naughty, who so seldom takes to strangers, should--" she found +herself saying. + +"Perhaps it's the scent of the gasolene," he suggested. + +"It's _in spite of_ the gasolene," she retorted sharply. + +And for some moments ruminated. It was not until afterward Mr. +Heatherbloom learned that her confidence in Naughty's instinct amounted +to a hobby. Only once had she thought him at fault in his likes or +dislikes of people; when he had showed a predilection for the assistant +rector's shapely calves. But after that gentleman's elopement with a +lady of the choir and his desertion of wife and children, Naughty's +erstwhile disrespect for the cloth, which Miss Van Rolsen had grieved +over, became illumined with force and significance. Thereafter she had +never doubted him; he had barked at all twelve of Mr. Heatherbloom's +predecessors--the dozen other answers to the advertisement; but here he +was sedulous for fondlings from Horatio. Extraordinary truly! The lady +hesitated. + +"I suppose we shall all be murdered in our beds," she said half to +herself, "but," with sudden decision, "I've concluded to engage you." + +"And my duties?" ventured Mr. Heatherbloom. "The advertisement did not +say." + +"You are to exercise the darlings every day in the park." + +"Ah!" Horatio's exclamation was noncommittal. What he might have added +was interrupted by a light footstep in the hall and the voice of some +one who stopped in passing before the door. + +"I am going now, Aunt," said a voice. + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his hand tightened on the back of a chair; +from where he stood he could see but the rim of a wonderful hat. He +gazed at a few waving roses, fitting notes of color as it were, for the +lovely face behind, concealed from him by the curtain. + +The elderly lady answered; Mr. Heatherbloom heard a Prince Someone's +name mentioned; then the roses were whisked back; the voice--musical as +silver bells--receded, and the front door closed. Mr. Heatherbloom gazed +around him--at the furnishings in the room--she who stood before him. He +seemed bewildered. + +"And now as to your wages," said a voice--not silver bells!--sharply. + +"I hardly think I should prove suitable--" he began in somewhat +panic-stricken tones, when-- + +"Nonsense!" The word, or the energy imparted to it, appeared to crush +for the moment further opposition on his part; his faculties became +concentrated on a sound without, of a big car gathering headway in front +of the door. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; perhaps he would have liked to +retreat then and there from that house; but it was too late! Fate had +precipitated him here. A mad tragic jest! He did not catch the amount +of his proposed stipend that was mentioned; he even forgot for the +moment he was hungry. He could no longer hear the car. It had gone; but, +it would return. Return! And then--? His head whirled at the thought. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +AN ENCOUNTER + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a few days later, sat one morning in Central Park. His +canine charges were tied to the bench and while they chafed at restraint +and tried vainly to get away and chase squirrels, he scrutinized one of +the pages of a newspaper some person had left there. What the young man +read seemed to give him no great pleasure. He put down the paper; then +picked it up again and regarded a snap-shot illustration occupying a +conspicuous position on the society page. + +"Prince Boris Strogareff, riding in the park," the picture was labeled. +The newspaper photographer had caught for his sensational sheet an +excellent likeness of a foreign visitor in whom New York was at the time +greatly interested. A picturesque personality--the prince--half +distinguished gentleman, half bold brigand in appearance, was depicted +on a superb bay, and looked every inch a horseman. Mr. Heatherbloom +continued to stare at the likeness; the features, dark, rather +wild-looking, as if a trace of his ancient Tartar ancestry had survived +the cultivating touch of time. Then the young man on the bench once more +turned his attention to the text accompanying the cut. + +"Reported engagement of Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple to Prince Boris +Strogareff ... the prince has vast estates in Russia and Russia-Asia ... +his forbears were prominent in the days when Crakow was building and the +Cossacks and the Poles were engaged in constant strife on the steppe ... +Miss Dalrymple, with whom this stalwart romantic personage is said to be +deeply enamored, is niece and heiress of the eccentric Miss Van Rolsen, +the third richest woman in New York, and, probably, in the world ... +Miss Dalrymple is the only surviving daughter of Charles Dalrymple of +San Francisco, who made his fortune with Martin Ferguson of the same +place, at the time--" + +The paper fell from Mr. Heatherbloom's hand; for several moments he sat +motionless; then he got up, unloosened his charges and moved on. They +naturally became once more wild with joy, but he heeded not their +exuberances; even Naughty's demonstrations brought no answering touch of +his hand, that now lifted to his breast and took something from his +pocket--an article wrapped in a pink tissue-paper. Mr. Heatherbloom +unfolded the warm-tinted covering with light sedulous fingers and looked +steadily and earnestly at a miniature. But only for a brief interval; by +this time Curly et al. had become an incomprehensible tangle of dog and +leading strings about Mr. Heatherbloom's legs. So much so, indeed, that +in the effort to extricate himself he dropped the tiny picture; with a +sudden passionate exclamation he stooped for it. The anger that +transformed his usually mild visage seemed about to vent itself on his +charges but almost at once subsided. + +Carefully brushing the picture on his coat, he replaced it in his +pocket and quietly started to disentangle his charges from himself. This +was at length accomplished; he knew, however, that the unraveling would +have to be done all over again ere long; it constituted an important +part of his duties. The promenade was punctuated by about so many +"mix-ups"; Mr. Heatherbloom accepted them philosophically, or +absent-mindedly. At any rate, while untying knots or disengaging things, +he usually exhibited much patience. + +It might have been noticed some time later that Mr. Heatherbloom, +retracing his footsteps to Miss Van Rolsen's, betrayed a rather +vacillating and uncertain manner, as if he were somewhat reluctant to go +into, or to approach too near the old-fashioned stiff and stately house. +For fear of meeting some one, or a dread of some sudden encounter? With +Miss Van Rolsen's niece? So far he had not seen her since that first +day. Perhaps he congratulated himself on his good fortune in this +respect. If so, he reckoned without his host. + +It is possible for two people to frequent the same house for quite a +while without meeting when one of them lives on the avenue side and +flits back and forth via the front steps, while the other comes and goes +only by the subterranean route; but, sooner or later, though belonging +to widely different worlds, these two are bound to come face to face, +even in spite of the determination of one of the persons to avert such a +contingency! + +Mr. Heatherbloom always peered carefully about before venturing from the +house with his pampered charges; he was no less watchfully alert when he +returned. He could not, however, having only five senses, tell when the +front door might be suddenly opened at an inopportune moment. It was +opened, this very morning, on the third day of his probation at such a +moment. And he had been planning, after reading the newspaper article in +the park, to tender his resignation that very afternoon! + +It availed him nothing now to regret indecision, his being partly +coerced by the masterful mistress of the house into remaining as long +as he had remained; or to lament that other sentiment, conspiring to +this end--the desire or determination, not to flee from what he most +feared. Empty bravado! If he could but flee now! But there was no +fleeing, turning, retreating, or evading. The issue had to be met. + +Miss Dalrymple, gowned in a filmy material which lent an evanescent +charm to her slender figure, came down the front steps as he was about +to enter the area way below. The girl looked at him and her eyes +suddenly widened; she stopped. Mr. Heatherbloom, quite pale, bowed and +would have gone on, when something in her look, or the first word that +fell from her lips, held him. + +"You!" she said, as if she did not at all comprehend. + +He repaid her regard with less steady look; he had to say something and +he didn't wish to. Why couldn't people just meet and pass on, the way +dumb creatures do? The gift of speech has its disadvantages--on +occasions; it forces one to insufficient answer or superfluous +explanation. "Yes," he said, "your--Miss Van Rolsen engaged me. I +didn't really want to stay, but it came about. Some things do, you know. +You see," he added, "I didn't know she was your aunt when I answered the +advertisement." + +She bent her gaze down upon him as if she hardly heard; beneath the +bright adornment of tints, the lovely face--it was a very proud +face--had become icy cold; the violet eyes were hard as shining crystal. +To Mr. Heatherbloom that slender figure, tensely poised, seemed at once +overwhelmingly near and inexpressibly remote. He started to lean on an +iron picket but changed his mind and stood rather too stiffly, without +support. Before his eyes the flowers in her hat waved and waved; he +tried to keep his eyes on them. + +"I had been intending," he observed in tones he endeavored to make +light, "to tell Miss Van Rolsen she must find some one else to take my +place. It would not be very difficult. It is not a position that +requires a trained man." + +"Difficult?" She seemed to have difficulty in speaking the word; her +cold eyes suddenly lighted with unutterable scorn. If any one in this +world ever experienced thorough disdain for any one else, her expression +implied it was she that experienced it for him. "Valet for dogs!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom flushed. "They are very nice dogs," he murmured. +"Indeed, they are exceptional." + +She gave an abrupt, frozen little laugh; then bent down her face +slightly. "And do you wash and curl and perfume them?" she asked, her +small white teeth setting tightly after she spoke. + +"Well, I don't perfume them," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "Miss Van +Rolsen attends to that herself. She knows the particular essences better +than I." A slightly strained smile struggled about his lips. "You see +Beauty has one kind, and Naughty another. At least, I think so. While +Sardanapolis isn't given any at all." + +Can violet eyes shine fiercely? Hers certainly seemed to. "How," she +said, examining him as one would study something very remote and +impersonal, "did my aunt happen to employ--you? I know she is very +particular--about recommendations. What ones did you have? Were they +forged ones," suddenly, "or stolen ones?" The red lips like rosebuds had +become straightly drawn now. + +"No," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "I didn't have any. I just came, and--" + +"Saw and conquered!" said the girl. But there was no levity in her tone. +She continued to gaze at him and yet through him; at something +beyond--afar--"I don't understand why she should have taken you--" + +"Shall I explain?" + +"And I don't care why she did!" Not noticing his interruption. "The +principal thing is, why did you want this position? What ulterior motive +lay behind?" She was speaking now almost automatically, as if he were +not present. "For, of course, there was some other motive." + +"The truth is," observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly, but passing an +uncertain hand over his brow, "I had reached that point--I should +qualify by saying I have long been at the point where one is willing to +take any 'honest work of any kind'. I suppose you have heard the phrase +before; it's a common one. But believe me, it was quite by accident I +came here; quite!" + +"'Believe you'," said the girl, as one would address an inferior for the +purpose of putting him into the category where he belongs. "'Honest +work'! When have you been particular as to that; whether or not"--with +mocking irony in the pitiless violet eyes--"it was 'honest'?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom started; his gaze met hers unwaveringly. "You don't +think, then, that I--" + +"Think?" said the girl. "I know." + +"Would you mind--explaining?" he asked quietly. He didn't need any +support now, but stood with head well back, a steady gleam in his look. +"What you--know?" + +"I know--you are a thief!" She spoke the Words fiercely. + +His face twitched. "How do you know?" + +"By the kind of evidence I can believe." + +"And that?" he said in the same quiet voice. + +"The evidence of my own eyes!" + +He was still, as if thinking. He looked down; then away. + +"Why don't you protest?" she demanded. + +"Protest," he repeated. + +"Or ask me to explain further--" + +"Well, explain further," he said patiently. + +"Put your mind back three weeks ago--at about eleven o'clock in the +morning. Where were you? what were you doing? what was happening?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked very thoughtful. + +"At the corner of"--she mentioned the streets--"not far from Riverside +Drive. We passed at that time in the car. Need I say more?" + +His head was downbent. "I think I understand." His hand stroked +tentatively his chin. + +The silence grew; Beauty barked, but neither seemed to notice. + +"Of course you can't deny?" she observed. + +"Of course not," he said, without moving. + +"You won't defend yourself; plead palliating causes?" ironically. + +He picked at the ground with the toe of a shoe. "If I told you, on my +honor, I am not--what you have called me just now, would you believe +me?" he asked gravely. + +"On your honor," said the girl with a cruel smile. "Yours? No!" + +"Then," he spoke as if to himself, "I don't suppose there's any use in +denying. Your mind is made up." + +"My mind!" she answered. "Can I not see; hear? Can _you_ not hear--those +voices? Do they not follow you?" + +He seemed striving for an answer but could not find it. Once he looked +into the violet eyes questioningly, deeply, as if seeking there to read +what he should say, but they flashed only the hard rays of diamonds at +him, and he turned his head slowly away. + +"I see," she remarked, "you remember; but you do not care." + +"I--you reconcile the idea of my being _that_ very easily with--" + +"It fits perfectly," said the girl, "with the rest of the picture; what +one has already pieced together; it is just another odd-shaped black bit +that goes in snugly. You appreciate the comparison?" + +"I think I do," answered Mr. Heatherbloom. "You are alluding to picture +puzzles. Is there anything more?" He started as if to go. + +"One moment--of course, you can't stay here," said the girl. + +"I had intended to go at once, as I told you," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"You had? You mean you will?" + +"No; I won't go now. That is," he added, "of my own volition." + +"You do well to qualify. Would you not prefer to go of your own volition +than to have me inform my aunt who you are--what you are?" + +He shook his head. "I won't resign now," he said. + +"And so show yourself a fool as well as--" She did not speak the word, +but it trembled on the sweet passionate lips. + +He did not answer. + +"Suppose," she went on, "I offer you the chance and do not speak, if you +will go--immediately?" + +"I can't," he answered. + +Her brows bent; her little hand seemed to clench. But he stood without +looking at her, appearing absorbed in a tiny bit of cloud in the sky. + +"Very well!" she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes. + +He looked quite insignificant at the moment; she was far above him; his +clothes were threadbare, the way thieves' clothes, or pickpockets', +usually are. + +"If you expect any mercy from me--" she began. + +But she did not finish; a figure, approaching, caught her eye--the +handsome stalwart figure of a man; whose features lighted at sight of +her. + +"Ah, Miss Dalrymple!" + +Her face changed. "An unexpected pleasure, Prince," she said with +almost an excess of gaiety. + +He answered in kind; she came down the steps quickly, offering him her +hand. And as he gallantly raised the small perfumed fingers to his lips, +Mr. Heatherbloom seemed to fade away into the dark subterranean +entrance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +FATE AT THE DOOR + +Although Mr. Heatherbloom waited expectantly that day for his dismissal, +it did not come. This surprised him somewhat; then he reflected that +Miss Elizabeth Dalrymple was probably so absorbed in the +prince--remembering her rather effusive greeting of that fortunate +individual--she had forgotten such a small matter as having the dog +valet ejected from the premises. She would remember on the morrow, of +course. + +But she didn't! The hours passed, and he was suffered to go about the +even, or uneven, tenor of his way. This he did mechanically; he scrubbed +and combed Beauty beautifully. With a dire sense of fate knocking at the +door, he passed her on to Miss Van Rolsen, to be freshly be-ribboned by +that lady's own particular hand. The thin bony finger he thought would +be pointed accusingly at him, busied itself solely with the knots and +bows of a new ribbon; after which the grim lady dismissed him--from her +presence, not the house--curtly. + +Several days went by; still no one accused him; he was still suffered to +remain. Why? He could not understand. At the end of a long--seemingly +interminable week--he put himself deliberately in the way of finding +out. Coming to, or going from the house, he lingered around the area +entrance, purposely to encounter her whom he had heretofore, above all +others, wished to avoid. A feverish desire possessed him to meet the +worst, and then go about his way, no matter where it might lead him. He +was past solicitude in that regard. He did at length manage to meet +her--not as before in the full daylight but toward dusk, as she +returned, this time on foot, to the house. + +"Miss Dalrymple, may I speak to you?" he said to the indistinctly seen, +slender figure that started lightly up the front steps. + +She did not even stop, although she must have heard him; a moment he +saw her like a shadow; then the front door opened. He heard a crisp +metallic click; the door closed. Slowly with head a little downbent he +walked out, up the way she had come; then around the corner a short +distance to the stables over which he had his room. + +It was a nice room, he had at first thought, probably because he liked +horses. They--four or five thoroughbreds--whinnied as he opened the +door. He had started up the dark narrow stairs to his chamber, but +stopped at that sound and groped about from stall to stall passing +around the expected lumps of sugar. After which all seemed well as far +as he and they were concerned. + +Only that other problem!--he could not shake it from him. To resign +now?--under fire? How he wished he might! But to remain?--his situation +was intolerable. He went up to his room feeling like a ghost; his mind +was full of dark presences, as if he had lived a thousand times before +and had been surrounded only by hostile influences that now came back +in the still watches of the night to haunt him. + +He dreaded going to the house the next day, but he went. Perhaps, he +reflected, she was only allowing him to retain his present position +under a kind of espionage; to trap him and put him beyond the pale of +respectable society. He remembered the cruel lips, the passionate +dislike--contempt--even hatred--in her eyes. Yes; that might be it--the +reason for her temporary silence; the house was full of valuable things; +sooner or later-- + +"Are you quite satisfied, Madam, with my services?" said Mr. +Heatherbloom that afternoon to Miss Van Rolsen. + +"You seem to do well enough," she answered shortly. + +He brightened. "Perhaps some one else would do better." + +"Perhaps," she returned dryly. "But I'm not going to try." + +"But," he said desperately, "I--I don't think they--the dogs, like me +quite so much as they did. Naughty, in particular," he added quickly. +"I--I thought yesterday he would have liked to--growl and nip at me." + +"Did he," she asked, studying him with disconcerting keenness, "actually +do that?" + +"No. But--" + +"Do I understand you wish to give me notice?" she interrupted sharply. + +"Not at all." In an alarmed tone. "I couldn't--I mean I wouldn't do +that. Only I thought you might have felt dissatisfied--people usually do +with me," he added impressively. "So if you would like to give me--" + +She made a gesture. "That will do. I am very busy this morning. The +begging list, though smaller than usual--only three hundred and +seventy-six letters--has to be attended to." + +Thus the matter of Mr. Heatherbloom's staying or going continued, much +to that person's discomfiture, _in statu quo_. It is true he found, +later, a compromising course; a way out of the difficulty--as he +thought, little knowing the extraordinary new web he was weaving!--but +before that time came, several things happened. In the first place he +discovered that Miss Dalrymple was not entirely pleased at the +publication of the story of her engagement to the prince; her +position--her family's and that of Miss Van Rolsen, was such that +newspaper advertising or notoriety could not but be distasteful. + +"I hope people won't think I keep a social secretary," Mr. Heatherbloom +heard her say. + +Yes, heard her. He was in the dogs' "boudoir"; the conservatory +adjoined. He could not help being where he was; he belonged there at the +time. Nor could he help hearing; he didn't try to listen; he certainly +didn't wish to, though she had a very sweet voice--that soothed one to a +species of lotus dream--forgetfulness of soap-suds, or the odor of +canine disinfectant permeating the white foam-- + +"Why should they think you have a social secretary?" the voice of a +man--the prince--inquired. + +He had deep fine tones; truly Russian tones, with a subtle vibration in +them. + +"Because when such things are published about people their secretaries +usually put them in," returned the girl. + +He was silent a moment; Mr. Heatherbloom thought he heard the breaking +of the stem of a flower. + +"You were very much irritated--angry?" observed the prince at length, +quietly. + +"Weren't you?" she asked. + +"I? No. It is a bourgeois confession, perhaps." + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up straighter; the water dripped from his fingers. + +"I was pleased," went on the sonorous low voice. "I wished--it were so!" + +There was a sudden movement in the conservatory; a rustling of leaves, +or of a gown; then--Mr. Heatherbloom relaxed in surprise--a peal of +merry laughter filled the air. + +"How apropos! How well you said that!" + +"Miss Dalrymple!" There was a slightly rising inflection in the man's +tones. "You doubt my sincerity?" + +"The sincerity of a Russian prince? No, indeed!" she returned gaily. + +"I am in earnest," he said simply. + +"Don't be!" Mr. Heatherbloom could, in fancy, see the flash of a white +hand amid red flowers; eyes dancing like violets in the wind. He could +perceive, also, as plainly as if he were in that other room, the deep +ardent eyes of the prince downbent upon the blither ones, the commanding +figure of the man near that other slender, almost illusive presence. A +flower to be grasped only by a bold wooer, like the prince! + +"Don't be," she repeated. "You are so much more charming when you are +not. I think I heard that line in a play once. One of the Robertson +kind; it was given by a stock company in San Francisco. That's where I +came from, you know. Have you ever been there?" + +"No," said the prince slowly. + +Dark eyes trying to beat down the merriment in the blue ones! Mr. +Heatherbloom could, in imagination, "fill in" all the stage details. If +it only were "stage" dialogue; "stage" talk; not "playing with love", in +earnest! + +"Playing with love!" He had read a book of that name once; somewhere. +In Italy?--yes. It sounded like an Italian title. Something very +disagreeable happened to the heroine. A woman, or a girl, can not +lightly "play with love" with a Sicilian. But, of course, the prince +wasn't a Sicilian. + +"No," he was saying now with admirable poise, in answer to her question, +"I haven't visited your wonderful Golden Gate, but I hope to go there +some day--with you!" he added. His words were simple; the accent alone +made them sound formidable; it seemed to convey an impregnable purpose, +one not to be shaken or disturbed. + +Mr. Heatherbloom felt vaguely disturbed; his heart pounded oddly. He +half started to get up, then sank back. He waited for another peal of +laughter; it didn't come. Why? + +"Of course I should have no objection to your being one of a train +party," said Miss Dalrymple at length. + +"That isn't just what I mean," returned the prince in his courtliest +tones. But it wasn't hard to picture him now with a glitter in his +gaze,--immovable, sure of himself. + +There was a rather long pause; broken once more by Miss Dalrymple: +"Shall we not return to the music room?" + +That interval? What had it meant? Mute acquiescence on her part, a +down-turning of the imperious lashes before the steadfastness of the +other's look?--tacit assent? The casting off of barriers, the opening of +the gates of the divine inner citadel? Mr. Heatherbloom was on his feet +now. He took a step toward the door, but paused. Of course! Something +clammy had fallen from his hand; lay damp and dripping on the rag. He +stared at it--a bar of soap. + +What had he been about to do--he!--to step in there--into the +conservatory, with his bar of soap?--grotesque anomaly! His face wore a +strange expression; he was laughing inwardly. Oh, how he was laughing at +himself! Fortunately he had a saving sense of humor. + +What had next been said in the conservatory? What was now being said +there? He heard words but they had no meaning for him. "I will send you +the second volume of _The Fire and Sword_ trilogy," went on the prince. +"One of my ancestors figures in it. The hero--who is not exactly a hero, +perhaps, in the heroine's mind, for a time--does what he must do; he has +what he must have. He claims what nature made for him; he knows no other +law than that of his imperishable inner self. I, too, must rise to those +heights my eyes are set on. It must be; it is written. We are fatalists, +we Russians near the Tartar line! And you and I"--fervently--"were +predestined for each other." + +Mr. Heatherbloom had but dimly heard the prince's words and failed to +grasp them; he didn't want to; his head was humming. Her light answer +sounded as if she might be very happy. Yes; naturally. She was made to +be happy, to dance about like sunshine. He liked to think of the +picture. The prince, too, was necessary to complete it; necessary, +reaffirmed Mr. Heatherbloom to himself, pulling with damp fingers at +the inconsequential lock of hair over his brow. Of course, if the prince +could be eliminated from that mental picture of her felicity?--but he +was a part of the composition; big, barbaric, romantic looking! In fact, +it wouldn't have been an adequate composition at all without him; no, +indeed! + +And something rose in Mr. Heatherbloom's throat; one of his eyes--or was +it both of them?--seemed a little misty. That confounded soap! It was +strong; a bit of it in the corner of the eyes made one blink. + +The two in the conservatory said something more; but the young man in +the "boudoir" didn't catch it at all well. By some intense mental +process, or the sound of the scrubber on the edge of the tub, he found +he could shut a definite cognizance of words almost entirely from his +sense of hearing. The prince's voice seemed slightly louder; that, in a +general way, was patent; no doubt the occasion warranted more fervor on +his part. Mr. Heatherbloom tried to imagine what she would look like +in--so to say, a very complaisant mood; not with flaming glance full of +aversion and scorn! + +Violet eyes replete only with love lights! Mr. Heatherbloom bent lower +over the tub; his four-footed charge Beauty, contentedly immersed to the +neck in nice comfortably warm water, licked him. He did not feel the +touch; the fragrance of orchids seemed to come to him above that other +more healthful, less agreeable odor of special cleansing preparation. + +Her accents were heard once more. Those final words sounded like a soft +command. Naturally! She could command the prince--now! Mr. Heatherbloom +heard a door close--a replica of the harsh click he had listened to when +she had shut the front door so unceremoniously on him a short time +before. Then he heard nothing more. He gazed around him as he sat with +his hands tightly closed. Had it been only a dream? Naughty whined; +Sardanapolis edged toward him and mechanically he began to brush him +down until he shone as sleek and shining as his Assyrian namesake. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +A CONTRETEMPS + +More days passed and Mr. Heatherbloom continued to linger in his last +position. It promised to be a record-making situation from the +standpoint of longevity; he had never "lasted" at any one task so long +before. Miss Van Rolsen, to his consternation, seemed to unbend somewhat +before him, as if she were beginning--actually!--to be more prepossessed +in his favor. These evidences that he was rising in the stern lady's +good graces filled Mr. Heatherbloom with new dismay; destiny certainly +seemed to be making a mock of him. + +A week went by; two weeks--three, and still twice a day he continued to +march to and from the park with his charges. The faces of all the +nurse-maids and others who frequented the big parallelogram of green +became familiar to him; he learned to know by sight the people who rode +in the park and had a distant acquaintance with the squirrels. + +He became, for the first time, aware one day, from the perusal of a +certain newspaper he always purchased now, that the prince had returned +to Russia. Although Miss Dalrymple refused to be interviewed, or to +confirm or deny any statement, it was generally understood (convenient +phrase!) that the wedding would take place in the fall at the old Van +Rolsen home. The prince had left America in his yacht--the _Nevski_--for +St. Petersburg, announced the society editor. After a special interview +with the czar and a few necessary business arrangements, the nobleman +would return at once for his bride. And, perhaps, he--Mr. +Heatherbloom--would still be at his post of duty at the Van Rolsen +house! + +Since the day the prince had been with Miss Dalrymple in the +conservatory, Mr. Heatherbloom had not seen, or rather heard, that +gentleman at the house. But then he--Mr. Heatherbloom--belonged in the +rear, and, no doubt, the prince had continued to be a daily, or twice, +or three-times-a-day visitor to Miss Van Rolsen's elegant, if somewhat +stiff, reception rooms. Now, however, he would come no more until he +came finally to "take with him the bride--" + +The thought was in Horatio's mind when for a third time he encountered +her, face to face, on a landing, near a stair, or somewhere in the +house, he couldn't afterward just exactly recall where, only that she +looked through him, without recognition, speech or movement of an +eyelash, as if he had been a thing of thin air! But a thing that became +suddenly imbued with real life; inspired with purpose! She had permitted +him to remain in the house, knowing his professed helplessness in the +matter--she _must_ have divined that--playing with him as a tigress with +a victim (yes; a tigress! Mr. Heatherbloom wildly, on the spur of the +moment, compared her in his mind to that fierce beautiful creature). He +would force her to tell him to go; she would certainly not suffer him +to remain there another day if he told her-- + +"Miss Dalrymple, there is something I ought to say. I could not help +overhearing you and the prince, one day, several weeks ago, in the +conservatory." + +After he said it, he asked himself what excuse he had for saying it. If +he had stopped to analyze the impulse, he would have seen how absurd, +unreasonable and uncalled for his words were. But he had no time to +analyze; like a diver who plunges suddenly, on some mad impulse, into a +whirlpool, he had cast himself into the vortex. + +She looked at him and there was nothing _in nubibus_ to her about his +presence now. The violet eyes saw a substance--such as it was; +recognized a reality--of its kind! Before the clouds gathering in their +depths, Mr. Heatherbloom felt inclined to excuse himself and go on; but +instead, he waited. There was even a furtive smile on his lips that +belied a quick throbbing in his breast; he thrust one hand as debonairly +as possible into his trousers pocket. His attitude might have been +interpreted to express indifference, recklessness, or one or more of the +synonymous feelings. She thought so badly of him already that she +couldn't think much worse, and-- + +"So,"--had she been paler than her wont, or had excess of passion sent +the color from her face?--"you are a spy as _well!_" + +His head shot back a little at the accent on the "well", but he thrust +his hand yet deeper into the pocket and strove not to lose that assumed +expression of ease. + +"I--a spy? I did not intend to--you--" He paused; if he wished to set +himself right in her eyes, why should he have spoken at all? Mr. +Heatherbloom saw he had not quite argued out this matter as he should +have done; his bearing became less assured. + +"Is there"--her voice low and tense--"anything despicable, mean, paltry +enough that you are not?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom moistened his lips; he strove to think of a reply, +sufficiently comprehensive to cover all the features of the case, but +not finding one at once apologetic and yet not so, remained silent. He +made, however, a little gesture with his hand--the one that wasn't in +the pocket. That seemed to imply something; he didn't quite know what. + +She came slightly closer and his heart began to pound harder. A breath +of perfume seemed to ascend between them; the arrows in her eyes darted +into his. "How much--_what_ did you hear?" she demanded. + +"I--am really not sure--" Was it the orchids which perfumed the air? He +had always heard they were odorless. The question intruded; his brain +seemed capable of a dual capacity, or of a general incapacity of +simultaneous considerations. He might possibly have stepped back a +little now but there was a wall, the broad blank wall behind him. He +wished he were that void she had first seemed to see--or not to see--in +him. "I didn't hear very much--the first part, I imagine--" + +"The first part?" Roses of anger burned on her cheek. "And +afterward?--spy!" Her little hands were tight against her side. + +He hesitated; her foot moved; all that was passionate, vibrant in her +nature seemed concentrated on him. + +"I don't think I caught much; but I heard him say something about fate, +or destiny, and men coming into their own--that old Greek kind of talk, +don't you know--" He spoke lightly. Why not? There was no need of being +melodramatic. What had to be must be. He couldn't alter her, or what she +would think. "Then--then I was too busy to catch more--that is, if I had +wanted to--which I didn't!" He was forced to add the last; it burst from +his lips with sudden passion; then they curved a little as if to ask +excuse for a superfluity. + +She continued to look at him, and he looked at her now, squarely; a +strange calm descended upon him. + +"And that," he said, "is all I heard, or knew, until this morning, when +I saw in the paper," dreamily, "he was coming back in the fall for--" + +The color concentrated with sudden swift brightness in her cheeks. "You +saw that--any one--every one saw--Oh--" + +She started to speak further, then bit her lip, while the lace stirred +beneath the white throat. Mr. Heatherbloom had not followed what she +said, was cognizant only of her anger. Her eyes were fastened on +something beyond him, but returned soon, very soon. + +"Oh," she said, "I might have known--if I let you stay, through pity, +you would--" + +"Pity!" said Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Because I did not want to turn you out into the street--" + +She spoke the words fiercely. Mr. Heatherbloom seemed now quite +impervious to stab or thrust. + +"I permitted you to remain for"--she stopped--"remembering what you once +were; who your people were! What"--flinging the words at him--"you might +have been. Instead--of what you are!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed now without wincing; an unnatural absence of +feeling seemed to have passed over his features, making them almost +mask-like. It was as if he stood in some new pellucid atmosphere of his +own. + +"Of course," he said, as half speaking to himself, "I must have earned +my salary, or Miss Van Rolsen wouldn't have retained me. So I am not a +recipient of charity. Therefore,"--did the word suggest far-away +school-boy lessons on syllogisms and sophistries--"I have no right to +feel offended in that you let me remain, you say, 'through pity', when +as a matter of fact it was impossible for me to tender my resignation, +in view of--" He finished the rest of a rather involved logical +conclusion to himself, taking his hand out of his pocket now and passing +it lightly, in a somewhat dragging fashion, over his eyes. Then he gazed +momentarily beyond, as if he saw something appertaining to the "auld +lang syne", but recalled himself with a start to the beautiful face, the +threads of gold, the violet eyes. + +"You will see to it now, of course"--his manner became brisk, almost +businesslike--"that I, as a factor, am eliminated here? That, I may +conclude, is your intention?" + +"Perhaps," said the girl, a sibyl for intentness now, "you would prefer +to go? To be asked to! You would find the streets"--with swift +discerning contempt--"more profitable for your purpose than here, where +you are known." + +"Perhaps," assented Mr. Heatherbloom. He spoke quite airily; then +suddenly stiffened. + +At his words, the sight of him as he uttered them, she came abruptly yet +nearer; her breath swept and seemed to scorch his cheek. + +"I should think," she said, "you would be ashamed to live!" + +"Ashamed?" he began; then stopped. There was no need of speaking further +for she had gone. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +PLOT AND COUNTER-PLOT + +Mr. Heatherbloom drifted; not "looking for a way", one was forced upon +him. It came to him unexpectedly; chance served him. He would have +thrust it from him but could not. During his more or less eccentric +peregrinations in Central Park he had formed visual acquaintances with +sundry folk; pictures of some of them were very dimly impressed on his +consciousness, others--and the major part--on his subconsciousness. + +Flat faces, big faces, red faces, pale faces! One countenance in the +last class made itself a trifle more insistent than the others. Its +possessor had watched with interest his progress, interrupted with +entanglements, and had listened to the music of his march, the canine +fantasia, staccato, affettuoso! Mr. Heatherbloom's halting footsteps +in the park generally led him to the heights; it wasn't a very high +point, but it was the highest he could find, and he could look off on +something--a lake, or reservoir of water, he didn't know just which, and +a jagged sky-line. + +The person that exhibited casual curiosity in his movements and his +coming thither was a woman. She seemed slight and sinuous, sitting there +against the stone parapet, and deep dark eyes accentuated the pallor of +her face. He did not think it strange she should always be at this spot +when he came; in fact, it was quite a while before he noticed the almost +daily coincidence of their mutual presence at the same place, at about +the same time. After her first half-sly, half-sedulous regard of him, +she would look away; her face then wore a soft and melancholy +expression; she appeared very sad. + +It took quite a while for this fact to be communicated to Mr. +Heatherbloom. Though she shifted her figure often, as if to call +attention to the pale profile of her face against a leaden sky, his +thoughts remained introspective. Only the sky-line seemed to interest +him. But one day something white came dancing in the breeze to his feet. +Absorbed in deep neutral tones afar, he did not see it; his four-footed +charges, however, were quick to perceive the object. + +"Oh!" said the lady. + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked. "Is--is it yours?" he asked. + +"It--was," she remarked with a slight accent on the last word. + +He got up; there seemed little use endeavoring to rescue the +handkerchief now. + +"I'm afraid I've been rather slow," he remarked. "Quite stupid, I'm +sure." + +She may have had her own opinion but maintained a discreet silence. Mr. +Heatherbloom stooped and gathered in the remnants. "You will permit me," +he observed, "to replace it, of course." + +"But it was not your fault." + +"It was that of my charges, then." + +"No; the wind. Let's blame it on the wind." She laughed, her dark eyes +full on his, though Mr. Heatherbloom seemed hardly to see them. + +After that when they met on this little elevation, she bowed to him and +sometimes ventured a remark or two. He did not seem over-anxious to talk +but he met her troubled face with calm and unvarying, though somewhat +absent-minded courtesy. He replied to her questions perfunctorily, told +her whom he served, betraying, however, in turn, no inquisitiveness +concerning her. For him she was just some one who came and went, and +incidentally interfered with his study of the sky-line. + +By degrees she confided in him; as one so alone she was glad of almost +any one to confide in. She wanted, indeed, needed badly, a situation as +lady's maid or second maid. She had tried and tried for a position; +unfortunately her recommendations were mostly foreign--from Milan, +Moscow, Paris. People either scrutinized them suspiciously, or _mon +Dieu_! couldn't read them. It was hard on her; she had had such a time! +She, a Viennese, with all her experience in France, Italy, Russia, +found herself at her wits' end in this golden America. Wasn't it odd, +_tres drole?_ She had laughed and laughed when she hadn't cried about +it. + +She had even tried singing in a little music-hall, a horribly common +place, but her voice had failed her. Perhaps there was a vacancy at Miss +Van--what was her name? There _was_ a place vacant; the maid with the +saucy nose, Mr. Heatherbloom indifferently vouchsafed, had just left to +marry out of service. + +"How fortunate!" the fair questioner cried; then sighed. Miss Van +Rolsen, being a maiden lady, would probably be most particular about +recommendations; that they should be of the home-made, intelligible +brand, from people you could call up by telephone and interrogate. Had +she been very particular in his case? Mr. Heatherbloom said "no"--not +joyfully, and explained. Though she drew words from him, he talked to +the sky-line. She listened; seemed thinking deeply. + +"You are not pleased to be there?" Keenly. + +"I?--Oh, of course!" Quickly. + +She did not appear to note his changed manner. "This Miss +Van Rolsen,--isn't she the one whose niece--Miss Elizabeth +Dalrymple--recently refused the hand and heart of a Russian prince?" she +said musingly. + +"Refused?" he cried suddenly. "You mean--" He stopped; the words had +been surprised from him. + +"Accepted?" She looked at him closer. "Of course; I remember now seeing +it in the paper; I was thinking of some one else. One of the other +lords, dukes, or noblemen the town is so full of just now." + +He got up rather suddenly, bowed and went. With narrowing eyes she +watched him walk away, but when he had gone all melancholy disappeared +from her face; she stretched herself and laughed. "_Voila!_ Sonia +Turgeinov, comedienne!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not repair to the point of elevation the next day, +nor the day after; but she met him the third day near the Seventy-second +Street entrance. More than that, she insinuated herself at his side; at +first rather to his discomfort. Later he forgot the constraint her +presence occasioned him, when something she said caused him to look upon +her with new favor. Beauty had momentarily escaped his vigilance and +enjoyed a mad romp after a squirrel before she was captured. + +What, his companion laughingly suggested, would have happened if Beauty +had really escaped, and he, Mr. Heatherbloom, had been forced to return +to the house without her? What? Mr. Heatherbloom started. He might lose +his position, _n'est-cepas?_ He did not answer. + +The idea was born; why _not_ lose Beauty? No, better still, Naughty; the +prime favorite, Naughty. He looked into Naughty's eyes, and they seemed +full of liquid reproach. Naughty had been his friend--supposititiously, +and to abandon him now to the world, a cold place devoid of French lamb +chops? A hard place for homeless dogs and men, alike! About to waive the +temptation, Mr. Heatherbloom paused; the idea was capable of +modification or expansion. Most ideas are. + +But he shortly afterward dismissed the entire matter from his mind; it +would, at best, be but a compromise, an evasion of the pact he had made +with himself. It was not to be thought of. At this moment his companion +swayed and Mr. Heatherbloom had just time to put out his arm; then +helped her to a bench. + +She partly recovered; it was nothing, she remarked bravely. One gets +sometimes a little faint when--it was the old, old story of privation +and want that now fell with seeming reluctance from her lips. Mr. +Heatherbloom had become all attention. More than that he seemed greatly +distressed. A woman actually in need, starving--no use mincing +words!--in Central Park, the playground of the most opulent metropolis +of the world. It was monstrous; he tendered her his purse, with several +weeks' pay in it. Her reply had a spirited ring; he felt abashed and +returned the money to his pocket. She sat back with eyes half-closed; he +saw now that her face looked drawn and paler than usual. + +He, thought and thought; had he not himself found out how difficult it +was to get a position, to procure employment without friends and +helpers? He, a man, had walked in search of it, day after day and felt +the griping pangs of hunger; had wished for night, and, later, wished +for the morn, only to find both equally barren. + +Suddenly he spoke--slowly, like a man stating a proposition he has +argued carefully in his own mind. She listened, approved, while hope +already transfigured her face. She would have thanked him profusely but +he did not remain to hear her. In fact, he seemed hardly to see her now; +his features had become once more reserved and introspective. + +He reappeared at the Van Rolsen house that day without Naughty. Miss Van +Rolsen, when she heard the news, burst into tears; then became furious. +She was sure he had sold Naughty, winner of three blue ribbons, and "out +of the contest" no end of times because superior to all competition! + +A broken leash! Fiddlesticks! She penned advertisements wildly and +summoned her niece. That young lady responded to protestations and +questions with a slightly indifferent expression on her proud languid +features. What did she think of it? She didn't really know; her manner +said she really didn't care. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing with the light of the window falling +pensively upon him, she didn't seem to see at all; he had once more +become a nullity. He rather preferred that role, however; perhaps he +felt it was easier to impersonate annihilation, in the inception, than +to have it, or a wish for it, thrust later too strongly upon him. + +"I adhere to my opinion that he sold Naughty. I should never have +employed this man," asserted Miss Van Rolsen, fastening her fiery eyes +on Mr. Heatherbloom. "Why don't you speak, my dear, and give me your +opinion?" To her niece. + +"I haven't any, Aunt." + +"You are discerning; you have judgment." Miss Van Rolsen spoke almost +hysterically. "Remember he"--pointing a finger--"came without our +knowing anything about him." + +Miss Dalrymple did not stir; a bunch of bizarre-looking orchids on her +gown moved to her even rhythmical breathing. "What was he? Who was he? +Maybe, nothing more than--" She paused for want of breath, not of words, +to characterize her opinion of Mr. Heatherbloom. + +He readjusted his posture. It was very bright outdoors; people went by +briskly, full of life and importance; children whirled along on roller +skates. + +"When I asked your opinion, my dear, as to the wisdom of having employed +this person in the first place, under the circumstances, why did you +keep silent?" Was Miss Van Rolsen still talking, or rambling on to the +impervious beautiful girl? "You should have called me foolish, +eccentric; yes, that's what I was, to have taken him in as I did." + +Miss Dalrymple raised her brows and moved to a piano to adjust the +flowers in a vase; she smiled at them with soft enigmatic lips. + +"If I may venture an opinion, Madam," observed Mr. Heatherbloom in a +far-away voice, "I should say Naughty will surely return, or be +returned." + +"You venture an opinion!" said Miss Van Rolsen. "You!" + +Miss Dalrymple breathed the fragrance of the flowers; she apparently +liked it. + +"You are discharged!" said Miss Van Rolsen violently to Mr. +Heatherbloom. "I give you the two-weeks' notice agreed upon." + +"I'll waive the notice," suggested the young man at the window quickly. + +"You'll do nothing of the sort." Sharply. "It'll take me that time to +find another incompetent keeper for them. And, meanwhile, you may be +sure," grimly, "you will be very well watched." + +"Under the circumstances, I should prefer--since you _have_ discharged +me--to leave at once." + +"Your preferences are a matter of utter indifference. You were employed +with a definite understanding in this regard." + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed rather wildly out of the window; two weeks.--that +much longer! He was about to say he would not be well watched; he would +take himself off--that she couldn't keep him; but paused. A contract was +a contract, though orally made; she could hold him yet a little. But why +did she wish to? He had not calculated upon this; he tried to think but +could not. He looked from the elder to the younger woman. The latter did +not look at him. + +Miss Dalrymple had seated herself at the piano; her fingers--light as +spirit touches--now swept the keys; a Debussey fantasy, almost as +pianissimo as one could play it, vibrated around them. Outside the whir! +whir! of the skates went on. A little girl tumbled. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded her; ribbons awry; fat legs in the air. The music continued. + +"You may go," said a severe voice. + +He aroused himself to belated action, but at the door he looked back. +"I'm sure it will be all right," he repeated to Miss Van Rolsen. "On my +word"--more impetuously. + +At the piano some one laughed, and Mr. Heatherbloom went. + +"Why on earth, Aunt, did you want to keep him two weeks longer?" he +heard the girl's now passionate tones ask as he walked away. + +"For a number of reasons, my dear," came the response. "One, because he +wanted to leave me in the lurch. Another--it will be easier to keep an +eye on him until Naughty is returned, or"--her voice had the vindictive +ring of a Roman matron's--"this person's culpability is proven. Naughty +is a valuable dog and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's footsteps hastened; he had caught quite enough, but +as he disappeared to the rear, the dream chords on the piano, now +louder, continued to follow him. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +DEVELOPMENTS + +That night, as if his rest were not already sufficiently disturbed, a +disconcerting possibility occurred abruptly to Mr. Heatherbloom. It was +born in the darkness of the hour; he could not dispel it. What if the +person in whom he had confided in the park were not all she seemed? He +hated the insinuating suggestion but it insisted on creeping into his +brain. He had once, not so long ago, in his search for cheap lodgings, +stumbled upon a roomful of alleged cripples and maimed disreputables who +made mendicancy a profession; their jibes and jests on the credulity of +the public yet rang in his ears. What if she--his casual acquaintance of +the day before--belonged to that yet greater class of dissemblers who +ply their arts and simulations with more individualism and intelligence? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat up in bed. Naughty might be worth five or even ten +thousand dollars. He remembered having read at some previous time about +a certain canine whose proud mistress and owner was alleged to have +refused twenty thousand for him. The perspiration broke out on Mr. +Heatherbloom's face. Was Naughty of this category? He looked very +"classy," as if there couldn't be another beast quite like him in the +world. What had been the twenty-thousand-dollar mistress' name; not +Van--impossible! + +But the more he told himself "impossible", the more positive grew a +certain perverse inner asseveration that it was quite possible. And what +if the person in the park had known it? He reviewed the circumstances of +their different meetings; details that had not impressed themselves upon +him at the time--that had almost escaped his notice, now stood out +clearer--too clear, in his mind. He remembered how she had brightened +astonishingly after the brief fainting spell when he had made his +ill-advised proposal. It had been as elixir to her. He recalled how she +had met him every day. Had it been mere chance? Or--disconcerting +suspicion!--had she deliberately planned-- + +For Mr. Heatherbloom there was no sleep that night. At the first signs +of dawn he was up and out, directing his steps toward the park, as a +criminal returns to the haunts of his crime. No faces of any kind now +greeted him there; only trees confronted him, gaunt, ghostlike in the +early morning mists. Even the squirrels were yet abed in their miniature +Swiss chalets in the air. The sun rose at last, red and threatening. He +now met a policeman who looked at him questioningly. Mr. Heatherbloom +greeted him with a blitheness at variance with his mood. Officialdom +only growled and gazed after the young man as if to say: "We'll gather +you in, yet." + +It was past nine o'clock before Mr. Heatherbloom ventured to approach +the house; as he did so, the front door closed; some one had been +admitted. He himself went in through the area way; from above came +joyous barks, a woman's voice; pandemonium. Mr. Heatherbloom listened. +Later he learned what had happened; a young woman had brought back +Naughty; a very honest young woman who refused all reward. + +"Sure," said the cook, who had the story from the butler, "and she spoke +loike a quane. 'I can take nothing for returning what doesn't belong to +me, ma'am. I am but doing my jooty. But if ye plaze, would ye be lookin' +over these recommends av mine--they're from furriners--and if yez be +havin' ony friends who be wanting a maid and yez might be so good as to +recommind me, I'd be thankin' of yez, for it's wurrk I wants.' Think av +that now. Only wurrk! Who says there arn't honest servin' gurrls, +nowadays? The mistress was that pleased with her morals an' her +manners--so loidy-loike!--she gave her the job that shlip av a Jane had; +wid an advance av salary on the sphot." + +"You mean Miss Van Rolsen has actually engaged her?" Mr. Heatherbloom, +face abeam, repeated. + +"Phawt have I been saying just now?" Scornfully. "Sure, an' is it ears +you have on your head?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom, a weight lifted from his shoulders, departed from the +kitchen. He had wronged her--this poor girl, or young woman, who, in her +dire distress, had appealed to him. How he despised now the uncharitable +dark thoughts of the night! How he could congratulate himself he had +obeyed impulse, and not stopped to reason too closely, or to question +too suspiciously, when he had decided to act the day before! + +All is well that ends well. All he had to do now was to complete as +unostentatiously as possible his term of service--But perhaps he would +be released at once? + +No; not at once! Those anxious to supersede him began to dribble in, it +is true; but they faded away, one by one, after interviews with Miss Van +Rolsen, and returned no more. They were a mournful lot, these would-be, +ten-dollar-a-week custodians; Mr. Heatherbloom wondered if his own +physiognomy in a general way would merge nicely in a composite +photograph of them? + +His duties he performed now as quietly as he could. Two weeks more, ten +days, nine, eight! Then? Ah, then! + +He did not see Miss Van Rolsen again nor Miss Dalrymple. He encountered +the fair unknown, though, his acquaintance of the park, occasionally, as +she in demure cap and white ruffled apron glided softly her allotted +way. Sometimes he nodded to her in distant fashion, sometimes she got by +before he actually realized he had passed her. She seemed to move so +quickly and with such little ado; or, it may be, he was not very +observant. He didn't feel very keen on mere minor details these days; he +experienced principally the sensation of one who was now merely "marking +time", as it were--figuratively performing a variety of goose-step, the +way the German soldiers do. + +But one day she--Marie, they called her--stopped him. + +"I understand from one of the servants that it cost you your position +to--do what you did. You know what I mean--" + +He looked alarmed. "Don't worry about that." + +"But shouldn't I?" Steady dark eyes upon him. + +"On the contrary!" Vigorously. + +"I don't understand--unless.--" + +"The salary--it is nothing here"--Mr. Heatherbloom gestured airily. "I +should do much better--one of my ability, you understand!--elsewhere." + +"Could you?" She regarded him doubtfully. "But, perhaps, they--It was +not very pleasant for you here, anyway. Miss Van Rolsen--her niece, Miss +Dalrymple--does not like you." He started. "It was easy to see that; +when I mentioned regretfully that the good fortune that brought me where +there is plenty; to eat should have been the cause of your being in +disfavor, she stopped me short." Mr. Heatherbloom studied the distance. +"'The person you speak of intended leaving anyhow,' she said, and her +voice was--_mon Dieu_!--ice." + +The listener swallowed. "Quite so," he said jauntily. "Miss Dalrymple +is absolutely correct." + +She regarded him an instant with sudden, very mature gaze. "I can't +quite make you out." + +"No one ever can. Don't try. It isn't worth while. Which reminds me"--he +rattled on--"I did you an injury; an injustice--" + +"Ah?" she said quickly. + +"In my mind! You will excuse me, but do you know that night after I had +consigned him to your care in the park, I afterward felt quite +anxious--" + +"For what?" She came closer. + +"Wondering if you--Ha! ha!" Mr. Heatherbloom stopped; in his confusion, +his endeavor to turn the conversation from himself and Miss Dalrymple, +he seemed to be getting into deep waters. + +"You wondered what?" In a low tone. + +Since he now felt obliged to speak, he did, coolly enough. "If you had +some ulterior motive!" he said with a quiet smile. + +She it was who now started back, and her face paled slightly. +"Why?--what ulterior motive? What do you mean?" + +He told her in plain words. She breathed more evenly; then smiled +sweetly. She had a strange face sometimes. "Thank you," she said. "You +are very frank, _mon ami_. I like you none the less for it. Though you +did so injure me--in your thoughts!" Her eyes had an enigmatic light. +"Well, I must go now to Miss Dalrymple. She is beginning to be so fond +of me." She drawled the last words as if she liked to linger on them. +"You see I, too, have a little Russian blood in me." Mr. Heatherbloom +looked down. "And I think she loves to hear me tell of that wonderful +country--the white nights of St. Petersburg--the splendid steppes--the +grandeur of our Venice of the north. Of course, she is immensely +interested in Russia now." Significantly. "Its ostentation, its +splendor, its barbaric picturesqueness! But tell me, what is her prince +like? He is very handsome, naturally! Or she would not so dote on him!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom's features had hardened; he did not answer directly. +"She likes to talk about Russia?" he said, half to himself. + +Marie shrugged. "Is it not to be her country some day?" + +"No, it isn't!" The words seemed forced from his lips; he spoke almost +fiercely. "She may live there with him, but it will never be her +country. This is her country. She is its product; an American to her +finger-tips. And all the grand dukes and princes of the Winter Palace +can't change her. She belongs to old California; she grew up among the +orange trees and the flowers, and her heart will ever yearn for them in +your frozen land of tyranny!" + +"Oh! oh! oh!" said Mademoiselle Marie. "How eloquent monsieur can be! +Quite an orator! One would say he, too, has known this land of orange +trees and flowers!" + +"I?" Mr. Heatherbloom bit his lip. + +But she only shook a finger. "Oh! oh!" Altogether like a different +person from his casual acquaintance of the park! He gazed at her +closer; how quickly the marks of trouble, anxiety, had faded from her +face; as if they had never existed. + +"What do you mean?" he asked, looking into eyes now full of a new and +peculiar understanding. + +"Nothing," she said and vanished. + +He gazed where she had been; he could not account for a sudden strange +emotion, as if some one had trailed a shadow over him. A premonition of +something going to happen; that could not be foreseen, or averted! +Something worse than anything that had gone before! What nonsense! He +pressed his lips tightly and went about his duties like an automaton. + +Eight days--seven days--six days more!--only six-- + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +THE UNEXPECTED + +The blow fell, a thunderbolt from the clear sky. It dazed certain people +at first; it was difficult to realize what had happened, or if anything +_had_ really happened. For might not what seemed a deep and dire mystery +turn out to be nothing so very mysterious after all? A message would +soon come; everything would then be "cleared up" and those most +concerned would laugh at their apprehensions. But the hours went by, and +the affair remained inexplicable; no word was heard concerning Miss +Dalrymple's whereabouts; she seemed to have disappeared as completely as +if she had vanished on the Persian magic carpet. What could it mean? The +circumstances briefly were: + +Miss Dalrymple, four or five days before Mr. Heatherbloom's term of +service came to an end, had expressed a desire to revisit her old home +and friends in the West. One of a party made up mostly of other +Californians--now residents of New York city--the girl had failed to +appear on the private car at the appointed time, and the train had +pulled out, leaving her behind. At the first important stop a telegram +had been handed to a gentleman of the party from Miss Dalrymple; it +expressed her regret at having reached the station too late owing to +circumstances she would explain later, and announced her intention of +coming on, with her maid, in a few days. They were not to wait anywhere +for her but to go right along. + +The party did; it was sorry to have lost one of its most popular members +but no one thought anything more of the matter until at Denver, after a +telegram had been forwarded to the Van Rolsen house, in New York, asking +just when Miss Dalrymple would arrive, as camping preparations for a +joyous pilgrimage in the mountains were in progress. + +Miss Van Rolsen gasped when this message reached her. Miss Dalrymple +and her maid--a young woman newly engaged by Miss Van Rolsen--had left +the house for the train to which the private car was attached; neither +had been heard from since. The aunt had, of course, presumed her niece +had gone as planned; she had received no word from her, but supposing +she was of a light-hearted, heedless company thought nothing of that. It +was possible Miss Dalrymple had actually missed her train; but if so, +why had she not returned to her aunt's house? + +Where had she gone? What had become of her? No trace of her could be +found. Certain forces in the central railroad office at New York could +not discover any evidence that the young girl had taken a subsequent +train. There was no record of her name at any ticket office; no +state-room had been reserved by, or for her; in fact, telegrams to +officials in Chicago and other points west failed to elicit satisfactory +information of any kind. + +Miss Van Rolsen found herself with something real to worry about; she +rose to the occasion; her niece, after all, was everything to her. The +Van Rolsen millions were ultimately for her, and the old lady's every +ambition was centered in the girl. She had been proud of her beauty, her +social triumphs. + +With great determination she set herself to solve the puzzling problem. +Could people thus completely disappear nowadays? It seemed impossible, +she asserted, sitting behind closed doors in her library, to the private +agent of the secret-service bureau whom she had just "called in." + +He begged to differ from her and pointed to a number of cases which had +seemed just as strange and mysterious in the beginning. Ransom--the +"Black Hand"--Who could say what secret influences had been at work in +this case? It was a very important one; Miss Dalrymple had money of her +own; she was known to be her aunt's heiress. The conclusion?--But this +was not Morocco, or Turkey, Miss Van Rolsen somewhat vehemently +returned. + +True; we have had, however, our "civilized" Ransuilis, answered the +agent and mentioned a number of names in support of his theory. No +doubt, after an interval, Miss Van Rolsen would have news of her +niece--through those who had perpetrated the outrage; or she might even +receive a few written words from the girl herself. After that it was a +question of negotiating, or, while professing to deal with the +perpetrators, to ferret them out if one could. The latter course was +dangerous, for those who stoop to this particular crime are usually of a +desperate type; he and Miss Van Rolsen could consider that question +later. Meanwhile she must avoid worry as much as possible. The young +girl would, no doubt, be well treated. + +Had the speaker looked around at this moment, he might have observed +that the heavy curtains, drawn before the door leading into the hall and +closed by Miss Van Rolsen, moved suddenly, but neither the agent nor +Miss Van Rolsen, engrossed at the far end of the room, noticed. The +drapery wavered a moment; then settled once more into its folds. + +The telegram purporting to be from Miss Dalrymple to one of the party on +the train, could--the agent went on--very easily have been sent by some +one else; no doubt, had been. The miscreants had seized upon a lucky +combination of circumstances; for two or three days, while Miss +Dalrymple was supposed to be speeding across the continent, they, +unsuspected and unmolested, would be afforded every opportunity to +convey her to some remote and, for them, safe refuge. It was a cleverly +planned coup, and could not have been conceived and consummated +without--here he spoke slowly--inside assistance. + +The curtain at the doorway again stirred. + +"And now, Madam, we come to your servants," said the police agent. "I +should like to know something about them." + +"My servants, sir, are, for the most part, old and trusted." + +"'For the most part'!" He caught at the phrase. "We will deal first with +those who do _not_ come in that category." + +"There's a young man recently employed that I have not been at all +pleased with. He leaves to-morrow." + +"Ah!" said the visitor. "Not the person I met going out of the area +way, with the dogs as I came in?" + +She answered affirmatively. + +"H--mn!" He paused. "But tell me why you have not been pleased with him, +and, in brief, all the circumstances of his coming here." + +Miss Van Rolsen did so in a voice she strove to make patient although +she could not disguise its tremulousness, or the feverish anxiety that +consumed her. She related the most trivial details, seeming +irrelevances, but the visitor did not interrupt her. Instead, he studied +carefully her face, pinched and worn; the angular figure, slightly bent; +the fingers, nervously clasping and unclasping as she spoke. He watched +her through habit; and still forbore speaking, even when she referred to +the escape of her canine favorite from his caretaker and how the dog had +later been returned, though the listener's eyes had, at this point, +dilated slightly. + +"After his carelessness in this matter, he seemed to want to get away +from the house at once," observed Miss Van Rolsen, "without availing +himself of the two-weeks' notice I had agreed to give him." + +The visitor relapsed into his chair; an ironical light appeared in his +eyes. + +"Perhaps," added Miss Van Rolsen, "you attach no significance to the +fact?" + +"On the contrary, I attach every importance to it. Has it not occurred +to you there was a little collusion in this matter of the lost dog?" + +"Collusion?" Miss Van Rolsen's accents expressed incredulity. "You must +be wrong. Why, the young woman wouldn't even accept the reward. And it +was not a small one!" + +"Two hundred or so dollars, ma'am! Not her stake!" he murmured +satirically. "I am afraid two hundred thousand dollars would be nearer +the mark these people have set for themselves!" + +"But she didn't ask for a place here; only for me to look over her +references--one was from a lady I knew in Paris--and to recommend her to +my friends--" + +"She knew your other maid had left; this confederate had, of course, +told her. It was all arranged that she should come here. Rest assured of +that. And having accomplished her purpose--clever that she is!--she at +once started to ingratiate herself with your niece, to make herself +useful. As a mistress of languages she _was_ useful, in fact more so +than any ordinary maid. Where did she come from? Find out whom she +represents, and--we'll have the key to the mystery. But she, too, has +disappeared; after turning the game over to the others, perhaps. I would +suggest cabling those foreign references this young woman gave you. They +will, of course, including your Paris friend, know nothing of her; the +name she gave you was not her own." + +"But by what unfortunate combination of circumstances"--Miss Van Rolsen +spoke somewhat incoherently--"should these people have been led to +settle on my niece as the victim of their cowardly designs? There are so +many others--" + +"You forget the publicity concerning this prince your niece is to +marry." The old lady stiffened. "Pardon my mentioning it, but Miss +Dalrymple has in this connection been very much before the public gaze." + +"Against her wish, sir, and mine!" snapped Miss Van Rolsen. +"She--I--have both lamented the fact. But what can one do? The +journalists settled on the prince as a fruitful source for speculation. +He is of noble family, very wealthy, no fortune-hunter; which has made +it all the more distressing for him and us." She seemed about to say +something further; then her lips suddenly tightened. "As I say, it has +been very distressing," she ended, after a pause. "I expect it was one +of the reasons my niece wanted to get away from New York for a time." + +"No doubt!" The caller's voice was courtesy itself although he probably +but half-credited Miss Van Rolsen's protestations in the matter. People +liked to complain of the press and newspaper notoriety, when in their +hearts, perhaps, they were not so displeased to be in that terrible +lime-light; especially when the person associated with them happened to +be a count, or a duke, or a prince. "Unfortunately, one has to put up +with these things," he now added. "But you are positive you have told me +everything?" + +An instant she seemed to hesitate. "I am positive you know everything +relative to the subject." + +He arose. "In that event"--his manner indicated a sudden +resolution--"there is one little preliminary to be attended to." + +"Which is--" + +"To arrest this fellow, Heatherbloom!" + +"Arrest? When?" + +"At once! There is no time to be lost. Already--" He gave a sudden +exclamation. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +He stepped toward the curtain; it moved perceptibly. + +"Some one has been listening," exclaimed Miss Van Rolsen excitedly. + +"Yes, some one." Significantly. As he spoke he threw back the curtain +and revealed the door partly ajar. + +"It must have been--Not one of my old servants--- They would not +have--" + +He stopped her. "There's the front way out of this house and the area +way below," he said rapidly. "Is there any other way of escaping to the +street?" + +"No." + +He darted out of the room to the front door. She followed. + +"Quite in time!" he said, casting a quick look both ways along the +avenue and then letting his glance fall to the servants' entrance below. + +"You think he will try to--" + +He regarded her swiftly. "While I stand guard here, would you mind +getting some one to 'phone my office and ask two or three of my men to +step over at once? Not that I doubt my own ability to cope with the +case"--fingering the handle of a weapon on his pocket--"only it is +always well to take no chances. Especially now!" + +"Now?" + +"Since he has practically convicted himself and confirmed my theory. We +shall get at the truth through him. We're nearer the solution of the +matter than I dared hope for." + +"I'll telephone myself!" she cried. And started back to do so when an +excited face confronted her. + +"If ye plase, ma'am!" It was the cook. + +"What is it?" Miss Van Rolsen spoke sharply. + +"If ye plase, I think, ma'am, this Mr. Heatherbloom has taken lave av +his senses." + +"Why, what has he been doing?" + +"He has, faith, just jumped over the fence into our neighbor's yard on +the corner, and--" + +The man on the steps did not wait to hear more; with something that +sounded like an imprecation he sprang quickly down to the sidewalk and +ran toward the corner. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +WHO FIGHTS AND RUNS + +As Mr. Heatherbloom prepared to issue from his neighbor's gate opening +on the side street, the feminine voice of one of the servants in the +rear of the corner house called out in alarm at sight of the strange +figure speeding across their metropolitan imitation of a back yard. If +anything were needed to stimulate the fugitive's footsteps, it was the +sound of that voice. He stayed not on the order of his going, but +pushing back the heavy bolt--fortunately his egress was not barred by a +locked door--he tore open the gate and sprang to the sidewalk. Then +without stopping, he ran on, away from the fashionable avenue. The +street he traversed like many thoroughfares of its kind was +comparatively deserted most of the time; nobody impeded his progress, +though one or two people gazed after him from their windows. + +He had gone about three-quarters of a block when the window spectators +discerned a heavier built figure come lumbering around the corner, +apparently in hot pursuit. Mr. Heatherbloom, glancing over his shoulder, +also observed this person; his capture and subsequent incarceration +seemed inevitable. Already the fugitive was drawing near to busier +Fourth Avenue; there he would be obliged to relax his pace; he could not +sprint down that thoroughfare without attracting undue attention. +Behind, the pursuer called out; he was, however, too short of breath for +compelling vocal effect. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, on the contrary, had good control of his breathing and +was, moreover, yet fresh and physically capable. Which fact made it the +more difficult for him to settle down to a forced, albeit sharp walk as +he approached the corner, when his gait suddenly accelerated once more. + +A street-car had just started not very far from him and Mr. Heatherbloom +ran after it. A fine pretext for speed was offered him; as he "let +himself go" in the way he had once gone somewhere in the past in a +hundred-yards' dash, he felt joyously conscious both of covering space +quickly and that he did so without making himself particularly +prominent. Fools who ran after street-cars were born every moment; he +was happy to be relegated to that idiotic class by any onlookers. He +caught the car while it was going; he didn't want it to stop for him. + +Neither did it stop to pick up any one else for several blocks; there +was a space before it unobstructed by traffic. The motorman turned on +more power and Mr. Heatherbloom listened gratefully to the humming +wheels. At the same time he looked back; at the corner where he had +turned into Fourth avenue he fancied a number of people were gathering. +He could surmise the cause; the stockily-built man--his pursuer--was +asking questions; he had learned what had become of the fugitive and was +presumably looking around for a "taxi." In vain. At least, Mr. +Heatherbloom so concluded, because one did not appear in hot chase +behind them. + +The motorman still gave "rapid service"; the conductor looked at his +watch, by which Mr. Heatherbloom imagined they had time to make up. He +hoped so, then resented a pause at a corner for an old lady. How he +wished she had not been afflicted with rheumatism, and could have got on +without help! But at length the light-weight conductor did manage to +pull the heavy-weight passenger aboard. Time lost, thirty seconds! The +motorman manipulated the lever more deliberately now and they gathered +headway slowly. Mr. Heatherbloom dared not remain longer where he was; +as the car approached a corner near an elevated station, he got off. He +was obliged to walk now a short distance but he did so hastily. Drawing +near the iron steps, leading upward, he once more looked back; a "taxi" +_was_ whirling after him and he had no doubt as to its occupant. The +street-car could easily have been kept in sight and his leaving it been +noted. + +Mr. Heatherbloom now threw discretion to the winds; dashing toward the +stairway he ran up. Just as he reached the ticket window, the pursuing +vehicle stopped below. Some one sprang out, did not pause to pay the +chauffeur, but calling out to him his name, started after Mr. +Heatherbloom. That gentleman had by this time boarded the train waiting +above; he stood on the rear platform. Any moment the pursuer would +appear. He did appear as the gates of the train were closed and the cars +had started on their way. + +Yet he did not give up for running alongside the last car he called out +to the guard: + +"Fugitive from justice! Criminal--on this train! Open the gate for me!" + +An instant the guard hesitated; rules, however, were rules. + +"Five hundred dollars if you let me on!" the voice panted. + +The guard in his own mind decided he would let the other on--too late; +the last car dashed past the end of the platform. A faint sigh of relief +from Mr. Heatherbloom was drowned in the tumult of the wheels; then he +endeavored to appear indifferent, apathetic. It was not easy to do so; +the secret-service agent had been heard by many others. + +A "fugitive from justice" on the train! Mr. Heatherbloom tried to look +as little the part as possible, to simulate by his expression a +preoccupied young business man of heavy responsibilities. Fortunately +the train was crowded; nevertheless he fancied people glanced especially +at him. He wished now he were better dressed; good clothes may cover a +multitude of sins. Still there was no reason why he should be suspected +more than sundry other indifferently-dressed people. He would dismiss +the thought, tell himself he was going down town on some little errand; +he even devised what that errand should be--to procure theater tickets. +But his brain did not seem quite capable of concentrating itself solely +on desirable orchestra chairs; it constantly and perversely reverted to +that other disagreeable subject--a "fugitive from--" + +Whoever could the fellow be? He endeavored by a mental process to +eliminate himself and see but a mythical some one else in a mythical +background. A short person; a tall one? What kind of person would the +imaginary individual be, anyhow? And what had he done, what crime +committed? Mr. Heatherbloom tried to think with the minds of all these +other people on the train, to put himself figuratively in their shoes. + +One young sprig of a girl, about fourteen, with sallow complexion and +bead-like black eyes, kept regarding him. He conceived a profound +dislike for her, shifted a foot; then straightened and banished her +peremptorily from his environment. His principal interest lay now in +casual glimpses of windows and speculation as to what was behind them. +He varied this employment in a passing endeavor to decipher sundry signs +that obtruded incidentally within range of vision. + +He had made out only a few when the, train slackened and came to a +standstill. Mr. Heatherbloom told himself he would get off as quickly as +possible; then changed his mind and remained. People would, of course, +argue that, under the circumstances, the unknown criminal would be +among those to leave the train at the first opportunity. + +A number got out; Mr. Heatherbloom noted the passengers who remained +aboard and watched closely the departing ones. A few of the latter +seemed slightly self-conscious, notably, an elderly spinster who, having +never done anything wrong, was possessed of an unusual sensitiveness. + +"See that slouchy chap--By jove, I believe--" + +"Does look like a tough customer--" + +"On the contrary, he just looks poor." Mr. Heatherbloom turned upon the +two speakers warmly. + +Why could he not have kept silent; why was he obliged to obtrude his +opinion into their conversation? + +They stared and he half turned as the train banged itself along once +more. Where should he go? Reaching for a paper that some one had +discarded, he sank into a vacant seat and opened the sheet with +misgiving. + +What would the big types say? Nothing! Miss Van Rolsen had managed to +keep the strange affair of her niece's disappearance out of the columns +of the papers. They knew nothing about it as yet--Only a single little +item in the shipping news, in fine print, which suddenly caught his gaze +bore in any way, and that a remote one, upon her niece and her affairs. +Mr. Heatherbloom regarded it with dull glance. The few lines meant +nothing to him--then; later he had cause to turn to them with abrupt +wondering avidity. Now his eyes swept with simulated interest the +general news of the day; he professed to read cable dispatches. + +But an odd reaction seemed to have settled on him; the excitement of the +chase became, for the moment, forgotten. The scope of his mental +visuality no longer included the figure of the agent from the private +detective bureau. An anxiety more poignant moved him; his thoughts +centered on that other matter--the cause of Miss Van Rolsen's +apprehensions--the while those emotions that had held him a listener +behind the curtain in her library again stirred in his breast. He had +not played the eavesdropper for any selfish purpose or through a sense +of personal apprehension. The sudden realization of his own danger, had, +perforce, awakened in him the need for quick action if he would save +himself. + +If? What chance had he? But for one compelling reason, one consuming +purpose, he would not have fled at all; he would have faced them, +instead! But he had work to do--he! A fugitive, a logical candidate for +the prison cell! Ironical situation! Even now he heard a voice at his +elbow. + +"Mr. Heatherbloom!" Some one spoke suddenly to him and he wheeled with +abrupt swift fierceness. + +"Well, are you going to eat me up?" the voice laughed. + +He looked into the pert face of Jane--the maid with the provoking +nose--who had been at Miss Van Rolsen's. She had got on at the other end +of the car at the last station, and after waiting a few moments for him +to see her, had moved toward him, or a seat at his side just then +vacated by some one preparing to leave. Mr. Heatherbloom's face cleared; +he banished the belligerent expression. + +"You look edible enough!" he said with forced jocularity. + +"Indeed?" she retorted, surprised at such gallantry from one who had +heretofore not deigned to pay her compliments. "I'll have to tell my +husband about you." Playfully. "But how are things at Miss Van Rolsen's? +Anything new?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom murmured something about the customary routine; then, +even as he spoke, became conscious of a sudden new disconcerting +circumstance. The tracks for the up and the down trains on the elevated +had widely separated and ran now on the extreme sides of the broad +thoroughfare. From his side of the car the young man was afforded a view +of the pavement below, between the two sustaining iron structures. A +chill shot through him and his smile became set. Gazing down he +discerned, on the street beneath and a little to one side of them, a +motor-car, speeding fast, apparently bent on keeping up with them. + +"How--how's your husband?" he said irrelevantly. The car _was_ keeping +up with them. + +"Very well, thank you." (Would _it_ reach the next station before them?) + +"You--you have a pleasant home?" he asked. (A slight blockade below +impeded, momentarily, the "taxi". Mr. Heatherbloom raised his +handkerchief to his moist brow.) + +"Lovely," she answered. "Are you going far?" + +"Brooklyn," he said at random. What _were_ they talking about? (The car +was once more under way; fortunately their progress overhead would not +be impeded by a press of vehicles.) + +"That's where we live--Brooklyn," she said. + +"Is it? Got a nice house?" He had practically asked this question +before; but he hardly knew what he was saying. A policeman had stopped +the "taxi" and was shaking his head, as at a rather "fishy" story. Mr. +Heatherbloom by a species of telepathy, seemed to overhear the excited +talk waging below. + +"Oh, yes; lovely!" Jane's accents were but parenthetical to something +else. The "taxi" had been allowed to proceed, in spite of the detaining +thought-waves Mr. Heatherbloom had launched toward the officer of the +law. The occupant had probably showed a badge; Mr. Heatherbloom +stretched his neck out of the window. + +"You can come around and see, sometime, if you want to." Pride in her +voice. "And meet my husband." Husband was a very substantial baker. + +"Charmed, I'm sure! Ha! ha!" He suddenly laughed. + +"What is it?" She looked startled. + +"Funniest accident!" He waved his hat, as at some one, out of the +window. "See that taxi! Bumped into a dray. Ha! ha!" + +"I don't see anything so funny in that." Straightening. + +"No? You should have seen the expression on his face--" + +"His? Whose?" + +"The--ah, drayman's, of course! He--looked so mad." + +"I should have thought," she observed, "the man in the car would have +been the maddest It couldn't have hurt the dray much." + +"No? Perhaps that's what made it seem so funny to me." + +"Well," she said, "I never noticed before that you had a great sense of +humor." + +"You never knew me." Jauntily. + +They got off at Brooklyn Bridge together. As they made their way through +the crowd, Mr. Heatherbloom appeared most care-free and very sedulous of +his companion's welfare, especially when they passed one or two +loiterers who seemed eying the passengers rather closely. + +"Two for Brooklyn." Mr. Heatherbloom laid down a dime at the ticket +office. + +Soon, unmolested, he sped on once more; but as they crossed the busy +river all his light-heartedness seemed suddenly to desert him; the +questions he had been vainly asking himself earlier that day were +reiterated in his brain. Where was she? What had become of her? His +hands clasped closely. A red spot burned on his cheek. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +A NEW-FOUND THEORY + +"No; the prince isn't coming back to America, and she--Miss +Dalrymple--isn't going to marry him!" + +Jane's voice, running on rather at random, suddenly with unusual force +penetrated Mr. Heatherbloom's consciousness. + +"Not going--isn't--What are you talking about?" The young man's wavering +attention focused itself on her now with swift completeness. He had +hardly heard her, until a few moments before, when her conversation had +first drifted to that ever fascinating feminine topic of foreign lords +and American heiresses, then narrowed down, much to his inward +disapproval, to one particular titled individual and one particular +heiress "But you are mistaken, of course!" he said bruskly. + +"Oh, am I?" she retorted. "I suppose you believe everything you read in +the newspapers?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not answer now; he was staring out of the window. +Against the sky the jutting lines of buildings seemed to waver; new +extraordinary angles and jogs seemed to assert themselves. His gaze had +a glittering brightness when it turned. "Have you any better authority?" + +His tone was a challenge. "I heard her tell him so myself," she said +succinctly. "That she could never marry him and that he must never come +back." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's hand crumpled the newspaper; then mechanically he +folded it and put it in his pocket. His look was once more bent outward; +tiny specks, that were big steamboats going very fast, seemed motionless +on the sparkling surface of the water afar. His thoughts scattered; he +tried to collect them, to realize where he was, how he happened to be +there; the identity of the speaker and what she had been saying! Certain +preconceived, fixed ideas and conclusions had been toppled over, +brushed aside in an instant. Was it possible? + +"I was waiting to trim and fill the lamps," said Jane. (Miss Van Rolsen +clung to oil lamps for reading.) "The prince and she were in the +library. He has a loud voice, you know." + +The young man did. "But why--" + +"Search me!" Vivaciously. "He was the very pick of the whole cargo of +dukes and the like. There isn't another girl in New York would have done +it." + +"But surely," scarcely hearing her last words, "no newspaper would dare +to announce such a thing without--" + +"Oh, wouldn't it? When it called up the house every day, almost, and +got: 'There is nothing to say'? Didn't I answer the 'phone once or twice +myself? 'Miss Van Rolsen declines to be interviewed concerning her +niece. She has nothing to say.' I think I once giggled, the man's voice +at the other end was so aggressive. He said he was the city editor +himself. Is that very high up?" + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not seem to hear. He scarcely saw his companion +now; nevertheless, he was conscious of a desire to be alone, in order to +concentrate, consider, reach for light and find it. But where could he +discover a safe spot; his problem was a dual one; primarily, he must +consider himself; he must not forget his own desperate situation and +danger. The train, beginning to slacken, brought the sense of it once +more poignantly to mind. His companion hadn't reached the station yet +but he suddenly rose. The car stopped with a jerk; Mr. Heatherbloom +murmured something hurriedly and dived for the door. + +On the street he breathed deeply, standing as in a daze while the +thunder of iron-rimmed wheels surrounded him. He was cognizant +principally of certain words humming in his brain: The prince and she +were not engaged! The nobleman not returning to America in the fall! +Never coming back! + +But that item in fine print in the newspaper he had in his pocket--what +did it mean? Nothing, of course, beyond what it said; still-- + +Some one bumped into Mr. Heatherbloom; whereupon he suddenly realized +that he was standing on one of the busiest corners and had been making +himself as conspicuous as possible. Hastily he moved on. To what +destination? He glanced toward a convenient saloon; it looked hospitable +and inviting. Then he remembered they--man-hunters, in general--always +searched the saloons first for criminals. + +He started toward a side street but paused, reasoning that he was more +prominent on comparatively isolated thoroughfares than on the swarming +ones. A stream of women flowing into a big department store, exercised +an odd attraction for him. Safety lay, perhaps, among numbers; at least, +for the time, until he could devise a course of action. If he could +conceive of one! If-- + +He must; he would. Every nerve in his body seemed to respond. Had he not +embarked before this on desperate adventures; had he not fought in the +face of overwhelming odds, and managed to hold his head up? A peculiar +little smile played around the corner of his thin lips; it was like the +flash of light on a blade. He joined the inflowing eddy. + +Bargain day! He was crushed and crumpled but found himself ultimately on +a stool in the rear of the store. No; he didn't want any marked-down +collars or cuffs; he conveyed an impression to the solicitous clerk of +some one waiting for some one. Patiently, uncomplainingly! With an +unseeing eye for the hurrying and scurrying myriads! Time passed; he +remained oblivious to the babble of voices. Timon in the wilderness, +Diogenes in his tub, could not have been mentally more isolated from +annoying human consociation than was at the moment Mr. Heatherbloom, +perched on a rickety stool amid a conglomeration of females struggling +for lingerie. + +Suddenly he stirred. "Have you a book department?" he asked an employee. + +"Straight across; last aisle to the left." + +Mr. Heatherbloom got up; his tread was slow; a somnambulistic gleam +appeared in his eye. Yet he was very much awake; he had never felt more +keenly alert. He reached the book section. + +Did they have any Russian fiction? Oh, yes; what kind did he want, +nihilistic or psychological? _The Fire and Sword_ kind, whatever that +was; the second volume of the trilogy, if they had it in stock? Sure +they had; but had he read the first volume? No; he didn't want that; he +would begin in the middle of the trilogy. He always read trilogies that +way. + +The young lady in charge looked what she thought as she handed him the +book. He paid her; unfortunately it cost more than the popular novels of +the day. He rather gravely contemplated the few small bills he had left; +the amount of his capital would not carry him very far, especially if +unusual expenses should occur. Miss Van Rolsen still owed him a little +money but he didn't see how he could collect that now. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, armed with his book, sought a different part of the +store--- a small reception-room, where customers of both sexes were at +liberty to read, write, or indulge in mental rest-cure, after bargain +purchases. There he perused hurriedly, and by snatches, the volume; +there was plenty of fire and plenty of sword in it; human passions +bubbled and seethed. Suddenly he sat up straight and a suppressed +exclamation fell from his lips; he closed the book sharply. + +One or two old ladies looked at him but he did not see them. His vision, +clairvoyant-like, seemed to have lifted, to traverse broad seas, +limitless steppes. His hands opened and closed, as if striving to reach +and clutch something beyond flame of battle, scenes of rapine. + +He got up dizzily. As he stepped once more into the street, the shadows +had lengthened; twilight was falling. He stopped at a pawnbroker's, +purchased a revolver and cartridges. He might need the weapon now more +than ever. And money--he needed far more of that than he had. He spread +in his palm the little wad of greenbacks he took from his pocket; +counted them and a few silver pieces. Then seeking a ticket office, he +made a few casual inquiries; a shadow rested on his countenance as he +emerged from the place. + +Next door to it a pile of gold pieces in a bank window shone mockingly +before his eyes. So near--with only the plate-glass between him and the +bright discs! Mechanically he began to count them, but suddenly turned +from that profitless occupation and stood with his back to the window. + +What availed resolution without dollars? His purpose might be strong, +but poverty, a Brobdingnagian giant, laid its hand on his shoulder, +crushing him down, holding him there, impotent, until the stocky man and +his cohorts of the private detective office should come over and get +him--to send him to the little island he had thought of when crossing +the bridge to Brooklyn! + +He fell back into a doorway. More money!--he must get it; must! He +folded his arms tight over his breast. To think that this should be his +one great, crying need--his! + +Above, he heard footsteps descending the stairway at the foot of which +he stood; Mr. Heatherbloom slipped out of the passage to the sidewalk +and moved on. Chance took him back the way he had come; he had no choice +of direction. Now he looked once more at the window of the pawnbroker, +where he had stopped a short time before. He regarded the unredeemed +pledges; seal-rings, watches, flutes, old violins; what not? If he only +had something left; but all had gone--long ago. + +All? He started slightly; considered; walked on. But he turned around, +hesitatingly, and came slowly back. As he approached the door, his step +grew more resolute. He walked briskly in. Without giving the proprietor +time to come to the front of the shop, Mr. Heatherbloom moved at once to +the back where the other sat behind his dusty glass cases. + +"Here I am once more." He spoke with forced gaiety. + +"What you want to buy now?" + +"I don't want to buy anything; I want to sell something." + +The pawnbroker's interest in the visitor at once departed. + +"I have everythings! Everythings!" he grumbled. "Nearly every one wants +to sell. I have no room for noddings more. Good night!" + +"But I've something special," said Mr. Heatherbloom. As he spoke he took +from an inner pocket a little parcel in pink tissue-paper; he fingered +it a moment, removing an ivory miniature from a frame, passed the paper +quickly about the picture once more, and returned it to his pocket. Then +he handed the frame, over the case, to the pawnbroker. "What do you +think of that, my Christian friend?" he said with a show of jocularity +that didn't ring quite true. + +The pawnbroker bent his dull face close to the article; it was gold. A +pretty trinket, set with a number of brilliants, it might have come from +the Rue Royale or the Rue de la Paix. + +"Cost about five hundred francs," observed Mr. Heatherbloom, watching +the other closely. "One hundred dollars, without the duty." + +"Where'd you get it?" + +"None of your business." With a smile. + +The man moved toward a telephone at his back. "Do you know what I'm +going to do?" + +"I am curious." + +"'Phone the police." + +"Is that an invitation for me to depart? If so--" Mr. Heatherbloom +reached for the little gold frame. + +"Oh, no," said the man, retaining the graceful article. "The police will +find out who this belongs to." + +"Tut! tut!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom lightly. Something on the edge of +the showcase pointed over it; the hand the proprietor professed to raise +toward the telephone fell to his side; he seemed about to call out. +"Don't!" said the visitor. "It's loaded; you saw me put in the +cartridges yourself. Your little game is very passe; I had it worked on +me once before, and placed you in your class--a fourth-rater, with a +crib for loot!" + +The other considered; this customer's manner was ominously quiet and +easy; he didn't like it. A telepathic message that flashed from the +gleaming gaze above the shining tube suggested an utterly frivolous +indifference to tragic consequences. The proprietor moved away from the +telephone. + +"Fifteen dollars," he said. + +"Twenty," breathed Mr. Heatherbloom insinuatingly. + +The man put his hand in his pocket and counted out the money. The caller +took it, said something in those same blithe significant accents about +what would happen if the other made a move in the next two or three +minutes, then vanished from the store. He did not keep to the busy +thoroughfare now, but shot into a side street. Would the pawnbroker hide +the frame and then call the police? It was quite possible he might thus +seek to get into their good graces and revenge himself at the same time. +Mr. Heatherbloom turned from dark byway to dark byway. He knew there was +a possibility that he might keep going throughout the night without +being taken; but what would he attain by so doing, how would that profit +him? + +He had to get back to New York at once, and as speedily as possible! +The shining face of a street clock that a short time before he had +looked at, admonished him there were no moments to spare, if he would +carry out his plan, his headstrong purpose--to verify or disprove a +certain wild theory--which would take him where, lead to what? No +matter! Above, between black shadows of tall buildings, he saw a star, +bright, beautiful. Something in him seemed to leap up to it--to that +light as frostily clear as her eyes! A taxi passed; he hailed it. + +"How much to Jersey City?" he asked in feverish tones. + +The man approximated a figure; it was large, but Mr. Heatherbloom at +once got in. + +"All right," he said. "Only let her go! I've a train to catch." + +"You don't want to land us in the police court, do you?" asked the +chauffeur. + +Mr. Heatherbloom devoutly hoped not. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +MISCALCULATIONS + +Two days later, on a bright afternoon, a young man stood on the edge of +a sea-wall called the Battery. It was not _the_ Battery, commanding a +view of the outgoing and incoming maritime traffic of the continent's +metropolis, but another Battery, overlooking another harbor, or estuary, +landlocked save for an entrance about a mile in width. Behind him lay, +not a great, but a little, city; hardly more than a big town; before him +a few vessels of moderate tonnage placidly plied the main or swash +channels. + +The scene was tranquilizing; nevertheless the young man appeared out of +harmony with it. His face wore a feverish flush; his eyes had a restless +gleam. He had only a short time before come to town, entering in +unconventional fashion. As the train had slackened at a siding on the +outskirts he had quietly, and unperceived, slipped off the back platform +of the rear car; then made his way by devious and little frequented side +streets to the sea-front. + +There, his eager gaze scanned the craft, moving in the open, or +motionless at the distant wharfs. An expression of acute disappointment +passed over his features; his eyes did not find what they sought. Had +that mad flight been for nothing? Had he but run into a new kind of +"pocket" here, all to no purpose? + +Mr. Heatherbloom sat down; he was weary and worn. The dancing sparkles +laughed at him; he did not feel like "laughing back". Even as he leaned +against the parapet a newsboy close at hand called out: + +"All about the mysterious abduction! One of the miscreants traced to +this city! Superintendent of police warned of his probable arrival!" + +The lad looked at Mr. Heatherbloom as he shouted; that gentleman +returned his gaze with unflinching stolidness. + +"What abduction?" he asked. + +"Beautiful New York heiress." + +The voice passed on; the fugitive was once more alone with his thoughts. +If they had been wild, turbulent before, what were they now? His hands +closed; at the moment he did not bemoan his own probable fate, only the +fact that the clue bringing him here had been false--false! + +Another voice--this time a man's--accosted him. Mr. Heatherbloom sprang +swiftly to his feet but the person, an old darky, did not appear very +formidable. + +"Got a match, boss?" he inquired mildly. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's bright suspicious glance shot into the good-humored, +open look of the other; that person's manner betrayed no ulterior +motive. Perhaps he had not yet heard the newsboy; did not +know--Mechanically the young man answered that he did not possess the +article required, but the intruder still lingered; he had accosted the +other partly because of a desire for desultory conversation. Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a moment's careful scrutiny, showed a disposition to +be accommodating in this regard; he even took the initiative--suddenly, +asking question after question about this boat and that. Her name; when +she had come; where she was going; of what her cargo consisted? The +other replied willingly. Like many of his kind in the port, although he +could not read or write, he was wise in harbor-front knowledge, knew all +the floating tramps and the sailing craft. + +"I suppose it's always about the same old boats drop in here?" Mr. +Heatherbloom, after a little, observed insinuatingly. + +"Yes, always de same ole tubs," assented the darky. + +A shadow crossed the other's face, but he managed to assume a light air. +"Battered hulks and sailing brigs of a past generation, eh?" He put the +case strongly, but the darky only nodded smilingly. His strong point in +conversation was in agreeing with people; he even forgot patriotism +toward his own port in being amiable. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glanced now beyond them to the right and the left; but +no one whom he had reason to fear came within scope of his vision. His +figure relaxed. When would they come to take him? The newsboy's words +reiterated themselves in his mind. "Traced to this city!" Of course; +Miss Van Rolsen's millions were at the command of the secret-service +bureau; his description had been telegraphed far and wide. And when it +should be fruitful of results, what would become of his theory? +Nevertheless, he would go on, while he could, to the last. + +If he tried to explain they would consider it but a paltry blind to +cover his own criminality. He could expect no help from them; he had to +triumph or fail through his own efforts. To fail, certainly; it was +decreed. + +For the moment something in his breast pocket seemed to burn there, a +tiny object, now without the frame. Involuntarily he raised his hand; +then his figure swayed; the street waved up and down. He had eaten +little during the last two or three days. Scornfully in his own mind he +berated that momentary weakness and steadied himself. His eyes, cold and +clear, now returned to the colored man; he groped for and took up the +thread of the talk where he had left it. + +"Old hulks and brigs! You don't ever happen to have any really fine +boats come in here, do you? Like Mr. Morgan's big private yacht, for +example?" + +"No; we ain't never seen dat craft yere. Dis port's more for lumber +and--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "I saw an item in the paper"--he strove to +speak unconcernedly--"a Marconigram--that a certain Russian prince's +private yacht--the _Nevski_--had damaged her propeller, or some other +part of her gear, and was being towed into this harbor for emergency +repairs." + +"Oh, yes, boss!" said the man. The listener took a firmer grip on the +parapet. "You done mean de big white boat w'at lies on de odder side ob +de island; can't see her from yere. Dey done fix her up mighty quick an' +she gwine ter lebe to-night." + +"Leave to-night!" Mr. Heatherbloom's face changed; suppressed eagerness, +expectancy shone from his eyes; he turned away to conceal it from the +other. "Looks like good fishing over there near the island," he observed +after a pause. + +"Tain't so much for fishin' as crabbin'," returned the other. + +"Crabbing!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "A grand sport! Now if--are you a +crabber?" The darky confessed that crabbing was his main occupation; his +boat swung right over there; for a dollar he would give the other +several hours' diversion. + +Mr. Heatherbloom accepted the offer with alacrity. A few moments later, +seated in a dilapidated cockle-shell, he found himself slamming over the +water. The boat didn't ship the tops of many seas but it took in enough +spray over the port bow to drench pretty thoroughly the passenger. In +the stern, the darky handling the sheet of a small, much patched sail, +kept himself comparatively dry. But Mr. Heatherbloom didn't seem to mind +the drenching; though the briny drops stung his cheek, his face +continued ever bent forward, toward a point of land to the right of +which lay the island that came ever nearer, but slowly--so slowly! + +He could see the top of the spars of a vessel now over the high +sand-hills; his body bent toward it; in his eyes shone a steely light. +Their little boat drew closer to the near side of the island; the +hillocks stood up higher; the tapering topmasts of the craft on the +other side disappeared. The crabber's cockle-shell came to anchor in a +tranquil sandy cove. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, although inwardly chafing, felt obliged to restrain +impatience; he could not afford to awaken the darky's suspicions, +therefore he simulated interest and--"crabbed". He enjoyed a streak of +good luck, but his artificial enthusiasm soon waned. He at length +suggested trying the other side of the island, whereupon his pilot +expostulated. + +What more did his passenger want? The latter thought he would stretch +his legs a bit on the shore; it made him stiff to sit still so long. He +would get out and walk around--he had a predilection for deserted +islands. While he was gratifying his fancy the darky could return to his +more remunerative business of gathering in the denizens of the deep. + +Five minutes later Mr. Heatherbloom stood on the sandy beach; he started +as if to walk around the island but had not gone far before he turned +and moved at a right angle up over the sand-hill. The dull-hued bushes +that somehow found nourishment on the yellow mound now concealed his +figure from the boatman; the same hardy vegetation afforded him a +shelter from the too inquisitive gaze of any persons on the yacht when +he had gained the summit of the sands. + +There, he peered through the leaves down upon a beautiful vessel. She +lay near the shore; whatever her injury, it seemed to have been repaired +by this time for few signs of life were apparent on or about her. Steam +was up; a faint dun-colored smoke swept, pennon-like, from her white +funnels. Some one was inspecting her stern from a platform swung over +the rail, and to Mr. Heatherbloom's strained vision this person's +interest, or concern, centered in the mechanism of her rudder. The +trouble had been there no doubt, and if so, the yacht had probably come, +or been brought near the island at high water, and at low tide any +damage she might have suffered had been attended to. Her injury must +have been more vexatious than serious. Would she, as the darky had +affirmed, leave when the tide was once more at its full? Her lying in +the outer, instead of in the inner harbor, seemed significant. Time +passed; the person on the platform regained the deck and disappeared. In +the bushes the watcher suddenly started. + +Something at one of the port windows had caught his glance. A ribbon? A +fluttering bit of lace? A woman's features that phantom-like had come +and vanished? He looked hard--so steadily that spots began to dance +before his sight, but he could not verify that first impression. Yet he +remained. The shadows on the furze grew longer, falling in strange +angular shapes down the hillside; the sun dipped low. At length Mr. +Heatherbloom, after the manner of one who had made up his mind to +something, abruptly rose. + +He walked back toward the cove where he had disembarked. As he drew near +the darky caught sight of him, pulled up "anchor" and paddled his boat +to the shore. But Mr. Heatherbloom did not at once get in; his eyes +rested on the bushel or so of freshly caught, bubble-blowing crabs. He +strove to appear calm and matter-of-fact. + +"What do you expect to get for them?" he asked, pointing. + +"'Bout fifty cents de dozen, boss. Crab market ain't what it ought ter +be jest now." + +"Why don't you try to sell them to the yacht over there?" Mr. +Heatherbloom managed to speak carelessly but it was a difficult task. + +"Jest becos she is 'over there', boss," returned the darky lazily. +"Mighty swift tide sweeping around de head of dat island!" he +explained. + +"And you don't like rowing against it?" Quickly. "See here, I'll tell +you what I'll do. I like a bit of exercise, and just for the gamble, +I'll give you sixty cents a dozen for the lot, and keep all I can get +over that. The owner of that craft is a Russian and all Russians like +sea food. When they can't get caviar, they'll no doubt make a bid for +crabs." + +"Dat sounds like berry good argumentation, boss. Make it +seventy"--avarice struggling on the dusky countenance--"an'--" + +"Done!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, endeavoring to disguise the fierce +eagerness welling within him. "Here's on account!" Tossing his last bill +to the other. "And now, get out. It'll be easier pulling without you." + +The darky grinned and obeyed. This was a strenuous passenger truly, not +averse to stiff rowing, after a stiff walk, "jest for pleasure". But the +dusky pilot had met these anomalous white beings before--"spo'tsmen", +they called themselves. And a certain sense of humor, as Mr. +Heatherbloom sat down to the oars, caused the colored man involuntarily +to hum: _I'se got a white man a-workin' for me_. He had only finished a +bar or two, however, when the tune abruptly ceased on his lips. "Dat's +too bad," he said. "I guess de deal's off, boss." Regretfully. + +"Eh?" Mr. Heatherbloom looked around. He meant to keep the man to his +bargain now, by force if necessary. + +"Look dar!" continued the darky. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did look in the direction indicated. A puff of black +smoke could be seen rising over the island, and--significant fact!--the +dark smudge seemed to be crawling along beyond the sky-line of the +sand-hill. The young man turned pale. + +"It's de Russian yacht, boss. She's under way all right!" + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to gaze. Where the island was lower he saw +the topmasts moving along--then the boat herself, white, beautiful, +swinging out from behind, with bow pointed seaward and steaming fast. + +"Dat's too bad," murmured the colored man. "I done be powerful +disappointed, boss!" + +The other did not answer. Going! going! He had waited too long to board +her. He could not reach her now--he would never reach her. The flame of +the dying sun flared in Mr. Heatherbloom's face, but he continued +motionless. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +ON THE ROAD + +Gone! It was the only word he, could think of. Every thought, every +emotion centered around it. He could not reason or argue. No plan +occurred to him now. He continued to sit still, seeing but one +picture--a boat vanishing. Night had begun to fall as they returned to +the city. Its lights played mockingly in the darkness. Mr. Heatherbloom +viewed them with apathetic gaze. The secret-service man, the chief of +police and his assistants were on shore somewhere waiting to capture +him, but he did not care. Let them take him now! What did it matter? + +When the boat reached land he got out like an automaton. Perhaps he made +answer to the darky's last cheerful good night, but if so he spoke +without knowing it. The boatman let him go, willingly; Mr. Heatherbloom +hadn't asked for his last bill back again and the other overlooked +reminding him of his remissness. The greenback was considerably more +than the fare. + +Indifferent to his fate, Mr. Heatherbloom moved on; no one molested him. +He walked along dark highways, not through fear of being apprehended, +but because his mood was dark. He did not even notice where he went; he +just kept going. He forgot he was hungry, but at length, as in a dream, +he began to realize a physical weariness. Overwrought nature asserted +itself; he was not made of iron; his muscles responded reluctantly. +Without observing his surroundings, he sank listlessly to the earth; the +cool grass received his exhausted frame. Beyond, some distance away, the +lights of the city threw now a sullen glow on the sky. All was +comparatively still about him; the noise of the city was replaced by the +lighter sound of vehicles on the well kept, almost non-resounding +country road. It seemed to be a main thoroughfare, but with little life +and animation about it at that evening hour. A buggy did go by +occasionally, however, and, not far from Mr. Heatherbloom, at a curb, +stood a motor-car. + +He had suffered himself to relax on the ground in front of a small house +set well back among spectral-looking trees and surrounded by a stone +wall overgrown with foliage. Mr. Heatherbloom remained unmindful of his +surroundings. The lamps of the car near by were not lighted; a single +figure on the front seat was barely distinguishable. Now this person got +down and lighted a cigarette; he seemed restless, walked to and fro, and +glanced once or twice at the house. From a single window a faint light +gleamed; then it vanished, only to reappear a few moments later at +another window. Among the masses of foliage fireflies glistened; a +tree-toad began to make a sound but almost immediately stopped. The +front door had apparently opened and some person or persons came out. +The faint crunchings on the gravel indicated more than one person. Now +they stepped on the grass, for there were no audible indications of +their approach. The man near the machine threw quickly away his +cigarette and opened the door of the car. Several people, issuing from +the gate, crossed the sidewalk and got in. Mr. Heatherbloom was hardly +aware of the fact; they seemed but unmeaning shadows. + +The driver bent over and lighted one of his lamps. As he did so, the +flare revealed for an instant his face--square, rather handsome and +bearded. A faint flicker of interest, for some reason undefinable to +himself at the moment, swept over Mr. Heatherbloom. He had been lying +where the grass was tall and now raised himself on his elbow, the better +to peer over the waving tops. The car had gathered headway and swung out +into the road, when suddenly some one in it laughed and uttered an +exclamation in a foreign tongue. That musical note--a word he did not +understand--was wafted to Mr. Heatherbloom. It acted upon him like a +galvanic shock; he sprang to his feet and, bewildered, stared after the +machine. What had happened; was he dreaming? He could hardly at first +believe the evidence of his senses, for the laugh, coming back to him in +the night, was that of the woman for whom he had procured employment at +Miss Van Rolsen's. He could have sworn to the fact now. And the man +whose countenance he had so briefly seen was, no doubt, of her own +nationality--a Russian! + +Involuntarily, without realizing what he did, Mr. Heatherbloom started +to run in the direction the car had gone, but he soon stopped. What +madness!--to attempt to catch a sixty-horse-power machine! Why, it was +nearly a mile away already. The young man stood stock-still while a +cogent reaction swept over him. The woman had passed within fifty feet +of where he had lain, head near the earth, moping. A mocking desire to +atone for a great remissness found him impotent. There seemed nothing +for him to do now but to reconcile himself to the irreconcilable, to +stay here, while every desire urged him to follow her, to learn why this +woman was in the car and who was with her. Naturally, he had expected +she would be on the yacht now steaming away out to sea, and here she +was. A new enigma confronted him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to stand in the center of the road. His head +whirled; he panted hard, out of breath from his recent dash. A loud +honk! honk! from another machine coming unexpectedly up behind, caused +him to leap aside just in time. The second car whizzed by, although +obeying an impulse born on the instant, he called out wildly, waving his +arms to bring it to a halt. If they saw his strange motions--which was +unlikely, the night being dark--they did not heed them. Soon the second +machine was some distance away; then its rear light gleamed like a +vanishing coal and suddenly disappeared altogether around a bend of the +road. + +He looked back; no other vehicle of any description was in sight now. +But it profited nothing to continue passive, immovable. He had to act, +to walk on, no matter how slowly; his face, at least, was set in the +direction the woman had gone. How long it took him to reach the turn of +the thoroughfare he could not tell, but at length there, he came again +to an abrupt stop. Some distance ahead in the road appeared a machine, +motionless--waiting, or broken down. + +Which car was it? The one containing the woman, or the other that came +after? If the former--He pressed on eagerly, yet keeping to the shadows, +alive once more to the need of caution. His heart pounded hard; he could +see a form passing in front of the machine; the light of the lamp +enabled him now to make out the other occupants--three men. No woman was +with them. This became poignantly, irrefutably evident as he drew +nearer. He could see plainly the empty car and the trio of figures; he +could hear them talking but was not yet able to distinguish what they +said. These were the people whose attention he had tried to attract back +there in the road. His purpose then, occurring to him in a flash, +renewed itself strongly now. He would ask their aid; circumstances might +enable him to do so now with better grace. He had had a good deal of +experience with cars of divers kinds and makes at different times in the +past. Why not proffer these strangers his fairly expert services? He +felt sure he could soon learn, and repair, what was wrong with the +machine. Having made himself useful, he could then intimate that a +"lift" down the road would be acceptable. And he would probably get it. + +But he did not carry out his intention. Something he heard as he came +closer to them caused him to hesitate and reconsider. Mixed with +anathemas directed against the car, of rather a cheap type, were words +that had for him more than passing significance. These men were after +some one, and that the some one was none other than himself, Mr. +Heatherbloom soon became fully convinced. Fate had been kinder to him +than he knew when he had endeavored, and failed, to win their notice. He +crouched back now against a rail fence; their low disgruntled tones were +still borne to him. For some moments they continued to work over the +machine without apparently being able to set it to rights. + +"If this goes on much longer," said one of them, "he'll get away from +Brownville." + +"Providin' he's there!" grumbled another. "People are always seeing an +escaped criminal in a dozen different localities at the same time." + +Brownville! The listener soon divined, from a sentence dropped here and +there, that the place was a little fishing village a short distance down +the coast. He surmised, also, that they had by this time the main harbor +of the city fairly watched as far as outgoing vessels were concerned, +and were reaching out to prevent a possible exit from the smaller +community. Fishing craft leaving from there could easily take out a +fugitive and thus enable him to escape. This contingency the authorities +were now endeavoring to avert; that they also had some kind of a clue, +pointing to their present destination and inciting them to make haste +thither, was evident from the skeptical remark Mr. Heatherbloom had +overheard. + +A series of explosions, as sudden as spasmodic, broke in on the +listener's thoughts. "Hurray!" said one. "We're off!" + +And they were, quickly. Mr. Heatherbloom also moved with extreme +abruptness and expedition. Waiting in the shadow until they had all +sprung into the car and the machine had fairly started, he then darted +forward, seized a strap and clinging as best he might, hoisted himself +to the place in the rear designed for a trunk. One desire only, in +resorting to this expedient, moved him--to get in touch as soon as +possible, if possible, with the other car. This machine, of inferior +build, suggested, it is true, a dubious way to that end but it was the +best that offered. + +He did not see the incongruity of his position, of being a passenger, +though secretly and surreptitiously, of the car containing those +embarked on a mission so closely concerning himself. Instead of fleeing +from them he was actually courting their company, pursuing himself, as +it were! At another time he might have smiled; now the situation had for +him nothing of the comic; it was tragically grim, also decidedly +unpleasant. A strong odor of gasolene permeated his nostrils until he +was nearly suffocated by it and all the dust, stirred by their flight, +swirled up on him, making it difficult to refrain from coughing. +Fortunately the machine had a monopoly on noises, and any sound from him +would have passed unnoticed. He had ridden the "bumpers" not so long ago +on freights, and, perforce, indulged in kindred uncomfortable methods of +free transportation in the course of his recent career, but he had never +experienced anything quite so little to be desired as this. + +The driver had begun to speed; as if to make up for lost time, he was +forcing the engine to its limit. The machine, of light construction, +shook violently, negotiated the steep places with jumps and slid down on +the other side with breakneck velocity. The dust thickened about Mr. +Heatherbloom's head so that he could scarcely see. His arms ached and +every bump nearly tore him loose. He wound the strap around his wrist +and strove to ensconce himself deeper in a place not large enough for +him. He was on an edge all the time, and felt as if he were falling +over every moment; the edge, too, was sharp and dug into him. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, however, had little thought of bodily discomfort; he +was more concerned in making progress and the difficulty of maintaining +his position. His only fear was that he would be compelled to abandon +his place because his physical energy might not be equal to the demands +put upon it. He set his teeth now and began to count the seconds. The +faster they went, the better was his purpose served; he strove to find +encouragement in the thought. The other car could make a superior +showing in the way of speed, but it might stop voluntarily somewhere +after a while, or something might happen to arrest its progress. The +race did not always belong to the swift. He endeavored to formulate some +plan as to just what he would do if he did finally manage to overtake +the woman and her party, but at length ceased trying. Sufficient unto +the moment were the problems thereof; he could but strive in the +present. He dispelled the fear that he could not hold on much longer, +and filled himself with new determination not to yield. But even as he +did so, a bigger bump than any they had yet encountered jerked him +abruptly from his place. + +When finally he managed to collect himself and his senses and sit up +uncertainly in the road, the car was far away. The snap of exploding +gasolene grew faint--fainter--then ceased altogether. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +IN THE NIGHT + +A wayworn figure, some time thereafter, moved slowly along the deserted +road, where it ran like a winding ribbon over the top of a great bluff. +A sea wind, coming in varying gusts, bent low the long grass and rustled +in the bushes. The moon had escaped from behind dark clouds in a stormy +sky and threw its rays far and wide. They imparted a frosty sheen to the +wavy surface between road and sea and brightened the thoroughfare, +which, lengthening tortuously, disappeared beneath in a tangle of forest +or underbrush. + +Mr. Heatherbloom gazed wearily down the road, then over the grass. In +the latter direction, afar, a strip of ocean lay like an argent stream +flowing between the top of the bank and the horizon. Toward that +illusory river he, leaving the main highway, walked in somewhat +discouraged fashion. It might avail him little, so much time had +elapsed, but from the edge of the bluff he would be afforded a view of +the surrounding country and the topography of the coast. + +A vast spread of the ocean unfolded to his gaze before he had reached +the brink of the prominence. His heavy-lidded eyes, sweeping to the +right, rested on a heterogeneous group of dwellings scattered well above +the sands and directly below a wooded uprising of land. Myriad specks of +light glimmered amid shadowy roofs. Brownville? Undoubtedly! A board +walk ran along the ocean and a small pier extended like an arm over the +water. On the faintly glistening sands old boats, drawn up here and +there, resembled so many black footprints. + +Not far from where Mr. Heatherbloom stood a path went downward, a +shorter way to the village than by the road he had just left. He stared +unthinkingly a moment at the narrow walk; then began mechanically to +descend. A dull realization weighed on him that when he reached his +destination the woman would be far away. He wondered why he had gone on, +under the circumstances--why he had ever thought he stood a ghost of a +chance of overtaking her? Only the hopelessness of the situation, in all +its grim verity, faced him now. + +The path zigzagged through the bushes. At a turn the village was lost to +sight; in front was a sheer fall to the sea. As he kept on, projecting +branches struck him and raising his hand to guard his face, he, tripped +and almost fell. Recovering himself, he glanced down; something had +caught on his shoe and he leaned over to loosen it. His fingers closed +on a long strip of soft substance--a veil, the kind worn by women +motoring! Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes rested on it apathetically, then with +a sudden flash of interest; a faint but heavy perfume emanated from the +silky filament. It was darkish in hue--brown, he should say; the Russian +woman was partial to that color. The thought came to him quickly; he +stood bewildered. What if it were hers? Then how had it come here, on +this narrow foot-path, unless--Had the big car stopped at the top of the +promontory and discharged its passengers there? But why should it have +done so; for what possible reason? + +He could think of none. Other women came this way--the path was not +difficult. Other women wore brown veils. And yet that odd familiar +fragrance--It seemed to belong to a foreign bizarre personality such as +Sonia Turgeinov's. + +Crushing in his palm the veil he thrust it into his pocket. He would +find out more below, possibly; if she had actually passed this way. A +feverish zest was born anew; the authorities were looking for her as +well as for himself, he remembered. She, apparently, had so far cleverly +evaded them; if he could but lead them to her he would not mind so much +his own apprehension. Her presence in the locality at the same time the +_Nevski_ had been in the harbor would fairly prove the correctness of +his theory of Miss Dalrymple's whereabouts. If he could now deliver the +Russian woman into the hands of the law, he would have a wedge to force +the powers that be to give credence to at least the material part of his +story--that the prince had left port with the young girl--and to compel +them to see the necessity of acting at once. That he, himself, would be +held equally culpable with the woman was of no moment. + +Fatigue seemed to fall from his shoulders. He went along more swiftly, +inspired with new vague hopes. Down--down! The voice of the sea grew +nearer; now he could hear the dull thud of the waves, then the weird +whistling sounds that succeeded. Springing from a granite out-jutting to +the sands, he looked eagerly, searchingly, this way and that. He saw no +one. His gaze lowered and he walked from the dry to the wet strand. +There he stopped, an exclamation escaping his lips. + +A faint light, falling between black rocks, revealed fresh footprints on +the surface of the sands, and, yes!--a long furrow--the marks of the +keel of a boat. He studied the footprints closer, but without +discovering signs of a woman's; only the indentations of heavy seamen's +boots were in evidence. Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a keen +disappointment; then felt abruptly reassured. The impress of her lighter +tread had been eliminated by the men in lifting and pushing to launch +the boat. Their boots had roughly kicked up the sand thereabouts. + +He was fairly satisfied the woman had embarked. The seclusion of the +spot favored the assumption; the fishing-boats were all either stranded, +or at anchor, nearer the village. But why and whither had she gone? The +ocean, in front, failed to answer the latter question, and his glance +turned. On the one hand was the village; on the other, high, almost +perpendicular rocks ran seaward, obscuring the view. It would not be +easy to get around that point; without a boat it could not be done. + +Mr. Heatherbloom began to walk briskly toward the village; the moon +threw his shadow in odd bobbing motions here and there. Once he stopped +abruptly; some one on the beach afar was approaching. A fisherman? Mr. +Heatherbloom crouched back among the rocks, when the person came to a +halt. Clinging to the shadows on the landward side of the beach the +young man continued to advance, but cautiously, for a single voice might +now start a general hue and cry. Beyond, closer to town, he could see +other forms, small dark moving spots. Not far distant, however, lay the +nearest boat; to get to her he had to expose himself to the pale +glimmer. No alternative remained. He stepped quickly across the sand, +reached the craft and strove to launch her. But she was clumsy and +heavy, and resisted his efforts. The man, whoever he might be, was +coming closer; he called out and Mr. Heatherbloom pushed and struggled +more desperately--without avail! He cast a quick glance over his +shoulder; the man was running toward him--his tones now rang out loudly, +authoritatively. Mr. Heatherbloom did not obey that stern command to +halt; instead he made a wild abrupt dash for the sea. The report of a +revolver awoke the echoes and a bullet whizzed close. Recklessly he +plunged into the water. + +The man on the shore emptied his weapon, but with what success he could +not tell. A head amid the dark waves was not easily discernible. Another +and larger object, however, was plainly apparent about a hundred yards +from land--a fishing-boat that swung at anchor. Would the other succeed +in reaching it, for that was, no doubt, his purpose, or had one of the +leaden missives told? The man, with weapon hot, waited. He scanned the +water, then looked toward the town. A number of figures on the beach +were hastening in his direction; from the pier afar, a naphtha put out; +he could hear faintly the sound of the engine. + +Suddenly, above the boat at anchor near the man on shore, a sail shot +up, then fluttered and snapped in the wind. A moment later it was drawn +in, the line holding the craft to the buoy slipped out, and the bow +swung sharply around. Mr. Heatherbloom worked swiftly; one desire moved +him--to get around that point before being overtaken--to discover what +lay beyond. Then let happen what would! He reached for a line and +hoisted a jib, though it was almost more canvas than his small craft +could carry. She careened and plunged, throwing the spray high. He +turned a quick glance back toward the naphtha. The sky had become +overcast, and distant objects were not so easily discernible on the +surface of the water, but he made out her lights--two! She was head on +for him. + +He looked steadily ahead again. The grim line of out-jutting rocks--a +black shadow against the sky--exercised a weird fascination for him. He +was well out in the open now where the wind blew a half-gale. His figure +was wet from the sea but he felt no chill. Suddenly the hand gripping +the tiller tightened, and his heart gave a great bound; then sank. Not +far from that portentous point of land he saw another light--green! A +boat was emerging from the big basin of water beyond. The starboard +signal, set high above the waves, belonged to no small craft such as the +woman had embarked in. The sight of it fitted a contingency that had +flashed through his brain on the beach. The realization left him +helpless now--his last opportunity was gone! + +He shifted the tiller violently, recklessly. At that moment a shrill +whistle from behind reminded him once more of the naphtha; he could have +laughed. What was the wretched little puffing thing to him now? The +single green light--that alone was the all in all. It belonged to the +_Nevski_ he was sure; for one reason or another she had but made +pretense of going to sea, and, instead, had come here--to wait. The +woman was on her now, and, also--The thought maddened him. + +Again that piercing whistle! The naphtha was coming up fast; amid the +turmoil of his thoughts he realized this vaguely. He did not wish to +find himself delivered unto them yet--not just yet! A wilder +recklessness seized him. Clouds sped across the heavens like gripping +furies' hands; the water ran level to his boat's gunwales but he refused +to ease her. All the while he was drawing nearer the single green +light--a mocking light, signal of a mocking chase that had led, and +could lead, to nothing. Still he went on, tossed by the waves--sport of +them. He had to play the play out. Oh, to see better, to visualize to +the utmost the last scene of his poignant drama of failure! + +In the naphtha some one's voice belched through a megaphone; he laughed +outright now. Come and get him, if they wanted him! He would give them +as merry a dash as possible. His boat raced madly through the +water--nearer, yet nearer the green light. Now a large dark outline +loomed before him; he would have to stop, to come about in a moment, +or--A great wave struck him, half filling his boat, but he did not seem +to notice. + +A dazzling white glow suddenly surrounded him; from the naphtha a +search-light had been flashed. It fell on him fully, sprinkled over on +the wild hurtling waves beyond, and just touched the side of the +outgoing vessel. Mr. Heatherbloom looked toward the vessel and his +pupils dilated. The light leaped into the air with the motion of the +naphtha, and, in an instant was gone, but the impress of a single detail +remained on his retina--of a side ladder, lowered, no doubt, for the +woman, and not yet hoisted into place on the big boat. + +The wildness of the sea seemed to surge through Mr. Heatherbloom's +veins; he did not come about; he did not try to. Now it was too late! +That ladder!--he would seize it as they swept by. Closer his boat ran; a +swirl of water caught him, threw him from his course. He made a frantic +effort to regain it but without avail. The big steel bow of the great +boat struck and overwhelmed the little craft. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +THE CRISIS + +On the _Nevski_, the lookout forward walked slowly back and forth. Once +or twice he shook his head. But a few moments before the yacht had run +down a small boat, he had reported the matter, and--the _Nevski_ had +continued ahead, full speed. She had not even slackened long enough to +make the usual futile pretense of extending assistance to the +unfortunate occupant, or occupants. His excellency, Prince Boris, +evidently did not wish, or had no time, to bother with blunderers; if +they got in his way so much the worse for them. The lookout, pausing to +stare once more ahead, suddenly started. Though apathetic, like most of +the lower class of his countrymen, he uttered a faint guttural of +surprise and peered over the bow. A voice had seemed to rise from the +very seething depths of the sea. Naturally superstitious, he made the +sign of the cross on his breast while tales of dead seamen who came back +played through his dull fancy. + +Once more he heard it--that voice that seemed to mingle with the wailing +tones of the deep! The little swinging lantern beneath the bowsprit +played on his bearded face as he bent farther forward, and, with growing +wonder not unmixed with fear, now made out something dark clinging to +one of the steel lines that ran from the projecting timber to the ship. +It took the lookout a few moments to realize that this dark object that +had a voice--albeit a faint one--could not be other than a recent +occupant of the small boat he had seen disappear. This person must have +leaped upward at the critical moment, and caught one of the taut strands +upon which he had somehow managed to hoist himself and to which he now +clung desperately. It was a precarious position and one that the motion +of the yacht made but briefly tenable. + +Satisfied that the dark object was a reality and not an unwonted +visitation, the lookout began deliberately to unloosen a gasket. Moments +might be eternity to the man below, but Muscovite slowness is not to be +hurried. The yacht's bow poised in mid air a breathless instant; chaos +seemed leaping upward toward Mr. Heatherbloom, when something--a +line--struck and rubbed against his cheek. He seized and trusted himself +to it eagerly. The sailor was strong; he pulled in the rope. Mr. +Heatherbloom came up, but his strength was almost gone. He would have +let go when iron fingers closed on his wrists, and after that he +remembered no more. + +He awoke in a berth in a fo'castle, and it was daylight. Through a +partly-opened hatch he could see the fine spray that came over the side +of the yacht. Amid misty particles touched by the sun shone a tiny +segment of rainbow. This Mr. Heatherbloom watched with a kind of +childish interest; then stretched himself more luxuriously on the hard +bunk. It was very fine having nothing more important and arduous to do +than watching prismatic hues; his thoughts floated back to long +forgotten wonder-days when he had possessed that master-marvel of toys, +a kaleidoscope, and on occasion had importantly permitted the +golden-haired child in the big house on the top of the hill to-- + +The dream was abruptly dispelled by some one laying a tarry hand on his +shoulder. Mr. Heatherbloom raised himself. The person had a +characteristic Russian face. For a moment the young man stared at the +stolid features, then looked around him. He saw the customary +furnishings of such a place; hammocks, bags and chests, several of the +last marked with Russian characters. A trace of color sprang to Mr. +Heatherbloom's face; he realized now what boat he was actually on, and +what it all meant to him. He could hardly believe, however, and +continued to regard the upside down odd lettering, when the sailor, who +had so unceremoniously disturbed him, motioned him to get out. Mr. +Heatherbloom obeyed; he felt very stiff and somewhat light-headed, but +he steadied himself against the woodwork. The sailor drew a dipperful +of hot tea from a samovar and thrust it into his hand. He drank with +avidity; after which the sailor made him to understand he was to follow. + +The young man hesitated--a new risk confronted him. To whom would he be +taken? The prince? He had once been standing in the area way of the Van +Rolsen house when the nobleman had approached. Had the distinguished +visitor then been so absorbed in the sight of Miss Dalrymple coming down +the steps that he had utterly failed to observe the humble caretaker of +canines? Possibly--and again possibly not. In the former contingency he +might yet have a brief breathing-spell to think--to plan for the future, +unless--There was another to reckon with--the woman he had met in the +park, whose automobile he had attempted to follow. She, too, was on the +boat! He had been her dupe once. Was he now to become her victim? + +The young man's jaw set. There was no holding back now, however; he had +to go on--and he did, with seeming indifference and bold enough step. +At the top of the ladder the sailor passed him on to some one else--an +officer--who led him this way and that until they reached a secluded +part of the deck, where, near the rail, stood a tall dark figure, glass +in hand. Until the last moment Mr. Heatherbloom had hoped it might be +only the captain he would be called on to encounter, and that that +august person would summarily dispose of him, ordering him somewhere out +of sight, below, to work his passage in the sailors' galley, perhaps. He +would have welcomed the most ignominious service to have found now a +respite--to be enabled to escape discovery a little longer. But the +wished-for contingency had not arisen. He faced the inevitable. + +"The man, your Excellency!" + +His excellency looked. He had been scanning the horizon and his +expression was both moody and preoccupied. Mr. Heatherbloom bent +slightly forward; his lids fell to conceal a sudden glitter in his eyes; +his hand touched something hard in his pocket. If his excellency +recognized him--There was one way--a last mad desperate way to serve, +to save her. It would be the end-all for him, but his life was a very +small thing to give to her. He did not value it greatly--that physical +self that had been such an ill servant. He gazed at the prince now with +veiled expectancy, his attitude seemingly relaxed, innocent of +strenuosity. Would the prince's gaze flare back with a spark of +remembrance? If in that tense instant it had done so, then-- + +But his excellency regarded Mr. Heatherbloom blankly; his eyes were +emotionless. + +"You mean the fellow we ran down?" The prince spoke as if irritated by +the intrusion. + +"The same, Excellency!" The officer stepped back. Mr. Heatherbloom did +not move. + +"What did you get in our way for?" The prince's voice had a metallic +ring; he towered, harshly arrogant, over his uninvited passenger. "Don't +you know enough to get out of the way?" + +"It appears not, sir." Heatherbloom wondered at the sound of his own +voice. It seemed to come, small and quiet, from so far off. His +excellency had not recognized him, but was he suspicious? Maybe not. No +one would be fool enough to get deliberately in the way of the +fast-steaming _Nevski_. Small craft were numerous in the bay and +accidents to them would happen. There was nothing so out of the ordinary +for a big boat to run down a tiny craft. It was somewhat uncommon for +any one in the wee boat to save himself, truly, but even in this feature +of the present case the prince experienced but a mild interest. + +"Who are you?" he said. "A fisherman?" + +"Not exactly," answered Mr. Heatherbloom, "though sometimes I crab. I +was crabbing yesterday." + +As he spoke his gaze swept beyond to not far-distant cabin doors and +windows. He and the prince were standing on the starboard side of the +boat; it was this side that had faced the island when the young man had +gazed down upon the yacht from the big sand-hill, and fancied he had +seen-- + +"What am I going to do with you?" The prince seemed more out of temper +now. "My crew are all Russians and I don't want any of your--" He +stopped; shifting lights played ominously in his gaze; a few +dissatisfied lines on his face deepened. "I didn't ask you to come +aboard," he ended with an angry gesture. + +"Sorry to intrude!" Mr. Heatherbloom spoke at random. "But I really +couldn't help it, don't you know. No time to ask permission." + +His excellency frowned. Did he suspect in these words an attempt at that +insidious American humor he had often vainly endeavored to fathom? Mr. +Heatherbloom gazed at him now with seemingly innocent but really very +attentive eyes. + +A superb specimen of over six feet of masculinity, the prince was +picturesquely attired in Russian yachting-garb while a Cossack cap +adorned a visage as bold and romantic as any young woman might wish to +gaze upon. And gazing upon it himself--that rather stunning picture the +prince presented on his own yacht--a sudden chill ran through Mr. +Heatherbloom. This titled paragon refused by Miss Dalrymple? A feudal +lord who made your dapper French counts and Hungarian barons appear but +small fry indeed, by contrast! The light of the sea seemed suddenly to +dazzle Mr. Heatherbloom. A wild thought surged through his brain. Betty +Dalrymple, bewildering, confusing, made up of captivating +inconsistencies, had sometimes been accused by people of a capacity for +doing the wildest things. Had she for excitement--or any other +reason--eloped with the prince? Were they, perhaps, married even now? He +dismissed the thought quickly. All the circumstances pointed against +this theory; his original one was--must be--correct. + +"Well, now you are here, I suppose I've got to keep you." The prince had +again spoken. + +"I suppose so," said Mr. Heatherbloom absently. He was studying now the +near-by cabin windows. One, with beautiful lace and glimpses of pink +beyond, caught his glance. + +"What can you do?" Sharply. + +"Oh, a lot of things!" Had the curtain waved? His heart thumped hard--he +scarcely saw the prince now. + +"Not manage a sail-boat, I'm convinced." He forced himself to turn +again, as through a mist was aware of his excellency's sneering +countenance. "Judging from your recent performance!" + +"That was hardly a fair test," Mr. Heatherbloom replied anyhow. His +thoughts were keyed to a straining-point; his glance _would_ swerve; he +strove his best to control it. She was there--there--Shrouds and stays +seemed to sing the words. He would have sworn he caught the flash of a +white wrist. + +"Why not?" Was the prince still examining, questioning him? Again a +primal impulse was suppressed, though his muscles were like whipcords. +He yet compelled himself to endure the ordeal. What was the query about? +Ah, he remembered. + +"Well, you see, I must have lost my head." It was not a bright answer +but he did not care; it was the best that occurred. + +The prince strode restlessly away a few paces, then returned. "Were you +ever at sea before?" + +"I once owned a y----" Mr. Heatherbloom paused--with an effort resumed +his part and a smile somewhat strained: "I once went on a cruise on a +gentleman's yacht." Some one _was_ in the state-room; was overhearing. +His head hummed; the refrain of the taut lines rang louder. + +"What as? Cabin-boy, cook?" + +"Why, you see--" The prince certainly did not see him--he was once more +staring away, over the dark water--"I acted in a good many capacities. +Kind of general utility, as it were. Doing this, that, and the other!" + +"'The other', I should surmise." Contemptuously. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved; the curtain had moved again. "Where are you +going?" he asked a little wildly. "You see I might have important +business on shore." Foolish talk,--yet it fitted in as well as anything. + +The prince, for his part, did not at first seem to catch the other's +words; when he did he laughed loudly, sardonically. "That is good; +excellent! _You_ have 'important business'!" + +"Yes; important," repeated Mr. Heatherbloom. "I--" He got no further. +His eyes met another's at the window, rested a moment on a woman's face +which then suddenly vanished. But not before he realized that she, too, +had seen him--seen and recognized. He had caught in that fleeting +instant, wonder, irony, incredulity--a growing understanding! Then he +heard a soft laugh--a musical but devilish laugh--Sonia Turgeinov's! + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES + +Mr. Heatherbloom stood as if stunned, his face very pale. For the +instant all his suppressed emotion concentrated on this woman--his evil +genius--who had betrayed him before and who would betray him again, now. +He waited, breathing hard. Why did she not appear? Why did not the blow +fall? He could not understand that interval--nothing happening. Was she +but playing with him? The prince had abruptly turned; apparently he had +not heard that very low laugh. Bored, no doubt, by the interview, he had +started to walk away, almost at the same time Mr. Heatherbloom had +caught sight of the face at the window. As in a dream Mr. Heatherbloom +now heard his excellency's brusk voice addressing a command to the +officer, listened to the latter a moment or two later, addressing him. + +"Come along!" The officer's English was labored and guttural. + +Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes swung swiftly from the near-by door through +which he had momentarily expected the woman to emerge. Involuntarily he +would have stepped after the vanishing figure of the prince--what to do, +he knew not, when-- + +"_Non, non_," said the officer, intervening. "Hees excellenz dislikes to +be--importuned." The last word cost the speaker an effort; to the +listener it was hardly intelligible, but the officer's manner indicated +plainly his meaning. Mr. Heatherbloom managed to hold himself still; he +seemed standing in the center of a vortex. The prince had by this time +gone; the woman did not step forth. This lame and impotent conclusion +was out of all proportion to the seemingly inevitable. He could scarcely +realize it was he--actually he!--who, after another pause, followed the +officer, with scant interest, hardly any at all, to some inferno where +flames leaped and hissed. + +He could not but be aware of them, although the voice telling him that +he would remain here, make himself useful, and, incidentally, work his +way among the stokers, sounded very far off. He could have exclaimed +scoffingly after the disappearing officer, not anxious to linger any +longer than necessary here. Work his way, indeed! How long would he be +permitted to do so? When would he be again sent for, and dealt with--in +what manner? + +He shoveled coal feverishly though the irony of the task smote him, for +in feeding the insatiable beds, he was with his own hand helping to +furnish the energy that wafted her, he would have served, farther and +farther from the home land. Every additional mile put between that shore +and the boat, increased the prince's sense of power. He was working for +his excellency and against her. In a revulsion of feeling he leaned on +his shovel, whereupon a besooted giant of the lower regions tapped his +shoulder. This person--foreman of the gang--pointed significantly to the +inactive implement. His brow was low, brutish, and he had a fist like a +hammer. Mr. Heatherbloom lifted the shovel and looked at the low brow +but, fortunately, he did not act on the impulse. It was as if some +detaining angel reached down into those realms of Pluto and, at the +critical moment, laid a white hand where the big paw had touched him. + +The young man resumed his toil. After all, what did it matter?--some one +would shovel the stuff. That brief revolt had been spasmodic, +sentimental. Here where the heat was almost intolerable and the red +tongues sprang like forked daggers before dulled eyes, brutality and +hatred alone seemed to reign. The prince might be the prodigal, +free-handed gentleman to his officers; he was the slave-driver, by +proxy, to his stokers. He who dominated in that place of torment had +been an overseer from one of the villages the prince owned; these men +were the descendants of serfs. + +Once or twice Heatherbloom rather incoherently tried to engage one or +two of them in conversation, to learn where the yacht was going--to +Southern seas, across the Atlantic?--but they only stared at him as if +he were some strange being quite beyond their ken. So he desisted; of +course they could not understand him, and, of course, they knew nothing +he wished to know. In this prison a sense of motion and direction was as +naught. + +Fortunately Mr. Heatherbloom's muscles were in good condition and there +was not a superfluous ounce on him, but he needed all his energies to +escape the fist and the boot that day, to keep pace with the others. The +perspiration poured from his face in sooty rivulets; he knew if he gave +way what kind of consideration to expect. He was being tested. The +foreman's eyes, themselves, seemed full of sparks; there was something +tentative, expectant in their curious gleam as they rested on him. +Heatherbloom now could hardly keep to his feet; his own eyes burned. The +flames danced as if with a living hatred of him; in a semi-stupor he +almost forgot the sword, without, that swung over him, held but by a +thread that might be cut any instant. + +He could not have lasted many minutes more when relief came; sodden +sullen men took the places. Heatherbloom staggered out with his own +herd; he felt the need of food as well as rest. He groped his way +somewhere--into a dark close place; he found black-looking bread--or, +was it handed to him? He ate, threw himself down, thought of her!--then +ceased to think at all. The sword, his companions or specters no longer +existed for him. + +It may be some spiritual part of him during that physical coma, drew +from a supermundane source beatific drafts, for he awoke refreshed, his +mind clear, even alert. He gazed around; he, alone, moved. His +companions resembled so many bags of rags cast here and there; only the +snores, now diminuendo, then crescendo, dispelled the illusion. A +smoking lamp threw a paucity of light and a good deal of odor around +them. Was it night? The shadows played hide-and-seek in corners; there +was no sound of the sea. + +Mr. Heatherbloom moved toward a door. His pulses seemed to throb in +rhythm with the engines whose strong pulsations shook those limp +unconscious forms. He opened the iron door and looked out. Only +blackness, relieved by a low-power electric light, met his gaze. He +crept from the place. + +Why did not some one rise up to detain him? Surely he was watched. He +experienced an uncanny sense of being allowed to proceed just so far, +when invisible fingers would pounce upon him, to hurl him back. The soot +still lay on his face; he had seen no bucket and water. At the mouth of +a tunnel-like aperture, he hesitated, but still no one sprang in front, +or glided up from behind to interfere with his progress. He went on; a +perpendicular iron ladder enabled him to reach an open space on the +deserted lower deck. Another ladder led to the upper deck. Could he +mount it and still escape detection? And in that case--to what end? + +A bell struck the hour. Nine o'clock! He counted the strokes. Much time +had, indeed, passed since leaving port. The yacht, he judged, should be +capable of sixteen knots. Where were they now? And where was she--in +what part of the boat had they confined the young girl? Come what might, +he would try to ascertain. Creeping softly up the second ladder, he +peered around. Still he saw no one. It was a dark night; a shadow lay +like a blanket on the sea. He felt for his revolver--they had not taken +it from him--- and started to make his way cautiously aft, when +something he saw brought him to an abrupt halt. + +A figure!--a woman's!--or a young girl's?--not far distant, looking +over the side. The form was barely discernible; he could but make out +the vague flutterings of a gown. Was it she whom he sought? How could he +find out? He dared not speak. She moved, and he realized he could not +let her go thus. It might be an opportunity--no doubt they would suffer +the young girl the freedom of the deck. It would be along the line of a +conciliatory policy on the prince's part to attempt to reassure her as +much as possible after the indignities' she had suffered. The watcher's +eyes strained. She was going. He half started forward--to risk all--to +speak. His lips formed a name but did not breathe it, for at that moment +the swaying of the boat had thrown a flicker of light on the face and +Mr. Heatherbloom drew back, the edge of his ardor dulled. + +The woman moved a few steps, this way and that; he heard the swish of +her skirts. Now they almost touched him, standing motionless where the +shadows were deepest, and at that near contact a blind anger swept over +him, against her--who held him in her power to eliminate, when she +would--When? What was her cue? But, of course, she must have spoken +already--it was inconceivable otherwise. Then why had the prince not +acted at once, summarily? His excellency was not one to hesitate about +drastic measures. Mr. Heatherbloom could not solve the riddle at all. He +could only crouch back farther now and wait. + +Through the gloom he divined a new swiftness in her step, a certain +sinuosity of movement that suddenly melted into immobility. A red spot +had appeared close by, burned now on blackness; it was followed by +another's footstep. A man, cigar in hand, joined her. + +"Ah, Prince!" she said. + +He muttered something Heatherbloom did not catch. + +"What?" she exclaimed lightly. "No better humored?" + +His answer was eloquent. A flicker of light he had moved toward revealed +his face, gallant, romantic enough in its happier moments, but now +distinctly unpleasant, with the stamp of ancestral Sybarites of the +Petersburg court shining through the cruelty and intolerance of +semi-Tartar forbears. + +The woman laughed. How the young man, listening, detested that musical +gurgle! "Patience, your Highness!" + +The red spark leaped in the air. "What have I been?" + +"That depends on the standpoint--yours, or hers," she returned in the +same tone. + +"It is always the same. She is--" The spark described swift angry +motions. + +"What would you--at first?" she retorted laughingly. "After all that +has taken place? _Mon Dieu_! You remember I advised you against this +madness--I told you in the beginning it might not all be like Watteau's +masterpiece--the divine embarkation!" + +"Bah!" he returned, as resenting her attitude. "You were ready enough +for your part." + +She shrugged. "_Eh bien?_ Our little Moscow theatrical company had come +to grief. New York--cruel monster!--did not want us. _C'en est fait de +nous_! Your Excellency met and recognized me as one you had once been +presented to at a merry party at the Hermitage in our beloved city of +churches. Would I play the _bon camarade_ in a little affair of the +heart, or should I say _une grande passion_? The honorarium offered was +enormous for a poor ill-treated player whose very soul was ready to sing +_De Profundis_. Did it tempt her--forlorn, downhearted--" + +She paused. Close by, the spark brightened, dimmed--brightened, dimmed! +Mr. Heatherbloom bent nearer. "At any rate, she was honest enough to +attempt to dissuade you--in vain! And then"--her voice changed--"since +you willed it so, she yielded. It sounded wild, impossible, the plan you +broached. Perhaps because it did seem so impossible it won over poor +Sonia Turgeinov--she who had thrown her cap over the windmills. There +would be excitement, fascination in playing such a thrilling part in +real life. Were you ever hungry, Prince?" She broke off. "What an absurd +question! What is more to the point, tell me it was all well done--the +device, or excuse, of substituting another motor-car for her own, the +mad flight far into the night, down the coast where save for that +mishap--But I met all difficulties, did I not? And, believe me, it was +not easy--to keep your little American inamorata concealed until the +_Nevski_ could be repaired and meet us elsewhere than we had originally +planned. _Dieu merci!_ I exclaimed last night when the little spitfire +was brought safely aboard." Mr. Heatherbloom breathed quickly. Betty +Dalrymple, then, had been with the woman in the big automobile-- + +"Why don't you praise me?" the woman went on. "Tell me I well earned +the _douceur_? Although"--her accents were faintly scoffing--"I never +dreamed _you_ would not afterward be able to--" Her words leaped into a +new channel. "What can the child want? _Est-ce-qu'elle aime un autre_? +That might explain--" + +An expletive smacking more of Montmartre than of the Boulevard +Capucines, fell from the nobleman's lips. He brushed the ash fiercely +from his cigar. "It is not so--it won't explain anything," he returned +violently. "Didn't I once have it from her own lips that, at least, she +was not--" He stopped. "_Mon Dieu!_ That contingency--" + +Suddenly she again laughed. "Delicious!" + +"What?" + +"Nothing. My own thoughts. By the way, what has become of the man we +picked up from the sail-boat?" + +The prince made a gesture. "He's down below--among the stokers. Why do +you ask?" + +"It is natural, I suppose, to take a faint interest in a poor fisherman +you've almost drowned." + +"Not I!" Brutally. + +"No?" A smile, enigmatical, played around her lips. "How droll!" + +"Droll?" + +"Heartless, then. But you great nobles are that, a little, eh, _mon +ami_?" + +He shrugged and returned quickly to that other more interesting subject. + +"_Elle va m'epouser!_" he exclaimed violently. "I will stake my life on +it. She will; she must!" + +"Must!" The woman raised her hand. "You say that to an American girl?" + +"We're not at the finis yet!" An ugly crispness was manifest in his +tones. "There are ports and priests a-plenty, and this voyage is apt to +be a long one, unless she consents--" + +"Charming man!" She spoke almost absently now. + +"Haven't I anything to offer? _Diable_! One would think I was a beggar, +not--am I ill-looking, repugnant? Your sex," with a suspicion of a +sneer, "have not always found me so. I have given my heart before, you +will say! But never as now! For she is a witch, like those that come out +of the reeds on the Volga--to steal, alike, the souls of fisherman and +prince." He paused; then went on moodily. "I suppose I should have +gone--allowed myself to be dismissed as a boy from school. 'I have +played with you; you have amused me; you no longer do so. Adieu!' So she +would have said to me, if not in words, by implication. No, _merci_," he +broke off angrily. "_Tant s'en faut_! I, too, shall have something to +say--and soon--to-night--!" + +He made a swift gesture, threw his cigar into the sea and walked off. + +"How tiresome!" But the words fell from the woman's lips uneasily. She +stretched her lithe form and looked up into the night. Then she, too, +disappeared. Mr. Heatherbloom stood motionless. She knew who he was and +yet she had not revealed his secret to the prince. Because she deemed +him but a pawn, paltry, inconsequential? Because she wished to save the +hot-headed nobleman from committing a deed of violence--a crime, +even--if he should learn? + +The reason mattered little. In Mr. Heatherbloom's mind his excellency's +last words--all they portended--excluded now consideration of all else. +He gazed uncertainly in the direction the nobleman had gone; suddenly +started to follow, stealthily, cautiously, when another person +approached. Mr. Heatherbloom would have drawn back, but it was too +late--he was seen. His absence from the stokers' quarters had been +discovered; after searching for him below and not finding him, the giant +foreman had come up here to look around. He was swinging his long arms +and muttering angrily when he caught sight of his delinquent helper. The +man uttered a low hoarse sound that augured ill for Mr. Heatherbloom. +The latter knew what he had to expect--that no mercy would be shown him. +He stepped swiftly backward, at the same time looking about for +something with which to defend himself. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +THE DESPOT + +Prince Boris, upon leaving Sonia Turgeinov, ascended to the officers' +deck. For some moments he paced the narrow confines between the +life-boats, then stepped into the wheel-house. + +"How is she headed?" + +An officer standing near the man at the helm, answered in French. + +"This should bring us to"--the nobleman mentioned a group of +islands--"by to-morrow night?" + +"Hardly, Excellency." + +The prince stared moodily. "Have you sighted any other vessels?" + +"One or two sailing-craft that have paid no attention to us. The only +boat that seemed interested since we left port was the little naphtha." + +The nobleman stood as if he had not heard this last remark. About to +move away, he suddenly lifted his head and listened. "What was that?" he +said sharply. + +"What, your Highness?" + +"I thought I heard a sound like a cry." + +"I heard nothing, Excellency. No doubt it was but the wind--it is loud +here." + +"No doubt." A moment the nobleman continued to listen, then his +attention relaxed. + +"Shall I come to your excellency later for orders?" said the officer as +the prince made as if to turn away. + +"It will not be necessary. If I have any I can 'phone from the cabin--I +do not wish to be disturbed," he added and left. + +"His excellency seems in rather an odd mood to-night," the officer, +gazing after, muttered. "Nothing would surprise me--even if he commanded +us to head for the pole next. Eh, Fedor?" The man at the helm made +answer, moving the spokes mechanically. Nor' west, or sou' east--it was +all one to him. + +Prince Boris walked back; before a little cabin that stood out like an +afterthought, he again paused. + +Click! click! The wireless! His excellency, stepping nearer, peered +through a window in upon the operator, a slender young man--French. A +message was being received. Who were they that thus dared span space to +reach out toward him? _Ei! ei_! "The devil has long arms." He recalled +this saying of the Siberian priests and the mad Cossack answer: +"Therefore let us ride fast!" The swaying of the yacht was like the +rhythmic motion of his Arab through the long grass beyond the Dnieper, +in that wild land where conventionality and laws were as naught. + +He saw the operator now lean forward to write. The apparatus, which had +become silent again, spoke; the words came now fast, then slow. Flame of +flames! What an instrument that harnessed the sparks, chased destiny +itself with them! They crackled like whips. The operator threw down his +pen. + +"Excellency!" He almost ran into the tall motionless figure. "Pardon! A +message--they want to establish communication with the _Nevski_--to +learn if we picked up a man from--" + +"Have I not told you to receive all messages but to establish +communication with no one? _Mon Dieu_! If I thought--" + +"Your excellency, can depend upon me," Francois protested. "Did not my +father serve your illustrious mother, the Princess Alix, all his life at +her palace at Biarritz? Did not--" + +The prince made a gesture. "I can depend upon you because it is to your +advantage to serve me well," he said dryly. "Also, because if you +didn't--" He left the sentence unfinished but Francois understood; in +that part of the Czar's kingdom where the prince came from, life was +held cheap. Besides, the lad had heard tales from his father--a +garrulous Gascon--of his excellency's temper--those mad outbursts even +when a child. There was a trace of the fierce, or half-insane +temperament of the great Ivan in the uncontrollable Strogareff line, so +the story went. Francois returned to his instrument; his excellency's +look swept beyond. He heard now only the sound of the sea--restless, in +unending tumult. The wind blew colder and he went below. + +But not to rest! He was in no mood for that. What then? He hesitated, at +war with himself. "Patience! patience!" What fool advice from Sonia +Turgeinov! He helped himself liberally from a decanter on a Louis Quinze +sideboard in the beautiful _salle a manger_. The soft lights revealed +him, and him only, a solitary figure in that luxurious place--master of +all he surveyed but not master of his own thoughts. He could order his +men, but he could not order that invisible host. They made him their +servant. He took a few steps back and forth; then suddenly encountered +his own image reflected in a mirror. + +"Boris, the superb"; "a tartar toreador of hearts"; "Prince of roubles +and kopecs"! So they had jestingly called him in his own warm-cold +capital of the north, or in that merry-holy city of four hundred +churches. His glance now swept toward a distant door. "Faint heart ne'er +won--" + +Had he a faint heart? In the past--no! Why, then, now? The passionate +lines of the poets sang in his ears--rhythms to the "little dove", the +"peerless white flower"! He passed a big hand across his brow. His +heart-beats were like the galloping hoofs of a horse, bearing him +whither? Gold of her hair, violet of her eyes! Whither? The raving mad +poets! Wine seemed running in his blood; he moved toward the distant +door. + +It was locked--of course! For the moment he had forgotten. Thrusting his +hand into his pocket, he drew out a key and unsteadily fitted it. But +before turning it he stood an instant listening. No sound! Should he +wait until the morrow? Prudence dictated that course; precipitancy, +however, drove him on. Now, as well as ever! Better have an +understanding! She would have to accede to his plans, anyway--and the +sooner, the better. He had burned his bridges; there was no drawing back +now-- + +He turned slowly the knob, applied a sudden pressure to the door and +entered. + +A girl looked up and saw him. It was a superbly decorated salon he had +invaded. Soft-hued rugs were on the floor and draperies of cloth of gold +veiled the shadows. Betty Dalrymple had been standing at a window, +gazing out at night--only night--or the white glimmer from an electric +light that frosting the rail, made the dark darker. She appeared neither +surprised nor perturbed at the appearance of the nobleman--doubtlessly +she had been expecting that intrusion. He stopped short, his dark eyes +gleaming. It was enough for the moment just to look at her. Place and +circumstance seemed forgotten; the spirit of an old ancestor--one of the +great khans--looked out in his gaze. Passion and anger alternated on his +features; when she regarded him like that he longed to crush her to him; +instead, now, he continued to stand motionless. + +"Pardon me," he could say it with a faint smile. Then threw out a hand. +"Ah, you are beautiful!" All that was oriental in him seemed to vibrate +in the words. + +Betty Dalrymple's answer was calculated to dispel illusion and glamour. +"Don't you think we can dispense with superfluous words?" Her voice was +as ice. "Under the circumstances," she added, full mistress of herself. + +His glance wavered, again concentrated on her, slender, warm-hued as an +houri in the ivory and gold palace of one of the old khans--but an houri +with disconcerting straightness of gaze, and crisp matter-of-fact +directness of utterance. "You are cruel; you have always been," he said. +"I offer you all--everything--my life, and you--" + +"More superfluous words," said Betty Dalrymple in the same tone, the +flash of her eyes meeting the darkening gleam of his. "Put me ashore, +and as soon as may be. This farce has gone far enough." + +"Farce?" he repeated. + +"You have only succeeded in making yourself absurd and in placing me in +a ridiculous position. Put me ashore and--" + +"Ask of me the possible--the humanly possible--" He moved slightly +nearer; her figure swayed from him. + +"You are mad--mad--" + +"Granted!" he said. "A Russian in love is always a madman. But it was +you who--" + +"Don't!" she returned. "It is like a play--" The red lips curved. + +He looked at them and breathed harder. Her words kindled anew the flame +in his breast. "A play? That is what it has been for you. A mild comedy +of flirtation!" The girl flushed hotly. "Deny it if you can--that you +didn't flirt, as you Americans call it, outrageously." + +An instant Betty Dalrymple bit her lip but she returned his gaze +steadily enough. "The adjective is somewhat strong. Perhaps I might have +done what you say, a little bit--for which," with an accent of +self-scorn, "I am sorry, as I have already told you." + +He brought together his hands. "Was it just a 'little bit' when at +Homburg you danced with me nearly every time at the grand duchess' ball? +_Sapristi_! I have not forgotten. Was it only a 'little bit' when you +let me ride with you at Pau--those wild steeplechases!--or permitted +me to follow you to Madrid, Nice, elsewhere?--wherever caprice took +you?" + +"I asked you not to--" + +"But with a sparkle in your eyes--a challenge--" + +"I knew you for a nobleman; I thought you a gentleman," said Betty +Dalrymple spiritedly. + +Prince Boris made a savage gesture. "You thought--" He broke off. "I +will tell you what you thought: That after amusing yourself with me you +could say, _'Va-t-en!'_ with a wave of the hand. As if I were a clod +like those we once had under us! American girls would make serfs of +their admirers. Their men," contemptuously, "are fools where their women +are concerned. You dismiss them; they walk away meekly. Another comes. +_Voila!_" He snapped his fingers. "The game goes on." + +A spark appeared in her eyes. "Don't you think you are slightly +insulting?" she asked in a low tense tone. + +"Is it not the truth? And more"--with a harsh laugh--"I am even told +that in your wonderful country the rejected suitor--_mon Dieu!_--often +acts as best man at the wedding--that the body-guard on the holy +occasion may be composed of a sad but sentimental phalanx from the army +of the refused. But with us Russians these matters are different. We can +not thus lightly control affairs of the heart; they control us, +and--those who flirt, as you call it, must pay. The code of our honor +demands it--" + +"Your honor?" It was Betty Dalrymple who laughed now. + +"You find that--me--very diverting?" slowly. "But you will learn this is +no jest." + +She disdained to answer and started toward a side door. + +"No," he said, stepping between her and the threshold. + +"Be good enough!" Miss Dalrymple's voice sounded imperiously; her eyes +flashed. + +"One moment!" He was fast losing self-control. "You hold yourself from +me--refuse to listen to me. Why? Do you know what I think?" Vehemently. +The words of Sonia Turgeinov--"_Est ce qu'elle aime un autre_?"--flamed +through his mind. "That there is some one else; that there always was. +And that is the reason you were so gay--so very gay. You sought to +forget--" + +A change came over Betty Dalrymple's face; she seemed to grow whiter--to +become like ice-- + +"You let me think there wasn't any one; but there was. That story of +some one out west?--you laughed it away as idle gossip. And I believed +you then--but not now. Who is he--this American?" With a half-sneer. + +"There is no one!--there never has been!" said the girl with sudden +passion, almost wildly. "I told you the truth." + +"Ah," said Prince Boris. "You speak with feeling. When a woman denies in +a voice like that--" + +"Let me by!" The violet eyes were black now. + +"Not yet!" He studied her--the cheeks aflame like roses. "He shall never +have you, that some one--I will meet him and kill him first--I swear +it--" + +"Let me by!" + +"_Carissima!_ Your eyes are like stars--the stars that look down on one +alone on the wild steppe. Your lips are red flowers--poppies to lure to +destruction. They are cruel, but the more beautiful--" + +He suddenly reached out, took her in his arms. + +The cry on her lips was stifled as his sought and almost touched them. +At the same moment the door of the cabin, by which the prince had +entered, was abruptly thrown open. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +THE PRINCE IS PUZZLED + +His excellency turned. The intruder's eyes were bloodshot from the glare +of the furnaces, his face black, unrecognizable, from the soot. "What +the dev--" began the nobleman, as if doubting the evidence of his +senses. + +He must have relaxed his hold, for the girl tore herself loose. She did +not pause, but running swiftly to the inner door she had just turned +toward, she hastily closed and locked it behind her. As she disappeared +Mr. Heatherbloom stopped an instant to gaze after her; but the prince, +with sagging jaw and amazement in his eyes, continued to regard only +him. + +"Who the--" he began again furiously. + +The intruder's reply was a silent one. His excellency would have stepped +back but it was too late. Mr. Heatherbloom's fist struck him fairly on +the forehead. Behind the blow was the full impetus of the lithe form +fairly launched across the spacious cabin. The prince went down, +striking hard. + +But he was up in a moment and, mad with rage, made a rush. The other, +quick, agile, evaded him. The prince's muscles had lost some of their +hardness from high living and he was, moreover, unversed in the great +Anglo-American pastime. He strove to seize his aggressor, to strangle +him, but his fingers failed to grip what they sought. At the same time +Mr. Heatherbloom's arms shot up, down and around, with marvelous +precision, seeking and finding the vulnerable spots. The prince soon +realized he was being badly punished and the knowledge did not serve to +improve his temper. Had he only been able to get hold of his opponent he +could have crushed him with his superior weight. A stationary table, +however, in the center of the room assisted Mr. Heatherbloom in eluding +the wild dashes, the while he continued to lunge and dodge in a most +businesslike manner. + +Panting, the prince had, at length, to pause. His face revealed several +marks of the contest and the sight did not seem displeasing to Mr. +Heatherbloom. A quiet smile strained his lips; a cold satisfaction shone +in the bloodshot eyes. + +"Come on," he said, stepping a little from the table. + +The prince did not respond to the invitation. His dazed mind was working +now. Through bruised lids he regarded the soot-masked intruder--a +nihilist, no doubt! His excellency had had one or two experiences with +members of secret societies in the past. There was a nest of them in New +Jersey. Though how one of them could have managed to get aboard the +_Nevski_, he had no time just then to figure out. The nobleman looked +over his shoulder toward a press-button. + +"Come on!" repeated Mr. Heatherbloom softly. + +The nobleman sprang, instead, the other way, but he did not reach what +he sought. Mr. Heatherbloom's arm described an arc; the application +was made with expert skill and effectiveness. His excellency swayed, +relaxed, and, this time, remained where he fell. Mr. Heatherbloom locked +the door leading into the dining _salle_--the other, opening upon the +deck, he had already tried and found fastened--and drew closer the +draperies before the windows. Then returning to the prince, he prodded +gently the prostrate figure. + +"Get up!" His excellency moved, then staggered with difficulty to his +feet and gazed around. "You'll be able to think all right in a moment," +said Heatherbloom. "Sit down. Only," in crisp tones, "I wouldn't move +from the chair if I were you. Because--" His excellency understood; +something bright gleamed close. + +"Are you going to murder me?" he breathed hoarsely. His excellency's +cousin--a grand duke--had been assassinated in Russia. + +"I wouldn't call it that." The prince made a movement. "Sit still." The +cold object pressed against the nobleman's temples. "If ever a scoundrel +deserved death, it is you." + +Plain talk! The prince could scarcely believe he heard aright; yet the +thrill of that icy touch on his forehead was real. His dark face showed +growing pallor. One may be brave--heroic even, but one does not like to +die like a dog, to be struck down by a miserable unclean +terrorist--hardly, from his standpoint, a human being--unfortunately, +however, something that must be dealt with--not at first, under these +circumstances, with force--but afterward! Ah, then? The prince's eyes +seemed to grow smaller, to gleam with Tartar cunning. + +"What do you want?" he said. + +"Several things." Mr. Heatherbloom's own eyes were keen as darts. +"First, you will give orders that the _Nevski_ is to change her +course--to head for the nearest American port." + +"Impossible!" the prince exclaimed violently. + +"On the contrary, it is quite possible. We have the fuel, as I can +testify." + +His excellency's thoughts ran riot; it was difficult to collect them, +with that aching head. The fellow must be crazy; people of his class +usually are, more or less, though they generally displayed a certain +method in their madness, while this one-- + +"I must remind your excellency that time is of every importance to me," +murmured Mr. Heatherbloom. "Hence, you will do what I ask, _at once_, +or--" + +"Very well." His excellency spoke quickly--too quickly. "I'll give the +order." And, rising, he started toward the door. + +"Stop!" + +The prince did. Venom and apprehension mingled in his look. Mr. +Heatherbloom made a gesture. "You will give the order; but here--and as +I direct." His voice was cold as the gleaming barrel. "That 'phone," +indicating one on the wall, "connects with the bridge, of course. Don't +deny. It will be useless." + +His excellency didn't deny; he had a suspicion of what was coming. + +"You will call up the officer in command on the bridge and give him the +order to make at once for the nearest American port. You will ask him +how far it is and how soon we can get there? Beyond that, you will say +nothing, make no explanations, or utter a single superfluous word." + +"Very well." The prince, seemingly acquiescent, but with a dangerous +glitter in his eyes, moved toward the telephone. + +"One moment!" + +The nobleman stopped with his hand near a receiver. His fingers +trembled. + +"You will speak in French. A syllable of Russian, just one, and--" Mr. +Heatherbloom's expression left no doubt as to his meaning. + +"Dog!" His excellency's swollen face became the hue of paper. An instant +he seemed about to spring--then managed to control himself. "But why +should I not speak in Russian? My officers know no French." + +"A lie! Nearly all Russian officers speak French. I happen to know yours +do." A newspaper article had made the statement and he did not doubt it. +"Anyhow, you give the order in French and we'll see what happens." + +The blood surged in the nobleman's face. The fierce desire to avenge +himself at once on this man who threw the lie at him--august, +illustrious--mingled, however, with yet another feeling--one of +bewilderment. The fellow had spoken these last words in French, and +choice French at that. His accents had all the elegance of the Faubourg +Saint Germain. + +"Quick!" The decision in the intruder's manner was unmistakable. "I have +wasted all the time I intend to. My finger trembles on the trigger." + +The prince, perforce, _was_ quick. The telephone of foreign design, had +two receivers. His excellency took one. Mr. Heatherbloom reached for the +other and held it to his ear with his left hand. His right, holding the +weapon, was behind the prince, as the latter poignantly realized. +Ill-suppressed rage made his excellency's tones now slightly wavering: + +"Are you there, M. le Capitaine?" + +"Steady!" Mr. Heatherbloom whispered warningly in his excellency's free +ear, emphasizing the caution with a significant pressure from his right +hand. At the same time he caught the answer from afar--a deferential +voice: + +"_Oui,_ Excellence." There was, fortunately, on the wires a singing +sound that would serve to drown evidences of emotion in the nobleman's +tone. "Excellence wishes to speak with me?" went on the distant voice. + +"I do." The prince breathed fast--paused. "You will change the boat's +course, and--" He spoke with difficulty. A warmer breath fanned his +cheek; he felt a sensation like ice on the back of his neck. "Make for +the nearest American port. How far is it?" Mr. Heatherbloom's prompting +whisper was audible only to his excellency. + +"Five hours," came over the wire. + +Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a thrill of satisfaction. They were nearer +the coast than he had supposed. He knew the yacht had been taking a +southerly course; he had considered that when the bold idea came to act +as he was doing. Possibly the prince had been driven out of the last +port by the publicity attendant upon Mr. Heatherbloom's presence there, +before certain needed repairs had been completed. These, Mr. +Heatherbloom now surmised, it was his excellency's intention to have +attended to in some island harbor before proceeding with a longer +voyage. + +Only five hours! + +"Good-by!" now burst from the nobleman so violently that Mr. +Heatherbloom's momentary exultation changed to a feeling of +apprehension. But M. le Capitaine had evidently become accustomed to +occasional explosive moments from his august patron. He concerned +himself only with the command, not the manner in which it was given. + +"Eh? _Mon Dieu_! Do I hear your excellency aright?" His accents +expressed surprise, but not of an immoderate nature. He, no doubt, +received many arbitrary and unexpected orders when his excellency went +a-cruising. + +"Repeat the order." Heatherbloom's whisper seemed fairly to sting the +nobleman's disengaged ear. + +The latter did repeat--savagely--jerkily, but the humming wires tempered +the tones. M. le Capitaine understood fully; he said as much; his +excellency should be obeyed--Mr. Heatherbloom pushed the nobleman's head +abruptly aside, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. Perhaps he +divined that irresistible malediction about to fall from his +excellency's lips. + +"Hang it up," he said. + +The nobleman's breath was labored but he placed his receiver where it +belonged; Mr. Heatherbloom did likewise. Both now stepped back. Upon the +prince's brow stood drops of perspiration. The yacht had already slowed +up and was turning. His excellency listened. + +"May I ask how much longer you are desirous of my company here?" + +"Oh, yes; you may ask." + +The boat had begun to quiver again; she was going at full speed once +more. Only now she headed directly for the land Mr. Heatherbloom wished +to see. Five hours to an American port! Then? He glanced toward the door +through which the girl had disappeared. Since that moment he had caught +no sound from her. Had she heard, did she know anything of what was +happening--that the yacht was now turned homeward? He dared not linger +on the thought. The prince was watching him with eyes that seemed to +dilate and contract. A moment's carelessness, the briefest cessation of +watchfulness would be at once seized upon by his excellency, enabling +him to shift the advantage. The young man met that expectant gleam. + +"Sorry to seem officious, but if your excellency will sit down once +more? Not here--over there!" Indicating a stationary arm-chair before a +desk in a recess of the room. + +The prince obeyed; he had no alternative. The fellow must, of course, be +a madman, the prince reiterated in his own mind unless-- + +"I told your excellency I had no wish for a long sea voyage." A mocking +voice now made itself heard. + +The nobleman started, and looked closer; a mist seemed to fall from +before his gaze. He recognized the fellow now--the man they had run +down. The shock of that terrible experience, the strain of the +disaster, had turned the fellow's brain. That would explain +everything--this extraordinary occurrence. There was nothing to do but +to humor him for the moment, though it was awkward--devilish!--or might +soon be!--if this game should be continued much longer. + +Mr. Heatherbloom glided silently toward the hangings near the alcove. +What now?--the prince asked with his eyes. Mr. Heatherbloom unloosened +from a brass holder a silk cord as thick as his thumb. + +"If your excellency will permit me--" He stepped to the prince's side. + +That person regarded the cord, strong as hemp. + +"What do you mean?" burst from him. + +"It is quite apparent." + +An oath escaped the prince's throat; regardless of consequences, he +sprang to his feet. "Never!" + +A desperate determination gleamed in his eyes. This crowning outrage! +He, a nobleman!--to suffer himself to be bound ignominiously by some +low _polisson_ of a raffish mushroom country! It was inconceivable. +"_Jamais!_" he repeated. + +"Ah, well!" said Mr. Heatherbloom resignedly. "Nevertheless, I shall +make the attempt to do what I propose, and if you resist--" + +"You will assassinate me?" stammered the nobleman. + +"We won't discuss how the law might characterize the act. Only," the +words came quickly, "don't waste vain hopes that I won't assassinate +you, if it is necessary. I never waste powder, either--can clip a coin +every time. One of my few accomplishments." Enigmatically. "And"--as the +prince hesitated one breathless second--"I can get you straight, first +shot, sure!" + +His excellency believed him. He had heard how in this bizarre America a +single man sometimes "held up" an entire train out west and had his own +sweet way with engineer, conductor and passengers. This madman, on the +slightest provocation now, was evidently prepared to emulate that +extraordinary and undesirable type. What might he not do, or attempt to +do? The nobleman's figure relaxed slightly, his lips twitched. Then he +sank back once more into the strong solid chair at the desk. + +"Good," said Mr. Heatherbloom. A cold smile like a faint ripple on a +mountain lake swept his lips. "Now we shall get on faster." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +THE COUP + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with fingers deft as a sailor's, secured the prince. +The single silken band did not suffice; other cords, diverted from the +ornamental to a like practical purpose, were wound around and around his +excellency's legs and arms, holding him so tightly to the chair he could +scarcely move. Having completed this task, Mr. Heatherbloom next, with +vandal hands, whipped from the wall a bit of priceless embroidery, threw +it over the nobleman's head and, in spite of sundry frenzied objections, +effectually gagged him. Then drawing the heavy curtains so that they +almost concealed the bound figure in the dim recess, the young man +stepped once more out into the salon. + +How still it suddenly seemed! His glance swept toward the door through +which the young girl had vanished. Why had he heard no sound from her? +Why did she not appear now? She must have caught something of what had +been going on. He went swiftly to the door. + +"Miss Dalrymple!" + +No answer. He rapped again--louder--then tried the door. It resisted; he +shook it. + +"Betty!" Yes; he called her that in the alarm and excitement of the +moment. "It's--it's all right. Open the door." + +Again that hush--nothing more. Mr. Heatherbloom pulled rather wildly at +the lock of hair over his brow; then a sudden frenzy seemed to seize +him. He launched himself forward and struck fairly with his +shoulder--once--twice. The door, at length, yielded with a crash. He +rushed in--fell to his knees. + +"Betty! Oh, Betty!" For the moment he stared helplessly at the +motionless form on the floor, then, lifting the girl in his arms, he +laid her on a couch. One little white hand swung limp; he seized it with +grimy fingers. It was oddly cold, and a shiver went over him. He felt +for her pulse--her heart--at first caught no answering throb, for his +own heart was beating so wildly. The world seemed to swim--then he +straightened. The filmy dress, not so white now in spots, had fluttered +beneath her throat. He gazed rapturously. + +"It'll be all right," he said again. "Darling!" + +He could say it now, when she couldn't hear. "Darling! Darling!" he +repeated. It constituted his vocabulary of terms of endearment. He felt +the need of no other. She lay like a lily. He saw nothing anomalous in +certain stains of soot, even on the wonderful face where his had +unconsciously touched it when he had raised her and strained her to him +one mad instant in his arms. In fact, he did not see those stains; his +eyes were closed to such details--and the crimson marks, too, on her +gown! His knuckles were bleeding; he was unaware of it. He was not, +outwardly, a very presentable adorer but he became suddenly a most +daring one. His grimy hand touched the shining hair, half-unbound; he +raised one of the marvelous tresses--his hungry lips swept it +lightly--or did he but breathe a divine fragrance? By some inner process +his spirit seemed to have come that instant very near to hers. He forgot +where he was; time and space were annihilated. + +He was brought abruptly back to the living present by a sudden knock at +the door without, which he had locked after entering that way from the +deck. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; the person, whoever he was, on +receiving no response, soon went away. Had they discovered what had +happened to the foreman of the stokers whom Heatherbloom had struck down +with a heavy iron belaying-pin? The man had attacked him with murderous +intent. In defending himself, Heatherbloom believed he had killed the +fellow. The chance blow he had delivered with the formidable weapon had +been one of desperation and despair. It had been more than a question of +his life or the other's. Her fate had been involved in that critical +moment. He had dragged the unconscious figure to the shadows behind a +life-boat. They would not be likely to stumble across the incriminating +evidence while it was dark. Nor was it likely that the foreman's absence +below would cause the men to look for him. The overworked stokers would +be but too pleased to escape, for a spell, their tyrannous master. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, standing near the threshold of the dressing-room, +glanced now toward the little French clock without. Over four hours yet +to port! How slowly time went. He turned out all the lights, save one +shaded lamp of low candle-power in the cabin; then he did the same in +the room where the girl was. No one must peer in on him from unexpected +places. He looked up, and saw that the skylights were covered with +canvas. Mr. Heatherbloom remained in the salon; he needed to continue +master of his thoughts. In the dressing-room he had just now forgotten +himself. That would not do; he must concentrate all his faculties, every +energy, to bringing this coup, born on the inspiration of the moment, +to a successful conclusion. Desperate as his plan was, he believed now +he would win out. By the vibrations he knew the boat was still steaming +full speed on her new course. The conditions were all favorable. They +would reach port before dawn; at break of day the health officers would +come aboard. And after that-- + +The telephone suddenly rang. Should he answer that imperious summons? +Perhaps the man who had just knocked at the door had been one of the +officers, or the captain himself, come in person to speak with his +excellency about the unexpected change in the boat's course, or some +technical question or difficulty that might have arisen in consequence +thereof. + +He looked toward the recess; between the curtains he caught sight of the +prince's eyes and in the dim light he fancied they shone with sudden +hope--expectancy. The nobleman must have heard the crashing of the door +to the dressing-room. What he had thought was of no moment. A viperish +fervor replaced that other brief expression in his excellency's gaze. + +Once more that metallic call--harsh, loud, as not to be denied! Mr. +Heatherbloom made up his mind; perhaps all depended on his decision; he +would answer. Stepping across the salon, he took down the receivers. The +singing on the wires had been pronounced; he could imitate the prince's +autocratic tones, and the person at the other end would not discover, in +all likelihood, the deception. + +"Well?" said Mr. Heatherbloom loudly, in French. "What do you want? +Haven't I given orders not to be--" + +His voice died away; he nearly dropped the receivers. A woman answered. +Moreover, the wires did not seem to "sing" so much now. Sonia +Turgeinov's tones were transmitted in all their intrinsic, flute-like +lucidity. + +"What has happened, your Excellency?" she asked anxiously. + +"Happened?" the young man managed to say. "Nothing." + +"Then why has the yacht's course been changed? I can tell by the stars +from my cabin window that we are not headed at all in the same direction +we were going--" + +He tried to speak unconcernedly: "Just changed for a short time on +account of some reefs and the currents! Go to sleep," he commanded, "and +leave the problems of navigation to others." + +"Sleep? _Mon Dieu_! If I only could--" + +Mr. Heatherbloom dared talk no more, so rang off. The prince might have +been capable of such bruskness. Sonia Turgeinov had not seemed to +suspect anything wrong; she had merely been inquisitive, and had taken +it for granted the nobleman was at the other end of the wire. Mr. +Heatherbloom strode restlessly to and fro. Seconds went by--minutes. He +counted the tickings of the clock--suddenly wheeled sharply. + + * * * * * + +The young girl stood in the doorway--he had heard and now saw her. She +came forward quickly, though uncertainly; in the dim light she looked +like a shadow. He drew in his breath. + +"Miss--" he began, then stopped. + +Her gaze rested on him, almost indistinguishable on the other side of +the salon. + +"What does it mean? Who are you?" She spoke intrepidly enough but he saw +her slender form sway. + +Who was he? About to explain in a rush of words, Mr. Heatherbloom +hesitated. To her he had been, of course, but a conspirator of the +Russian woman in the affair. Miss Van Rolsen had deemed him culpable; +the detective had been sure of it. Would Miss Dalrymple think more +leniently of him than mere unprejudiced people, those who knew less of +him than she? His very presence on the yacht, although somewhat +inexplicably complicated in recent occurrences, was _per se_ a primal +damning circumstance. But she spared him the necessity of answering. She +divined now from his blackened features what his position on the yacht +must be. He was only a poor stoker, but-- + +"You are a brave fellow," cried Betty Dalrymple, "and I'll not forget +it. You interfered--I remember--" + +"A brave fellow!" It was well he had not betrayed himself. Let her think +that of him, for the moment. A poignant mockery lent pain to the thrill +of her words. + +"You rushed in, struck him. What then?" + +"He won't play the bully and scoundrel again for some time!" burst from +Mr. Heatherbloom. His tones were impetuous; once more he seemed to see +what he had seen during those last moments on the deck--when he had been +unable to restrain himself longer--and had yielded to a single +hot-blooded impulse. "The big brute!" he muttered. + +She seemed to regard him in slight surprise. "Where is he? What has +become of him?" + +"He is safe--" + +"You mean you conquered him, beat him--you?" Her voice thrilled. + +"You bet I did," said Mr. Heatherbloom with the least evidence of +incoherency. Her words had been verbal champagne to him. "I gave him +the dandiest best licking--" He stopped. Perhaps he realized that his +explanation was beginning to seem slightly tinged with too great +evidence of personal satisfaction if not boastfulness. "You see I had a +gun," he murmured rather apologetically. + +"But," said the girl, coming nearer, "I don't understand." + +He started to meet that advance, then backed away a little. "I've got +him safe, where he can't move, or bother you any more." Mr. Heatherbloom +glanced over his shoulder; but he did not tell her where he "had him". +"And the yacht's going back to the nearest American port," he couldn't +help adding, impetuously, to reassure her. + +"Going back? Impossible!" Wonder, incredulity were in her voice. + +"It's true as shooting, Bet--" + +She was too bewildered to notice that slight slip of the tongue. "It's a +fact, miss," he added more gruffly. + +"But how?" Her tones betrayed reticence in crediting the miracle. Yet +this blackened figure must have prevailed over the prince or the latter +would not have so mysteriously disappeared. "How did it happen?" + +"Well, you see I just happened around." + +"You, a stoker?" + +Stokers, he was reminded by her tone, did not usually "happen around" on +decks of palatial private yachts. He must seek a different, more +definite explanation. He thought he saw a way; he could let her know +part of the truth. "The fact is, I was looking for this boat at the last +port she stopped at. I had cause to think you would be on her. Couldn't +stop the yacht from going to sea, for reasons too numerous to mention, +so I just slipped out and came aboard in a kind of disguise--" + +"A disguise? Then you are a detective?" + +"I think I may truthfully say I am, but in a sort of private capacity. +When a really important case occurs, it interests me. Now this was an +important case, and--and it interested me." He hardly knew what he was +saying, her eyes were so insistent. Betty Dalrymple had always had the +most disconcerting eyes. "Because, you see, your--your aunt was so +anxious--and"--with a flash of inspiration--"the reward was a big one." + +"The reward? Of course." Her voice died away. "You hoped to get it. That +is the reason--" + +He let his silence answer in the affirmative; he felt relieved now. She +had not recognized him--yet. In the recess behind the draperies the +chair in which his excellency was bound, creaked. Was he struggling to +release himself? Mr. Heatherbloom had faith in the knots and the silken +cords. The girl turned her head. + +"Don't you think it would be better"--he spoke quickly--"for you to +return to your cabin? I'll let you know when I want you and--" + +"But if I prefer to stay here? May I not turn on the lights?" + +"Not for worlds!" Hastily. "It is necessary they should not see me. If +they did--" + +He was obliged to explain a little of the real situation to her; of the +stratagem he had employed. This he did in few words. She listened +eagerly. The mantle of the commonplace, which to her eyes had fallen a +few moments before on his shoulders, became at least partly withdrawn. +She divined the great hazard, the danger he had faced--was facing now. +Detective or not, it had been daringly done. Her voice, with a warm +thrill in it, said as much. Her eyes shone like stars. She came of a +live virile stock, from men and women who had done things themselves. + +"If only I, too, had a weapon!" she said, leaning toward him. "In case +they should discover--" + +"No, no. It wouldn't do at all." + +"Why not?" the warm lips breathed. "I can shoot. Some one once taught +me--" + +She stopped short. A chill seemed descending. "You were saying--" he +prompted eagerly. + +But she did not answer. The sweep of her hair made a shadowy veil around +her; his mind harked swiftly back. She had always had wondrous hair. It +had taken two big braids to hold it; most girls could get their hair in +one braid. He had been very proud, for her, of those two +braids--once--with their blue or pink ribbons that had popped below the +edge of her skirts. He continued to see blue and pink ribbons now. + +Both were for some time silent. At length she stirred--seated herself. +Mr. Heatherbloom mechanically did likewise, but at a distance from her. +He tried not to see her, to become mentally oblivious of her presence, +to concentrate again solely on the matter in hand. A long, long interval +passed. Chug! chug! the engines continued to grind. How far away they +sounded. Another sound, too, at length broke the stillness--a stealthy +footfall on the deck. It sent him at once softly to the window; he gazed +out. She followed. + +"Are--are we getting anywhere near port?" + +He did not tell her that it was not port he was looking for so soon as +he gazed out searchingly into the night. + +"What is it?" She had drawn the curtain a little. Her shoulder touched +him. + +Suddenly his arm swept her back. "What do you mean"--he turned on her +sternly--"by drawing that curtain?" + +"Was any one there?" + +"Any one--" he began almost fiercely; then paused. The figure he had +seen in that flash looked like that of the foreman of the stokers. In +that case, then, the fellow was not dead; he had recovered. Through a +mistaken sense of mercy Mr. Heatherbloom had not slipped the seemingly +lifeless body over the side. Now he, and she, too, were likely to pay +dearly for that clemency. Bitterly he clenched his hands. Had the man +caught a glimpse of him at the window? A flicker of electric light, +without, shone on it. + +The girl started again to speak. "Hush!" He drew her back yet farther. +Above, some one had raised the corner of the canvas covering the +skylight. It was too dark, however, for the person, whoever it might be, +to discern very much below. Neither Mr. Heatherbloom nor his companion +now moved. The tenseness and excitement of the moment held them. The +girl breathed quickly; her hand was at his sleeve. Even in that moment +of suspense and peril he was conscious of the nearness of her--the lithe +young form so close! + +The creaking of the chair in the recess was again heard. Had his +excellency caught sight of the person above? Was he endeavoring to +attract attention? And could the observer at the skylight discern the +nobleman? It seemed unlikely. The glass above did not appear to extend +quite over the recess. Through a slight opening of the draperies Mr. +Heatherbloom, however, could see his captive and noticed he seemed to be +trying to tip back farther in his chair, to reach out behind with his +bound hands--toward what? The young man abruptly realized, and half +started to his feet--but not in time! The chair went over backward and +came down with a crash, but not before his excellency's fingers had +succeeded in touching an electric button near the desk. A flood of light +filled the place. + +It was answered by a shout--a signal for other voices. Fragments of +glass fell around; a figure dropped into the salon; others followed. The +door to the deck yielded to force from without. Mr. Heatherbloom, though +surprised and outnumbered, struggled as best he might; his weapon rang +out; then, as they pressed closer, he defended himself with the butt of +his revolver and his fist. + +There could be but one end to the unequal contest. The girl--a helpless +spectator--realized that, though she could with difficulty perceive what +took place, it was all so chaotic. She tried to draw nearer, but bearded +faces intervened; rough hands thrust her back. She would have called out +but the words would not come. It was like an evil dream. As through a +mist she saw one among many who had entered from the deck--a giant in +size. He carried an oaken bar in his hand and now stole sidewise with +murderous intent toward the single figure striving so gallantly. + +"No, no!" Betty Dalrymple's voice came back to her suddenly; she +exclaimed wildly, incoherently. + +But the foreman of the stokers raised the bar, waited. He found his +opportunity; his arm descended. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +AND THEN-- + +Mr. Heatherbloom regained consciousness, or semi-consciousness, in an +ill-smelling place. His first impulse was to raise his hands to his +aching head, but he could not do this on account of two iron bands that +held his wrists to a stanchion. His legs, too, he next became vaguely +aware, were fastened by a similar contrivance to the deck. He closed his +eyes, and leaned back; the throbbings seemed to beat on his brain like +the angry surf, smiting harder and harder until nature at length came to +his relief and oblivion once more claimed him. + +How long it was before he again opened his eyes he could not tell. The +shooting throes were still there but he could endure them now and even +think in an incoherent fashion. He gazed around. The light grudgingly +admitted by a small port-hole revealed a bare prison-like cell. +Realization of what it all meant, his being there, swept over him, and, +in a semi-delirious frenzy, he tugged at his fastenings. He did not +succeed in releasing himself; he only increased the hurtling waves of +pain in his head. What did she think of her valiant rescuer now, he who +had raised her hopes so high but to dash them utterly? + +Some one, some time later, brought him water and gave him bread, +releasing his wrists while he ate and fastening them again when he had +finished. The hours that seemed days passed. During that time he half +thought he had another visitor but was not sure. The delirium had +returned; he strove to think lucidly, but knew himself very +light-headed. He imagined Sonia Turgeinov came to him, that she looked +down on him. + +"_Mon Dieu_! It is my canine keeper; the man with the dogs. What a lame +and impotent conclusion for one so clever! I looked for something better +from you, my intrepid friend, who dared to come aboard in that +thrilling manner--who managed to follow me, through what arts, I do not +know. How are the mighty fallen!" + +Her tone was low, mocking. He disdained to reply. + +"Really, I am disappointed, after my not having betrayed who you were to +the prince." + +"Why didn't you?" he said. + +She laughed. "Perhaps because I am an artist, and it seemed inartistic +to intervene--to interrupt the action at an inopportune moment--to +stultify what promised to be an unusually involved complication. When +first I saw and recognized you on the _Nevski_, it was like one of those +divine surprises of the master dramatist, M. Sardou. Really, I was +indebted for the thrill of it. Besides, had I spoken, the prince might +have tossed you overboard; he is quite capable of doing so. That, too, +would have been inartistic, would have turned a comedy of love into rank +melodrama." + +Rank nonsense! Of course such a conversation could not be real. But he +cried out in the dream: "What matter if his excellency had tossed me +overboard? What good am I here?" + +"To her, you mean?" + +"To her, of course." Bitterly. + +The vision's eyes were very bright; her plastic, rather mature form bent +nearer. He felt a cool hand at the bandage, readjusting it about his +head. That, naturally, could not be. She who had betrayed Betty +Dalrymple to the prince would not be sedulous about Mr. Heatherbloom's +injury. + +"Foolish boy!" she breathed. Incongruous solicitude! "Who are you? No +common dog-tender--of that I am sure. What have you been?" + +"What--" Wildly. + +"There! there!" said half-soothingly that immaterial, now maternal +visitant. "Never mind." + +"How is she? Where is she?" he demanded, incoherently. + +"She is well, and is going to be, very soon now, the prince's bride." + +"Never." + +"Don't let his excellency hear you say so in that tone. He thinks you +only a detective, not an ardent, though secret wooer yourself. The +Strogareffs brook no rivals," she laughed, "and he is already like a +madman. I should tremble for your life if he dreamed--" + +"Help me to help her--" he said. "It will be more than worth your while. +You did this for--" + +She shook her head. "I have descended very low, indeed, but not so low +as that. Like the bravos of old"--was it she who spoke bitterly +now?--"Sonia Turgeinov is, at least, true to him who has given her the +little _douceur_. No, no; do not look to me, my young and Quixotic +friend. You have only yourself to depend upon--" + +"Myself!" He felt the sharp iron cut his flesh. That seemed +indubitable--no mere fantasy of pain but pain itself. + +"Let well enough alone," she advised. "The prince will probably put you +ashore somewhere--I'll beg him to do that. He'll be better natured +after--after the happy event," she laughed. "Perhaps, he'll even slip a +little purse into your pocket though you did hurt a few of his men. Not +that he cares much for them--mere serfs. You could find a little +consolation, eh? With a bottle, perhaps. Besides, I have heard these +island girls have bright eyes." He could not speak. "Are you adamant, +save for one?" she mocked. "Content yourself with what must be. It is a +good match for her. The little fool might scour the world for a better +one. As for you--your crazy infatuation--what have you to offer? _Tres +drole!_ Do dog-tenders mate with such as she? No; destiny says to her, +be a grand lady at the court of Petersburg. I am doing her a great +favor. Many American families would pay me well, I tell you--" + +She paused. "You will smile at it all, some day, my friend. You played +and lost. At least, it was daringly done. You deceived even me over the +telephone. 'Go to sleep,' forsooth! You commanded in a right princely +tone. And I obeyed." + +An instant her hand lingered once more near the bandage. It was +ridiculous, that tentative, almost sympathetic touch. Then, she--a +figment of disordered imagination--receded; there was no doubt about his +light-headedness now. + +They sent again bread and water, and, after what seemed an intolerable +interval, he found himself eating with zest; he was exceedingly hungry. +He also began to feel mentally normal, although his thoughts were the +reverse of agreeable. Days had, no doubt, gone by. He chafed at this +enforced inaction, but sometimes through sheer weariness fell into a +semblance of natural sleep despite the sitting posture he was obliged to +maintain. On one such occasion he was abruptly awakened by a light +thrown suddenly on his face. He would have started to his feet but the +fetters restrained him. + +It was night; a lantern, held by a hand that shook slightly, revealed a +face he did not know. He felt assured, however, of his mental lucidity +at the moment. The new-comer, though a stranger, was undoubtedly flesh +and blood. + +"What do you want?" said the prisoner. + +"A word with you, Monsieur." The speaker had a smooth face and dark +soulful eyes. His manner was both furtive and constrained. He looked +around as if uncomfortable at finding himself in that place. + +"Well, I guess you can have it. I can't get away," muttered the manacled +man. + +"Miss Dalrymple sent me." + +Mr. Heatherbloom's interest was manifest; he strove to suppress outward +signs of it. "What--what for?" + +"She wanted to make sure you were not dead." + +The prisoner did not answer; his emotion was too great at the moment to +permit his doing so. She was in trouble, yet she considered the poor +detective. That was like her--straight as a string--true blue-- + +The visitor started to go. "Hold on!" said Mr. Heatherbloom, whose ideas +were surging fast. This youth had managed to come here at her +instigation. Had she made a friend of him, an ally? He did not appear an +heroic one, but he was, no doubt, the best that had offered. Betty +Dalrymple was not one to sit idly; she would seek ways and means. She +was clever, knew how to use those violet eyes. (Did not Mr. Heatherbloom +himself remember?) Who was he--this nocturnal caller? Not an officer--he +was too young. Cabin-boy, perhaps? More likely the operator. Mr. +Heatherbloom had noticed that the yacht was provided with the wireless +outfit. + +"How long have I been here?" he now asked abruptly. + +"It is three days since monsieur was knocked on the head." + +Mr. Heatherbloom looked down. "Three days? Well, it cost me a fortune," +he sighed, remembering the role of detective that had been thrust upon +him. "I could have stood for the sore head." + +The other had his foot at the threshold but he lingered. "How much of a +fortune? What was the reward?" He strove to speak carelessly but there +was a trace of eagerness in his tones. + +"You mean what _is_ it?" returned Mr. Heatherbloom, and named an amount +large enough to make the soulful eyes open. "And to think," watchfully, +"one little message to the shore might procure for the sender such a +sum!" + +"Monsieur!" Indignantly. "You think that I would--" + +"Then you _are_ the wireless operator?" + +"I was." Francois spoke more calmly. "His excellency has had the +apparatus destroyed. He will take no chances of other spies or +detectives being aboard who might understand its use." + +The prisoner hardly heard the last words; for the moment he was +concerned only with his disappointment. A sudden hope had died almost as +soon as it had been born. "Too bad!" he murmured. Then--"How did you get +here?" + +"The third officer has the keys and our cabins are adjoining. I seized +an opportune moment, slipped in, and took a wax impression of what I +wanted. Then with an old key and a file--Monsieur is a great detective, +perhaps, but I, too," with Gaston boastfulness, "can aspire to a little +cleverness." + +"A great deal," said Mr. Heatherbloom, the while his brain worked +rapidly. Betty Dalrymple must have paid the youth well for serving her +thus far. Thrift, as well as sentiment, seemed to shine from Francois' +eloquent dark eyes. Could he be induced to espouse her cause yet +further? + +"Monsieur must not think I would prove disloyal to his excellency, my +employer," spoke up the youth as if reading what had been passing +through the other's mind. "There could be no harm in a mere inquiry as +to monsieur's state of health." + +"None at all," assented the prisoner quickly. "Though"--a sudden +inspiration came to Mr. Heatherbloom--"contingencies may arise when one +can best serve those who employ him by secretly opposing them." + +"I don't understand, Monsieur," said Francois cautiously. + +"The prince is a madman. By incurring the enmity of his Imperial Master +he would rush on to his own destruction. Suppose by this misalliance, +the very map of Europe itself were destined to be changed?" + +The words sounded portentous, and Francois stared. He had imagination. +The beautiful American girl had told him that this man before him was a +great and daring detective. He spoke now even as an emissary of the czar +himself. The prince was a high lord, close to the throne. These were +deep waters. The youth looked troubled; Mr. Heatherbloom allowed the +thought he had inspired to sink in. + +"What is our first port?" his voice, more authoritative, now demanded. + +Francois mentioned an island. + +"When do we get there?" + +"We are near it to-night but on account of the rocks and reefs, I heard +the captain say we would slow down, so as not to enter the harbor until +daybreak." + +Daybreak! And then? Mr. Heatherbloom closed his eyes; when he again +opened them they revealed none of the poignant emotion that had swept +over him. "What time is it now?" + +"About ten." + +"My jailer--the third officer, you say--visits this cell once every +night. Do you know what time he comes?" + +"I shouldn't be here, Monsieur, at this moment, if I didn't know that. +He comes in an hour, after his watch is over, with the bread and +water--monsieur's frugal fare. And now"--those apprehensions, +momentarily dulled by wonderment seemed returning to Francois--"I will +bid monsieur--" + +"Stay! One moment!" Mr. Heatherbloom's accents were feverish, +commanding. "You must--in the name of the czar!--for the prince's +sake!--for hers--for--for the reward--" + +"Monsieur!" Again that flicker of indignation. + +Mr. Heatherbloom swept it aside. "She has asked you to help her escape?" +he demanded swiftly. + +Francois did not exactly deny. There were no listeners here. "It would +be impossible for her to escape," he answered rather sullenly. + +"Then she did broach a plan--one you refused to accede to. What was it?" + +"Mere madness!" Scoffingly. "Mademoiselle may be generous, and _mon +Dieu_! very persuasive, but she doesn't get me to--" + +"What _was_ her proposal? Answer." Sternly. "You can't incriminate +yourself here." + +Francois knew that. The cell was remote. There could be no harm in +letting the talk drift a little further. He replied, briefly outlining +the plan. + +"Excellent!" observed Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Mere madness!" reiterated Francois. + +"Not at all. But if it were, some people would, under the +circumstances," with subtle accent, "gladly undertake it--just as you +will!" he added. + +"Oh, will I?" Ironically. + +"Yes, when you hear all I have to say. In the first place, I relinquish +all claim to the reward. Sufficient for me--" And Mr. Heatherbloom +mumbled something about the czar. + +"Bah! That sounds very well, only there wouldn't be any reward," +retorted Francois. "The prince would only capture us again and then--" +He shrugged. "I know his temper and have no desire for the longer voyage +with old man Charon--" + +"Wait!" More aggressively. "I have not done. No one will suspect that +you have been here to-nigh't?" he asked. + +"Does monsieur think I am a fool? No, no! And now my little errand for +mademoiselle being finished--" + +"You can do as Miss Dalrymple wishes, achieve an embarrassment of +riches, and run no risk whatever yourself." + +"Indeed?" Starting slightly. + +"At least, no appreciable one." Mr. Heatherbloom explained his plan +quickly. Francois listened, at first with open skepticism, then with +growing interest. + +"_Mon Dieu_! If it were possible!" he muttered. South-of-France +imagination had again been appealed to. "But no--" + +"Remember all the reward will be for you"--swiftly--"sufficient to buy +vineyards and settle down for a life of peace and plenty--" Francois' +eyes wavered; any Frenchman would have found the picture enticing. +Already the beautiful American girl had, as Mr. Heatherbloom suspected, +surreptitiously thrust several valuable jewels upon the youth as a +reward for this preliminary service. Having experienced a foretaste of +riches, Francois perhaps secretly longed for more of the glittering gems +and for some of those American dollars which sounded five times as large +in francs. Besides, this man, the great detective, or emissary, inspired +confidence; his tones were vibrant, compelling. + +"And for you, Monsieur?--the risk for you--" Francois faltered. + +"Never mind about me. You consent?" + +The other swallowed, muttered a monosyllable in a low tone. + +"Then--" Heatherbloom murmured a few instructions. "Miss Dalrymple is +not to know." + +"I understand," said Francois quickly. And going out stealthily, he +closed and locked the door behind him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +INTO THE INFINITE + +The midnight hour drew near, and, above deck, tranquillity reigned. It +was, however, the comparative quiet that follows a storm. A threatening +day had culminated in a fierce tropical downpour--a cloud-burst--when +the very heavens had seemed to open. The _Nevski_, steaming forward at +half speed, had come almost to a stop; struck by the masses of water, +she had fairly staggered beneath the impact. Now she lay motionless, +while every shroud and line dripped; the darkness had become inky. Only +the light from cabin windows which lay on the wet deck like shafts of +silver relieved that Cimmerian effect. The sea moaned from the lashing +it had received--a faint undertone, however, that became suddenly +drowned by loud and harsh clangor, the hammering on metal somewhere +below. Possibly something had gone wrong with a hatch or iron +compartment door inadvertently left open, or one of the ventilators may +have got jammed and needed adjusting. The captain, as he hastened down a +companionway, muttered angrily beneath his breath about water in the +stoke room. The decks, in the vicinity of the cabins, seemed now +deserted, when from the shadows, a figure that had merged in the general +gloom, stepped out and passed swiftly through one of the trails of +light. Gliding stealthily toward the stern, this person drew near the +rail, and, peering cautiously over, looked down on one of the small +boats swung out in readiness for the landing party at dawn. + +"Mademoiselle," he breathed low. + +"Is that you, Francois?" came up softly from the boat. + +He murmured something. "Is all in readiness?" + +"Quite! Make haste." + +The person above, about to swing himself over the rail, paused; a cabin +door, near by, had been thrown open and a stream of light shot near him. +Some one came out; moreover, she--for the some one was a woman--did not +close the door. The youth crouched back, trying to draw himself from +sight but the woman saw him, and coming quickly forward spoke. She +thought him, no doubt, one of the sailors. He did not answer, perhaps +was too frightened to do so, and his silence caused her to draw nearer. +More sharply she started to address him in her own native Russian but +the words abruptly ceased; a sudden exclamation fell from her lips. He, +as if made desperate by what the woman, now at the rail, saw or divined, +seemed imbued with extraordinary strength. The success or failure of the +enterprise hung on how he met this unexpected emergency. Heroic, if +needs be, brutal measures were demanded. Her outcry was stifled but +Sonia Turgeinov was strong and resisted like a tigress. Perhaps she +thought he meant to kill her, and in an excess of fear she managed to +call out once. Fortunately for the youth, the hammering below +continued, but whether she had made herself heard or not was uncertain. +Confronted by a dire possibility, he exerted himself to the utmost to +still that warning voice. In frenzied haste he seized the heavy scarf +she had thrown around her shoulders upon leaving the cabin and wound it +about her face and head. The sinuous body seemed to grow limp in his +arms. His was not a pleasant task but a necessary one. This woman had +delivered the girl to the prince in the first place; would now attempt +to frustrate her escape. Any moment some one else might come on deck and +discover them. + +"Quick! Why don't you come?" Betty Dalrymple's anxious voice ascended +from the darkness. + +The youth knew well that no time must be lost, but what to do? He could +not leave the woman. She might be only feigning unconsciousness. And +anyway they would soon find her and learn the truth. That would mean +their quick recapture. Already he thought he heard a footstep descending +from the bridge--approaching--With extraordinary strength for one of +Francois' slender build, he swung the figure of the woman over the side, +dropped her into the boat and followed himself. A breathless moment of +suspense ensued; he listened. The approaching footsteps came on; then +paused, and turned the other way. The youth waited no longer. The little +boat at the side was lowered softly; it touched the water and floated +away from the _Nevski_ like a leaf. Then the darkness swallowed it. + + +"How far are we from the yacht now, Francois?" + +"Only a few miles, Mademoiselle." + +"Do you think we'll be far enough away at daybreak so they can't see +us?" + +"Have no fear, Mademoiselle." The voice of Francois in the stern, +thrilled. "There's a fair sailing wind." + +"Isn't it strange"--Betty Dalrymple, speaking half to herself, regarded +the motionless form in the bottom of the boat--"that she, of all +persons, and I, should be thus thrust together, in such a tiny craft, +on such an enormous sea?" + +"I really couldn't help it, Mademoiselle"--apologetically--"bringing her +with us. There was no alternative." + +"Oh, I'm not criticizing you, who did so splendidly." The girl's eyes +again fell. "She is unconscious a long time, Francois." + +The youth's reply was lost amid the sound of the waters. Only the sea +talked now, wildly, moodily; flying feathers of foam flecked the night. +The boat took the waves laboriously and came down with shrill seething. +She seemed ludicrously minute amid that vast unrest. The youth steered +steadily; to Betty Dalrymple he seemed just going on anyhow, dashing +toward a black blanket with nothing beyond. It was all very wonderful +and awe-inspiring as well as somewhat fearsome. The waves had a cruel +sound if one listened to them closely. A question floating in her mind +found, after a long time, hesitating but audible expression: + +"Do you think there's any doubt about our being able to make one of the +islands, Francois?" + +"None whatever!" came back the confident, almost eager reply. "Not the +slightest doubt in the world, Mademoiselle. The islands are very near +and we can't help seeing one of them at daybreak." + +"Daybreak?" she said. "I wish it were here now." + +Swish! swish! went the sea with more menacing sound. For the moment +Francois steered wildly, and the boat careened; he brought her up +sharply. The girl spoke no more. Perhaps the motion of the little craft +gradually became more soothing as she accustomed herself to it, for, +before long, her head drooped. It was dry in the bow; a blanket +protected her from the wind, and, weary with the events of the last few +days, she seemed to rest as securely on this wave-rocked couch as a +child in its cradle. The youth, uncertain whether she slept or not, +forbore to disturb her. Hours went by. + +As the night wore on a few stars came out in a discouraged kind of way. +Heretofore he had been steering by the wind; now, that scanty +peripatetic band, adrift on celestial highways, assisted him in keeping +his course. When one sleepy-eyed planet went in, another, not far away +(from the human scope of survey) came out, and Francois, with the +perspicacity of a follower of the sea, seemed to have learned how to +gage direction by a visual game of hide-and-seek with the pin-points of +infinitude. Between watching the stars, the sea and the sail, he found +absorbing occupation for mind and muscle. Sometimes, in the water's +depressions, a lull would catch them, then when the wind boomed again +over the tops of the crests, slapping fiercely the canvas, a brief +period of hazard had to be met. The boat, like a delicate live creature, +needed a fine as well as a firm hand. + +His faculties thus concentrated, Francois had remained oblivious to the +dark form in the center of the boat, although long ago Sonia Turgeinov +had first moved and looked up. If she made any sound, he whose glance +passed steadily over her had not heard it. She raised herself slightly; +sat a long time motionless, an arm thrown over a seat, her eyes +alternating in direction, from the seas near the downward gunwale, to +the almost indistinguishable figure of him in the stern, the while her +fingers played with a scarf--the one that had been wound around her +head. Once she leaned back, her cheek against the sharp thwart, her gaze +heavenward. She remained thus a long while, with body motionless, though +her fingers continued to toy with the bit of heavy silk, as if keeping +pace with some mercurial rush of thoughts. + +A wastrel, she had been in many strange places, but never before had she +found herself in a situation so extraordinary. To her startled outlook, +the boat might well have seemed a chip tossed on the mad foam of chaos. +This figure, almost indistinguishable, yet so steadfastly present at the +stern of the little craft, appeared grim and ghostlike. But that he was +no ghost--His grip had been real; certainly that. He had been, too, +perforce, a master of action. She leaned her head on her elbow. +Strangely, she felt no resentment. + +The tired stars, as by a community of interest and common +understanding, slowly faded altogether. The woman bent her glance +bow-ward. The day--what would it reveal? She understood a good deal, yet +much still puzzled her. As through a dream, she had seemed to hear the +name, "Francois"--to listen to a crystalline voice, fresh as the +tinkling bells in some temple at the dawn. The darkness of the sky fused +into a murky gray, and as that somber tone began, in turn, to be +replaced by a lighter neutral tint, she made out dimly the figure of the +girl. As by a species of fascination, she continued to look at her while +the morn unfolded slowly. From behind a dark promontory of vapor, +Aurora's warm hand now tossed out a few careless ribbons. They lightened +the chilly-looking sea; they touched a golden tress--just one, that +stole out from under the gray blanket. The girl's face could not be +seen; the heavy covering concealed the lines of the lithe young form. + +As she continued to sleep--undisturbed by the first manifestations of +the dawn--the woman's glance swept backward to him at the helm. The +shafts of light showed now his face, worn and set, yet strangely +transfigured. He did not seem to notice her; beneath heavy lids his +quick glances shot this way and that to where wisps of mist on the +surface of the sea partly obscured the outlook. Sonia Turgeinov divined +his purpose; he was looking for the _Nevski_. But although he continued +to search in the direction of the yacht, he did not catch sight of her. +Only the winding and twining diaphanous veils played where he feared she +might have been visible. An expression of great satisfaction passed over +his features. + +Then he swayed from sheer weariness; he could have dropped gladly to the +bottom of the boat. Brain as well as sinew has its limitations and the +night had been long and trying. He had done work that called for +tenseness and mental concentration every moment. He had outlasted divers +and many periods when catastrophe might have overwhelmed them, and now +that the blackness which had shrouded a thousand unseen risks and perils +had been swept aside, an almost overpowering reaction claimed him. This +natural lassitude became the more marked after he had scanned the +horizon in vain for the prince's pleasure-yacht. + +His task, however, was far from over, and he straightened. To Sonia +Turgeinov, his gaze and his expression were almost somnambulistic. He +continued steering, guiding their destinies as by force of habit. +Luckily the breeze had waned and the boat danced more gaily than +dangerously. It threw little rainbows of spray in the air; he blinked at +them, his eyes half closed. In the bow the old dun-colored blanket +stirred but he did not see it. A glorious sun swept up, and began to lap +thirstily the wavering mists from the surface of the sea. + +Sonia Turgeinov spoke now softly to the steersman. What she said he did +not know; his lack-luster gaze met hers. All dislike and disapproval +seemed to have vanished from it; he saw her only as one sees a face in a +daguerreotype of long ago, or looks at features limned by a soulless +etcher. + +"Do you see it?" he asked. + +"What?" + +"Trees? Aren't those trees?" + +"I see nothing." + +"You do. You must. They are there." He spoke almost roughly, as if she +irritated him. + +"Oh, yes. I think I do see something," she said, and started. "Like a +speck?--a film?--a bird's wing, perhaps?" + +In the bow the blanket again stirred. Then, as from the dull chrysalis +emerge brightness and beauty, so from those dun folds sprang into the +morning light a red-lipped, lovely vision. + +"Trees," repeated the steersman to Sonia Turgeinov. "I am positive--" he +went on, but lost interest in his own words. Fatigue seemed to fall from +him in an instant; he stared. + +From beneath her golden hair Betty Dalrymple's eyes flashed full upon +him. + +"You!" she said. + +Mr. Heatherbloom appeared to relapse; his expression--that smile--vague, +indefinite--again partook of the somnambulistic. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +AN ANOMALOUS SITUATION + +The most unexpected and extraordinary thing in the world had happened, +yet Betty Dalrymple asked no questions. Had she done so, it is probable +that Mr. Heatherbloom would have been physically unequal to the +labyrinthine explanation the occasion demanded. For a brief spell the +girl had continued to regard him and she had seemed about to speak +further. Then the blue light of her gaze had slowly turned and her lips +remained mute. He was glad of this; of course he would later have to +tell something, but sufficient unto that unlucky hour were the +perplexities thereof. Sonia Turgeinov had been surprised, too, but it +was Betty Dalrymple's surprise that had most awakened her wonder. "Why, +didn't you know it was he?" the dark eyes seemed to say to the young +girl. "Who else, on earth, did you think it was?" The mystery for her, +as well as for Betty Dalrymple, deepened. Only for Mr. Heatherbloom +there existed no mystery; it was all now clear as day. He had done what +he had set out to do. She would soon be enabled to find her way back to +civilization. His present concern lay with the occupation of the moment. + +The tree _was_ a tree; this was the most momentous immediate +consideration; a few more miles had established that fact with +positiveness. But distances on the water are long, and they three would +have to journey together on the sea yet a while. He bethought him of his +duties, as host; these--his two passengers-were in his care. + +"You should find biscuits in a basket and water in a cask," he said, +speaking to both of them, and, at the same time, to immeasurable +distance. "If you don't mind looking--I can't very well." + +At that, a nervous laugh welled from Sonia Turgeinov's throat; she had +to give way. Possibly the absurd thought seized her that all the +tragedies and comedies might be simmered down to one thing. Were there +biscuits in the basket? But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh; her eyes were +like stars on a wintry night; her face was white as paper. It was turned +now from the steersman--ahead. She saw the blur before them become a +definite line of green; later she made out details, the large heads of +small trees. The former looked like big overflowing cabbages; the +trunks, beneath, sprawled this way and that, as the vagaries of the wind +had directed their growth. In front of them and the vernal strip, a +white line slowly resolved itself into moving foam. She--they all could +hear it now, faintly--they were very near; no thunderous anthem it +pealed forth; its voice seethed in soft cadences. + +Mr. Heatherbloom, with sheet taut, ran his craft toward the sands but +the boat grounded some little distance from the shore. It was useless to +attempt to go farther so he let his sail out, got up and stepped +overboard. The water was rather more than knee deep; he tugged at the +boat and attempted to draw her up farther without much success. She was +too heavy, and desisting from his efforts, he approached Miss Dalrymple. +The young girl shrank back slightly, but seeming not to notice that +first instinctive movement, he reached over and lifted her out. It was +done in a businesslike manner and with no more outward concern than a +Kikuji porter might have displayed in meeting the exigencies of a like +situation. The bubbles seethed around Mr. Heatherbloom's legs; unmindful +of them or the shifting sands beneath foot, he strode straight as might +be for the shore. His burden was not a heavy one but it seemed very +still and unyielding. He released her at the earliest possible +opportunity and in the same matter-of-fact way (still that of a human +ferry on the banks of the turbulent Chania) he returned for his other +passenger. Around Sonia Turgeinov's rich lips a mocking smile seemed to +play; she arose at once. + +"How charming! How very gallant!" she murmured. "First, you nearly +strangle one, and then--" + +Her soft arm stole about his neck, and her warm breath swept his cheek +as, stony-faced, he trudged along. This time his burden was heavier, +although there were men who would not have minded that under the +circumstances. The dark eyes, full of sparkles and enigmas, turned upon +his frosty ones. But she did not see very far into that so-called medium +of the soul; she received only an impression one gets in looking at a +wall. + +He put her down--gently. Whereupon, her dark brows lifted ironically. +He, gentle--to her? Did she dream? She felt again that fierce clasp of +the night before, and mentally told herself she would like to label him +an artistic study in contrasts. Really the adventure began to be "worth +while"; she felt almost reconciled to it. He had carried her off as the +rough, old-fashioned pirates bear away feminine prizes from a town they +have looted. From dog-tender to bucaneer--he appealed to her +imagination. She experienced a childlike desire to sit down where he had +left her and play with the shells. But instead she looked toward Betty +Dalrymple. That young girl, however, did not return her regard, though +the golden head, a few moments before, had lifted once, with a swift, +bird-like motion toward Sonia Turgeinov, en route beachward. Now the +girl's features were steadfastly bent away; whatever gladness she may +have felt in thus, after many vicissitudes, reaching land safely, she +kept to herself. + +Mr. Heatherbloom resumed the task of porter; his next burden--the +water-cask--was the heaviest of all. He struggled with it and once +nearly went down, so tired was he, but he got it ashore, and the basket +of biscuits, too, and some other things. The boat, floating more +lightly, he now pulled to the strand; then he took out the spar and the +sail. This done, he gazed around; the place was deserted by man, though +of birds and crabs and other crawling objects there were a-plenty. Mr. +Heatherbloom stood with knitted brow; it was a time for contemplation, +visual and mental. For the latter he did not feel very fit as he strove +to think what was best to do next. The other two--he still forced +himself to keep to the purely impersonal aspect of the case--were his +charges. Being women, they were mutually and equally (the mockery of +it!) dependent on him. He was responsible for their welfare and +well-being. In the sail-boat he had been captain; ashore, he became +commandant, an answerable factor. He began to plan. + +What kind of place had they come to?--was it big or small?--inhabited, +or deserted? All this would have to be ascertained, later. Meanwhile, +temporary headquarters were needed; he would erect a tent. The spar and +boom served for the ridge and front poles, the sail for the canvas +covering, the sheet and halyards for the restraining lines. Sonia +Turgeinov again watched him; her interest was now of that vague kind she +had sometimes experienced when the manager appeared on a darkened stage, +with a fresh crackling manuscript. Then she had lolled back and listened +to the first reading. She would have lolled back now--for the air was +soporific--but, instead, she started suddenly. The old wound on Mr. +Heatherbloom's head, heretofore concealed by the cap Francois had +procured for him, had reopened as he exerted himself; he raised his hand +quickly and seemed a little at a loss. She stepped to him at once. + +"The scarf, Monsieur?" + +"Thank you." He took it absently. + +"It serves divers purposes," she murmured. And Mr. Heatherbloom, +remembering the more violent employment he had found for it the night +before, flushed slightly. + +She added delicate emphasis to her remark by assisting him. With her own +fingers she tied a knot, and rather painstakingly spread out the ends. +He endured grimly. Miss Dalrymple appeared not to have observed the +episode but, of course, it had in reality been all quite fully revealed +to her. It was in keeping with certain circumstances of the past that +the Russian woman should not be unmindful of him, her confrere in the +conspiracy. That much was patent; but other happenings were not so +easily reconciled. What had taken place on the deck of the _Nevski_ in +those breathless last few moments as they were escaping, was in ill +conformity with those amicable relations which should have existed +between the two. This man's presence in the boat, in the place of +Francois, could be explained by no logical process with the premises she +had at her command. + +The bandage possessed a subtly weird and bizarre interest for the young +girl. He had been injured. How? For what reason? Betty Dalrymple's mind +swept, seemingly without very definite cause, to another scene, one of +violence. Again she heard the crashing of glass and saw forms leaping +into the cabin. Her thoughts reverted, on the instant, to the unknown +helper she had been obliged to leave behind. Somehow, real as he had +been, he seemed at this moment strangely apart, something in the +abstract. Then all illusive speculations merged abruptly into a +realization that needed no demonstration. Sonia Turgeinov possessed a +certain outre attractiveness the young girl had never noted before. The +violet eyes, shining through the long shading lashes, rested a moment on +her; then passed steadily beyond. + +"I'm off for a look around." Mr. Heatherbloom, having transferred their +meager possessions to the tent, now addressed Miss Dalrymple, or Sonia +Turgeinov, or an indefinite space between them. "Better stay right here +while I'm gone." His tones had a firm accent. "Sorry there are only +biscuits for breakfast, but perhaps there'll be better fare before long. +If you should move around"--his eye lingered authoritatively on Betty +Dalrymple--"keep to the beach." + +"How very solicitous!" laughed Sonia Turgeinov as the young man strode +off. "That was intended especially for you, Mademoiselle. As for me, it +does not matter." With a shrug. "I might stroll into the wood, be +devoured by wild beasts, and who would care?" + +Betty Dalrymple did not answer. + +"A truce, Mademoiselle!" said the other in the same gay tone. "I know +very well what you think of me. You told me very clearly on the +_Nevski_, and before that, on shore. In this instance, however, since it +is through no fault or choice of mine that we are thrown thus closely +together, would it not be well to make the best of the situation?" + +"There seems, indeed, no choice in the matter," answered the young girl +coldly. + +"None, unless like those in the admirable play, we elect to pitch our +respective camps at different parts of the beach. But that would be +absurd, wouldn't it? Besides, I have my punishment--no light one for +Sonia Turgeinov who herself has been accustomed to a little adulation in +the past. I am _de trop_." + +"_De trop_?" There was a faint uplifting of the brow. "_You_ should not +be altogether that." + +"You mean I should be very friendly with him, my colleague and +confidant, _n'est ce pas_?" Sonia's dark eyes swept swiftly the proud +lovely face. "In truth he proved an able assistant." Her voice was a +little mocking. "What if I should tell you it was he who planned it all +--devised the ways and means?" A statue could, not have been more +immovable than Betty Dalrymple. "Or," suddenly, "what if I should say +quite--_au contraire_." The girl stirred. Sonia Turgeinov seemed to +ruminate. "Should I be so forgiving--after last night?" she murmured. +"It would be inconsistent, wouldn't it?--or angelic? And I am no angel." + +The girl's lips started to form a question but she did not speak. Afar, +Mr. Heatherbloom's figure could be seen, almost at the vanishing point. +He was toiling up an incline. Then the green foliage swallowed him. +Sonia Turgeinov smiled at vacancy. "Though I do owe him a little," she +went on, half meditative. "He _was_ kind to me in the park. He was sorry +for me. Think of it, and without admiring me. Other men have professed +for poor Sonia Turgeinov a little interest or solicitude at divers times +and places, but it has always been accompanied with something else. Is +that beyond the understanding of your pure soul, nourished in a +hothouse, Mademoiselle?" There was a sudden hard ring of rebellion in +her tones. "Am I handsome? Your eyes said it not long ago. _Ma foi_!" +Her voice becoming light again. "It was Parsifal himself who talked with +me in the park--that place for rendezvous and romances." Her thoughts +leaped over time and space. "The first light of the sun revealed to you +this day the last face you expected to see. It was as if a bit of +miracle, or a little diablerie had happened. I, too, was in a haze, not +so great--though on the deck the night before I little expected to +encounter one I had last seen in chains, a prisoner--" + +"A prisoner--in chains--he--" Betty Dalrymple stared. + +"You did not know? What on earth did you expect? That the prince would +give him the _suite de luxe_ after the beating his excellency +received--" + +"The beating?" half-stammered the girl. "Then the man in the salon who +claimed to be a detective was--" + +"What? He claimed that?" laughed Sonia Turgeinov. "_Tres drole!"_ + +But Betty Dalrymple did not laugh. Her eyes, bent seaward, saw nothing +now of the leaping waves; her face was fixed as a cameo's. Only her hair +stirred, wind-tossed, all in motion like her thoughts. And regarding +her, Sonia Turgeinov's eyes began to harden a little. Did the woman +regret for the moment what she had said, divining again some play within +a play? Yet what could there be in common between this beautiful heiress +and the _gardeurde chiens_? No! it was absurd to conceive anything of +the kind. Nevertheless Sonia Turgeinov unaccountably began to experience +a vague hostility for the young girl; this she might partly attribute to +the great gaps of convention separating them. Her own life, in confused +pictures, surged panorama-like before her mental vision: The garret +beginning; the cold and hunger hardships; the beatings, when a child; +the girl problems--so hard; the woman's--Faugh! what a life! Would that +the flame of the artist had burned more brightly or not at all. She +tried to imagine what she would have been, if she, too, had been born to +a golden cradle. + +A great ennui swept over her. How old she felt on a sudden! And how +homesick, too. Yes; that was it--homesickness. She could have stretched +out her arms toward her much beloved and, sometimes, a little hated, +Russia. The bright domes of her native city seemed to shine now in her +eyes. She walked in spirit the stony pavement of the Kremlin. Cruelty, +intolerance, suffering--all these reigned in the city of extremes, but +she would have kissed even the cold marble at the feet of dead tyrants, +the way the people did, if she could have stood at that moment in one of +the old, old sacred places. Her brief flight into the new world had led +her to no pots of gold at rainbow end. The little honorarium from his +excellency for her part in this adventure, she did not want now. She +regretted that she had ever embarked upon it. What penalty might she not +have to pay yet? The law, with dragon fingers would reach out--no doubt +was reaching out now--to grip her. Well, let it. + +A crisp, matter-of-fact voice--concealing any agitation the speaker may +have felt--broke in upon these varied reflections. Mr. Heatherbloom, +rather out of breath but quiet and determined, stood before them. + +"Miss Dalrymple!--Mademoiselle! There is no occasion for alarm but it +will be necessary; for us to leave here at once!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +AN UNEXPECTED OFFER + +"To leave?" It was Sonia Turgeinov who spoke. "You mean--" Her eyes +turned oceanward but saw nothing. + +He made a quick gesture toward a break in the outline of the shore where +the island swept around. "Beyond!" he said succinctly and she had no +doubt as to his meaning. The tent he had put up where it could not be +seen from the sea. But their boat--He looked at the little craft, a too +distinct object on the sands. Those on a vessel skirting the shore could +not fail to discover that incriminating bit of evidence with their +glasses. And there was no way of getting rid of it. He could not destroy +it with his bare hands. It was unsinkable. If he set it adrift, wind and +sea would drive it straight back. + +"They probably discovered our absence about daybreak and surmised +correctly the direction the breeze would carry us," he muttered half +bitterly. "We must go at once." These last words he spoke firmly. + +"But where?" Again it was Sonia Turgeinov who questioned him. Betty +Dalrymple remained silent; her eyes shone with a new inscrutable light; +her cheek, though pale, had the warmth of a live pearl. She touched the +sands with the tip of her shoe. + +But he did not regard her, nor did he answer Sonia Turgeinov. Going to +the tent, he bent over the basket of biscuits and hastily filled his +pockets. Then, throwing a woman's heavy cloak over his arm, he stepped +quickly to Miss Dalrymple's side. + +"Come," he said laconically. + +Her foot, Cinderella's for daintiness, ceased its motion; she turned at +once. Around her lips a strange little smile flitted but faded almost +immediately. Save for her straightness and that proud characteristic +poise of the head, she might have seemed, at that moment of emergency, +a veritable Griselda for acquiescence. He started to walk away, when-- + +"What about me?" cried Sonia Turgeinov. + +"You can come or you can stay," said Mr. Heatherbloom. "The chances are +that the prince will see the boat, land and get you." + +"And if he doesn't?" + +"There are plenty of biscuits, and I'll send back for you when I can." + +"That prospect is not very inviting," she demurred. "Suppose I elect not +to risk it--to go with you?" + +"It is for you to decide, and quickly," he said in a cold crisp tone. + +"You dismiss my fate bruskly, Monsieur," she returned. + +"There is no time to bandy words, Madam," he retorted warmly. "I am not +oblivious to you--I trust I would not be to any woman--but every minute +now is precious." + +"Of course!" An instant she looked at the girl and a spark appeared in +the dark eyes. Then Sonia Turgeinov's features abruptly relaxed and she +waved her hand carelessly. "I have decided," she said in her old +manner. "Go! My best adieus, Monsieur--Mademoiselle." With a gay +courtesy. "Farewell! babes in the wood!" Her voice was once more +mocking. They moved silently away but before they had gone far enough to +disappear in the forest she suddenly ran toward them. "No, no!" she said +in a different voice. "I have changed my mind. It is such a tiny, thing, +that boat--in the glare and shine. They might not see it, and then--" +She shuddered, "How frightfully lonesome!--the terrible nights--" + +He made an impatient gesture. "After me, then! You, Miss Dalrymple, will +come last." + +"Ah, you think I am coming because I may wish to help them?" Sonia +Turgeinov said quickly. + +"I intend to take no chances," he returned in the same tone. And the +three moved on. + +He set a sharp pace; if there was need for haste at all it was now, at +the beginning of their flight. They plunged deeper into the forest; no +one spoke; only the crackling under foot and certain wood sounds broke +the stillness. Unfortunately the soil was soft so that their footprints +might be followed by any one versed in woodcraft. At times they were +forced to skirt unusually thick places, but in spite of these deviations +Mr. Heatherbloom was enabled generally to keep to their course by +consulting a small compass he had found in the boat. It was essential to +maintain as straight a line as possible. People sometimes walked round +and round in forests; he took no chance of that; better a moment lost +now and then, while stopping to wait for the quivering pointer to +settle, than returning, perhaps, to the very spot they had left. + +As thus they advanced, often he looked around to reassure himself that +the young girl, in spite of the roughness of the way, yet followed. Once +Sonia Turgeinov arrested that swift backward look; her own shone with +curiosity. + +"How in heaven's name did you do it, Monsieur?" she asked suddenly, +drawing nearer. "Get out of that cell, I mean. When last I saw you on +the ship, you were as securely fastened as a prisoner in the fortress at +Petersburg. Of course you must have had some one to help--" + +He answered coldly, recalling a promise to protect Francois. He could, +however, and did, tell her the truth in this without involving the +youth. "When the third officer, my jailer, came to the cell and released +my hands--well, I did the best I could, surprised him, got the keys and +left him there in my stead. A little Jap trick for handling men that I +learned in San Francisco long ago," he added. + +Her dark eyes lingered on him not without a trace of admiration. +"Mademoiselle is fortunate, indeed, in her champion," she murmured. "And +yet that does not explain the preparations for departure--the provisions +in the boat--other little details. How came you by that compass, for +example?" + +"It explains all that will be explained." + +"Which means, once more, you do not trust me?" She shrugged. "_Eh +bien_!" And again they went on in silence. + +Toward noon, reaching a fringe of the forest, they found before them a +wide open space where the ground was higher and dry, but the walking +more difficult. The grass, long and tenacious, twined snake-like around +their ankles; they had to go more slowly, but reached, at length, the +top of the eminence. Here Mr. Heatherbloom stopped. They ate their +biscuit and rested, but only for a brief while. Scanning the distance, +in the direction they had come, he suddenly discerned moving forms on +the farthest edge of the open space--forms which advanced toward them. +No doubt as to their purpose could be entertained; his excellency had +landed and was already in pursuit. A smoldering fire leaped from Mr. +Heatherbloom's eyes while rage that she should thus be driven harder +filled his breast. Fool! that he had not killed the prince when +opportunity had offered that night in the cabin. His clemency +might--probably would--cost her dear. + +"We've got to go on, and faster," said the young man. His hands were +clenched; his arms were stiff at his side. "Can you do it?" he asked +Betty Dalrymple. She answered; standing in a green recess, she had never +appeared more beautiful to him than in that moment of peril. Green and +red things flashed behind her--tiny feathered creatures that shone like +jewels. The dewdrops from the branches in sunless places were glistening +brilliants in the gold of her hair. But he had no time to gaze. The +figures were drawing nearer. + +"You used to be able to run, Betty. It seems as if it's all my +fault"--hoarsely--"but you'll have to do so now." + +Again that ready response from her! Did she, in the excitement of the +moment, call him by a Christian name not Horatio? He did not take +cognizance of it; neither did Sonia Turgeinov seem to. + +The latter spoke quickly: "I remain here." + +"Of course," said Mr. Heatherbloom, with a glance back toward the open +space. + +She overlooked the significance or bitterness in his accent. "Keep to +the right," she said swiftly. "Believe me or not, I'll send them to the +left. It's your only chance. Otherwise they would overtake you in an +hour. Among the prince's men are Cossacks trained to feats of +endurance." + +"You would do that?" He looked at her quickly. The dark eyes did not +swerve from the gray ones. + +"Did I betray you on the boat?" said Sonia Turgeinov rather haughtily. + +"No," he conceded. + +"And yet I knew you! You know that," she affirmed. + +"Yes; you knew me." Slowly. + +"Did I tell his excellency who you were, when he had you, a prisoner?" +she demanded. + +And--"No," he was obliged to say again. + +"See." She took from her breast a tiny cross. "I had that as a child. +Would I kiss it, and--tell you a lie in the next breath?" He did not +answer. "I have lived up to the letter of my contract with his +excellency. It is at an end. Perhaps I am a little sorry for my own +part"--with a laugh slightly reckless--"or maybe"--with a flash of +seriousness--- "I have become, in the least, afraid. Your laws are very +severe, and--I had not counted on mademoiselle's steadfast resistance +to--_mon Dieu!_--a prince who had been considered irresistible--whose +principality is larger than one of your states--who would have made her, +in truth, a czaritza. I had fancied," in a rush of words, "the mad +episode might end as it did in the prince's favorite _Fire and Sword_ +trilogy, with wedding-bells and rejoicing." She paused abruptly. "I had +also not counted on the all-important possibility that mademoiselle +might have bestowed her heart on another--" + +"Madam!" It was Betty Dalrymple who spoke quickly. + +Sonia Turgeinov laughed maliciously. "Go," she said, "or"--almost +fiercely--"I may change my mind." + +They went; Sonia Turgeinov turned and looked out over the open space. +The approaching figures were now much nearer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +STARLIGHT + +Dusk had begun to fall, but still two figures went on through the +forest--slowly, with obvious effort. One turned often to the other, held +back a branch, or proffered such service as he might over rough places, +for Betty Dalrymple's movements were no longer those of a lithe +wood-nymph; she had never felt so weary before. The first shades of +twilight made it harder to distinguish their way amid intervening +objects, and once an elastic bit of underbrush struck her sharply in the +face. The blow smarted like the touch of a whip but she only smiled +faintly. The momentary sting spurred her on faster, until her foot +caught and she stumbled and would have fallen except that Mr. +Heatherbloom had turned at that moment and put out an arm. + +"Forgive me." His voice was full of contrition. "It has been brutal to +make you go on like this, but I had to." + +"It doesn't matter." The slender form slid from him over-quickly. "You, +too, must be very tired," she said with breath coming fast. + +He glanced swiftly back; listened. "We'll rest here," he commanded. +"We've got to. I should have stopped before, but"--the words came in a +harsher staccato--"I dared not." + +"I'll be all right in a few moments," she answered, resting on a fallen +log, "and then--" + +"No, no," he said in a tone of finality. "After all, there is small +likelihood they'll find us now. Besides, it will soon be too dark to go +on. Fortunately, the night is warm, and I've got this cloak for you." + +"And for yourself?" Her voice was very low and quiet, or perhaps it +seemed so because here, in the little recess in the great wood, the hush +was most pronounced. + +"Me?" he laughed. "You seem to forget I'm one of the happy brotherhood +that just drop down anywhere. Shouldn't know what to do with a silk +eiderdown if I had one." + +His gaiety sounded rather forced. She was silent and the quietude +seemed oppressive. The girl leaned back to a great tree trunk and looked +up. The sky wore an ocher hue against which the branches quivered in +zigzags of blackness. Mr. Heatherbloom moved apart to watch, but still +he neither saw nor heard sign of any one drawing near. The sad ocher +merged into a somber blue; the stars came out, one by one, then in +shoals. She could hardly see him now, so fast had the tropical night +descended, but she heard his step, returning. + +"Quite certain there's no danger," he reassured her. "Went back a way." + +"Thank you," she said. And added: "For all." + +"Betty." The stars twinkled madly. Pulsating waves seemed to vibrate in +the air. A moment he continued to stare into the darkness, then again +turned. He had not seen how the girl's hand had suddenly closed, and her +slender form had swayed. As restlessly he resumed his sentinel's duty, +Sonia Turgeinov's last words once more recurred to him. How often had +he thought of them that long afternoon, and wondered who was the one the +young girl would now shortly be free to turn to? There had been many in +the past who had sought her favor. Perhaps the unknown was one of these; +or, more likely, one of the newer many that had arisen, no doubt, since, +in the gayer larger world of New York, or the continent. Betty +Dalrymple's manner at the Russian woman's words indicated that the +latter had--how Mr. Heatherbloom could not imagine--hit upon a great +kernel of truth. Again, in fancy, he saw on her cheek that swift flush +of warm blood. Lucky, thrice lucky, the man who had caused it! Softly +Mr. Heatherbloom moved nearer. + +Was she sleeping? He, himself, felt too fagged to sleep. Like Psyche, in +the glade, she was covered all with starlight. He ventured closer, bent +over; the widely opened eyes looked suddenly into his. + +"The woman told me you had nothing to do with it--that plot of hers and +the prince," she said slowly. "I know now why you were on the boat, +and--all the rest--what it meant for me, your being there." + +"You know, then"--embarrassed--"the awful mess I made of it all--" + +"You dared a great deal," she said softly. + +"And came an awful cropper!" + +She did not answer directly. "At first Francois was most reluctant to +risk going with me," she went on. "I thought it odd, at the time, he +should change so suddenly, become so brave. Now I understand, at least, +a little--in a general way. I have been over-quick to think evil of you, +ever since we met again. Perhaps, in the past, too"--slowly--"I have +been--" + +"Betty!" he cried uneasily, and seemed about once more to move away, +when-- + +"Don't go," she said. "I'll not talk if you command me not to. You've +been the master to-day, you know," with subtle accent. + +"Have I?" His voice showed evidence of distress. "I didn't really +mean--it was necessary," he ended firmly. + +"Of course it was," said the girl. Her accent conveyed no note of +displeasure. Profile-wise he saw her face now--the young moon beyond. +"Don't think I'm blaming you. I'm not quite so hard, perhaps, as I once +was." Mr. Heatherbloom stood back a little farther in the shadow. +"Maybe, my poor little standard of judgment--" she stopped. "I have been +heedless, heartless, perhaps--" + +"You!" he exclaimed. "You!" There was only unfaltering adoration in his +tone--faith, unchanged and unchangeable. + +She spoke with a little catch in her voice: "Oh, I haven't cared. I +_did_ flirt with the prince; he accused me of that. He was right. What +did it matter to me, if I made others suffer? I haven't always had so +good a time as I seemed to--" There was a ring of passion in her tone +now. "What happened?" she said, turning on him swiftly. "What has +happened? I want to know all--" + +"You mean about the prince?" + +"I know all I want to know about him," scornfully. "I mean"--her slender +figure bent toward Mr. Heatherbloom--"you! What has taken place, and +why has it? What does it all mean? Don't you understand?" + +He drew in his breath slowly. + +"Tell me," she said, still tensely poised, her eyes insistent in the +shadow of her hair. + +"Miss Dalrymple--Betty--" he half stammered. + +"I want to know," she repeated. There was an inexorable demand in her +gaze. Mr. Heatherbloom straightened. The ordeal?--it must be met--though +that box of Pandora were best left unopened. He could not refuse her +anything; this she asked of him was not easy to grant, however. + +"Where shall I begin?" he said uncertainly. "You know a great deal. +There doesn't seem much worth talking about." + +"Begin where we left off--" + +"Our boy-and-girl engagement? You broke it. Quite right of you!" She +stirred slightly. "It was, at best, but a perfunctory business, half +arranged by our parents to keep the millions together--" + +"You never blamed me a little, then?" she asked. + +"I--blame you?" wonderingly. "You were as far from me as a star. What +you thought of me, you told me; it was all right--true stuff. Though it +sank in like a blade. I was nothing--worse than nothing. A rich man's +son!--a commonplace type. A good fellow some called me at Monte Carlo, +Paris, elsewhere." He paused. A moment he seemed another +personality--that other one. She saw it anew, caught a glimpse of it +like a flash on a mirror; then he seemed to relapse farther back into +the shadow. "I really don't want to bore you," he said perfunctorily, +raising an uncertain hand to the stray; lock on his forehead. + +"You aren't--doing that. Go on." Her eyes were full of questions. "After +I saw you that last time"--he nodded--"you disappeared. No one ever +heard anything of you; again, or knew what had become of you." + +"As no one cared," he said with a short laugh, "what did it matter?" + +"You were lost to the world--had vanished completely," she went on. +"Sometimes I thought--feared you were dead." Her voice changed. + +"Feared?" he repeated. "Ah, yes! You did not want me to go out like +that." + +"No," she said slowly. "Not like that." + +He looked at her comprehendingly; in spite of the bitter passionate +repudiation of him, she had been a little in earnest--had cared, in the +least, how he went down. + +"Why," he said, with a forced smile, "I didn't think you'd bother to +give the matter a thought." + +"You had some purpose?" she persisted, studying him. "I see--seem to +feel it now. It all--you--were incomprehensible. I mean, when I saw you +again that first time, in New York, after so long--" + +"It was funny, wasn't it?" he said with rather strained lightness. "The +Chariot of Concord--_What's the Matter with Mother_?--the gaping or +jibing crowd--then you, going by--" + +Her eyelids drooped; he stood now erect and motionless; in spite of the +determination to maintain that matter-of-fact pose, visions appeared +momentarily in his eyes. The glamour of the instant he had referred to +caught him. All he had felt then at the unexpected sight of +her--beautiful, far-away--returned to him. She was near now, but still +immeasurably distant. He pulled himself together; he hadn't explained +very much yet. He was forced to go on; her eyes once more seemed to draw +the story from him. + +"Yes; I had some purpose in going away like that. The idea came to me at +the sanatorium, when I was about 'all in'. They'd managed to keep the +drugs and the drink from me, and one day I seemed to wake up and realize +I hadn't ever really lived. Just been a tail-ender who had 'gone the +pace'. Hadn't even had a beginning. Was it too late to start over again? +Probably." His voice came in crisp accents. "But it was a last chance--a +feeble one--a straw to the drowning," he laughed. "That sounds absurd +to you but I don't know how to explain it better." + +"No; it doesn't sound absurd," she said. + +"The idea of mine?--how to carry it out? Ways and means were not hard to +find. I went to"--he mentioned a name--"an old friend of my father's. He +thought I was a fool," bruskly, "but in the end he approved, or seemed +to. Anyhow, I persuaded him to take all my bonds, securities and the +rest of (for me) cursed stuff. At the end of a certain time, if I wanted +back the few millions I hadn't yet run through, he was to give them to +me, minus commissions, wage, etc." + +"You mean," said the girl, "that was the way you took to go back to the +beginning, as you call it?" Her eyes were like stars. "You practically +gave away all your money so as to start by yourself." + +"How could I start with it?" he asked, with a faint smile. "Don't you +see, Betty"--in a momentary eagerness he forgot himself--"there couldn't +be any compromising? Besides, it came to me--you will laugh"--she did +not laugh--"that some day, somewhere else, if not here, I'd have to make +that beginning, to be something myself. Remember that old Hindu fellow +with a red turban who sat on your front lawn, beneath the palms, and had +the women gathered around him in a kind of hypnotic state? He said +something like that--I thought him an old fakir at the time. He used a +lot of flowery language, but I guess, boiled down, it meant start at the +bottom of the ladder. Build yourself up, the way my father did," with a +certain wistful pride. "You remember him?" + +Her head moved. "Fine looking, wasn't he?" ruminatively. "He got there +with his hands and brains, and honestly. While I hadn't ever used +either. I hope," he broke off, "all this doesn't sound like preaching." + +"No," she said. + +An instant his gaze lingered on her. "You're sleepy now," he spoke +suddenly. + +"No, I am not. You found it a little hard, at first?" + +"A little. When a man is relaxed and the reaction is on him--" He +stopped. + +"Tell me--tell me all," she breathed. "Every bit of it, Harry." + +His lips twitched. To hear his almost forgotten name spoken again by +her! A moment he seemed to waver. Temptation of violet eyes; wonder of +the rapt face! Oh, that he might catch her in his arms, claim her anew; +this time for all time! But again he mastered himself and went on +succinctly, as quickly as possible. Between the lines, however, the girl +might read the record of struggles which was very real to her. He had +reverted "to the beginning" with poor tools and most scanty experience. +And there was that other fight that made it a double fight, the fiercer +conflict with self. Hunger, privation, want, which she might divine, +though he did not speak of them, became as lesser details. She listened +enrapt. + +"I guess that's about all," he said at last. + +She continued to look at him, his features, clear-cut in the white +light. "And you didn't ever really go back--to undo it all?" + +"Once I did go back to 'Frisco"--he told her of the relapse with cold +candor--"out at heels, and ready to give up. I wanted the millions. They +were gone." + +"You mean, lost?" + +"Yes; he had speculated; was dead. Poor fellow!" + +"You say that? And you have never tried to get any of the money back?" + +"Fortunately, he died bankrupt," said Mr. Heatherbloom calmly. + +"And you failed to show the world he was a--thief?" Something in the +word seared her. + +"What was the use? He left a wife and children. Besides, he really +served me by what the world would call robbing me. I _had_ to continue +at the beginning. It was the foot of the ladder, all right," he added. + +Her face showed no answering gaiety. "You are going to amount to a great +deal some day," she said. "I think very few of us in this world find +ourselves," she added slowly. + +"Perhaps some don't have to hunt so hard as others," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom. + +"Don't they?" Her lips wore an odd little smile. + +He threw back his shoulders. "Good night, now. You are very tired, I +know." + +She put out her hand. He took it--how soft and small and cold! The +seconds were throbbing hours; he couldn't release it, at once. The +little fingers grew warmer--warmer in his palm--their very pulsations +seemed throbbing with his. Suddenly he dropped her hand. + +"Good night," he said quickly. + +He remembered he was nothing to her--that they would soon part for ever. + +"Good night," she answered softly. + +Then, silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +AN EXPLANATION + +Morn came. They had heard or seen nothing of the prince and his men. Mr. +Heatherbloom walked back for a cold plunge in a stream that had +whispered not far from their camping spot throughout the night. He and +Betty Dalrymple breakfasted together on an old log; it wasn't much of a +meal--a few crackers and crumbs that were left--but neither appeared to +mind the meagerness of the fare. With much gaiety (the dawn seemed to +have brought with it a special allegrezza of its own) she insisted upon +a fair and equitable division of their scanty store, even to the +apportioning of the crumbs into two equal piles. Then, prodigal-handed +for a castaway who knew not where her next meal might come from, she +tossed a bit or two to the birds, and was rewarded by a song. + +All this seemed very wonderful to Mr. Heatherbloom; there had never +before been such a breakfast; compared to it, the _dejeuner a la +fourchette_ of a Durand or a Foyot was as starvation fare. It was +surprising how beautiful the dark places of the night before looked now; +daylight metamorphosed the spot into a sylvan fairyland. Mr. +Heatherbloom could have lingered there indefinitely. The soft moss wooed +him, somewhat aweary with world contact; she filled his eyes. The faint +shadowy lines beneath hers which he had noted at the dawn had now +vanished; the same sun-god that ordered the forest flowers to lift their +gay heads commanded the rosebuds to unfold their bright petals on her +cheeks. Her lips were as red berries; the cobwebs, behind, alight with +sunshine, gleamed no more than the tossed golden hair. She had striven +as best she might with the last, not entirely to her own satisfaction +but completely to Mr. Heatherbloom's. His untutored masculine sense +rather gloried in the unconventionally of a superfluous tangle or two; +he found her most charming with a few rents in her gown from branch or +brier. They seemed to establish a new bond of camaraderie, to make +blithe appeal to his nomadic soul. It was as if fate had directed her +footsteps until they had touched and lingered on the outer circle of his +vagabondage. Both seemed to have forgotten all about his excellency. + +"Rested?" queried Mr. Heatherbloom. + +"Quite," she answered. There was no trace of weariness in her voice. +"And you?" + +"Ditto," he laughed. Then, more gravely, "You see, I fell asleep while +watching," he confessed. + +"I'm glad." + +"You'd make a lenient commanding officer. Shall we go on?" + +"Where?" + +"I don't exactly know," he confessed. + +"That's lovely." Then, tentatively, "It's nice here." + +"Fine," he assented. There was no hardness in the violet eyes as they +rested on him. He did not pause to analyze the miracle; he only +accepted it. A moment he yielded to the temptation of the lotus-eater +and continued to luxuriate in the lap of Arcadia. Then he bestirred +himself uneasily; it was not sufficient just to breathe in the golden +gladness of the moment. "Yes; it's fine," he repeated, "only you see--" + +"Of course!" she said with a little sigh, and rose. "_I_ see you are +going to be very domineering, the way you were yesterday." + +"I? Domineering?" + +"Weren't you?" she demanded, looking at him from beneath long lashes. + +"I'm sure I didn't intend--" He stopped for she was laughing at him. +They went on and her mood continued to puzzle him. Never had he seen her +so blithe, so gay. She waved her hand back at the woodland spot. +"Good-by," she said. + +Then they came upon the little town suddenly--so suddenly that both +appeared bewildered. Only a hillock had separated them from the sight of +it the night before. They looked and looked. It lay beneath an upward +sweep of land, in a cosy indenture of a great circle that swept far +around and away, fringed with cocoanut trees. Small wisps or corkscrews +of smoke defiled the blue of the sky; a wharf, with a steamer at the +end, obtruded abruptly upon the curve of the shore. Mr. Heatherbloom +regarded the boat--a link from Arcadia to the mundane world. He should +have been glad but he didn't seem overwhelmed at the sight; he stood +very still. He hardly felt her hand on his sleeve; the girl's eyes were +full of sparkles. + +"What luck!" he said at length, his voice low and somewhat more formal. + +"Isn't it?" she answered. And drawing in her breath--"I can scarcely, +believe it." + +"It's there all right." He spoke slowly. "Come." And they went down. A +colored worker in the fields stared at them, but Betty nodded gaily, and +asked what town it was and the name of the island. He told them, growing +wonderment in his gaze. How could they be here and not know that; where +had they come from? To him they were as mysterious as two visitants +from Mars. Regardless of the effect they produced on the dusky toiler +they walked on. The island proved to be larger than they had thought and +commercially important. They had, the day before, but crossed a neck of +it. + +Soon now they reached the verge of the town and stood on its main artery +of traffic; the cobblestone pavement resounded with the rattling of +carts and rough native vehicles. At a curb stood a dilapidated public +conveyance to which was attached a horse of harmoniously antique aspect. +Miss Dalrymple got in and Mr. Heatherbloom took his place at her side. + +"The cable office," said the girl briefly, whereupon a lad of mixed +ancestry began to whack energetically the protuberant ribs of the drowsy +steed. It woke him and they clattered down the narrow way. Mr. +Heatherbloom leaned back, his gaze straight ahead, but Betty Dalrymple +looked around with interest at the people of divers shades and hues, +and, for the most part, in costumes of varying degrees of picturesque +originality. After having narrowly escaped running over a small +proportion of the juvenile colored population overflowing from odd +little shops and houses, they reached the transportable zinc shed that +served as a cable office. Here Miss Dalrymple indited rapidly a most +voluminous message, paid the clerk in a businesslike manner, and, +unmindful of his amazed expression as he read what she had written, +tranquilly re-entered the carriage. + +"Miss Van Rolsen will be relieved when she gets that," observed Mr. +Heatherbloom mechanically. "It'll be a happy moment for her," +meditatively. + +"And won't she be gladder still when she sees us?" answered the girl +gaily. + +The use of the plural slightly disconcerted Mr. Heatherbloom for the +moment, but he dismissed it as an inadvertence. "Where now?" he asked. + +"Where do you think?" with dancing eyes. "Shopping, of course. +Fortunately I drew plenty of money before starting for California." + +An hour or so later Mr. Heatherbloom sat with parcels in his arms and +bundles galore around him. He accepted the situation gracefully; indeed, +displayed an almost tender solicitude for those especial packages she +herself handed him. + +"What next?" She had at length exhausted the somewhat limited resources +of the thoroughfare. + +"Drive to the best hotel," was her command. She laughed at the picture +he made, or at something in her own thoughts. She had unconsciously +assumed toward him a manner in the least proprietary, but if he noticed +he did not resent it. They went faster; her voice was a low thread of +music running through an accompaniment of crashing dissonances. She wore +a hat now--the best she could find. He considered it most "fetching", +but her thrilling derision overwhelmed his expression of opinion. Though +the way was so rough that they were occasionally thrown rather violently +one against another, they arrived in high spirits at their destination, +Mr. Heatherbloom having performed the commendable feat of preserving +intact the parcels and bundles en route. In the "best hotel" they were +given two rooms overlooking a courtyard redolent with orchids. The girl +nodded a brief farewell to him from the threshold of her room. + +"In about an hour, please, come back." + +He did, brushed up and with shoes shined, as presentable as possible. +She wore the same gown, but the sundry rents were mended and there had +occurred other changes he could divine rather than define. He brought +her information--not agreeable, he said. He was very sorry, but the next +boat for the United States would not call at the island for a fortnight. +He expected her to show dismay, but she received the news with +commendable fortitude, if not resignation. + +"I can cable aunt every day--so there can be no cause for worry--and she +will only be the more pleased when we actually do arrive." + +Again the plural! And once more that prophetic picture which included +Mr. Heatherbloom within the pale of the venerable and austere Miss Van +Rolsen's jubilation. He looked embarrassed but said nothing. During the +hour of his exclusion from Miss Dalrymple's company he had sallied forth +on a small but necessary financial errand of his own. Francois had +placed in the basket of biscuits a revolver, and this latter Mr. +Heatherbloom, rightfully construing it as his own personal property in +lieu of the weapon his excellency had deprived him of, had exchanged for +a bit of cardboard and a greenback. The last named, reinforced by the +small amount Mr. Heatherbloom had left upon reaching the _Nevski_ and of +which the prince had not deprived him, would relieve his necessities for +the moment. After that? Well, he would take up the problem presently; he +had no time for it now. This day, at least, should be consecrated to +Betty Dalrymple. + +He had an inkling that on the morrow he would see less of her; the +girl's story would get around. The American consul would call and tender +his services. The governor, too, Sir Charles Somebody, whose palatial +residence looked down on the town from the side of the hill, might be +expected to become officially and paternally interested. The little +cable office, despite rules and regulations, could not long retain its +prodigious secret; moreover Mr. Heatherbloom, in an absent-minded +moment, had inscribed Miss Dalrymple's name on the register, or +visitors' book. He recalled how the eyes of the old mammy, the +proprietress, had fairly rolled with curiosity. No; he would not be +permitted long to have her to himself, he ruminated; better make the +most of his opportunity now. Besides, his present monetary position +forbade his presence for more than a day or two at the "best hotel"; its +rates were for him distinctly prohibitive. The exigencies of financial +differences would soon separate them; she could draw on Miss Van Rolsen +for thousands; he had but five dollars and twelve cents--or was it +thirteen?--to his name. + +He kept these reflections, however, to himself and continued to bask in +the sunshine of a fool's paradise. They rode, walked and explored. They +went to the fruit and the flower market. He bought her a great bunch of +flowers, and she not only took it but wore it. For a time he stepped on +air; his flowers constituted a fine splash of color on the girl's gown. +Her heart beat beneath them; the thought was as wine. + +"Shall we?" They had partaken of tea (or nectar) in a small shop, and +now she paused before that most modern manifestation of a restless +civilization, a begilded, over-ornamented nickelodeon. "Think of finding +one of them way off here! Just as at home!" + +"More extraordinary your wanting to go in!" he laughed. + +"Why not? It will be an experience." + +They entered; the place was half filled and they took seats toward the +back. There were films, and songs of the usual character; it was very +gay. Gurgles of merriment from Creoles and darkies were heard on all +sides. They, too, yielded freely, gladly to its infection. Happy +Creoles! happy darkies! happy Betty Dalrymple and Horatio +Heatherbloom--heiress and outcast! There is a democracy in laughter; yon +darky smiled at Miss Dalrymple, while Mr. Heatherbloom laughed with +her, with them, and the world. For was she not near, right there by his +side? To Mr. Heatherbloom the tinsel palace had become a temple of +felicity and wonder. Suddenly he started and his face changed. + +"The Great Diamond Robbery," one of the films, was in progress, and +there, depicted on the canvas, amid many figures, he saw himself, the +most pronounced in that realistic group. And Betty Dalrymple saw the +semblance of him, also, for she gave a slight gasp and sat more erect. +In the moving picture he was running away from a crowd. + +"Shall--shall we go?" The face of the flesh-and-blood Mr. Heatherbloom +was very red; he looked toward the door. + +She did not answer; her eyes continued bent straight before her, and she +saw the whole quick scene of the drama unfolded. Then the street became +cleared, the fleeing figure had turned a corner as an automobile, not +engaged for the performance, came around it and went by. A big car--her +own--she was in it. She caught, like a flash on the canvas, a glimpse of +herself looking around; then the scene came to an end. Betty Dalrymple +laughed--a little hysterically. + +"Oh," she said. "Oh, oh!" + +He became, if possible, redder. + +"Oh," she repeated. Then, "Why"--with eyes full of mingled tragedy and +comedy--"did you not explain it all that day, when--" + +Of course she knew even as she spoke why he could not, or would not. + +"You had cause to think so many things," he murmured. + +"But that! How--how strange! I saw you, and--" + +He laughed. "And the manager told me I was a 'rotten bad' actor! Those +were his words; not very elegant. But I believed him, until now--" + +"Say something harsh and hard to me," she whispered, almost fiercely. "I +deserve it." + +The violet eyes were passionate. "Betty!" he exclaimed wonderingly. + +"Do you call that harsh?" she demanded mockingly. "You--you should be +cross with me--scold me--punish me--" + +"Well," he said calmly, "you haven't believed _that_, lately, anyhow." + +"No; I just set it aside as something incomprehensible, not to be +thought of, or to be considered any more. I believed in you, with all my +soul, since last night--a good deal before that, yes, yes!--in my +innermost heart! You believe me, don't you?" + +He answered, he hardly knew what. Some one was singing _Put on Your Old +Gray Bonnet_. Her shoulder touched his arm and lingered there. "Oh, my +dear!" she was saying to herself. The pianist banged; the vocalist +bawled, while Mr. Heatherbloom sat in ecstasy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +GAIETIES + +They took her away the next day. The governor--Sir Charles Somebody--had +heard of her and came and claimed her. His lady--portly, +majestic--arrived with him. Their carriage was the finest on the island +and their horses were the best. The coachman and footman were covered +with the most approved paraphernalia and always constituted an unending +source of wonder and admiration for the natives. The latter gathered in +front of the best hotel on this occasion; they did not quite know what +was taking place, but the sight of the big carriage there drew them +about like flies. + +Mr. Heatherbloom did not linger to speculate or to survey. He had seen +but not spoken to Miss Dalrymple that morning; she had smiled at him +across space, behind orchids. A moment or two he had sat dreaming how +fine it would be to live for ever in such a courtyard, with Betty +Dalrymple's face on the other side, then the hubbub below disturbed and +dispelled his reflections. He went down to investigate and to retreat. +Sir Charles and his lady were in the hall; they seemed to charge the +entire hostelry with their presence. Mr. Heatherbloom walked +contemplatively out and down the street. + +His mind, with a little encouragement, would have flitted back to +courtyards and orchids, but he forced it along less fanciful lines. +Mundane considerations were imperative and courtyards were a luxury of +the rich. He calculated that, after paying his bill at the best hotel, +he wouldn't have much more than half a dollar, or two English shillings, +left. The situation demanded calm practical reflection; he strove to +bestow upon it the necessary measure of orderly thinking. Yesterday, +with its nickelodeon, or temple of wonder, was yesterday; to-day, with +its problems, was to-day. He had lingered in the happy valley, or +kingdom of Micomicon, but the carriage was before the door--the golden +chariot had come to bear away the beautiful princess. + +Mr. Heatherbloom asked for employment at the wharf and got it. The +supercargo of the boat, loading there, had been indulging, not wisely +but too well, in "green swizzles", an insidious drink of the country, +and, when last seen was oblivious to the world. A red-haired mate, with +superfluous utterance, informed the applicant he could come that +afternoon and temporarily essay the delinquent one's duties, checking up +the bags of merchandise and bananas the natives were bringing aboard, +and otherwise making himself useful. Mr. Heatherbloom tendered his +thanks and departed. + +He wandered aimlessly for a while, but the charm of the town had +vanished; he gazed with no interest upon quaint bits most attractive +yesterday, and stolidly regarded now those happy faces he had liked so +much but a short time before. He shook himself; this would not do; but +the work would soon cure him of vain imaginings. + +He returned to the hotel and settled with the landlady. Betty Dalrymple +was gone. Of course, there could be no denying Sir Charles and his lady; +one of the young girl's place and position in the world could not, with +reason or good grace, refuse the governor's hospitality. Mr. +Heatherbloom was hardly a suitable chaperon. But she had left a hasty +and altogether charming note for him which he read the last few moments +he spent in the courtyard room. "Come soon;" that was the substance of +it. What more could mortal have asked? Mr. Heatherbloom gazed at an +empty window where he had last seen her (had they been there only +twenty-four hours?), then he took a bit of painting on ivory from his +pocket and wrapped the message around it. Before noon he had engaged +cheap but neat lodgings at the home of an old negro woman. + +Several days passed. After waiting in vain for him to call at the +governor's mansion, Betty Dalrymple drove herself to the hotel; here she +learned that he had gone without leaving an address; a message from Sir +Charles for Mr. Heatherbloom, formally offering to put the latter up at +government house, had not been delivered. Mr. Heatherbloom had failed to +call for his mail. + +"Really, my dear, such solicitude!" murmured the governor's wife, when +Miss Dalrymple came out of the hotel. "An ordinary secret-service man, +too." + +"Oh, no; not an ordinary one," said the girl a little confusedly. She +had not taken the liberty of speaking of Mr. Heatherbloom's private +affairs to her august hosts. His true name, or his story, were his to +reveal when or where he saw fit. In taking her into his confidence he +had sealed her lips until such time as she had his permission to speak. + +"Well, don't worry about the man," observed the elder lady rather +loftily. "There has been a big reward offered, of course, and he'll +appear in due time to claim it." + +"He'll not," began Betty Dalrymple indignantly, and stopped. + +She had been obliged to explain in some way Mr. Heatherbloom's presence, +and the subterfuge he had himself employed toward her on the _Nevski_ +had been the only one that occurred to her. A brave secret-service +officer who had aided her--that's what Mr. Heatherbloom was to the +governor and his better half. Hence the distinct formality of Sir +Charles' note to Mr. Heatherbloom, indited at Miss Dalrymple's special +request and somewhat against the good baronet's own secret judgment. A +police agent may be valiant as a lion, but he is not a gentleman. + +Something of this axiomatic truth the excellent hosts strove to instill +by means, more or less subtle, in the mind of their young guest; but she +clung with odd tenacity to her own ingenuous point of view. Whereupon +Sir Charles figuratively shrugged. Reprehensible democracy of the new +world! She, with the perversity of American womankind, actually spoke +of, and, no doubt, desired to treat the fellow as an equal. + +She found him one morning, a day or two later. She came down to the +wharf, alone, and on foot. He held a note-book and pencil, but that he +had not been above lending physical assistance, on occasion, to the +natives bearing bags and other merchandise, was evident from his hands +which were grimy as a stevedore's. His shirt was open at the throat, and +his face, too, bore marks of toil. Betty Dalrymple stepped impetuously +toward him; she looked as fresh as a flower, and held out a hand gloved +in immaculate white. + +"Dare I?" he laughed. + +"If you don't!" Her eyes dared him not to take it. + +He looked at the hand, such a delicate thing, and seemed still in the +least uncertain; then his fingers closed on it. + +"You see I managed to find you," she said. "Who is that man who stares +so?" + +"That," answered Mr. Heatherbloom smiling, "is my boss." + +"Well," she observed, "I don't like his face." + +"Some of the darkies he's knocked down share, I believe, your opinion," +he laughed. "Excuse me a moment." And Mr. Heatherbloom stepped to the +dumfounded person in question, handed him the note-book and pencil, +with a request to keep tab for a moment, and then returned to the girl. +"Now, I'm at your command," he said with a smile. + +"Suppose we take a walk?" she suggested. "We can talk better if we do." + +A moment Mr. Heatherbloom wavered. "Sorry," he then said, "but I've +promised to stick by the job. You see the old tub sails to-morrow for +South America and it'll be a task to get her loaded before night. Some +of the hands, as well as the supercargo, have been bowled over by +fire-water." + +"I see." There was a strained look about her lips. Before them heavily +laden negroes and a few sailors passed and repassed. The burly +red-headed mate often looked at her; amazement and curiosity were +depicted on his features; he almost forgot the duties Mr. Heatherbloom +had, for a brief interval, thrust upon him. Betty Dalrymple, however, +had ceased to observe him; he, the others, no longer existed for her. +She saw only Mr. Heatherbloom now; what he said, she knew he meant; she +realized with an odd thrill of mingled admiration and pain that even she +could not cause him to change his mind. He would "stick to his job", +because he had said he would. + +"I'm interrupting, I fear," she said, a feeling of strange humility +sweeping over her. "When is your day's work done?" + +"About six, I expect." + +"The governor gives a ball for me to-night," she said. + +"Excellent. All the elite of the port will be there, and," with slow +meditative accent, "I can imagine how you'll look!" + +"Can you?" she asked, bending somewhat nearer. + +"Yes." His gaze was straight ahead. + +The white glove stole toward the black hand. "Why don't you come?" + +"I?" He stared. + +"Yes; the governor has sent you an invitation. He thinks you a +secret-service officer." + +Mr. Heatherbloom continued to look at her; then he glanced toward the +boat. Suddenly his hand closed; he hardly realized the white glove was +in it. "I'll do it, Betty," he exclaimed. "That is, if I can. And--there +may be a way. Yes; there will be." + +"You mean, you may be able to rent them?" With a sparkle in her glance. + +"Exactly," he answered gaily, recklessly. + +Both laughed. Then her expression changed; she suppressed an +exclamation, but gently withdrew her hand. + +"How many dances will you give me, Betty?" He had not even noticed that +he had hurt her; his voice was low and eager. + +"Ask and see," she said merrily, and went. But outside the shed, she +stretched her crushed fingers; he was very strong; he had spoiled a new +pair of gloves; she did not, however, seem greatly to mind. As for Mr. +Heatherbloom, for the balance of the day he plunged into his task with +the energy of an Antaeus. + + * * * * * + +Sir Charles regarded rather curiously that night one of his guests who +arrived late. Mr. Heatherbloom's evening garments were not a Poole fit, +and his white gloves, though white enough, had obviously been used and +cleaned often. But the host observed, also, that Mr. Heatherbloom held +himself well, said just the right thing to the hostess, and moved +through the assemblage with quite the proper poise. He didn't look +bored, neither did he appear overimpressed by the almost palatial +elegance of the ball-room. He even managed to suppress any outward signs +of elation at the sight of Miss Dalrymple with whom he had but the +opportunity for a word or two, at first. Naturally the center of +attraction, the young girl found herself forced to dance often. He, too, +whirled around with others, just whom, he did not know; he dipped into +Terpsichorean gaiety to escape the dowager's inquisition regarding that +haphazard flight from the _Nevski_ and other details he did not wish to +converse about. But his turn came with Betty at last, and sooner than he +had reason to expect. + +"Ours is the next?" she said, passing him. + +Was it? He had ventured to write his name thrice on her card, but +neither of the dances he had claimed was the next. + +"I put your name down for this one myself," she confessed to him a few +moments later. "Do you mind?" + +Did he? The evening wore away but too soon; he held her to him a little +while, only over-quickly to be obliged to yield her to another. And now, +after a third period of waiting, the time came for their last dance. He +went for it as soon as the number preceding was over; he wanted, not +only to miss none of it, but he hungered to snatch all the prelude he +could. The conventional-looking young personage she had been dancing +with regarded the approaching Mr. Heatherbloom rather resentfully, but +he moved straight as an arrow for her. At once she stepped toward him, +and he soon found himself walking with her across the smooth shining +floor, on into the great conservatory. Here were soft shadows and +wondrous perfumes. Mr. Heatherbloom breathed deeply. + +"But a few days more, and we're en route for home." It was the girl who +spoke first--lightly, gaily--though there was a thrill in her tones. + +He started and did not answer at once. "That will be great, won't it?" +His voice, too, was light, but it did not seem so spontaneously glad as +her own. + +"You _are_ pleased, aren't you?" she said suddenly. + +"Pleased? Of course!" + +A brief period of inexplicable constraint! He looked at one of her hands +resting on the edge of a great vase--at a flower she held in her +fingers. + +"May I?" he said, and just touched it. + +"Of course!" she laughed. "A modest request, after all you've done for +me!" + +Her fingers placed it in the rented coat. + +"There!" she murmured in a matter-of-fact tone, stepping back. + +His face, turned to the light, appeared paler; his eyes looked +studiously beyond her. + +"It will be jolly on the steamer, won't it?" she went on. + +"Jolly? Oh, yes," he assented, with false enthusiasm, when a black and +white apparition appeared before them, no less a person than Sir +Charles. + +The governor, as the bearer of particular news, had been looking for +her. Mr. Heatherbloom hardly appreciated the preamble or the importance +of what followed. Sir Charles imparted a bit of confidential information +they were not to breathe to any one until he had verified the +particulars. Word had just been brought to him that the _Nevski_ had +gone on a reef near a neighboring island and was a total wreck. A +passing steamer had stood by, taken off the prince and his crew and +landed them. Still Mr. Heatherbloom but vaguely heard; he felt little +interest at the moment in his excellency or his boat. Betty Dalrymple's +face, however, showed less indifference to this startling intelligence. + +"The _Nevski_ a wreck?" she murmured. + +"It must all seem like an evil dream to you now," Mr. Heatherbloom spoke +absently. "Your having ever been on her!" + +"Not all an evil one," she answered. They stood again on the ball-room +floor. "Much good has come from it. I no longer hate the prince. I only +blame myself a great deal for many things--" + +He seemed to hear only her first words. "'Good come from it?' I don't +understand." + +"But for the _Nevski_, and what happened to me, I should have gone on +thinking, as I did, about you." + +"And--would that have made such a difference?" quickly. + +She raised her eyes. "What do you think?" + +"Betty!" + +The music had begun. He who had heretofore danced perfectly, now guided +wildly. + +"Take care!" she whispered. + +But discretion seemed to have left him; he spoke he knew not what--wild +mad words that would not be suppressed. They came in contact with +another couple and were brought to an abrupt stop. Flaming poppies shone +on her cheeks; her eyes were brightly beaming. But she laughed and they +went on. He swept her out of the crowded ball-room now, on to the broad +veranda where a few other couples also moved in the starlight. On her +curved lips a smile rested; it seemed to draw his head lower. + +"Betty, do you mean it?" Again the words were wrested from him, would +come. "What your eyes said just now?" + +She lifted them again, gladly, freely--not only that-- + +"Yes; I mean it--mean it," said her lips. "Of course! Foolish boy! I +have long meant it--" + +"Long?" he cried. + +"You heard what the Russian woman said--" + +"About there being some one? Then it was--" + +"Guess." The sweet laughing lips were close; his swept them +passionately. He found the answer; the world seemed to go round. + +But later, that night, there was no joy on Mr. Heatherbloom's face. In +his room in the old negro woman's house, he indited a letter. It was +brought to Betty Dalrymple the next morning as the early sunshine +entered her chamber overlooking the governor's park. + +"Darling: Forgive me. I am sailing at dawn on the old tub, for South +America--" + +Here the note fell from the girl's hand. Long she looked out of the +window. Then she went back to the bit of paper, took it and held it +against her breast before she again read. She seemed to know now what +would be in it; the strange depression that had come over her after he +had left last night was accounted for. Of course, he would not go back +to New York with her; he would, or could, accept nothing, in the way she +wished, from her or her aunt. It was necessary for him still to be Mr. +Heatherbloom; he had not yet "found himself" fully; the beginning he had +spoken of was only begun. The influential friends of his father in the +financial world had become impossible aids; he had to continue as he had +planned, to go his own way, and his, alone. It would have been easy for +him, as his father's son and the prospective nephew of the influential +Miss Van Rolsen, to have obtained one of those large salaried positions, +or "sinecures", with little to do. But that would be only beginning at +the end once more. + +Again she essayed to read. The letter would have been a little +incomprehensible to any one except herself, but she understood. There +were three "darlings"; inexcusable tautology! She kissed them all, but +she kissed oftenest the end: "You will forgive me for forgetting +myself--God knows I didn't intend to--and you will wait; have faith? It +is much to ask--too much; but if you will, I think my father's son and +he whom you have honored by caring for, may yet prove a little worthy--" + +The words brought a sob to her throat; she threw herself back on the +bed. "A little?" she cried, still holding the note tight in her hand. +But after a spell of weeping, once more she got up and looked out of the +window. The sunshine was very bright, the birds sang to her. Did she +take heart a little? A great wave of sadness bowed her down, but +courage, too, began to revive in her. + +"Have faith?" She looked up at the sky; she would do as he asked--unto +the grave, if need be. Then, very quietly, she dressed and went +down-stairs. + + + + +EPILOGUE + + +It is very gay at the Hermitage, in Moscow, just after Easter, and so it +was natural that Sonia Turgeinov should have been there on a certain +bright afternoon some three years later. The theater, at which she once +more appeared, was closed for the afternoon, and at this season +following Holy Week and fasting, fashionables and others were wont to +congregate in the spacious cafe and grounds, where a superb orchestra +discourses classical or dashing selections. The musicians played now an +American air. + +"Some one at a table out there on the balcony sent a request by the head +waiter for it," said a member of Sonia Turgeinov's party--a Parisian +artist, not long in Moscow. + +"An American, no doubt," she answered absently, sipping her wine. The +three years had treated her kindly; the few outward changes could be +superficially enumerated: A little more embonpoint; a tendency toward a +slight drooping at the corners of the mobile lips, and moments when the +shadows seemed to stay rather longer in the deep eyes. + +"That style of music should appeal to you, Madam," observed the +Frenchman. "You who have been among those favored artists to visit the +land of the free. Did you have to play in a tent, and were you literally +showered with gold?" + +"Both," she laughed. "It is a land of many surprises." + +"I have heard _es ist alles_ 'the almighty dollar'," said a musician +from Berlin, one of the gay company. + +"Exaggeration, _mein Herr_!" she retorted, with a wave of the hand. "It +is also a _komischer romantischer_ land." For a moment she seemed +thinking. + +"Isn't that his excellency, Prince Boris Strogareff?" inquired abruptly +a young man with a beyond-the-Volga physiognomy. + +She started. "The prince?" An odd look came into her eyes. "Do you +believe in telepathic waves, Monsieur?" she said gaily to the Frenchman. + +"Not to any great extent, Madam. _Mais pourquoi?"_ + +"Nothing. But I don't see this prince you speak of." + +"He has disappeared now," replied her countryman, a fellow-player +recently come from Odessa. "It is his first dip again into the gaieties +of the world. For several years," with the proud accents of one able to +impart information concerning an important personage, "he has been +living in seclusion on his vast estates near the Caspian Sea--ruling a +kingdom greater than many a European principality. But have you never +met the prince?" To Sonia Turgeinov. "He used to be a patron of the +arts, according to report, before the sad accident that befell him." + +"I think," observed Sonia Turgeinov, with brows bent as if striving to +recollect, "I did meet him once. But a poor actress is forced to meet +so many princes and nobles, nowadays," she laughed, "that--" + +"True! Only one would not easily forget the prince, the handsomest man +in Asia." + +She yawned slightly. + +"What was this 'sad accident' you were speaking of, _mein Herr_? +observed the German, with a mind trained to conversational continuity. + +"The prince was cruising somewhere and his yacht was wrecked," said the +young Roscius from Odessa. "A number of the crew were drowned; his +excellency, when picked up, was unconscious. A blow on the head from a +falling timber, or from being dashed on the rocks, I'm not sure which. +At any rate, for a long time his life was despaired of, but he recovered +and is as strong and sound as ever. Only, there is a strange sequel; or +not so strange," reflectively, "since cases of its kind are common. The +injury was on his head, as I remarked, and his mind became--" + +"Affected, Monsieur?" said the Frenchman. "You mean this great noble of +the steppe is no longer right, mentally?" + +"He is one of the keenest satraps in Asia, Monsieur. His brain is as +alert as ever, only he has suffered a complete loss of memory." + +Sonia Turgeinov's interest was of a distinctly artificial nature; she +tapped on the floor with her foot; then abruptly arose. "Shan't we go +into the garden for our coffee?" she said. "It is close here." + +They got up and walked out. As they did so they passed a couple at one +of the tables on the balcony and a slight exclamation fell from Sonia +Turgeinov's lips. For an instant she exhibited real interest, then +hastening down the steps, she selected a place some distance aside. A +great bunch of flowers was in the center of the table and she moved her +chair behind them. + +"You see some one you know, _gnaedige_ Madam?" asked the observant +Teuton. + +"A great many people," she answered. + +"There's that American over there who asked for the Yankee piece of +music," said the Frenchman, with eyes on the two people Sonia Turgeinov +had started at sight of, a moment before. "_Mon Dieu!_ What charm! What +beauty!" + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner?_" blurted the surprised Berliner. + +"No--_diable!_ His _belle_ companion!" + +"Where?" said Sonia Turgeinov, well knowing. A face that her table +companion regarded, she, too, saw beyond the flowers. The afternoon +sunshine touched the golden hair of her she looked at; the violet eyes +shone with delight upon bizarre details: of the scene--the waiters in +blouses resembling street "white wings" in American cities, the coachmen +outside, big as balloons in their quilted cloaks. + +"_Der Herr Amerikaner_ has the passionate eyes of an admirer, a devout +lover," murmured the sentimental musician from Berlin. + +"Or an American husband!" said Roscius from Odessa. + +"Sometimes!" added the Frenchman cynically. + +"I haf met him," observed the _Herr Musikaner_, "at the hotel. +We haf talked together, once or twice. He has been in South +America--Argentine, _ich glaube_--and has made a fortune there. And +madam, his wife, and he are making a grand tour of the world. Their +wedding trip, I believe. _Sie kommt von einer der ersten Familien_--the +Dalrymples. _Der Herr Direktor_ of the Russicher-Chinese bank told me. +He cashes the drafts--_Her Gott_--_nicht kleine!_" + +These prosaic details the Frenchman, pictorially occupied, hardly, +heard. "_Mon Dieu_! What a _chapeau_!" he sighed. "No wonder he looks +enchanted at that wonderful creation of the Rue de la Paix." + +"He seems quite an exception to some husbands in that respect!" remarked +the Berliner in deep gutturals. + +Sonia Turgeinov lighted a cigarette and blew the smoke at the flowers. +There was a resentful cynicism in the act; she leaned back with greater +abandon in her chair. "After all, the unities have been observed," she +said with an odd laugh. + +"What unities?" asked Roscius, becoming keen as a young hound on the +scent, at the sound of the trite phrase. + +"Oh, I was thinking of a play." Stretching more comfortably. Suddenly +her cigarette waved; behind the flowers, her eyes dilated. Prince Boris +Strogareff was coming down the steps; he passed the American couple they +had been talking about and looked at them. A light of involuntary +admiration shone from his gaze, but there was no recognition in it--only +the instinctive tribute that a man of the world and a gallant Russian is +ever prone to pay at the sight of an unusually charming member of the +other sex. Then, once more impassive--a striking handsome figure--he +moved leisurely down and out of the gardens. The couple, engrossed at +the time in a conversation of some intimate nature or in each other, had +not even seen or noticed the august nobleman. + +Sonia Turgeinov drew harder on the cigarette; a laugh welled from her +throat. "Oh, I wouldn't have missed it for worlds!" she said. + +Young Roscius with the Tartar eyes stared at her. She threw away the +smoking cylinder. + +"I'm off!" + +"Why--" + +"Has not the curtain descended?" enigmatically. + +"I don't see any curtain," said the Frenchman. + +"No? But it's there." At the gate, however, once more she paused--to +listen, to laugh. + +"_Was jetzt_?" asked the mystified Berliner. + +She only shrugged. + +The orchestra, having played a few conventional selections after +_Dixie_, had now plunged into _Marching through Georgia_. + +As Sonia Turgeinov disappeared through the gate, the golden head +surmounted by the "wonderful _chapeau_", bent toward the clean-cut, +strong-looking face of the young man on the other side of the small +table. + +"It's awfully extravagant of you, Harry,--twenty roubles, a tip for +those musicians. But it makes it seem like home, doesn't it?" + +"Yes, darling," he answered. + + +THE END + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Man and His Money, by Frederic Stewart Isham + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MAN AND HIS MONEY *** + +***** This file should be named 10402.txt or 10402.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/4/0/10402/ + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, Audrey Longhurst, Dave Morgan and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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