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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/32302-8.txt b/32302-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ba6cc30 --- /dev/null +++ b/32302-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10711 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Destroying Angel, by Louis Joseph Vance, +Illustrated by Arthur I. Keller + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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: The Destroying Angel + + +Author: Louis Joseph Vance + + + +Release Date: May 8, 2010 [eBook #32302] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page +images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 32302-h.htm or 32302-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32302/32302-h/32302-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32302/32302-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/destroyingangel00vanciala + + +Transcriber's note: + + The oe-ligature is represented by [oe]. + + + + + +THE DESTROYING ANGEL + +by + +LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE + +Author of "The Brass Bowl," "The Bronze Bell," "The Bandbox," "Cynthia +of the Minute," Etc. + +With Four Illustrations by Arthur I. Keller + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York + +Copyright, 1912, +By Louis Joseph Vance. + +All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian. + +Published, October, 1912. + + + + +TO + +ROBERT HOBART DAVIS + + + + +[Illustration: Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder +and pity] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. DOOM + + II. THE LAST STRAW + + III. "MRS. MORTEN" + + IV. MRS. WHITAKER + + V. WILFUL MISSING + + VI. CURTAIN + + VII. THE LATE EXTRA + + VIII. A HISTORY + + IX. ENTR'ACTE + + X. THE WINDOW + + XI. THE SPY + + XII. THE MOUSE-TRAP + + XIII. OFFSHORE + + XIV. DÉBÂCLE + + XV. DISCLOSURES + + XVI. THE BEACON + + XVII. DISCOVERY + + XVIII. BLIGHT + + XIX. CAPITULATION + + XX. TEMPERAMENTAL + + XXI. BLACK OUT + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity + +Her eyes fastened dilating, upon his. The scene faltered perceptibly + +Whitaker felt land beneath his feet + +"I do not love you. You are mad to think it" + + + + +THE DESTROYING ANGEL + + + + +I + +DOOM + + +"Then I'm to understand there's no hope for me?" + +"I'm afraid not...." Greyerson said reluctantly, sympathy in his eyes. + +"None whatever." The verdict was thus brusquely emphasized by Hartt, one +of the two consulting specialists. + +Having spoken, he glanced at his watch, then at the face of his +colleague, Bushnell, who contented himself with a tolerant waggle of his +head, apparently meant to imply that the subject of their deliberations +really must be reasonable: anybody who wilfully insists on footing the +measures of life with a defective constitution for a partner has no +logical excuse for being reluctant to pay the Piper. + +Whitaker looked quickly from one to the other of his three judges, +acutely sensitive to the dread significance to be detected in the +expression of each. He found only one kind and pitiful: no more than +might have been expected of Greyerson, who was his friend. Of the +others, Hartt had assumed a stony glare to mask the nervousness so +plainly betrayed by his staccato accents; it hurt him to inflict pain, +and he was horribly afraid lest the patient break down and "make a +scene." Bushnell, on the other hand, was imperturbable by nature: a man +to whom all men were simply "cases"; he sat stroking his long chin and +hoping that Whitaker would have the decency soon to go and leave them +free to talk shop--his pet dissipation. + +Failing to extract the least glimmering of hope from the attitude of any +one of them, Whitaker drew a long breath, unconsciously bracing himself +in his chair. + +"It's funny," he said with his nervous smile--"hard to realize, I mean. +You see, I _feel_ so fit--" + +"Between attacks," Hartt interjected quickly. + +"Yes," Whitaker had to admit, dashed. + +"Attacks," said Bushnell, heavily, "recurrent at intervals constantly +more brief, each a trifle more severe than its predecessor." + +He shut his thin lips tight, as one who has consciously pronounced the +last word. + +Greyerson sighed. + +"But I don't understand," argued the prisoner at the bar, plaintively +bewildered. "Why, I rowed with the Crew three years hand-running--not a +sign of anything wrong with me!" + +"If you had then had proper professional advice, you would have spared +yourself such strains. But it's too late now; the mischief can't be +undone." + +Evidently Bushnell considered the last word his prerogative. Whitaker +turned from him impatiently. + +"What about an operation?" he demanded of Greyerson. + +The latter looked away, making only a slight negative motion with his +head. + +"The knife?" observed Hartt. "That would merely hasten matters." + +"Yes," Bushnell affirmed.... + +There was a brief uneasy silence in the gloomy consulting room. Then +Whitaker rose. + +"Well, how long will you give me?" he asked in a strained voice. + +"Six months," said Greyerson, miserably avoiding his eye. + +"Three," Hartt corrected jerkily. + +"Perhaps...." The proprietor of the last word stroked his chin with a +contemplative air. + +"Thanks," said Whitaker, without irony. He stood for an instant with his +head bowed in thought. "What a damned outrage," he observed +thoughtfully. And suddenly he turned and flung out of the room. + +Greyerson jumped to follow him, but paused as he heard the crash of the +street door. He turned back with a twitching, apologetic smile. + +"Poor devil!" he said, sitting down at his desk and fishing a box of +cigars from one of the drawers. + +"Takes it hard," commented Hartt. + +"You would, too, at his age; he's barely twenty-five." + +"Must feel more or less like a fellow whose wife has run off with his +best friend." + +"No comparison," said Bushnell bluntly. "Go out, get yourself arrested +for a brutal murder you didn't commit, get tried and sentenced to death +within six months, the precise date being left to the discretion of the +executioner--_then_ you'll know how he feels." + +"If you ask me"--Greyerson handed round the box--"he feels pretty shaky +and abused, and he wants a drink badly--the same as me." + +He unlocked a cellaret. + +"Married?" Hartt inquired. + +"No. That's the only mitigating circumstance," said Greyerson, +distributing glasses. "He's quite alone in the world, as far as I +know--no near relatives, at least." + +"Well off?" + +"Tolerably. Comes of good people. Believe his family had a lot of money +at one time. Don't know how much of it there was left for Whitaker. He's +junior partner in a young law firm down-town--senior a friend or +classmate of his, I understand: Drummond & Whitaker. Moves with the +right sort of people. Young Stark--Peter Stark--is his closest +friend.... Well.... Say when." + + + + +II + +THE LAST STRAW + + +Greyerson was right in his surmise as to Hugh Whitaker's emotions. His +soul still numb with shock, his mind was altogether preoccupied with +petulant resentment of the unfairness of it all; on the surface of the +stunning knowledge that he might count on no more than six months of +life, floated this thin film of sensation of personal grievance. He had +done nothing to deserve this. The sheer brutality of it.... + +He felt very shaky indeed. + +He stood for a long time--how long he never knew--bareheaded on a +corner, just as he had left Greyerson's office: scowling at nothing, +considering the enormity of the wrong that had been put upon him. Later, +realizing that people were staring, he clapped on his hat to satisfy +them and strode aimlessly down Sixth Avenue. It was five o'clock in the +afternoon of a day late in April--a raw, chilly, dark, unseasonable +brute of a day. He found himself walking fast, instinctively, to keep +his blood in warm circulation, and this struck him as so inconsistent +that presently he stopped short and snarled at himself: + +"You blithering fool, what difference does it make whether you're warm +or cold? Don't you understand you're going to die within half a year?" + +He strove manfully to grapple with this hideous fact. He felt so well, +so strong and efficient; and yet he walked in the black shadow of death, +a shadow from which there was for him no escape. + +He thought it the damnedest sensation imaginable! + +On top of this reflection came the third clause of Greyerson's analysis: +he made the discovery that he wanted a drink--a lot of drinks: in point +of fact, more than he had ever had before, enough to make him forget. + +He turned across-town toward Fifth Avenue, came to his club, and went +in. Passing through the office, force of habit swung his gaze to the +letter-rack. There was a square white envelope in the W pigeonhole, and +it proved to be addressed to him. He knew the handwriting very well--too +well; his heart gave a great jump as he recognized it, and then sank +like a stone; for not only must he die, but he must give up the girl he +loved and had planned to marry. The first thing he meant to do (after +getting that drink) was to write to her and explain and release her from +her promise. The next thing.... + +He refused to let the idea of the next step form in his mind. But he +knew very well what it would be. In the backwards of his understanding +it lurked--a gray, grisly, shameful shadow. + +"Anyhow," he muttered, "I'm not going to stick round here, dying by +inches, wearing the sympathy of my friends to tatters." + +But as yet he dared not name the alternative. + +He stuffed the letter into his pocket, and passed on to the elevator +gates, meaning to go up to the library and there have his drink and read +his letter and write the answer, in peace and quiet. The problem of that +answer obsessed his thoughts. It would be hard--hard to write--that +letter that meant the breaking of a woman's faithful heart. + +The elevator kept him waiting a moment or two, just round the corner +from the grill-room door, whence came a sound of voices talking and +laughing. One was Billy Hamilton's unmistakable semi-jocular drawl. +Whitaker knew it without thinking of it, even as he heard what was being +said without, at first, comprehending--heard and afterwards remembered +in vivid detail. + +"Seems to be the open season for runaways," Hamilton was saying. "It's +only a few days since Thurlow Ladislas's daughter--what's her +name?--Mary--took the bit between her teeth and bolted with the old +man's chauffeur." + +Somebody asked: "How far did they get before old Ladislas caught up?" + +"He didn't give chase. He's not that kind. If he was put to it, old +Thurlow could play the unforgiving parent in a melodrama without any +make-up whatever." + +"That's right," little Fiske's voice put in. "Chap I know on the +_Herald_--reporter--was sent to interview him, but old Ladislas told him +quite civilly that he'd been misinformed--he hadn't any daughter named +Mary. Meaning, of course, that the girl had defied him, and that his +doors were thenceforth barred to her." + +"He's just like that," said Hamilton. "Remember his other daughter, +Grace, eloping with young Pettit a few years ago? Old Ladislas had a +down on Pettit--who's a decent enough kid, notwithstanding--so Grace was +promptly disowned and cast into the outer darkness, where there's +weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, because Pettit's only +something-on-a-small-salary in the diplomatic service, and they've no +hope of ever touching a penny of the Ladislas coin." + +"But what became of them--Mary and the stoker-person?" + +"Nobody knows, except possibly themselves. They're laying low +and--probably--getting first-hand information as to the quantity of +cheese and kisses they can afford on chauffeur's pay." + +"What's she like, this Mary-quite-contrary?" inquired George Brenton's +voice. "Anybody ever see her?" + +"Oh, nothing but a kid," said little Fiske. "I used to see her often, +last summer, kiting round Southampton on a bike. The old man's so mean +he wouldn't let her use the car alone.... Weedy little beggar, all legs +and eyes--skirts to her shoe-tops and hair to her waist." + +"Not over eighteen, I gather?" + +"Oh, not a day," little Fiske affirmed. + +The elevator was waiting by this time, but Whitaker paused an instant +before taking it, chiefly because the sound of his own name, uttered by +Hamilton, had roused him out of the abstraction in which he had +overheard the preceding conversation. + +"Anyhow, I'm sorry for Hugh Whitaker. He's going to take this hard, +mighty hard." + +George Brenton asked, as if surprised: "What? I didn't know he was +interested in that quarter." + +"You must be blind. Alice Carstairs has had him going for a year. +Everybody thought she was only waiting for him to make some big +money--he as much as anybody, I fancy." + +Brenton added the last straw. "That's tough," he said soberly. +"Whitaker's a white man, and Alice Carstairs didn't deserve him. But I +wouldn't blame any man for feeling cut-up to be thrown over for an +out-and-out rotter like Percy Grimshaw...." + +Whitaker heard no more. At the first mention of the name of Alice +Carstairs he had snatched her letter from his pocket and thrust his +thumb beneath the flap. Now he had withdrawn the enclosure and was +reading. + +When a mean-spirited, selfish woman starts in to justify herself +(especially, on paper) for doing something thoroughly contemptible, the +result is apt to be bitterly unfair to everybody involved--except +herself. Nobody will ever know just what Alice Carstairs saw fit to +write to Hugh Whitaker when she made up her mind to run away with +another man; but there can be little doubt that they were venomous words +he read, standing there under the curious eyes of the elevator boy and +the pages. The blood ebbed from his face and left it ghastly, and when +he had torn the paper to shreds and let them flutter about his feet, he +swayed perceptibly--so much so that one of the pages took alarm and +jumped to his side. + +"Beg pardon, Mr. Whitaker--did you call me?" + +Whitaker steadied himself and stared until he recognized the boy. "No," +he said thickly, "but I want you. Give me a bar order." + +The boy produced the printed form and Whitaker hastily scribbled his +order on it. "Bring that up to the library," he said, "and be quick +about it." + +He stumbled into the elevator, and presently found himself in the +library. There was no one else about, and Whitaker was as glad of that +as it was in him to be glad of anything just then. He dropped heavily +into a big arm-chair and waited, his brain whirling and seething, his +nerves on edge and screeching. In this state Peter Stark found him. + +Peter sauntered into the room with a manner elaborately careless. +Beneath that mask he was anything but indifferent, just as his +appearance was anything but fortuitous. It happened that the page who +had taken Whitaker's order, knowing that Peter and Hugh were close +friends, and suspecting that something was wrong with the latter, had +sought out Peter before going to get the order filled. Moreover, Peter +had already heard about Alice Carstairs and Percy Grimshaw. + +"Hel-_lo_!" he said, contriving by mere accident to catch sight of +Whitaker, who was almost invisible in the big chair with its back to the +body of the room. "What you doing up here, Hugh? What's up?" + +"It's all up," said Whitaker, trying to pull himself together. +"Everything's up!" + +"Don't believe it," said Stark, coolly. "My feet are on the ground; but +you look as if you'd seen a ghost." + +"I have--my own," said Whitaker. The page now stood beside him with a +tray. "Open it," he told the boy, indicating a half-bottle of champagne; +and then to Peter: "I'm having a bath. Won't you jump in?" + +Peter whistled, watching the wine cream over the brandy in the long +glass. "King's peg, eh?" he said, with a lift of disapproving eyebrows. +"Here, boy, bring me some Scotch and plain water for common people." + +The boy disappeared as Whitaker lifted his glass. + +"I'm not waiting," he said bluntly. "I need this now." + +"That's a question, in my mind, at least. Don't you think you've had +about enough for one day?" + +"I leave it to your superior knowledge of my capacity," said Whitaker, +putting aside the empty glass. "That's my first to-day." + +Peter saw that he was telling the truth, but the edge of his disapproval +remained keen. + +"I hope," he said thoughtfully, "that the man who started that lie about +drink making a fellow forget died the death of a dog. He deserved to, +anyway, because it's one of the cruellest practical jokes ever +perpetrated on the human race. I know, because I've tried it on, +hard--and waked up sick to my marrow to remember what a disgusting ass +I'd made of myself for all to behold." He stopped at Whitaker's side and +dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Hugh," he said, "you're one of the +best. Don't...." + +Whatever he had meant to say, he left unfinished because of the return +of the page with his Scotch; but he had said enough to let Whitaker +understand that he knew about the Carstairs affair. + +"That's all right," said Whitaker; "I'm not going to make a damn' fool +of myself, but I am in a pretty bad way. Boy--" + +"Hold on!" Peter interrupted. "You're not going to order another? What +you've had is enough to galvanize a corpse." + +"Barring the negligible difference of a few minutes or months, that's +me," returned Whitaker. "But never mind, boy--run along." + +"I'd like to know what you mean by that," Peter remarked, obviously +worried. + +"I mean that I'm practically a dead man--so near it that it makes no +difference." + +"The devil you say! What's the matter with you?" + +"Ask Greyerson. I can't remember the name--it's too long--and I couldn't +pronounce it if I did." + +Peter's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness has Greyerson been putting into +your head?" he demanded. "I've a good mind to go punch his--" + +"It isn't his fault," Whitaker asserted. "It's my own--or rather, it's +something in the nature of a posthumous gift from my progenitors; +several of 'em died of it, and now it seems I must. Greyerson says so, +at least, and when I didn't believe him he called in Hartt and Bushnell +to hold my ante-mortem. They made it unanimous. If I'm uncommonly lucky +I may live to see next Thanksgiving." + +"Oh, shut up!" Peter exploded viciously. "You make me tired--you and +your bone-headed M.D.'s!" + +He worked himself into a comforting rage, damning the medical fraternity +liberally for a gang of bloodthirsty assassins and threatening to commit +assault and battery upon the person of Greyerson, though Whitaker did +his best to make him understand that matters were what they +were--irremediable. + +"You won't find any higher authorities than Hartt and Bushnell," he +said. "They are the court of last resort in such cases. When they hand +down a decision, there's no come-back." + +"You can't make me believe that," Peter insisted. "It just can't be so. +A man like you, who's always lived clean.... Why, look at your athletic +record! Do you mean to tell me a fellow could hold a job as undisputed +best all-round man in his class for four years, and all the time +handicapped by a constitutional...? Oh, get out! Don't talk to me. I'm +far more likely to be doing my bit beneath the daisies six months from +now.... I won't believe it!" + +His big, red, generous fist described a large and inconclusive gesture +of violence. + +"Well," he growled finally, "grant all this--which I don't, not for one +little minute--what do you mean to do?" + +"I don't mind telling you," said Whitaker: "I don't know. Wish I did. Up +to within the last few minutes I fully intended to cut the knot with my +own knife. It's not reasonable to ask a man to sit still and watch +himself go slowly to pieces...." + +"No," said Stark, sitting down. "No," he admitted grudgingly; "but I'm +glad you've given that up, because I'm right and all these fool doctors +are wrong. You'll see. But...." He couldn't help being curious. "But +why?" + +"Well," Whitaker considered slowly--"it's Alice Carstairs. You know what +she's done." + +"You don't mean to say you're going--that you think there's any +consideration due her?" + +"Don't you?" Whitaker smiled wearily. "Perhaps you're right. I don't +know. We won't discuss the ethics of the situation; right or wrong, I +don't mean to shadow whatever happiness she has in store for her by +ostentatiously snuffing myself out just now." + +Peter gulped and succeeded in saying nothing. But he stared. + +"At the same time," Whitaker resumed, "I don't think I can stand this +sort of thing. I can't go round with my flesh creeping to hear the +whisperings behind my back. I've got to do something--get away +somewhere." + +Abrupt inspiration sparked the imagination of Peter Stark, and he began +to sputter with enthusiasm. + +"I've got it!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "A sea trip's just the +thing. Chances are, it'll turn the trick--bring you round all right-O, +and prove what asses doctors are. What d'you say? Are you game for a +sail? The _Adventuress_ is laid up at New Bedford now, but I can have +her put in commission within three days. We'll do it--we'll just light +out, old man! We'll try that South Seas thing we've talked about so +long. What d'you say?" + +A warm light glowed in Whitaker's sunken eyes. He nodded slowly. + + + + +III + +"MRS. MORTEN" + + +It was three in the morning before Peter Stark, having to the best of +his endurance and judgment tired Whitaker out with talking, took his hat +and his departure from Whitaker's bachelor rooms. He went with little +misgiving; Whitaker was so weary that he would have to sleep before he +could think and again realize his terror; and everything was arranged. +Peter had telegraphed to have the _Adventuress_ rushed into commission; +they were to go aboard her the third day following. In the meantime, +Whitaker would have little leisure in which to brood, the winding up of +his affairs being counted upon to occupy him. Peter had his own affairs +to look to, for that matter, but he was prepared to slight them if +necessary, in order that Whitaker might not be left too much to +himself.... + +Whitaker shut the hall door, when the elevator had taken Peter away, and +turned back wearily into his living-room. It was three in the morning; +his body ached with fatigue, his eyes were hot and aching in their +sockets, and his mouth hot and parched with excess of smoking; yet he +made no move toward his bedchamber. Insomnia was a diagnostic of his +malady: a fact he hadn't mentioned to his friend. He had little wish to +surrender his mind to the devils that haunt a wakeful pillow, especially +now when he could feel the reaction setting in from the anodynous +excitement of the last few hours. Peter Stark's whirlwind enthusiasm had +temporarily swept him off his feet, and he had yielded to it, +unresisting, selfish enough to want to be carried away against the wiser +counsels of his intuition. + +But now, alone, doubts beset him. + +Picking his way across a floor littered with atlases, charts, maps and +guide-books, he resumed his chair and pipe and with the aid of a copy of +"The Wrecker" and a nightcap, strove to drug himself again with the +fascination of the projected voyage. But the savour had gone out of it +all. An hour before he had been able to distil a potent magic, thought +obliterating, by sheer force of repetition of the names, Apia, Hawaii, +Tahiti, Samoa.... Now all their promise was an emptiness and a mockery. +The book slipped unheeded from his grasp; his pipe grew cold between his +teeth; his eyes burned like lamps in their deep hollows, with their +steady and undeviating glare.... + +Dawn-dusk filled the high windows with violet light before he moved. + +He rose, went to the bath-room and took a bottle of chloral from the +medicine-closet. He wondered at the steadiness of the hand that measured +out the prescribed dose--no more, no less. He wondered at the strength +of will which enabled him to take no more. There was enough in the +bottle to purchase him eternity. + +What he took bought him three hours of oblivion. He rose at eight, +ordered his breakfast up by telephone, bathed and dressed. When the tray +came up, his mail came with it. Among others there was one letter in a +woman's hand which he left till the last, amusing himself by trying to +guess the identity of the writer, the writing being not altogether +strange to him. When at length he gave over this profitless employment, +he read: + + "DEAR HUGH: I can call you that, now, because you're Peter's + dearest friend and therefore mine, and the proof of that is that + I'm telling you first of all of our great happiness. Peter and I + found out that we loved one another only yesterday, so we're going + to be married the first of June and...." + +Whitaker read no more. He could guess the rest, and for the moment he +felt too sick a man to go through to the end. Indeed, the words were +blurring and running together beneath his gaze. + +After a long time he put the letter aside, absent-mindedly swallowed a +cup of lukewarm coffee and rose from an otherwise untasted meal. + +"That settles that, of course," he said quietly. "And it means I've got +to hustle to get ahead of Peter." + +He set busily about his preparations, thinking quickly while he packed. +It occurred to him that he had, after all, several hours in which to +catch together the loose ends of things and make an exit without leaving +the businesses of his clients in a hopeless snarl; Peter Stark would +sleep till eleven, at least, and it would be late in the afternoon +before the young man could see his fiancée and find out from her that +Whitaker knew of the sacrifice Peter contemplated for friendship's sake. + +Whitaker packed a hand-bag with a few essentials, not forgetting the +bottle of chloral. He was not yet quite sure what he meant to do after +he had definitely put himself out of Peter Stark's sphere of influence, +but he hadn't much doubt that the drug was destined to play a most +important part in the ultimate solution, and would as readily have +thought of leaving it behind as of going without a toothbrush or railway +fare. + +Leaving the bag in the parcels-room at the Grand Central Station, he +went down-town to his office and put in a busy morning. Happily his +partner, Drummond, was out of town for the day; so he was able to put +his desk in order unhindered by awkward questionings. He worked +expeditiously, having no callers until just before he was ready to +leave. Then he was obliged to admit one who desired to make a settlement +in an action brought against him by Messrs. Drummond & Whitaker. He took +Whitaker's receipt for the payment in cash, leaving behind him fifteen +one-hundred-dollar notes. Whitaker regarded this circumstance as a +special dispensation of Providence to save him the bother of stopping at +the bank on his way up-town; drew his personal check for the right +amount and left it with a memorandum under the paper-weight on +Drummond's desk; put a match to a shredded pile of personal +correspondence in the fireplace; and caught a train at the Grand Central +at one-three. + +Not until the cars were in motion did he experience any sense of +security from Peter Stark. He had been apprehensive until that moment of +some unforeseen move on the part of his friend; Peter was capable of +wide but sure casts of intuition on occasion, especially where his +affections were touched. But now Whitaker felt free, free to abandon +himself to meditative despair; and he did it, as he did most things, +thoroughly. He plunged headlong into an everlasting black pit of terror. +He considered the world through the eyes of a man sick unto death, and +found it without health. Behind him lay his home, a city without a +heart, a place of pointing fingers and poisoned tongues; before him the +brief path of Fear that he must tread: his broken, sword-wide span +leaping out over the Abyss.... + +He was anything but a patient man at all times, and anything but sane in +that dark hour. Cold horror crawled in his brain like a delirium--horror +of himself, of his morbid flesh, of that moribund body unfit to sheathe +the clean fire of life. The thought of struggling to keep animate that +corrupt Self, tainted by the breath of Death, was invincibly terrible to +him. All sense of human obligation disappeared from his cosmos; remained +only the biting hunger for eternal peace, rest, freedom from the bondage +of existence.... + +At about four o'clock the train stopped to drop the dining-car. Wholly +swayed by blind impulse, Whitaker got up, took his hand-bag and left the +car. + +On the station platform he found himself pelted by a pouring rain. He +had left Town in a sodden drizzle, dull and dismal enough in all +conscience; here was a downpour out of a sky three shades lighter than +India ink--a steadfast, grim rain that sluiced the streets like a +gigantic fire-hose, brimming the gutters with boiling, muddy torrents. + +The last to leave the train, he found himself without a choice of +conveyances; but one remained at the edge of the platform, an aged and +decrepit four-wheeler whose patriarchal driver upon the box might have +been Death himself masquerading in dripping black oilskins. To +Whitaker's inquiry he recommended the C'mercial House. Whitaker agreed +and imprisoned himself in the body of the vehicle, sitting on stained +and faded, threadbare cushions, in company with two distinct odours, of +dank and musty upholstery and of stale tuberoses. As they rocked and +crawled away, the blind windows wept unceasingly, and unceasingly the +rain drummed the long roll on the roof. + +In time they stopped before a rambling structure whose weather-boarded +façade, white with flaking paint, bore the legend: COMMERCIAL HOUSE. +Whitaker paid his fare and, unassisted, carried his hand-bag up the +steps and across the rain-swept veranda into a dim, cavernous hall whose +walls were lined with cane-seated arm-chairs punctuated at every second +chair by a commodious brown-fibre cuspidor. A cubicle fenced off in one +corner formed the office proper--for the time being untenanted. There +was, indeed, no one in sight but a dejected hall-boy, innocent of any +sort of livery. On demand he accommodatingly disentangled himself from a +chair, a cigarette and a paper-backed novel, and wandered off down a +corridor, ostensibly to unearth the boss. + +Whitaker waited by the desk, a gaunt, weary man, hag-ridden by fear. +There was in his mind a desolate picture of the room up-stairs when +he--his soul: the imperishable essence of himself--should have finished +with it.... + +At his elbow lay the hotel register, open at a page neatly headed with a +date in red ink. An absence of entries beneath the date-line seemed to +indicate that he was the first guest of the day. Near the book was a +small wooden corral neatly partitioned into stalls wherein were herded +an ink-well, toothpicks, matches, some stationery, and--severely by +itself--a grim-looking raw potato of uncertain age, splotched with ink +and wearing like horns two impaled penholders. + +Laboriously prying loose one of the latter, Whitaker registered; but +two-thirds of his name was all he entered; when it came to "Whitaker," +his pen paused and passed on to write "Philadelphia" in the residence +column. + +The thought came to him that he must be careful to obliterate all +laundry marks on his clothing. + +In his own good time the clerk appeared: a surly, heavy-eyed, loutish +creature in clothing that suggested he had been grievously misled by +pictures in the advertising pages of magazines. Whitaker noted, with +insensate irritation, that he wore his hair long over one eye, his mouth +ajar, his trousers high enough to disclose bony purple ankles. His +welcome to the incoming guest was comprised in an indifferent nod as +their eyes met, and a subsequent glance at the register which seemed +unaccountably to moderate his apathy. + +"Mr. Morton--uh?" he inquired. + +Whitaker nodded without words. + +The youth shrugged and scrawled an hieroglyph after the name. "Here, +Sammy," he said to the boy--"Forty-three." To Whitaker he addressed the +further remark: "Trunks?" + +"No." + +The youth seemed about to expostulate, but checked when Whitaker placed +one of his hundred-dollar notes on the counter. + +"I think that'll cover my liability," he said with a significance +misinterpreted by the other. + +"I ain't got enough change--" + +"That's all right; I'm in no hurry." + +The eyes of the lout followed him as he ascended the stairs in the path +of Sammy, who had already disappeared. Annoyed, Whitaker quickened his +pace to escape the stare. On the second floor he discovered the bell-boy +waiting some distance down a long, darksome corridor, indifferently +lighted by a single window at its far end. As Whitaker came into view, +the boy thrust open the door, disappeared for an instant, and came out +minus the bag. Whitaker gave him a coin in passing--an attention which +he acknowledged by pulling the door to with a bang the moment the guest +had entered the room. At the same time Whitaker became aware of a +contretemps. + +The room was of fair size, lighted by two windows overlooking the tin +roof of the front veranda. It was furnished with a large double bed in +the corner nearest the door a wash-stand, two or three chairs, a +bandy-legged table with a marble top; and it was tenanted by a woman in +street dress. + +She stood by the wash-stand, with her back to the light, her attitude +one of tense expectancy: hardly more than a silhouette of a figure +moderately tall and very slight, almost angular in its slenderness. She +had been holding a tumbler in one hand, but as Whitaker appeared this +slipped from her fingers; there followed a thud and a sound of spilt +liquid at her feet. Simultaneously she cried out inarticulately in a +voice at once harsh and tremulous; the cry might have been "_You!_" or +"_Hugh!_" Whitaker took it for the latter, and momentarily imagined that +he had stumbled into the presence of an acquaintance. He was pulling off +his hat and peering at her shadowed face in an effort to distinguish +features possibly familiar to him, when she moved forward a pace or two, +her hands fluttering out toward him, then stopped as though halted by a +force implacable and overpowering. + +"I thought," she quavered in a stricken voice--"I thought ... you ... my +husband ... Mr. Morton ... the boy said...." + +Then her knees buckled under her, and she plunged forward and fell with +a thump that shook the walls. + +"I'm sorry--I beg pardon," Whitaker stammered stupidly to ears that +couldn't hear. He swore softly with exasperation, threw his hat to a +chair and dropped to his knees beside the woman. It seemed as if the +high gods were hardly playing fair, to throw a fainting woman on his +hands just then, at a time when he was all preoccupied with his own +absorbing tragedy. + +She lay with her head naturally pillowed on the arm she had +instinctively thrown out to protect her face. He could see now that her +slenderness was that of youth, of a figure undeveloped and immature. Her +profile, too, was young, though it stood out against the dark background +of the carpet as set and white as a death-mask. Indeed, her pallor was +so intense that a fear touched his heart, of an accident more serious +than a simple fainting spell. Her respiration seemed entirely suspended, +and it might have been merely his fancy that detected the least +conceivable syncopated pulsation in the icy wrist beneath his fingers. + +He weighed quickly half a dozen suggestions. His fundamental impulse, to +call in feminine aid from the staff of the hotel, was promptly relegated +to the status of a last resort, as involving explanations which might +not seem adequate to the singular circumstances; besides, he entertained +a dim, searching, intuitive suspicion that possibly the girl herself +would more cheerfully dispense with explanations--though he hardly knew +why.... He remembered that people burned feathers in such emergencies, +or else loosened the lady's stays (corsets plus a fainting fit equal +stays, invariably, it seems). But there weren't any feathers handy, +and--well, anyway, neither expedient made any real appeal to his +intelligence. Besides, there were sensible things he could do to make +her more comfortable--chafe her hands and administer stimulants: things +like that. + +Even while these thoughts were running through his mind, he was +gathering the slight young body into his arms; and he found it really +astonishingly easy to rise and bear her to the bed, where he put her +down flat on her back, without a pillow. Then turning to his hand-bag, +he opened it and produced a small, leather-bound flask of brandy; a +little of which would go far toward shattering her syncope, he fancied. + +It did, in fact; a few drops between her half-parted lips, and she came +to with disconcerting rapidity, opening dazed eyes in the middle of a +spasm of coughing. He stepped back, stoppering the flask. + +"That's better," he said pleasantly. "Now lie still while I fetch you a +drink of water." + +As he turned to the wash-stand his foot struck the tumbler she had +dropped. He stopped short, frowning down at the great, staring, wet, +yellow stain on the dingy and threadbare carpet. Together with this +discovery he got a whiff of an acrid-sweet effluvium that spelled +"_Oxalic Acid--Poison_" as unmistakably as did the druggist's label on +the empty packet on the wash-stand.... + +In another moment he was back at the bedside with a clean glass of +water, which he offered to the girl's lips, passing his arm beneath her +shoulders and lifting her head so that she might drink. + +She emptied the glass thirstily. + +"Look here," he said almost roughly under the lash of this new +fear--"you didn't really drink any of that stuff, did you?" + +Her eyes met his with a look of negation clouded by fear and +bewilderment. Then she turned her head away. Dragging a pillow beneath +it, he let her down again. + +"Good," he said in accents meant to be enheartening; "you'll be all +right in a moment or two." + +Her colourless lips moved in a whisper he had to bend close to +distinguish. + +"Please...." + +"Yes?" + +"Please don't ... call anybody...." + +"I won't. Don't worry." + +The lids quivered down over her eyes, and her mouth was wrung with +anguish. He stared, perplexed. He wanted to go away quickly, but +couldn't gain his own consent to do so. She was in no condition to be +left alone, this delicate and fragile child, defenceless and beset. It +wasn't hard to conjecture the hell of suffering she must have endured +before coming to a pass of such desperation. There were dull blue +shadows beneath eyes red with weeping, a forlorn twist to her thin, +bloodless lips, a pinched look of wretchedness like a glaze over her +unhappy face, that told too plain a story. A strange girl, to find in a +plight like hers, he thought: not pretty, but quite unusual: delicate, +sensitive, high-strung, bred to the finer things of life--this last was +self-evident in the fine simplicity of her severely plain attire. Over +her hair, drawn tight down round her head, she wore one of those knitted +motor caps which were the fashion of that day. Her shoes were still wet +and a trifle muddy, her coat and skirt more than a trifle damp, +indicating that she had returned from a dash to the drug store not long +before Whitaker arrived. + +A variety of impressions, these with others less significant, crowded +upon his perceptions in little more than a glance. For suddenly Nature +took her in hand; she twisted upon her side, as if to escape his regard, +and covered her face, her palms muffling deep tearing sobs while waves +of pent-up misery racked her slender little body. + +Whitaker moved softly away.... + +Difficult, he found it, to guess what to do; more difficult still to do +nothing. His nerves were badly jangled; light-footed, he wandered +restlessly to and fro, half distracted between the storm of weeping that +beat gustily within the room and the deadly blind drum of the downpour +on the tin roof beyond the windows. Since that twilight hour in that +tawdry hotel chamber, no one has ever been able to counterfeit sorrow +and remorse to Whitaker; he listened then to the very voice of utter +Woe. + +Once, pausing by the centre-table, he happened to look down. He saw a +little heap of the hotel writing-paper, together with envelopes, a pen, +a bottle of ink. Three of the envelopes were sealed and superscribed, +and two were stamped. The unstamped letter was addressed to the +Proprietor of the Commercial House. + +Of the others, one was directed to a Mr. C. W. Morton in care of another +person at a number on lower Sixth Avenue, New York; and from this +Whitaker began to understand the singular manner of his introduction to +the wrong room; there's no great difference between _Morton_ and +_Morten_, especially when written carelessly. + +But the third letter caused his eyes to widen considerably. It bore the +name of Thurlow Ladislas, Esq., and a Wall Street address. + +Whitaker's mouth shaped a still-born whistle. He was recalling with +surprising distinctness the fragment of dialogue he had overheard at his +club the previous afternoon. + + + + +IV + +MRS. WHITAKER + + +He lived through a long, bad quarter hour, his own tensed nerves +twanging in sympathy with the girl's sobbing--like telegraph wires +singing in a gale--his mind busy with many thoughts, thoughts strangely +new and compelling, wearing a fresh complexion that lacked altogether +the colouring of self-interest. + +He mixed a weak draught of brandy and water and returned to the bedside. +The storm was passing in convulsive gasps ever more widely spaced, but +still the girl lay with her back to him. + +"If you'll sit up and try to drink this," he suggested quietly, "I think +you'll feel a good deal better." + +Her shoulders moved spasmodically; otherwise he saw no sign that she +heard. + +"Come--please," he begged gently. + +She made an effort to rise, sat up on the bed, dabbed at her eyes with a +sodden wisp of handkerchief, and groped blindly for the glass. He +offered it to her lips. + +"What is it?" she whispered hoarsely. + +He spoke of the mixture in disparaging terms as to its potency, until at +length she consented to swallow it--teeth chattering on the rim of the +tumbler. The effect was quickly apparent in the colour that came into +her cheeks, faint but warm. He avoided looking directly at her, however, +and cast round for the bell-push, which he presently found near the head +of the bed. + +She moved quickly with alarm. + +"What are you going to do?" she demanded in a stronger voice. + +"Order you something to eat," he said. "No--please don't object. You +need food, and I mean to see you get it before I leave." + +If she thought of protesting, the measured determination in his manner +deterred her. After a moment she asked: + +"Please--who are you?" + +"My name is Whitaker," he said--"Hugh Morten Whitaker." + +She repeated the name aloud. "Haven't I heard of you? Aren't you engaged +to Alice Carstairs?" + +"I'm the man you mean," he said quietly; "but I'm not engaged to Alice +Carstairs." + +"Oh...." Perplexity clouded the eyes that followed closely his every +movement. "How did you happen to--to find me here?" + +"Quite by accident," he replied. "I didn't want to be known, so +registered as Hugh Morten. They mistook me for your husband. Do you mind +telling me how long it is since you've had anything to eat?" + +She told him: "Last night." + +He suffered a sense of shame only second to her own, to see the dull +flush that accompanied her reply. His fingers itched for the throat of +Mr. C. W. Morton, chauffeur. Happily a knock at the door distracted him. +Opening it no wider than necessary to communicate with the bell-boy, he +gave him an order for the kitchen, together with an incentive to speed +the service. + +Closing the door, he swung round to find that the girl had got to her +feet. + +"He won't be long--" Whitaker began vaguely. + +"I want to tell you something." She faced him bravely, though he refused +the challenge of her tormented eyes. "I ... I have no husband." + +He bowed gravely. + +"You're so good to me--" she faltered. + +"O--nothing! Let's not talk about that now." + +"I must talk--you must let me. You're so kind, I've got to tell you. +Won't you listen?" + +He had crossed to a window, where he stood staring out. "I'd rather +not," he said softly, "but if you prefer--" + +"I do prefer," said the voice behind him. "I--I'm Mary Ladislas." + +"Yes," said Whitaker. + +"I ... I ran away from home last week--five days ago--to get married to +our chauffeur, Charles Morton...." + +She stammered. + +"Please don't go on, if it hurts," he begged without looking round. + +"I've got to--I've got to get it over with.... We were at Southampton, +at my father's summer home--I mean, that's where I ran away from. +He--Charley--drove me over to Greenport and I took the ferry there and +came here to wait for him. He went back to New York in the car, +promising to join me here as soon as possible...." + +"And he didn't come," Whitaker wound up for her, when she faltered. + +"No." + +"And you wrote and telegraphed, and he didn't answer." + +"Yes--" + +"How much money of yours did he take with him?" Whitaker pursued. + +There was a brief pause of astonishment. "What do you know about that?" +she demanded. + +"I know a good deal about that type of man," he said grimly. + +"I didn't have any money to speak of, but I had some jewellery--my +mother's--and he was to take that and pawn it for money to get married +with." + +"I see." + +To his infinite relief the waiter interrupted them. The girl in her turn +went to one of the windows, standing with her back to the room, while +Whitaker admitted the man with his tray. When they were alone once more, +he fixed the place and drew a chair for her. + +"Everything's ready," he said--and had the sense not to try to make his +tone too cheerful. + +"I hadn't finished what I wanted to tell you," said the girl, coming +back to him. + +"Will you do me the favour to wait," he pleaded. "I think things will +seem--well, otherwise--when you've had some food." + +"But I--" + +"Oh, please!" he begged with his odd, twisted smile. + +She submitted, head drooping and eyes downcast. He returned to his +window, rather wishing that he had thought to order for himself as well +as for the girl; for it was suddenly borne strongly in upon him that he +himself had had little enough to eat since dinner with Peter Stark. He +lighted a cigarette, by way of dulling his appetite, and then let it +smoulder to ashes between his fingers, while he lost himself in profound +speculations, in painstaking analysis of the girl's position. + +Subconsciously he grew aware that the storm was moderating perceptibly, +the sky breaking.... + +"I've finished," the girl announced at length. + +"You're feeling better?" + +"Stronger, I think." + +"Is there anything more--?" + +"If you wouldn't mind sitting down--" + +She had twisted her arm-chair away from the table. Whitaker took a seat +a little distance from her, with a keen glance appraising the change in +her condition and finding it not so marked as he had hoped. Still, she +seemed measurably more composed and mistress of her emotions, though he +had to judge mostly by her voice and manner, so dark was the room. +Through the shadows he could see little more than masses of light and +shade blocking in the slender figure huddled in a big, dilapidated +chair--the pallid oval of her face, and the darkness of her wide, +intent, young eyes. + +"Don't!" she cried sharply. "Please don't look at me so--" + +"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to--" + +"It's only--only that you make me think of what you must be thinking +about me--" + +"I think you're rather fortunate," he said slowly. + +"Fortunate!" + +He shivered a little with the chill bitterness of that cry. + +"You've had a narrow but a wonderfully lucky escape." + +"Oh! ... But I'm not glad ... I was desperate--" + +"I mean," he interrupted coolly, "from Mr. Morton. The silver lining is, +you're not married to a blackguard." + +"Oh, yes, yes!" she agreed passionately. + +"And you have youth, health, years of life before you!" + +He sighed inaudibly.... + +"You wouldn't say that, if you understood." + +"There are worse things to put up with than youth and health and the +right to live." + +"But--how can I live? What am I to do?" + +"Have you thought of going home?" + +"It isn't possible." + +"Have you made sure of that? Have you written to your +father--explained?" + +"I sent him a special delivery three days ago, and--and yesterday a +telegram. I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I ... I told him +everything. He didn't answer. He won't, ever." + +From what Whitaker knew of Thurlow Ladislas, he felt this to be too +cruelly true to admit of further argument. At a loss, he fell silent, +knitting his hands together as he strove to find other words wherewith +to comfort and reassure the girl. + +She bent forward, elbows on knees, head and shoulders cringing. + +"It hurts so!" she wailed ... "what people will think ... the shame, the +bitter, bitter shame of this! And yet I haven't any right to complain. I +deserve it all; I've earned my punishment." + +"Oh, I say--!" + +"But I have, because--because I didn't love him. I didn't love him at +all, and I knew it, even though I meant to marry him...." + +"But, why--in Heaven's name?" + +"Because I was so lonely and ... misunderstood and unhappy at home. +You don't know how desperately unhappy.... No mother, never daring +to see my sister (she ran away, too) ... my friendships at school +discouraged ... nothing in life but a great, empty, lonesome house +and my father to bully me and make cruel fun of me because I'm not +pretty.... That's why I ran away with a man I didn't love--because +I wanted freedom and a little happiness." + +"Good Lord!" he murmured beneath his breath, awed by the pitiful, +childish simplicity of her confession and the deep damnation that had +waited upon her. + +"So it's over!" she cried--"over, and I've learned my lesson, and I'm +disgraced forever, and friendless and--" + +"Stop right there!" he checked her roughly. "You're not friendless yet, +and that nullifies all the rest. Be glad you've had your romance and +learned your lesson--" + +"Please don't think I'm not grateful for your kindness," she +interrupted. "But the disgrace--that can't be blotted out!" + +"Oh, yes, it can," he insisted bluntly. "There's a way I know--" + +A glimmering of that way had only that instant let a little light in +upon the darkness of his solicitous distress for her. He rose and began +to walk and think, hands clasped behind him, trying to make what he had +in mind seem right and reasonable. + +"You mean beg my father to take me back. I'll die first!" + +"There mustn't be any more talk, or even any thought, of anything like +that. I understand too well to ask the impossible of you. But there is +one way out--a perfectly right way--if you're willing and brave enough +to take a chance--a long chance." + +Somehow she seemed to gain hope of his tone. She sat up, following him +with eyes that sought incredulously to believe. + +"Have I any choice?" she asked. "I'm desperate enough...." + +"God knows," he said, "you'll have to be!" + +"Try me." + +He paused, standing over her. + +"Desperate enough to marry a man who's bound to die within six months +and leave you free? I'm that man: the doctors give me six months more of +life. I'm alone in the world, with no one dependent upon me, nothing to +look forward to but a death that will benefit nobody--a useless end to a +useless life.... Will you take my name to free yourself? Heaven my +witness, you're welcome to it." + +"Oh," she breathed, aghast, "what are you saying?" + +"I'm proposing marriage," he said, with his quaint, one-sided smile. +"Please listen: I came to this place to make a quick end to my +troubles--but I've changed my mind about that, now. What's happened in +this room has made me see that nobody has any right to--hasten things. +But I mean to leave the country--immediately--and let death find me +where it will. I shall leave behind me a name and a little money, +neither of any conceivable use to me. Will you take them, employ them to +make your life what it was meant to be? It's a little thing, but it will +make me feel a lot more fit to go out of this world--to know I've left +at least one decent act to mark my memory. There's only this far-fetched +chance--I _may_ live. It's a million-to-one shot, but you've got to bear +it in mind. But really you can't lose--" + +"Oh, stop, stop!" she implored him, half hysterical. "To think of +marrying to benefit by the death of a man like you--!" + +"You've no right to look at it that way." He had a wry, secret smile for +his specious sophistry. "You're being asked to confer, not to accept, a +favour. It's just an act of kindness to a hopeless man. I'd go mad if I +didn't know you were safe from a recurrence of the folly of this +afternoon." + +"Don't!" she cried--"don't tempt me. You've no right.... You don't know +how frantic I am...." + +"I do," he countered frankly. "I'm depending on just that to swing you +to my point of view. You've got to come to it. I mean you shall marry +me." + +She stared up at him, spell-bound, insensibly yielding to the domination +of his will. It was inevitable. He was scarcely less desperate than +she--and no less overwrought and unstrung; and he was the stronger; in +the natural course of things his will could not but prevail. She was +little more than a child, accustomed to yield and go where others led or +pointed out the path. What resistance could she offer to the domineering +importunity of a man of full stature, arrogant in his strength +and--hounded by devils? And he in the fatuity of his soul believed that +he was right, that he was fighting for the girl's best interests, +fighting--and not ungenerously--to save her from the ravening +consequences of her indiscretion! + +The bald truth is, he was hardly a responsible agent: distracted by the +ravings of an ego mutinous in the shadow of annihilation, as well as by +contemplation of the girl's wretched plight, he saw all things in +distorted perspective. He had his being in a nightmare world of +frightful, insane realities. He could have conceived of nothing too +terrible and preposterous to seem reasonable and right.... + +The last trace of evening light had faded out of the world before they +were agreed. Darkness wrapped them in its folds; they were but as voices +warring in a black and boundless void. + +Whitaker struck a match and applied it to the solitary gas-jet. A thin, +blue, sputtering tongue of flame revealed them to one another. The girl +still crouched in her arm-chair, weary and spent, her powers of +contention all vitiated by the losing struggle. Whitaker was trembling +with nervous fatigue. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"Oh, have your own way," she said drearily. "If it must be...." + +"It's for the best," he insisted obstinately. "You'll never regret it." + +"One of us will--either you or I," she said quietly. "It's too +one-sided. You want to give all and ask nothing in return. It's a fool's +bargain." + +He hesitated, stammering with surprise. She had a habit of saying the +unexpected. "A fool's bargain"--the wisdom of the sage from the lips of +a child.... + +"Then it's settled," he said, business-like, offering his hand. "Fool's +bargain or not--it's a bargain." + +She rose unassisted, then trusted her slender fingers to his palm. She +said nothing. The steady gaze of her extraordinary eyes abashed him. + +"Come along and let's get it over," he muttered clumsily. "It's late, +and there's a train to New York at half-past ten, you might as well +catch." + +She withdrew her hand, but continued to regard him steadfastly with her +enigmatic, strange stare. "So," she said coolly, "that's settled too, I +presume." + +"I'm afraid you couldn't catch an earlier one," he evaded. "Have you any +baggage?" + +"Only my suit-case. It won't take a minute to pack that." + +"No hurry," he mumbled.... + +They left the hotel together. Whitaker got his change of a hundred +dollars at the desk--"Mrs. Morten's" bill, of course, included with +his--and bribed the bell-boy to take the suit-case to the railway +station and leave it there, together with his own hand-bag. Since he had +unaccountably conceived a determination to continue living for a time, +he meant to seek out more pleasant accommodations for the night. + +The rain had ceased, leaving a ragged sky of clouds and stars in +patches. The air was warm and heavy with wetness. Sidewalks glistened +like black watered silk; street lights mirrored themselves in fugitive +puddles in the roadways; limbs of trees overhanging the sidewalks +shivered now and again in a half-hearted breeze, pelting the wayfarers +with miniature showers of lukewarm, scented drops. + +Turning away from the centre of the town, they traversed slowly long +streets of residences set well back behind decent lawns. Warm lamplight +mocked them from a hundred homely windows. They passed few people--a +pair of lovers; three bareheaded giggling girls in short, light frocks +strolling with their arms round one another; a scattering of men +hurrying home to belated suppers. + +The girl lagged with weariness. Awakening to this fact, Whitaker +slackened his impatient stride and quietly slipped her arm through his. + +"Is it much farther?" she asked. + +"No--not now," he assured her with a confidence he by no means felt. + +He was beginning to realize the tremendous difficulties to be overcome. +It bothered him to scheme a way to bring about the marriage without +attracting an appalling amount of gratuitous publicity, in a community +as staid and sober as this. He who would marry secretly should not +select a half-grown New England city for his enterprise.... + +However, one rarely finds any really insuperable obstacles in the way of +an especially wrong-headed project. + +Whitaker, taking his heart and his fate in his hands, accosted a +venerable gentleman whom they encountered as he was on the point of +turning off the sidewalk to private grounds. + +"I beg your pardon," he began. + +The man paused and turned upon them a saintly countenance framed in hair +like snow. + +"There is something I can do for you?" he inquired with punctilious +courtesy. + +"If you will be kind enough to direct me to a minister...." + +"I am one." + +"I thought so," said Whitaker. "We wish to get married." + +The gentleman looked from his face to the girl's, then moved aside from +the gate. "This is my home," he explained. "Will you be good enough to +come in?" + +Conducting them to his private study, he subjected them to a kindly +catechism. The girl said little, Whitaker taking upon himself the brunt +of the examination. Absolutely straightforward and intensely sincere, he +came through the ordeal well, without being obliged to disclose what he +preferred to keep secret. The minister, satisfied, at length called in +the town clerk by telephone; who issued the license, pocketed his fee, +and, in company with the minister's wife, acted as witness.... + +Whitaker found himself on his feet beside Mary Ladislas. They were being +married. He was shaken by a profound amazement. The incredible was +happening--with his assistance. He heard his voice uttering responses; +it seemed something as foreign to him as the voice of the girl at his +side. He wondered stupidly at her calm--and later, at his own. It was +all preposterously matter-of-fact and, at the same time, stupidly +romantic. He divined obscurely that this thing was happening in +obedience to forces nameless and unknown to them, strange and terrific +forces that worked mysteriously beyond their mortal ken. He seemed to +hear the droning of the loom of the Fates.... + +And they were man and wife. The door had closed, the gate-latch clicked +behind them. They were walking quietly side by side through the scented +night, they whom God had joined together. + +Man and wife! Bride and groom, already started on the strangest, +shortest of wedding journeys--from the parsonage to the railroad +station! + +Neither found anything to say. They walked on, heels in unison pounding +the wet flagstones. The night was sweet with the scent of wet grass and +shrubbery. The sidewalks were boldly patterned with a stencilling of +black leaves and a milky dappling of electric light. At every corner +high-swung arcs shot vivid slants of silver-blue radiance through the +black and green of trees. + +These things all printed themselves indelibly upon the tablets of his +memory.... + +They arrived at the station. Whitaker bought his wife a ticket to New +York and secured for her solitary use a drawing-room in the sleeper. +When that was accomplished, they had still a good part of an hour to +wait. They found a bench on the station platform, and sat down. Whitaker +possessed himself of his wife's hand-bag long enough to furnish it with +a sum of money and an old envelope bearing the name and address of his +law partner. He explained that he would write to Drummond, who would see +to her welfare as far as she would permit--issue her an adequate monthly +allowance and advise her when she should have become her own mistress +once more: in a word, a widow. + +She thanked him briefly, quietly, with a constraint he understood too +well to resent. + +People began to gather upon the platform, to loiter about and pass up +and down. Further conversation would have been difficult, even if they +had found much to say to one another. Curiously or not, they didn't. +They sat on in thoughtful silence. + +Both, perhaps, were sensible of some relief when at length the train +thundered in from the East, breathing smoke and flame. Whitaker helped +his wife aboard and interviewed the porter in her behalf. Then they had +a moment or two alone in the drawing-room, in which to consummate what +was meant to be their first and last parting. + +"You'll get in about two," said Whitaker. "Better just slip across the +street to the Belmont for to-night. To-morrow--or the day +after--whenever you feel rested--you can find yourself more quiet +quarters." + +"Yes," she said.... + +He comprehended something of the struggle she was having with herself, +and respected it. If he had consulted his own inclinations, he would +have turned and marched off without another word. But for her sake he +lingered. Let her have the satisfaction (he bade himself) of knowing +that she had done her duty at their leave-taking. + +She caught him suddenly by the shoulders with both her hands. Her eyes +sought his with a wistful courage he could not but admire. + +"You know I'm grateful...." + +"Don't think of it that way--though I'm glad you are." + +"You're a good man," she said brokenly. + +He knew himself too well to be able to reply. + +"You mustn't worry about me, now. You've made things easy for me. I can +take care of myself, and ... I shan't forget whose name I bear." + +He muttered something to the effect that he was sure of that. + +She released his shoulders and stood back, searching his face with +tormented eyes. Abruptly she offered him her hand. + +"Good-by," she said, her lips quivering--"Good-by, good friend!" + +He caught the hand, wrung it clumsily and painfully and ... realized +that the train was in motion. He had barely time to get away.... + +He found himself on the station platform, stupidly watching the rear +lights dwindle down the tracks and wondering whether or not +hallucinations were a phase of his malady. A sick man often dreams +strange dreams.... + +A voice behind him, cool with a trace of irony, observed: + +"I'd give a good deal to know just what particular brand of damn' +foolishness you've been indulging in, this time." + +He whirled around to face Peter Stark--Peter quietly amused and very +much the master of the situation. + +"You needn't think," said he, "that you have any chance on earth of +escaping my fond attentions, Hugh. I'll go to the ends of the earth +after you, if you won't let me go with you. I've fixed it up with Nelly +to wait until I bring you home, a well man, before we get married; and +if you refuse to be my best man--well, there won't be any party. You can +make up your mind to that." + + + + +V + +WILFUL MISSING + + +It was one o'clock in the morning before Whitaker allowed himself to be +persuaded; fatigue reënforced every stubborn argument of Peter Stark's +to overcome his resistance. It was a repetition of the episode of Mary +Ladislas recast and rewritten: the stronger will overcame the +admonitions of a saner judgment. Whitaker gave in. "Oh, have your own +way," he said at length, unconsciously iterating the words that had won +him a bride. "If it must be...." + +Peter put him to bed, watched over him through the night, and the next +morning carried him on to New Bedford, where they superintended the +outfitting of Peter's yacht, the _Adventuress_. Beyond drawing heavily +on his bank and sending Drummond a brief note, Whitaker failed to renew +communication with his home. He sank into a state of semi-apathetic +content; he thought little of anything beyond the business of the +moment; the preparations for what he was pleased to term his funeral +cruise absorbed him to the exclusion of vain repinings or anxiety for +the welfare of his adventitious wife. Apparently his sudden +disappearance had not caused the least ripple on the surface of life in +New York; the newspapers, at all events, slighted the circumstance +unanimously: to his complete satisfaction. + +Within the week the _Adventuress_ sailed. + +She was five months out of port before Whitaker began to be conscious +that he was truly accursed. There came a gradual thickening of the +shadows that threatened to eclipse his existence. And then, one day as +they dined with the lonely trader of an isolated station in the +D'Entrecasteaux Islands, he fell from his chair as if poleaxed. He +regained consciousness only to shiver with the chill of the wind that's +fanned by the wings of death. It was impossible to move him. The agonies +of the damned were his when, with exquisite gentleness, they lifted him +to a bed.... + +Stark sailed in the _Adventuress_ before sundown of the same day, +purposing to fetch a surgeon from Port Moresby. Whitaker said a last +farewell to his friend, knowing in his soul that they would never meet +again. Then he composed himself to die quietly. But the following +morning brought a hapchance trading schooner to the island, and with it, +in the estate of supercargo, a crapulous Scotch gentleman who had been a +famous specialist of London before drink laid him by the heels. He +performed an heroic operation upon Whitaker within an hour, announced by +nightfall that the patient would recover, and the next day sailed with +his ship to end his days in some abandoned Australian boozing-ken--as +Whitaker learned in Sydney several months later. + +In the same place, and at the same time, he received his first authentic +news of the fate of the _Adventuress_. The yacht had struck on an +uncharted reef, in heavy weather, and had foundered almost immediately. +Of her entire company, a solitary sailor managed to cling to a life-raft +until picked up, a week after the wreck, by a tramp steamship on whose +decks he gasped out his news and his life in the same breaths. + +Whitaker hunted up an account of the disaster in the files of a local +newspaper. He read that the owner, Peter Stark, Esq., and his guest, H. +M. Whitaker, Esq., both of New York, had gone down with the vessel. +There was also a cable despatch from New York detailing Peter Stark's +social and financial prominence--evidence that the news had been cabled +Home. To all who knew him Whitaker was as dead as Peter Stark. + +Sardonic irony of circumstance, that had robbed the sound man of life +and bestowed life upon the moribund! Contemplation wrought like a toxic +drug upon Whitaker's temper, until he was raving drunk with the black +draught of mutiny against the dictates of an Omnipotence capable of such +hideous mockeries of justice. The iron bit deep into his soul and left +corrosion there.... + + "There is a world outside the one you know + To which for curiousness 'Ell can't compare; + It is the place where wilful missings go, + As we can testify, for we are there." + +Kipling's lines buzzed through his head more than once in the course of +the next few years; for he was "there." They were years of such +vagabondage as only the South Seas countenance: neither unhappy nor very +strenuous, not yet scarred by the tooth of poverty. Whitaker had between +four and five thousand dollars in traveller's checks which he converted +into cash while in Sydney. Memory of the wreck of the _Adventuress_ was +already fading from the Australian mind; no one dreamed of challenging +the signature of a man seven months dead. And as certainly and as +quietly as the memory, Whitaker faded away; Hugh Morten took his place, +and Sydney knew him no more, nor did any other parts wherein he had +answered to his rightful name. + +The money stayed by him handsomely. Thanks to a strong constitution in a +tough body (now that its malignant demon was exorcised) he found it easy +to pick up a living by one means or another. Indeed, he played many +parts in as many fields before joining hands with a young Englishman he +had grown to like and entering upon what seemed a forlorn bid for +fortune. Thereafter he prospered amazingly. + +In those days his anomalous position in the world troubled him very +little. He was a Wilful Missing and a willing. The new life intrigued +him amazingly; he lived in open air, in virgin country, wresting a +fortune by main strength from the reluctant grasp of Nature. He was one +of the first two men to find and mine gold in paying quantities in the +Owen Stanley country.... Now that Peter Stark was dead, the ties of +interest and affection binding him to America were both few and slender. +His wife was too abstract a concept, a shadow too vague in his memory, +to obtrude often upon his reveries. Indeed, as time went on, he found it +anything but easy to recall much about the physical appearance of the +woman he had married; he remembered chiefly her eyes; she moved mistily +across the stage of a single scene in his history, an awkward, +self-conscious, unhappy, childish phantasm. + +Even the consideration that, fortified by the report of his death, she +might have married again, failed to disturb either his slumbers or his +digestion. If that had happened, he had no objection; the tie that bound +them was the emptiest of forms--in his understanding as meaningless and +as powerless to make them one as the printed license form they had been +forced to procure of the State of Connecticut. There had been neither +love nor true union--merely pity on one side, apathy of despair on the +other. Two souls had met in the valley of the great shadow, had paused a +moment to touch hands, had passed onward, forever out of one another's +ken; and that was all. His "death" should have put her in command of a +fair competence. If she had since sought and found happiness with +another man, was there any logical reason, or even excuse, for Whitaker +to abandon his new and pleasant ways of life in order to return and +shatter hers? + +He was self-persuaded of his generosity toward the girl. + +Casuistry of the Wilful Missing!... + +It's to be feared he had always a hard-headed way of considering matters +in the light of equity as distinguished from the light of ethical or +legal morality. This is not to be taken as an attempt to defend the man, +but rather as a statement of fact: even as the context is to be read as +an account of some things that happened rather than as a morality.... + +When at length he did make up his mind to go Home, it wasn't because he +felt that duty called him; plain, everyday, human curiosity had +something to do with his determination--a desire to see how New York was +managing to get along without him--together with a dawning apprehension +that there was an uncomfortable amount of truth in the antiquated +bromidiom about the surprising littleness of the world. + +He was in Melbourne at that time, with Lynch, his partner. Having +prospered and laid by a lump of money, they had planned to finance their +holdings in the traditional fashion--that is, to let in other people's +money to do the work, while they rested and possessed their souls and +drew dividends on a controlling interest. Capital in Melbourne had +proved eager and approachable; the arrangement they desired was quickly +consummated; the day the papers were signed, Whitaker passed old friends +in the street. They were George Presbury and his wife--Anne Forsythe +that was--self-evident tourists, looking the town over between steamers. +Presbury, with no thought in his bumptious head of meeting Hugh Whitaker +before the Day of Judgment, looked at and through him without a hint of +recognition; but his wife was another person altogether. Whitaker could +not be blind to the surprise and perplexity that shone in her eyes, even +though he pretended to be blind to her uncertain nod; long after his +back alone was visible to her he could feel her inquiring stare boring +into it. + +The incident made him think; and he remembered that he was now a man of +independent fortune and of newly idle hands as well. After prolonged +consideration he suddenly decided, told Lynch to look out for his +interests and expect him back when he should see him, and booked for +London by a Royal Mail boat--all in half a day. From London Mr. Hugh +Morten crossed immediately to New York on the _Olympic_, landing in the +month of April--nearly six years to a day from the time he had left his +native land. + +He discovered a New York almost wholly new--an experience almost +inevitable, if one insists on absenting one's self even for as little as +half a decade. Intimations of immense changes were borne in upon +Whitaker while the steamer worked up the Bay. The Singer Building was an +unfamiliar sky-mark, but not more so than the Metropolitan Tower and the +Woolworth. The _Olympic_ docked at an impressive steel-and-concrete +structure, new since his day; and Whitaker narrowly escaped a row with a +taxicab chauffeur because the fellow smiled impertinently when directed +to drive to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. + +A very few hours added amazingly to the catalogue of things that were +not as they had been: a list so extensive and impressive that he made up +his mind to maintain his incognito for a few days, until familiar with +the ways of his home. He was quick to perceive that he would even have +to forget most of the slang that had been current in his time, in +addition to unlearning all he had picked up abroad, and set himself with +attentive ears pricked forward and an open mind to master the new, +strange tongue his countrymen were speaking, if he were to make himself +intelligible to them--and them to him, for that matter. + +So he put up at the Ritz-Carlton, precisely as any foreigner might be +expected to do, and remained Hugh Morten while he prowled around the +city and found himself. Now and again in the course of his wanderings he +encountered well-remembered faces, but always without eliciting the +slightest gleam of recognition: circumstances that only went to prove +how thoroughly dead and buried he was in the estimation of his day and +generation. + +Nothing, indeed, seemed as he remembered it except the offerings in the +theatres. He sat through plays on three successive nights that sent him +back to his hotel saddened by the conviction that the tastes of his +fellow-countrymen in the matter of amusements were as enduring as +adamant--as long-enduring. Some day (he prophesied) New York would be +finished and complete; then would come the final change--its +name--because it wouldn't be New York unless ever changing; and when +that was settled, the city would know ease and, for want of something +less material to occupy it, begin to develop a soul of its own--together +with an inclination for something different in the way of theatrical +entertainment. + +But his ultimate and utter awakening to the truth that his home had +outgrown him fell upon the fourth afternoon following his return, when a +total but most affable gentleman presented himself to Whitaker's +consideration with a bogus name and a genuine offer to purchase him a +drink, and promptly attempted to enmesh him in a confidence game that +had degenerated into a vaudeville joke in the days when both of them had +worn knickerbockers. Gently but firmly entrusting the stranger to the +care of a convenient policeman, Whitaker privately admitted that he was +outclassed, that it was time for him to seek the protection of his +friends. + +He began with Drummond. The latter, of course, had moved his offices; no +doubt he had moved them several times; however that may be, Whitaker had +left him in quiet and contracted quarters in Pine Street; he found him +independently established in an imposing suite in the Woolworth +Building. + +Whitaker gave one of Mr. Hugh Morten's cards to a subdued office-boy. +"Tell him," he requested, "that I want to see him about a matter +relating to the estate of Mr. Whitaker." + +The boy dived through one partition-door and reappeared by way of +another with the deft certainty of a trained pantomime. + +"Says t' come in." + +Whitaker found himself in the presence of an ashen-faced man of +thirty-five, who clutched the side of his roll-top desk as if to save +himself from falling. + +"Whitaker!" he gasped. "My God!" + +"Flattered," said Whitaker, "I'm sure." + +He derived considerable mischievous amusement from Drummond's patent +stupefaction. It was all so right and proper--as it should have been. He +considered his an highly satisfactory resurrection, the sensation it +created as complete, considered in the relation of anticipation to +fulfilment, as anything he had ever experienced. Seldom does a scene +pass off as one plans it; the other parties thereto are apt to spoil +things by spouting spontaneously their own original lines, thus cheating +one out of a crushing retort or cherished epigram. But Drummond played +up his part in a most public-spirited fashion--gratifying, to say the +least. + +It took him some minutes to recover, Whitaker standing by and beaming. + +He remarked changes, changes as striking as the improvement in +Drummond's fortunes. Physically his ex-partner had gone off a bit; the +sedentary life led by the average successful man of business in New York +had marked his person unmistakably. Much heavier than the man Whitaker +remembered, he wore a thick and solid air of good-natured prosperity. +The hair had receded an inch or so from his forehead. Only his face +seemed as it had always been--sharply handsome and strong. Whitaker +remembered that he had always somewhat meanly envied Drummond his good +looks; he himself had been fashioned after the new order of +architecture--with a steel frame; but for some reason Nature, the master +builder, had neglected sufficiently to wall in and conceal the skeleton. +Admitting the economy of the method, Whitaker was inclined to believe +that the effect must be surprising, especially if encountered without +warning.... + +He discovered that they were both talking at once--furiously--and, not +without surprise, that he had a great deal more enlightenment to impart +to Drummond than he had foreseen. + +"You've got an economical streak in you when it comes to +correspondence," Drummond commented, offering Whitaker a sheet of paper +he had just taken from a tin document-box. "That's Exhibit A." + +Whitaker read aloud: + + "'DEAR D., I'm not feeling well, so off for a vacation. Burke has + just been in and paid $1500 in settlement of our claim. I'm + enclosing herewith my check for your share. Yours, H. M. W.'" + +"Far be it from me to cast up," said Drummond; "but I'd like to know why +the deuce you couldn't let a fellow know how ill you were." + +Whitaker frowned over his dereliction. "Don't remember," he confessed. +"I was hardly right, you know--and I presume I must have counted on +Greyerson telling." + +"But I don't know Greyerson...." + +"That's so. And you never heard--?" + +"Merely a rumour ran round. Some one--I forget who--told me that you and +Stark had gone sailing in Stark's boat--to cruise in the West Indies, +according to my informant. And somebody else mentioned that he'd heard +you were seriously ill. More than that nothing--until we heard that the +_Adventuress_ had been lost, half a year later." + +"I'm sorry," said Whitaker contritely. "It was thoughtless...." + +"But that isn't all," Drummond objected, flourishing another paper. "See +here--Exhibit B--came in a day or so later." + +"Yes." Whitaker recognized the document. "I remember insisting on +writing to you before we turned in that night." + +He ran through the following communication: + + "DEAR DRUMMOND: I married here, to-night, Mary Ladislas. Please + look out for her while I'm away. Make her an allowance out of my + money--five hundred a month ought to be enough. I shall die + intestate, and she'll get everything then, of course. She has your + address and will communicate with you as soon as she gets settled + down in Town. + + "Faithfully-- + + "HUGH MORTEN WHITAKER." + +"If it hadn't been so much in character," commented Drummond, "I'd've +thought the thing a forgery--or a poor joke. Knowing you as well as I +did, however ... I just sat back to wait for word from Mrs. Whitaker." + +"And you never heard, except that once!" said Whitaker thoughtfully. + +"Here's the sole and only evidence I ever got to prove that you had told +the truth." + +Drummond handed Whitaker a single, folded sheet of note-paper stamped +with the name of the Waldorf-Astoria. + + "CARTER S. DRUMMOND, Esq., 27 Pine Street, City. + + "DEAR SIR: I inclose herewith a bank-note for $500, which you will + be kind enough to credit to the estate of your late partner and my + late husband, Mr. Hugh Morten Whitaker. + + "Very truly yours, + + "MARY LADISLAS WHITAKER." + +"Dated, you see, the day after the report of your death was published +here." + +"But why?" demanded Whitaker, dumfounded. "_Why?_" + +"I infer she felt herself somehow honour-bound by the monetary +obligation," said the lawyer. "In her understanding your marriage of +convenience was nothing more--a one-sided bargain, I think you said she +called it. She couldn't consider herself wholly free, even though you +were dead, until she had repaid this loan which you, a stranger, had +practically forced upon her--if not to you, to your estate." + +"But death cancels everything--" + +"Not," Drummond reminded him with a slow smile, "the obligation of a +period of decent mourning that devolves upon a widow. Mrs. Whitaker may +have desired to marry again immediately. If I'm any judge of human +nature, she argued that repayment of the loan wiped out every +obligation. Feminine logic, perhaps, but--" + +"Good Lord!" Whitaker breathed, appalled in the face of this contingency +which had seemed so remote and immaterial when he was merely Hugh +Morten, bachelor-nomad, to all who knew him on the far side of the +world. + +Drummond dropped his head upon his hand and regarded his friend with +inquisitive eyes. + +"Looks as though you may have gummed things up neatly--doesn't it?" + +Whitaker nodded in sombre abstraction. + +"You may not," continued Drummond with light malice, "have been so +generous, so considerate and chivalric, after all." + +"Oh, cut that!" growled Whitaker, unhappily. "I never meant to come +back." + +"Then why did you?" + +"Oh ... I don't know. Chiefly because I caught Anne Presbury's sharp +eyes on me in Melbourne--as I said a while ago. I knew she'd talk--as +she surely will the minute she gets back--and I thought I might as well +get ahead of her, come home and face the music before anybody got a +chance to expose me. At the worst--if what you suggest has really +happened--it's an open-and-shut case; no one's going to blame the woman; +and it ought to be easy enough to secure a separation or divorce--" + +"You'd consent to that?" inquired Drummond intently. + +"I'm ready to do anything she wishes, within the law." + +"You leave it to her, then?" + +"If I ever find her--yes. It's the only decent thing I can do." + +"How do you figure that?" + +"I went away a sick man and a poor one; I come back as sound as a bell, +and if not exactly a plutocrat, at least better off than I ever expected +to be in this life.... To all intents and purposes I _made_ her a +partner to a bargain she disliked; well, I'll be hanged if I'm going to +hedge now, when I look a better matrimonial risk, perhaps: if she still +wants my name, she can have it." + +Drummond laughed quietly. "If that's how you feel," he said, "I can only +give you one piece of professional advice." + +"What's that?" + +"Find your wife." + +After a moment of puzzled thought, Whitaker admitted ruefully: "You're +right. There's the rub." + +"I'm afraid you won't find it an easy job. I did my best without +uncovering a trace of her." + +"You followed up that letter, of course?" + +"I did my best; but, my dear fellow, almost anybody with a decent +appearance can manage to write a note on Waldorf stationery. I made sure +of one thing--the management knew nothing of the writer under either her +maiden name or yours." + +"Did you try old Thurlow?" + +"Her father died within eight weeks from the time you ran away. He left +everything to charity, by the way. Unforgiving blighter." + +"Well, there's her sister, Mrs. Pettit." + +"She heard of the marriage first through me," asserted Drummond. "Your +wife had never come near her--nor even sent her a line. She could give +me no information whatever." + +"You don't think she purposely misled you--?" + +"Frankly I don't. She seemed sincerely worried, when we talked the +matter over, and spoke in a most convincing way of her fruitless +attempts to trace the young woman through a private detective agency." + +"Still, she may know now," Whitaker said doubtfully. "She may have heard +something since. I'll have a word with her myself." + +"Address," observed Drummond, dryly: "the American Embassy, Berlin.... +Pettit's got some sort of a minor diplomatic berth over there." + +"O the devil!... But, anyway, I can write." + +"Think it over," Drummond advised. "Maybe it might be kinder not to." + +"Oh, I don't know--" + +"You've given me to understand you were pretty comfy on the other side +of the globe. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?" + +"It's the lie that bothers me--the living lie. It isn't fair to her." + +"Rather sudden, this solicitude--what?" Drummond asked with open +sarcasm. + +"I daresay it does look that way. But I can't see that it's the decent +thing for me to let things slide any longer. I've got to try to find +her. She may be ill--destitute--in desperate trouble again--" + +Drummond's eyebrows went up whimsically. "You surely don't mean me to +infer that your affections are involved?" + +This brought Whitaker up standing. "Good heavens--no!" he cried. He +moved to a window and stared rudely at the Post Office Building for a +time. "I'm going to find her just the same--if she still lives," he +announced, turning back. + +"Would you know her if you saw her?" + +"I don't know." Whitaker frowned with annoyance. "She's six years +older--" + +"A woman often develops and changes amazingly between the ages of +eighteen and twenty-four." + +"I know," Whitaker acknowledged with dejection. + +"Well, but what _was_ she like?" Drummond pursued curiously. + +Whitaker shook his head. "It's not easy to remember. Matter of fact, I +don't believe I ever got one good square look at her. It was twilight in +the hotel, when I found her; we sat talking in absolute darkness, toward +the end; even in the minister's study there was only a green-shaded lamp +on the table; and on the train--well, we were both too much worked up, I +fancy, to pay much attention to details." + +"Then you really haven't any idea--?" + +"Oh, hardly." Whitaker's thin brown hand gesticulated vaguely. "She was +tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age...." + +"Blonde or brune?" + +"I swear I don't know. She wore one of those funny knitted caps, tight +down over her hair, all the time." + +Drummond laughed quietly. "Rather an inconclusive description, +especially if you advertise. 'Wanted: the wife I married six years ago +and haven't seen since; tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age; wore +one of those funny knit--'" + +"I don't feel in a joking humour," Whitaker interrupted roughly. "It's a +serious matter and wants serious treatment.... What else have we got to +mull over?" + +Drummond shrugged suavely. "There's enough to keep us busy for several +hours," he said. "For instance, there's my stewardship." + +"Your which?" + +"My care of your property. You left a good deal of money and securities +lying round loose, you know; naturally I felt obliged to look after 'em. +There was no telling when Widow Whitaker might walk in and demand an +accounting. I presume we might as well run over the account--though it +is getting late." + +"Half-past four," Whitaker informed him, consulting his watch. "Take too +long for to-day. Some other time." + +"To-morrow suit you?" + +"To-morrow's Sunday," Whitaker objected. "But there's no hurry at all." + +Drummond's reply was postponed by the office boy, who popped in on the +heels of a light knock. + +"Mr. Max's outside," he announced. + +"O the deuce!" The exclamation seemed to escape Drummond's lips +involuntarily. He tightened them angrily, as though regretting the lapse +of self-control, and glanced hurriedly askance to see if Whitaker had +noticed. "I'm busy," he added, a trace sullenly. "Tell him I've gone +out." + +"But he's got 'nappointment," the boy protested. "And besides, I told +him you was in." + +"You needn't fob him off on my account," Whitaker interposed. "We can +finish our confab later--Monday--any time. It's time for me to be +getting up-town, anyway." + +"It isn't that," Drummond explained doggedly. "Only--the man's a bore, +and--" + +"It isn't Jules Max?" Whitaker demanded excitedly. "Not little Jules +Max, who used to stage manage our amateur shows?" + +"That's the man," Drummond admitted with plain reluctance. + +"Then have him in, by all means. I want to say howdy to him, if nothing +more. And then I'll clear out and leave you to his troubles." + +Drummond hesitated; whereupon the office boy, interpreting assent, +precipitately vanished to usher in the client. His employer laughed a +trifle sourly. + +"Ben's a little too keen about pleasing Max," he said. "I think he looks +on him as the fountainhead of free seats. Max has developed into a +heavy-weight entrepreneur, you know." + +"Meaning theatrical manager? Then why not say so? But I might've guessed +he'd drift into something of the sort." + +A moment later Whitaker was vigorously pumping the unresisting--indeed +the apparently boneless--hand of a visibly flabbergasted gentleman, who +suffered him for the moment solely upon suspicion, if his expression +were a reliable index of his emotion. + +In the heyday of his career as a cunning and successful promoter of +plays and players, Jules Max indulged a hankering for the picturesquely +eccentric that sat oddly upon his commonplace personality. The hat that +had made Hammerstein famous Max had appropriated--straight crown, flat +brim and immaculate gloss--bodily. Beneath it his face was small of +feature, and fat. Its trim little mustache lent it an air of +conventionality curiously at war with a pince-nez which sheltered his +near-sighted eyes, its enormous, round, horn-rimmed lenses sagging to +one side with the weight of a wide black ribbon. His nose was +insignificant, his mouth small and pursy. His short, round little body +was invariably by day dressed in a dark gray morning-coat, white-edged +waistcoat, assertively-striped trousers, and patent-leather shoes with +white spats. He had a passion for lemon-coloured gloves of thinnest kid +and slender malacca walking-sticks. His dignity was an awful thing, as +ingrained as his strut. + +He reasserted the dignity now with a jerk of his maltreated hand, as +well as with an appreciable effort betrayed by his resentful glare. + +"Do I know you?" he demanded haughtily. "If not, what the devil do you +mean by such conduct, sir?" + +With a laugh, Whitaker took him by the shoulders and spun him round +smartly into a convenient chair. + +"Sit still and let me get a _good_ look," he implored. "Think of it! +Juley Max daring to put on side with me! The impudence of you, Juley! +I've a great mind to play horse with you. How dare you go round the +streets looking like that, anyway?" + +Max recovered his breath, readjusted his glasses, and resumed his stare. + +"Either," he observed, "you're Hugh Whitaker come to life or a damned +outrage." + +"Both, if you like." + +"You sound like both," complained the little man. "Anyway, you were +drowned in the Philippines or somewhere long ago, and I never waste time +on a dead one.... Drummond--" He turned to the lawyer with a vastly +business-like air. + +"No, you don't!" Whitaker insisted, putting himself between the two men. +"I admit that you're a great man; you might at least admit that I'm a +live one." + +A mollified smile moderated the small man's manner. "That's a bargain," +he said, extending a pale yellow paw; "I'm glad to see you again, Hugh. +When did you recrudesce?" + +"An hour ago," Drummond answered for him; "blew in here as large as life +and twice as important. He's been running a gold farm out in New Guinea. +What do you know about that?" + +"It's very interesting," Max conceded. "I shall have to cultivate him; I +never neglect a man with money. If you'll stick around a few minutes, +Hugh, I'll take you up-town in my car." He turned to Drummond, +completely ignoring Whitaker while he went into the details of some +action he desired the lawyer to undertake on his behalf. Then, having +talked steadily for upwards of ten minutes, he rose and prepared to go. + +"You've asked him, of course?" he demanded of Drummond, nodding toward +Whitaker. + +Drummond flushed slightly. "No chance," he said. "I was on the point of +doing it when you butted in." + +"What's this?" inquired Whitaker. + +Max delivered himself of a startling bit of information: "He's going to +get married." + +Whitaker stared. "Drummond? Not really?" + +Drummond acknowledged his guilt brazenly: "Next week, in fact." + +"But why didn't you say anything about it?" + +"You didn't give me an opening. Besides, to welcome a deserter from the +Great Beyond is enough to drive all other thoughts from a man's mind." + +"There's to be a supper in honour of the circumstances, at the Beaux +Arts to-night," supplemented Max. "You'll come, of course." + +"Do you think you could keep me away with a dog?" + +"Wouldn't risk spoiling the dog," said Drummond. He added with a +tentative, questioning air: "There'll be a lot of old-time acquaintances +of yours there, you know." + +"So much the better," Whitaker declared with spirit. "I've played dead +long enough." + +"As you think best," the lawyer acceded. "Midnight, then--the Beaux +Arts." + +"I'll be there--and furthermore, I'll be waiting at the church a week +hence--or whenever it's to come off. And now I want to congratulate +you." Whitaker held Drummond's hand in one of those long, hard grips +that mean much between men. "But mostly I want to congratulate her. Who +is she?" + +"Sara Law," said Drummond, with pride in his quick color and the lift of +his chin. + +"Sara Law?" The name had a familiar ring, yet Whitaker failed to +recognize it promptly. + +"The greatest living actress on the English-speaking stage," Max +announced, preening himself importantly. "My own discovery." + +"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of her. Is New Guinea, then, so +utterly abandoned to the march of civilization?" + +"Of course I've heard--but I have been out of touch with such things," +Whitaker apologized. "When shall I see her?" + +"At supper, to-night," said the man of law. "It's really in her +honour--" + +"In honour of her retirement," Max interrupted, fussing with a gardenia +on his lapel. "She retires from the stage finally, and forever--she +says--when the curtain falls to-night." + +"Then I've got to be in the theatre to-night--if that's the case," said +Whitaker. "It isn't my notion of an occasion to miss." + +"You're right there," Max told him bluntly. "It's no small matter to +me--losing such a star; but the world's loss of its greatest +artist--_ah!_" He kissed his finger-tips and ecstatically flirted the +caress afar. + +"'Fraid you won't get in, though," Drummond doubted darkly. "Everything +in the house for this final week was sold out a month ago. Even the +speculators are cleaned out." + +"_Tut!_" the manager reproved him loftily. "Hugh is going to see Sara +Law act for the last time from my personal box--aren't you, Hugh?" + +"You bet I am!" Whitaker asserted with conviction. + +"Then come along." Max caught him by the arm and started for the door. +"So long, Drummond...." + + + + +VI + +CURTAIN + + +Nothing would satisfy Max but that Whitaker should dine with him. He +consented to drop him at the Ritz-Carlton, in order that he might dress, +only on the condition that Whitaker would meet him at seven, in the +white room at the Knickerbocker. + +"Just mention my name to the head waiter," he said with magnificence; +"or if I'm there first, you can't help seeing me. Everybody knows my +table--the little one in the southeast corner." + +Whitaker promised, suppressing a smile; evidently the hat was not the +only peculiarity of Mr. Hammerstein's that Max had boldly made his own. + +Max surprised him by a shrewd divination of his thoughts. "I know what +you're thinking," he volunteered with an intensely serious expression +shadowing his pudgy countenance; "but really, my dear fellow, it's good +business. You get people into the habit of saying, 'There's Max's +table,' and you likewise get them into the habit of thinking of Max's +theatre and Max's stars. As a matter of fact, I'm merely running an +immense advertising plant with a dramatic annex." + +"You are an immense advertisement all by your lonesome," Whitaker agreed +with a tolerant laugh, rising as the car paused at the entrance of the +Ritz. + +"Seven o'clock--you won't fail me?" Max persisted. "Really, you know, +I'm doing you an immense favour--dinner--a seat in my private box at +Sara Law's farewell performance--" + +"Oh, I'm thoroughly impressed," Whitaker assured him, stepping out of +the car. "But tell me--on the level, now--why this staggering +condescension?" + +Max looked him over as he paused on the sidewalk, a tall, loosely built +figure attired impeccably yet with an elusive sense of carelessness, his +head on one side and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The twinkle was +momentarily reflected in the managerial gaze as he replied with an air +of impulsive candour: "One never can tell when the most unlikely-looking +material may prove useful. I may want to borrow money from you before +long. If I put you under sufficient obligation to me, you can't well +refuse.... Shoot, James!" + +The latter phrase was Max's way of ordering the driver to move on. The +car snorted resentfully, then pulled smoothly and swiftly away. Max +waved a jaunty farewell with a lemon-coloured hand, over the back of the +tonneau. + +Whitaker went up to his room in a reflective mood in which the +theatrical man had little place, and began leisurely to prepare his +person for ceremonious clothing--preparations which, at first, consisted +in nothing more strenuous than finding a pipe and sitting down to stare +out of the window. He was in no hurry--he had still an hour and a half +before he was due at the Knickerbocker--and the afternoon's employment +had furnished him with a great deal of material to stimulate his +thoughts. + +Since his arrival in New York he had fallen into the habit of seeking +the view from his window when in meditative humour. The vast sweep of +gullied roofs exerted an almost hypnotic attraction for his eyes. They +ranged southward to the point where vision failed against the false +horizon of dull amber haze. Late sunlight threw level rays athwart the +town, gilding towering westerly walls and striking fire from all their +windows. Between them like deep blue crevasses ran the gridironed +streets. The air was moveless, yet sonorously thrilled with the measured +movement of the city's symphonic roar. Above the golden haze a drift of +light cloud was burning an ever deeper pink against the vault of +robin's-egg blue. + +A view of ten thousand roofs, inexpressibly enchaining.... +Somewhere--perhaps--in that welter of steel and stone, as eternal and as +restless as the sea, was the woman Whitaker had married, working out her +lonely destiny. A haphazard biscuit tossed from his window might fall +upon the very roof that sheltered her: he might search for a hundred +years and never cross her path. + +He wondered.... + +More practically he reminded himself not to forget to write to Mrs. +Pettit. He must try to get the name of the firm of private detectives +she had employed, and her permission to pump them; it might help him, to +learn the quarters wherein they had failed. + +And he must make an early opportunity to question Drummond more closely; +not that he anticipated that Drummond knew anything more than he had +already disclosed--anything really helpful at all events. + +His thoughts shifted to dwell temporarily on the two personalities newly +introduced into his cosmos, strikingly new, in spite of the fact that +they had been so well known to him of old. He wondered if it were +possible that he seemed to them as singularly metamorphosed as they +seemed to him--superficially if not integrally. He had lost altogether +the trick of thinking in their grooves, and yet they seemed very human +to him. He thought they supplemented one another somewhat weirdly: each +was at bottom what the other seemed to be. Beneath his assumption, for +purposes of revenue only, of outrageous eccentricities, Jules Max was as +bourgeois as César Birotteau; beneath his assumption of the +steady-going, keen, alert and conservative man of affairs, Drummond was +as romantic as D'Artagnan. But Max had this advantage of Drummond: he +was not his own dupe; whereas Drummond would go to his grave believing +himself bored to extinction by the commonplaceness of his fantastical +self.... + +Irresponsibly, his reverie reëmbraced the memory he had of the woman who +alone held the key to his matrimonial entanglement. The business bound +his imagination with an ineluctable fascination. No matter how far his +thoughts wandered, they were sure to return to beat themselves to +weariness against that hard-faced mystery, like moths bewitched by the +light behind a clouded window-glass. It was very curious (he thought) +that he could be so indifferent and so interested at one and the same +time. The possibility that she might have married a second time did not +disturb his pulse by the least fraction of a beat. He even contemplated +the chance that she might be dead with normal equanimity. Fortunate, +that he didn't love her. More fortunate still, that he loved no one +else. + +It occurred to him suddenly that it would take a long time for a letter +to elicit information from Berlin. + +Incontinently he wrote and despatched a long, extravagant cablegram to +Mrs. Pettit in care of the American Embassy, little doubting that she +would immediately answer. + +Then he set whole-heartedly about the business of making himself +presentable for the evening. + +When eventually he strode into the white room, Max was already +established at the famous little table in the southeast corner. Whitaker +was conscious of turning heads and guarded comment as he took his place +opposite the little fat man. + +"Make you famous in a night," Max assured him importantly. "Don't happen +to need any notoriety, do you?" + +"No, thanks." + +"Dine with me here three nights hand-running and they'll let you into +the Syndicate by the back door without even asking your name. P.T.A.'s +one grand little motto, my boy." + +"P.T.A.?" + +"Pays to advertise. Paste that in your hat, keep your head small enough +to wear it, and don't givadam if folks do think you're an addle-pated +village cut-up, and you'll have this town at heel like a good dog as +long as--well," Max wound up with a short laugh, "as long as your luck +lasts." + +"Yours seems to be pretty healthy--no signs of going into a premature +decline." + +"Ah!" said Max gloomily. "Seems!" + +With a morose manner he devoted himself to his soup. + +"Look me over," he requested abruptly, leaning back. "I guess I'm some +giddy young buck, what?" + +Whitaker reviewed the striking effect Max had created by encasing his +brief neck and double chin in an old-fashioned high collar and black +silk stock, beneath which his important chest was protected by an +elaborately frilled shirt decorated with black pearl studs. His waist +was strapped in by a pique waistcoat edged with black, and there was a +distinctly perceptible "invisible" stripe in the material of his evening +coat and trousers. + +"Dressed up like a fool," Max summed up the ensemble before his guest +could speak. "Would you believe that despair could gnaw at the vitals of +any one as wonderfully arrayed?" + +"I would not," Whitaker asserted. + +"Nobody would," said Max mournfully. "And yet, 'tis true." + +"Meaning--?" + +"Oh, I'm just down in the mouth because this is Sara's last appearance." +Max motioned the waiter to remove the débris of a course. "I'm as +superstitious as any trouper in the profession. I've got it in my knob +that she's my mascot. If she leaves me, my luck goes with her. I never +had any luck until she came under my management, and I don't expect to +have any after she retires. I made her, all right, but she made me, too; +and it sprains my sense of good business to break up a paying +combination like that." + +"Nonsense," Whitaker contended warmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you were +telling me this afternoon that you stand next to Belasco as a producing +manager. The loss of one star isn't going to rob you of that prestige, +is it?" + +"You never can tell," the little man contended darkly; "I wouldn't bet +thirty cents my next production would turn out a hit." + +"What will it cost--your next production?" + +"The show I have in mind--" Max considered a moment then announced +positively: "between eighteen and twenty thousand." + +"I call that big gambling." + +"Gambling? Oh, that's just part of the game. I meant a side bet. If the +production flivvers, I'll need that thirty cents for coffee and sinkers +at Dennett's. So I won't bet.... But," he volunteered brightly, "I'll +sell you a half interest in the show for twelve thousand." + +"Is that a threat or a promise?" + +"I mean it," Max insisted seriously; "though I'll admit I'm not crazy +about your accepting--yet. I've had several close calls with Sara--she's +threatened to chuck the stage often before this; but every time +something happened to make her change her mind. I've got a hunch maybe +something will happen this time, too. If it does, I won't want any +partners." + +Whitaker laughed quietly and turned the conversation, accepting the +manager's pseudo-confidences at their face value--that is, as pure +bluff, quite consistent with the managerial pose. + +They rose presently and made their way out into the crowded, blatant +night of Broadway. + +"We'll walk, if you don't mind," Max suggested. "It isn't far, and I'd +like to get a line on the house as it goes in." He sighed affectedly. +"Heaven knows when I'll see another swell audience mobbing one of my +attractions!" + +His companion raised no objection. This phase of the life of New York +exerted an attraction for his imagination of unfailing potency. He was +more willing to view it afoot than from the windows of a cab. + +They pushed forward slowly through the eddying tides, elbowed by a +matchless motley of humanity, deafened by its thousand tongues, dazzled +to blindness by walls of living light. Whitaker experienced a sensation +of participating in a royal progress: Max was plainly a man of mark; he +left a wake of rippling interest. At every third step somebody hailed +him, as a rule by his first name; generally he responded by a curt nod +and a tightening of his teeth upon his cigar. + +They turned east through Forty-sixth Street, shouldered by a denser +rabble whose faces, all turned in one direction, shone livid with the +glare of a gigantic electric sign, midway down the block: + + THEATRE MAX + + SARA LAW'S + FAREWELL + +It was nearly half-past eight; the house had been open since seven; and +still a queue ran from the gallery doors to Broadway, while still an +apparently interminable string of vehicles writhed from one corner to +the lobby entrance, paused to deposit its perishable freight, and +streaked away to Sixth Avenue. The lobby itself was crowded to +suffocation with an Occidental durbar of barbaric magnificence, the +city's supreme manifestation of its religion, the ultimate rite in the +worship of the pomps of the flesh. + +"Look at that," Max grumbled through his cigar. "Ain't it a shame?" + +"What?" Whitaker had to lift his voice to make it carry above the +buzzing of the throng. + +"The money I'm losing," returned the manager, vividly disgusted. "I +could've filled the Metropolitan Opera House three times over!" + +He swung on his heel and began to push his way out of the lobby. "Come +along--no use trying to get in this way." + +Whitaker followed, to be led down a blind alley between the theatre and +the adjoining hotel. An illuminated sign advertised the stage door, +through which, _via_ a brief hallway, they entered the postscenium--a +vast, cavernous, cluttered, shadowy and draughty place, made visible for +the most part by an unnatural glow filtering from the footlights through +the canvas walls of an interior set. Whitaker caught hasty glimpses of +stage-hands idling about; heard a woman's voice declaiming loudly from +within the set; saw a middle-aged actor waiting for his cue beside a +substantial wooden door in the canvas walls; and--Max dragging him by +the arm--passed through a small door into the gangway behind the boxes. + +"Curtain's just up," Max told him; "Sara doesn't come on till near the +middle of the act. Make yourself comfortable; I'll be back before long." + +He drew aside a curtain and ushered his guest into the right-hand +stage-box, then vanished. Whitaker, finding himself the sole occupant of +the box, established himself in desolate grandeur as far out of sight as +he could arrange his chair, without losing command of the stage. A +single glance over the body of the house showed him tier upon tier of +dead-white shirt-bosoms framed in black, alternating with bare gleaming +shoulders and dazzling, exquisite gowns. The few empty stalls were +rapidly filling up. There was a fluent movement through the aisles. A +subdued hum and rustle rose from that portion of the audience which was +already seated. The business going on upon the stage was receiving +little attention--from Whitaker as little as from any one. He was +vaguely conscious only of a scene suggesting with cruel cleverness the +interior of a shabby-genteel New York flat and of a few figures peopling +it, all dominated by a heavy-limbed, harsh-voiced termagant. That to +which he was most sensitive was a purely psychological feeling of +suspense and excitement, a semi-hysterical, high-strung, emotional state +which he knew he shared with the audience, its source in fact. The +opening scene in the development of the drama interested the gathering +little or not at all; it was hanging in suspense upon the unfolding of +some extraordinary development, something unprecedented and extraneous, +foreign to the play. + +Was it due simply to the fact that all these people were present at the +last public appearance--as advertised--of a star of unusual popularity? +Whitaker wondered. Or was there something else in their minds, something +deeper and more profoundly significant? + +Max slipped quietly into the box and handed his guest a programme. +"Better get over here," he suggested in a hoarse whisper, indicating a +chair near the rail. "You may never have another chance to see the +greatest living actress." + +Whitaker thanked him and adopted the suggestion, albeit with reluctance. +The manager remained standing for a moment, quick eyes ranging over the +house. By this time the aisles were all clear, the rows of seats +presenting an almost unbroken array of upturned faces. + +Max combined a nod denoting satisfaction with a slight frown. + +"Wonderful house," he whispered, sitting down behind Whitaker. "Drummond +hasn't shown up yet, though." + +"That so?" Whitaker returned over his shoulder. + +"Yes; it's funny; never knew him to be so late. He always has the aisle +seat, fourth row, centre. But he'll be along presently." + +Whitaker noted that the designated stall was vacant, then tried to fix +his attention upon the stage; but without much success; after a few +moments he became aware that he had missed something important; the +scene was meaningless to him, lacking what had gone before. + +He glanced idly at his programme, indifferently absorbing the +information that "Jules Max has the honour to present Miss Sara Law in +her first and greatest success entitled JOAN THURSDAY--a play in three +acts--" + +The audience stirred expectantly; a movement ran through it like the +movement of waters, murmurous, upon a shore. Whitaker's gaze was drawn +to the stage as if by an implacable force. Max shifted on the chair +behind him and said something indistinguishable, in an unnatural tone. + +A woman had come upon the stage, suddenly and tempestuously, banging a +door behind her. The audience got the barest glimpse of her profile as, +pausing momentarily, she eyed the other actors. Then, without speaking, +she turned and walked up-stage, her back to the footlights. + +Applause broke out like a thunderclap, pealing heavily through the big +auditorium, but the actress showed no consciousness of it. She was +standing before a cheap mirror, removing her hat, arranging her hair +with the typical, unconscious gestures of a weary shop-girl; she was +acting--living the scene, with no time to waste in pandering to her +popularity by bows and set smiles; she remained before the glass, +prolonging the business, until the applause subsided. + +Whitaker received an impression as of a tremendous force at work across +the footlights. The woman diffused an effect as of a terrible and +boundless energy under positive control. She was not merely an actress, +not even merely a great actress; she was the very soul of the drama of +to-day. + +Beyond this he knew in his heart that she was his wife. Sara Law was the +woman he had married in that sleepy Connecticut town, six years before +that night. He had not yet seen her face clearly, but he _knew_. To find +himself mistaken would have shaken the foundations of his understanding. + +Under cover of the applause, he turned to Max. + +"Who is that? What is her name?" + +"The divine Sara," Max answered, his eyes shining. + +"I mean, what is her name off the stage, in private life?" + +"The same," Max nodded with conviction; "Sara Law's the only name she's +ever worn in my acquaintance with her." + +At that moment, the applause having subsided to such an extent that it +was possible for her to make herself heard, the actress swung round from +the mirror and addressed one of the other players. Her voice was clear, +strong and vibrant, yet sweet; but Whitaker paid no heed to the lines +she spoke. He was staring, fascinated, at her face. + +Sight of it set the seal of certainty upon conviction: she was one with +Mary Ladislas. He had forgotten her so completely in the lapse of years +as to have been unable to recall her features and colouring, yet he had +needed only to see to recognize her beyond any possibility of doubt. +Those big, intensely burning eyes, that drawn and pallid face, the +quick, nervous movements of her thin white hands, the slenderness of her +tall, awkward, immature figure--in every line and contour, in every +gesture and inflection, she reproduced the Mary Ladislas whom he had +married. + +And yet ... Max was whispering over his shoulder: + +"Wonderful make-up--what?" + +"Make-up!" Whitaker retorted. "She's not made up--she's herself to the +last detail." + +Amusement glimmered in the manager's round little eyes: "You don't know +her. Wait till you get a pipe at her off the stage." Then he checked the +reply that was shaping on Whitaker's lips, with a warning lift of his +hand and brows: "Ssh! Catch this, now. She's a wonder in this scene." + +The superb actress behind the counterfeit of the hunted and hungry +shop-girl was holding spell-bound with her inevitable witchery the most +sophisticated audience in the world; like wheat in a windstorm it swayed +to the modulations of her marvellous voice as it ran through a +passage-at-arms with the termagant. Suddenly ceasing to speak, she +turned down to a chair near the footlights, followed by a torrent of +shrill vituperation under the lash of which she quivered like a whipped +thoroughbred. + +Abruptly, pausing with her hands on the back of the chair, there came a +change. The actress had glanced across the footlights; Whitaker could +not but follow the direction of her gaze; the eyes of both focussed for +a brief instant on the empty aisle-seat in the fourth row. A shade of +additional pallor showed on the woman's face. She looked quickly, +questioningly, toward the box of her manager. + +Seated as he was so near the stage, Whitaker's face stood out in rugged +relief, illumined by the glow reflected from the footlights. It was +inevitable that she should see him. Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon +his. The scene faltered perceptibly. She stood transfixed.... + +[Illustration: Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon his. The scene faltered +perceptibly] + +In the hush Max cried impatiently: "What the devil!" The words broke the +spell of amazement upon the actress. In a twinkling the pitiful +counterfeit of the shop-girl was rent and torn away; it hung only in +shreds and tatters upon an individuality wholly strange to Whitaker: a +larger, stronger woman seemed to have started out of the mask. + +She turned, calling imperatively into the wings: "_Ring down!_" + +Followed a pause of dumb amazement. In all the house, during the space +of thirty pulse-beats, no one moved. Then Max rapped out an oath and +slipped like quicksilver from the box. + +Simultaneously the woman's foot stamped an echo from the boards. + +"Ring down!" she cried. "Do you hear? Ring down!" + +With a rush the curtain descended as pandemonium broke out on both sides +of it. + + + + +VII + +THE LATE EXTRA + + +Impulsively Whitaker got up to follow Max, then hesitated and sank back +in doubt, his head awhirl. He was for the time being shocked out of all +capacity for clear reasoning or right thinking. Uppermost in his +consciousness he had a half-formed notion that it wouldn't help matters +if he were to force himself in upon the crisis behind the scenes. + +Beyond all question his wife had recognized in him the man whom she had +been given every reason to believe dead: a discovery so unnerving as to +render her temporarily unable to continue. But if theatrical precedent +were a reliable guide, she would presently pull herself together and go +on; people of the stage seldom forget that their first duty is to the +audience. If he sat tight and waited, all might yet be well--as well as +any such hideous coil could be hoped ever to be.... + +As has been indicated, he arrived at his conclusion through no such +detailed argument; his mind leaped to it, and he rested upon it while +still beset by a half-score of tormenting considerations. + +This, then, explained Drummond's reluctance to have him bidden to the +supper party; whatever ultimate course of action he planned to pursue, +Drummond had been unwilling, perhaps pardonably so, to have his romance +overthrown and altogether shattered in a single day. + +And Drummond, too, must have known who Sara Law was, even while denying +knowledge of the existence of Mary Ladislas Whitaker. He had lied, lied +desperately, doubtless meaning to encompass a marriage before Whitaker +could find his wife, and so furnish him with every reason that could +influence an honourable man to disappear a second time. + +Herein, moreover, lay the reason for the lawyer's failure to occupy his +stall on that farewell night. It was just possible that Whitaker would +not recognize his wife; and _vice versa_; but it was a chance that +Drummond hadn't the courage to face. Even so, he might have hidden +himself somewhere in the house, waiting and watching to see what would +happen. + +On the other hand, Max to a certainty was ignorant of the relationship +between his star and his old-time friend, just as he must have been +ignorant of her identity with the one-time Mary Ladislas. For that +matter, Whitaker had to admit that, damning as was the evidence to +controvert the theory, Drummond might be just as much in the dark as Max +was. There was always the chance that the girl had kept her secret to +herself, inviolate, informing neither her manager nor the man she had +covenanted to wed. Drummond's absence from the house might be due to any +one of a hundred reasons other than that to which Whitaker inclined to +assign it. It was only fair to suspend judgment. In the meantime.... + +The audience was getting beyond control. The clamour of comment and +questioning which had broken loose when the curtain fell was waxing and +gaining a high querulous note of impatience. In the gallery the gods +were beginning to testify to their normal intolerance with shrill +whistles, cat-calls, sporadic bursts of hand-clapping and a steady, +sinister rumble of stamping feet. In the orchestra and dress-circle +people were moving about restlessly and talking at the top of their +voices in order to make themselves heard above the growing din. Had +there been music to fill the interval, they might have been more calm; +but Max had fallen in with the theatrical _dernier cri_ and had +eliminated orchestras from his houses, employing only a peal of gongs to +insure silence and attention before each curtain. + +Abruptly Max himself appeared at one side of the proscenium arch. It was +plain to those nearest the stage that he was seriously disturbed. There +was a noticeable hesitancy in his manner, a pathetic frenzy in his +habitually mild and lustrous eyes. Advancing halfway to the middle of +the apron, he paused, begging attention with a pudgy hand. It was a full +minute before the gallery would let him be heard. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced plaintively, "I much regret to +inform you that Miss Law has suffered a severe nervous shock"--his gaze +wandered in perplexed inquiry toward the right-hand stage-box, then was +hastily averted--"and will not be able to continue for a few moments. If +you will kindly grant us your patience for a very few minutes...." He +backed precipitately from view, hounded by mocking applause. + +A lull fell, but only temporarily. As the minutes lengthened, the +gallery grew more and more obstreperous and turbulent. Wave upon wave of +sound swept through the auditorium to break, roaring, against the +obdurate curtain. When eventually a second figure appeared before the +footlights, the audience seemed to understand that Max dared not show +himself again, and why. It was with difficulty that the man--evidently +the stage-manager--contrived to make himself disconnectedly audible. + +"Ladies and ..." he shouted, sweat beading his perturbed forehead ... +"regret ... impossible to continue ... money ... box-office...." + +An angry howl drowned him out. He retreated at accelerated discretion. + +Whitaker, slipping through the stage-door behind the boxes, ran into the +last speaker standing beside the first entrance, heatedly explaining to +any one who would listen the utter futility of offering box-office +prices in return for seat checks which in the majority of instances had +cost their holders top-notch speculator prices. + +"They'll wreck the theatre," he shouted excitedly, mopping his brow with +his coat sleeve, "and damned if I blame 'em! What t'ell'd she wana pull +a raw one like this for?" + +Whitaker caught his arm in a grasp compelling attention. + +"Where's Miss Law?" he asked. + +"You tell me and I'll make you a handsome present," retorted the man. + +"What's happened to her? Can't you find her?" + +"I dunno--go ask Max." + +"Where is _he_?" + +"You can search me; last I saw of him he was tearing the star +dressin'-room up by the roots." + +Whitaker hurried on just in time to see Max disappearing in the +direction of the stage-door, at which point he caught up with him, and +from the manager's disjointed catechism of the doorkeeper garnered the +information that the star had hurried out of the building while Max was +making his announcement before the curtain. + +Max swung angrily upon Whitaker. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Perhaps you can explain what this means? She was +looking straight at you when she dried up! I saw her--" + +"Perhaps you'd better find Miss Law and ask her," Whitaker interrupted. +"Have you any idea where she's gone?" + +"Home, probably," Max snapped in return. + +"Where's that?" + +"Fifty-seventh Street--house of her own--just bought it." + +"Come on, then." Passing his arm through the manager's, Whitaker drew +him out into the alley. "We'll get a taxi before this mob--" + +"But, look here--what business've _you_ got mixing in?" + +"Ask Miss Law," said Whitaker, shortly. It had been on the tip of his +tongue to tell the man flatly: "I'm her husband." But he retained wit +enough to deny himself the satisfaction of this shattering rejoinder. "I +know her," he added; "that's enough for the present." + +"If you knew her all the time, why didn't you say so?" Max expostulated +with passion. + +"I didn't know I knew her--by that name," said Whitaker lamely. + +At the entrance to the alley Max paused to listen to the uproar within +his well-beloved theatre. + +"I'd give five thousand gold dollars if I hadn't met you this +afternoon!" he groaned. + +"It's too late, now," Whitaker mentioned the obvious. "But if I'd +understood, I promise you I wouldn't have come--at least to sit where +she could see me." + +He began gently to urge Max toward Broadway, but the manager hung back +like a sulky child. + +"Hell!" he grumbled. "I always knew that woman was a Jonah!" + +"You were calling her your mascot two hours ago." + +"She'll be the death of me, yet," the little man insisted gloomily. He +stopped short, jerking his arm free. "Look here, I'm not going. What's +the use? We'd only row. And I've got my work cut out for me back +there"--with a jerk of his head toward the theatre. + +Whitaker hesitated, then without regret decided to lose him. It would be +as well to get over the impending interview without a third factor. + +"Very well," he said, beckoning a taxicab in to the curb. "What's the +address?" + +Max gave it sullenly. + +"So long," he added morosely as Whitaker opened the cab door; "sorry I +ever laid eyes on you." + +Whitaker hesitated. "How about that supper?" he inquired. "Is it still +on?" + +"How in blazes do I know? Come round to the Beaux Arts and find out for +yourself--same's I'll have to." + +"All right," said Whitaker doubtfully. He nodded to the chauffeur, and +jumped into the cab. As they swung away he received a parting impression +of Max, his pose modelled on the popular conception of Napoleon at +Waterloo: hands clasped behind his back, hair in disorder, chin on his +chest, a puzzled frown shadowing his face as he stared sombrely after +his departing guest. + +Whitaker settled back and, oblivious to the lights of Broadway streaming +past, tried to think--tried with indifferent success to prepare himself +against the unhappy conference he had to anticipate. It suddenly +presented itself to his reason, with shocking force, that his attitude +must be humbly and wholly apologetic. It was a singular case: he had +come home to find his wife on the point of marrying another man--and +_she_ was the one entitled to feel aggrieved! Strange twist of the +eternal triangle!... + +He tried desperately, and with equal futility, to frame some excuse for +his fault. + +Far too soon the machine swerved into Fifty-seventh Street, slipped +halfway down the block, described a wide arc to the northern curb and +pulled up, trembling, before a modest modern residence between Sixth and +Seventh avenues. + +Reluctantly Whitaker got out and, on suspicion, told the chauffeur to +wait. Then, with all the alacrity of a condemned man ascending the +scaffold, he ran up the steps to the front door. + +A man-servant answered his ring without undue delay. + +Was Miss Law at home? He would see. + +This indicated that she was at home. Whitaker tendered a card with his +surname pencilled after that of _Mr. Hugh Morten_ in engraved script. He +was suffered to enter and wait in the hallway. + +He stared round him with pardonable wonder. If this were truly the home +of Mary Ladislas Whitaker--her property--he had builded far better than +he could possibly have foreseen with that investment of five hundred +dollars six years since. But who, remembering the tortured, half-starved +child of the Commercial House, could have prefigured the Sara Law of +to-day--the woman who, before his eyes, within that hour, had burst +through the counterfeit of herself of yesterday like some splendid +creature emerging from its chrysalis? + +Soft, shaded lights, rare furnishings, the rich yet delicate atmosphere +of exquisite taste, the hush and orderly perfection of a home made and +maintained with consummate art: these furnished him with dim, provoking +intimations of an individuality to which he was a stranger--less than a +stranger--nothing.... + +The man-servant brought his dignity down-stairs again. + +Would Mr. Whitaker be pleased to wait in the drawing-room? + +Mr. Whitaker surrendered top-coat and hat and was shown into the +designated apartment. Almost immediately he became aware of feminine +footsteps on the staircase--tapping heels, the faint murmuring of +skirts. He faced the doorway, indefinably thrilled, the blood quickening +in throat and temples. + +To his intense disappointment there entered to him a woman impossible to +confuse with her whom he sought: a lady well past middle-age, with the +dignity and poise consistent with her years, her manifest breeding and +her iron-gray hair. + +"Mr. Whitaker?" + +He bowed, conscious that he was being narrowly scrutinized, nicely +weighed in the scales of a judgment prejudiced, if at all, not in his +favor. + +"I am Mrs. Secretan, a friend of Miss Law's. She has asked me to say +that she begs to be excused, at least for to-night. She has suffered a +severe shock and is able to see nobody." + +"I understand--and I'm sorry," said Whitaker, swallowing his chagrin. + +"And I am further instructed to ask if you will be good enough to leave +your address." + +"Certainly: I'm stopping at the Ritz-Carlton; but"--he demurred--"I +should like to leave a note, if I may--?" + +Mrs. Secretan nodded an assent. "You will find materials in the desk +there," she added, indicating an escritoire. + +Thanking her, Whitaker sat down, and, after some hesitation, wrote a few +lines: + + "Please don't think I mean to cause you the slightest inconvenience + or distress. I shall be glad to further your wishes in any way you + may care to designate. Please believe in my sincere regret...." + +Signing and folding this, he rose and delivered it to Mrs. Secretan. + +"Thank you," he said with a ceremonious bow. + +The customary civilities were scrupulously observed. + +He found himself in the street, with his trouble for all reward for his +pains. He wondered what to do, where to go, next. There was in his mind +a nagging thought that he ought to do something or other, somehow or +other, to find Drummond and make him understand that he, Whitaker, had +no desire or inclination to stand in his light; only, let the thing be +consummated decently, as privately as possible, with due deference to +the law.... + +The driver of the taxicab was holding the door for him, head bent to +catch the address of the next stop. But his fare lingered still in +doubt. + +Dimly he became aware of the violent bawlings of a brace of news-vendors +who were ramping through the street, one on either sidewalk. Beyond two +words which seemed to be intended for "extra" and "tragedy" their cries +were as inarticulate as they were deafening. + +At the spur of a vague impulse, bred of an incredulous wonder if the +papers were already noising abroad the news of the fiasco at the Theatre +Max, Whitaker stopped one of the men and purchased a paper. It was +delivered into his hands roughly folded so that a section of the front +page which blazed with crimson ink was uppermost--and indicated, +moreover, by a ridiculously dirty thumb. + +"Ther'y'are, sir. 'Orrible moider.... Thanky...." + +The man galloped on, howling. But Whitaker stood with his gaze riveted +in horror. The news item so pointedly offered to his attention was +clearly legible in the light of the cab lamps. + + LATEST EXTRA + + TRAGIC SUICIDE IN HARLEM RIVER + + Stopping his automobile in the middle of Washington Bridge at 7.30 + P.M., Carter S. Drummond, the lawyer and fiancé of Sara Law the + actress, threw himself to his death in the Harlem River. The body + has not as yet been recovered. + + + + +VIII + +A HISTORY + + +Whitaker returned at once to the Theatre Max, but only to find the front +of the house dark, Forty-sixth Street gradually reassuming its normal +nocturnal aspect. + +At the stage-door he discovered that no one knew what had become of the +manager. He might possibly be at home.... It appeared that Max occupied +exclusive quarters especially designed for him in the theatre building +itself: an amiable idiosyncrasy not wholly lacking in advertising value, +if one chose to consider it in that light. + +His body-servant, a prematurely sour Japanese, suggested grudgingly that +his employer might not improbably be found at Rector's or Louis +Martin's. But he wasn't; not by Whitaker, at least. + +Eventually the latter realized that it wasn't absolutely essential to +his peace of mind or material welfare to find Max that night. He had +been, as a matter of fact, seeking him in thoughtless humour--moved +solely by the gregarious instinct in man, which made him want to discuss +the amazing events of the evening with the one who, next to himself and +Sara Law, was most vitally concerned with them. + +He consulted a telephone book without finding that Drummond had any +private residence connection, and then tried at random one of the clubs +of which they had been members in common in the days when Hugh Whitaker +was a human entity in the knowledge of the town. Here he had better +luck--luck, that is, in as far as it put an end to his wanderings for +the night; he found a clerk who remembered his face without remembering +his name, and who, consequently, was not unwilling to talk. Drummond, it +seemed, had lived at the club; he had dined alone, that evening, in his +room; had ordered his motor car from the adjacent garage for seven +o'clock; and had left at about that hour with a small hand-bag and no +companion. Nothing further was known of his actions save the police +report. The car had been found stationary on Washington Bridge, and +deserted, Drummond's motor coat and cap on the driver's seat. Bystanders +averred that a man had been seen to leave the car and precipitate +himself from the bridge to the stream below. The body was still +unrecovered. The club had notified by telegraph a brother in San +Francisco, the only member of Drummond's family of whom it had any +record. Friends, fellow-members of the club, were looking after +things--doing all that could and properly ought to be done under the +circumstances. + +Whitaker walked back to his hotel. There was no other place to go: no +place, that is, that wooed his humour in that hour. He could call to +mind, of course, names of friends and acquaintances of the old days to +whom there was no reason why he shouldn't turn, now that he had elected +to rediscover himself to the world; but there was none of them all that +he really wanted to see before he had regained complete control of his +emotions. + +He was, indeed, profoundly shocked. He held himself measurably +responsible for Drummond's act of desperation. If he had not wilfully +sought to evade the burden of his duty to Mary Ladislas, when he found +that he was to live rather than die--if he had been honest and generous +instead of allowing himself to drift into cowardly defalcation to her +trust--Drummond, doubtless, would still be alive. Or even if, having +chosen the recreant way, he had had the strength to stick to it, to stay +buried.... + +Next to poor Peter Stark, whom his heart mourned without ceasing, he had +cared most for Drummond of all the men he had known and liked in the old +life. Now ... he felt alone and very lonely, sick of heart and forlorn. +There was, of course, Lynch, his partner in the Antipodes; Whitaker was +fond of Lynch, but not with the affection that a generous-spirited youth +had accorded Peter Stark and Drummond--a blind and unreasoning affection +that asked no questions and made nothing of faults. The capacity for +such sentiment was dead in him, as dead as Peter Stark, as dead as +Drummond.... + +It was nearly midnight, but the hour found Whitaker in no humour for bed +or the emptiness of his room. He strolled into the lounge, sat down at a +detached table in a corner, and ordered something to drink. There were +not many others in the room, but still enough to mitigate to some extent +his temporary horror of utter loneliness. + +He felt painfully the heaviness of his debt to the woman he had married. +He who had promised her new life and the rich fulfilment thereof had +accomplished only its waste and desolation. He had thrust upon her the +chance to find happiness, and as rudely had snatched it away from her. +Nor could he imagine any way in which he might be able to expiate his +breach of trust--his sins of omission and commission, alike deadly and +unpardonable! + +Unless ... He caught eagerly at the thought: he might "die" again--go +away once more, and forever; bury himself deep beyond the groping +tentacles of civilization; disappear finally, notifying her of his +intention, so that she might seek legal freedom from his name. It only +needed Max's silence, which could unquestionably be secured, to insure +her against the least breath of scandal, the faintest whisper of +gossip.... Not that Max really knew anything; but the name of Whitaker, +as identified with Hugh Morten, might better be permitted to pass +unechoed into oblivion.... + +And with this very thought in mind he became aware of the echo of that +name in his hearing. + +A page, bearing something on a salver, ambled through the lounge, now +and again opening his mouth to bleat, dispassionately: "Mista Whitaker, +Mista Whitaker!" + +The owner of that name experienced a flush of exasperation. What right +had the management to cause him to be advertised in every public room of +the establishment?... But the next instant his resentment evaporated, +when he remembered that he remained Mr. Hugh Morten in the managerial +comprehension. + +He lifted a finger; the boy swerved toward him, tendered a blue +envelope, accepted a gratuity and departed. + +It was a cable message: very probably an answer to his to Grace Pettit. +Whitaker tore the envelope and unfolded the enclosure, glancing first at +the signature to verify his surmise. As he did so, he heard his name a +second time. + +"Pardon me; this is Mr. Whitaker?" + +A man stood beside the little table--one whom Whitaker had indifferently +noticed on entering as an equally lonely lounger at another table. + +Though he frowned involuntarily with annoyance, he couldn't well deny +his identity. + +"Yes," he said shortly, looking the man up and down with a captious eye. + +Yet it was hard to find much fault with this invader of his +preoccupation. He had the poise and the dress of a gentleman: dignity +without aggressiveness, completeness without ostentation. He had a +spare, not ungraceful body, a plain, dark face, a humorous mouth, steady +eyes: a man easily forgotten or overlooked unless he willed it +otherwise. + +"My name is Ember," he said quietly. "If you'll permit me--my card." He +offered a slip of pasteboard engraved with the name of Martin Ember. +"And I'll sit down, because I want to talk to you for a few minutes." + +Accordingly he sat down. Whitaker glanced at the card, and questioningly +back at Mr. Ember's face. + +"I don't know you, but ... What are we to talk about, please?" + +The man smiled, not unpleasingly. + +"Mrs. Whitaker," he said. + +Whitaker stared, frowned, and jumped at a conclusion. + +"You represent Mrs. Whitaker?" + +Mr. Ember shook his head. "I'm no lawyer, thank God! But I happen to +know a good deal it would be to your advantage to know; so I've taken +this liberty." + +"Mrs. Whitaker didn't send you to me? Then how--? What the deuce--!" + +"I happened to have a seat near your box at the theatre to-night," Mr. +Ember explained coolly. "From--what I saw there, I inferred that you +must be--yourself. Afterwards I got hold of Max, confirmed my suspicion, +and extracted your address from him." + +"I see," said Whitaker, slowly--not comprehending the main issue at all. +"But I'm not known here by the name of Whitaker." + +"So I discovered," said Ember, with his quiet, engaging smile. "If I +hadn't remembered that you sometimes registered as Hugh Morten--as, for +instance, at the Commercial House six years ago--" + +"You were there!" + +"A considerable time after the event--yes." The man nodded, his eyes +glimmering. + +Whitaker shot a quick glance round the room, and was relieved to find +they were not within earshot of any of the other occupied tables. + +"Who the devil are you?" he demanded bluntly. + +"I was," said the other slowly, "once, a private detective. Now--I'm a +person of no particular employment, of independent means, with a +penchant--you're at liberty to assume--for poking my nose into other +people's business." + +"Oh...." + +A word, "blackmail," leapt into Whitaker's consciousness, and served to +harden the hostility in his attitude. + +"Mrs. George Pettit once employed me to find her sister, Miss Mary +Ladislas, who had run away with a chauffeur named Morton," pursued the +man, evenly. "That was about the time--shortly after--the death of +Thurlow Ladislas; say, two months after the so-called elopement." + +"Just a minute," said Whitaker suddenly--"by your leave--" + +Ember bowed gravely. For a thought longer Whitaker's gaze bored into his +eyes in vain effort to fathom what was going on behind them, the animus +undiscovered by his words; then, remembering, he looked down at the +cable message in his hand. + +"_Martin Ember_ (it ran) _private agency 1435 Broadway Grace Pettit_." + +Whitaker folded the paper and put it away in a pocket. + +"Go on, please," he said quietly. + +"In those days," Mr. Ember resumed, "I did such things indifferently +well. I had little trouble in following the runaways from Southampton to +Greenport. There they parted. The girl crossed to the Connecticut shore, +while the man went back to New York with the automobile. He turned the +machine in at the Ladislas garage, by the way, and promptly fell into +the hands of the police. He was wanted for theft in a former position, +was arrested, convicted and sent to Sing Sing; where he presently died, +I'm glad to say.... I thought this information might interest you." + +Whitaker nodded grimly. + +"Can I order you something to drink?" + +"No, thank you--and I'm already smoking." Mr. Ember dropped the ash from +a cigar. "On the Connecticut side (because it was my business to find +out things) I discovered that Miss Ladislas had registered at the +Commercial House as Mrs. Morton. She was there, alone, under that name, +for nearly a week before you registered as Hugh Morten, and in the space +of a few hours married her, under your true name, and shipped her off to +New York." + +"Right," Whitaker agreed steadily. "And then--?" + +"I traced her to the Hotel Belmont, where she stopped overnight, then +lost her completely; and so reported to Mrs. Pettit. I must mention +here, in confidence, in order that you may understand my subsequent +action, that my bill for the investigation was never paid. Mr. Pettit +was not in very comfortable circumstances at the time.... No matter. I +didn't press him, and later was glad of it, for it left me a free +agent--under no obligation to make further report." + +"I don't understand you." + +"In a moment.... I came into a little money about that time, and gave up +my business: gave it up, that is, as far as placing myself at the +service of the public was concerned. I retained my devouring curiosity +about things that didn't concern me personally, although they were often +matters of extreme interest to the general public. In other words, I +continued to employ my time professionally, but only for my private +amusement or in the interests of my friends.... After some time Mr. +Drummond sought me out and begged me to renew my search for Mrs. +Whitaker; you were dead, he told me; she was due to come into your +estate--a comfortable living for an independent woman." + +"And you found her and told Drummond--?" + +Whitaker leaned over the table, studying the man's face with intense +interest. + +"No--and yes. I found Mrs. Whitaker. I didn't report to Drummond." + +"But why--in Heaven's name?" + +Ember smiled sombrely at the drooping ash of his cigar. "There were +several reasons. In the first place I didn't have to: I had asked no +retainer from Drummond, and I rendered no bill: what I had found out was +mine, to keep or to sell, as I chose. I chose not to sell because--well, +because Mrs. Whitaker begged me not to." + +"Ah!" Whitaker breathed, sitting back. "Why?" + +"This was all of a year, I think, after your marriage. Mrs. Whitaker had +tasted the sweets of independence and--got the habit. She had adopted a +profession looked upon with abhorrence by her family; she was succeeding +in it; I may say her work was foreshadowing that extraordinary power +which made her the Sara Law whom you saw to-night. If she came forward +as the widow of Hugh Whitaker, it meant renunciation of the stage; it +meant painful scenes with her family if she refused to abandon her +profession; it meant the loss of liberty, of freedom of action and +development, which was hers in her decent obscurity. She was already +successful in a small way, had little need of the money she would get as +claimant of your estate. She enlisted my sympathy, and--I held my +tongue." + +"That was decent of you." + +The man bowed a quiet acknowledgment. "I thought you'd think so.... +There was a third reason." + +He paused, until Whitaker encouraged him with a "Yes--?" + +"Mr. Whitaker"--the query came point-blank--"do you love your wife?" + +Whitaker caught his breath. "What right--!" he began, and checked +abruptly. The blood darkened his lean cheeks. + +"Mrs. Whitaker gave me to understand that you didn't. It wasn't hard to +perceive, everything considered, that your motive was pure +chivalry--Quixotism. I should like to go to my grave with anything half +as honourable and unselfish to my credit." + +"I beg your pardon," Whitaker muttered thickly. + +"You don't, then?" + +"Love her? No." + +There was a slight pause. Then, "I do," said this extraordinary man, +meeting Whitaker's gaze openly. "I do," he repeated, flushing in his +turn, "but ... hopelessly.... However, that was the third reason," he +pursued in a more level voice--"I thought you ought to know about +it--that induced me to keep Sara Law's secret.... I loved her from the +day I found her. She has never looked twice at me.... But that's why I +never lost interest." + +"You mean," Whitaker took him up diffidently--"you continued to--ah--?" + +"Court her--as we say? No." Ember's shoulders, lifting, emphasized the +disclaimer. "I'm no fool: I mean I'm able to recognize a hopeless case +when it's as intimate to me as mine was--and is. Doubtless Mrs. Whitaker +understands--if she hasn't forgotten me by this time--but, if so, wholly +through intuition. I have had the sense not to invite the thunderbolt. +I've sat quietly in the background, watching her work out her +destiny--feeling a good deal like a god in the machine. She doesn't know +it, unless Max told her against my wish; but it was I who induced him to +take her from the ranks of a provincial stock company and bring her +before the public, four years ago, as _Joan Thursday_. Since then her +destiny has been rather too big a thing for me to tamper with; but I've +watched and wondered, sensing forces at work about her of which even she +was unsuspicious." + +"What in blazes do you mean?" Whitaker demanded, mystified. + +"Did it strike you to wonder at the extraordinary mob her farewell +performance attracted to-night--the rabble that packed the street, +though quite hopeless of even seeing the inside of the theatre?" + +"Why--yes. It struck me as rather unusual. But then, Max had done +nothing but tell me of her tremendous popularity." + +"That alone, great as it is, wouldn't have brought so many people +together to stare at the outside of a theatre. The magnet was something +stronger--the morbid curiosity of New York. Those people were waiting, +thrilled with expectancy, on tiptoe for--what do you think?" + +"I shall think you mad in another moment, if you don't explain +yourself," Whitaker told him candidly. + +Ember's smile flashed and vanished. "They were waiting for the sensation +that presently came to them: the report of Drummond's death." + +"What the devil--!" + +"Patience!... It had been discounted: if something of the sort hadn't +happened, New York would have gone to bed disappointed. The reason? This +is the third time it has happened--the same thing, practically: Sara Law +on the verge of leaving the stage to marry, a fatal accident +intervening. Did Max by any chance mention the nickname New York has +bestowed on Sara Law?" + +"Nickname? No!" + +"They call her 'The Destroying Angel.'" + +"What damnable rot!" + +"Yes; but what damnable coincidence. Three men loved her--and one by one +they died. And now the fourth. Do you wonder...?" + +"Oh, but--'The Destroying Angel'--!" Whitaker cried indignantly. "How +can they blame her?" + +"It isn't blame--it's superstition. Listen...." + +Ember bent forward, holding Whitaker's gaze with intent, grave eyes. +"The first time," he said in a rapid undertone, "was a year or so after +her triumph as _Joan Thursday_. There were then two men openly +infatuated with her, a boy named Custer, and a man I believe you +knew--William Hamilton." + +"I knew them both." + +"Custer was making the pace; the announcement of his engagement to Sara +Law was confidently anticipated. He died suddenly; the coroner's jury +decided that he had misjudged the intentions of a loaded revolver. +People whispered of suicide, but it didn't look quite like that to me. +However ... Hamilton stepped into his place. Presently we heard that +Sara Law was to marry him and leave the stage. Hamilton had to go abroad +on business; on the return trip--the wedding was set for the day after +he landed here--he disappeared, no one knew how. Presumably he fell +overboard by accident one night; sane men with everything in the world +to live for do such things, you know--according to the newspapers." + +"I understand you. Please go on." + +"Approximately eighteen months later a man named Thurston--Mitchell +Thurston--was considered a dangerous aspirant for the hand of Sara Law. +He was exceedingly well fixed in a money way--a sort of dilettantish +architect, with offices in the Metropolitan Tower. One day at high noon +he left his desk to go to lunch at Martin's; crossing Madison Square, he +suddenly fell dead, with a bullet in his brain. It was a rifle bullet, +but though the square was crowded, no one had heard the report of the +shot, and no one was seen carrying a rifle. The conclusion was that he +had been shot down by somebody using a gun with a Maxim silencer, from a +window on the south side of the square. There were no clues." + +"And now Drummond!" Whitaker exclaimed in horror. "Poor fellow! Poor +woman!" + +A slightly sardonic expression modified the lines of Ember's mouth. "So +far as Mrs. Whitaker is concerned," he said with the somewhat pedantic +mode of speech which Whitaker was to learn to associate with his moments +of most serious concentration--"I echo the sentiment. But let us suspend +judgment on Drummond's case until we know more. It is not as yet an +established fact that he is dead." + +"You mean there's hope--?" + +"There's doubt," Ember corrected acidly--"doubt, at least, in my mind. +You see, I saw Drummond in the flesh, alive and vigorous, a good half +hour after he is reported to have leaped to his death." + +"Where?" + +"Coming up the stairs from the down-town Subway station in front of the +Park Avenue Hotel. He wore a hat pulled down over his eyes and an old +overcoat buttoned tight up to his chin. He was carrying a satchel +bearing the initials C. S. D., but was otherwise pretty thoroughly +disguised, and, I fancied, anxious enough to escape recognition." + +"You're positive about this?" + +"My dear man," said Ember with an air, "I saw his ear distinctly." + +"His ear!" + +"I never forget an ear; I've made a special study of them. They're +the last parts of the human anatomy that criminals ever think +to disguise; and, to the trained eye, as infallible a means of +identification--nearly--as thumb-prints. The man I saw coming up from +the Subway kept as much as possible away from the light; he had +successfully hidden most of his face; but he wore the inches, the +hand-bag, and the ear of Carter S. Drummond. I don't think I can be +mistaken." + +"Did you stop him--speak to him?" + +Ember shook his head. "No. I doubt if he would have remembered me. Our +acquaintance has been of the slightest, limited to a couple of meetings. +Besides, I was in a hurry to get to the theatre, and at that time had +heard nothing of this reputed suicide." + +"Which way did he go?" + +"Toward the Pennsylvania station, I fancy; that is, he turned west +through Thirty-third Street. I didn't follow--I was getting into a taxi +when I caught sight of him." + +"But what did you think to see him disguised? Didn't it strike you as +curious?" + +"Very," said Ember dryly. "At the same time, it was none of my +affair--then. Nor did it present itself to me as a matter worth meddling +with until, later, my suspicions were aroused by the scene in the +theatre--obviously the result of your appearance there--and still later, +when I heard the suicide report." + +"But--good Lord!" Whitaker passed a hand across his dazed eyes. "What +can it mean? Why should he do this thing?" + +"There are several possible explanations.... How long has Drummond known +that you were alive?" + +"Since noon to-day." + +"Not before?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"Still, it's possible. If he has a sensitive nature--I think he +hasn't--the shame of being found out, caught trying to marry your wife +when he had positive knowledge you still lived, may have driven him to +drop out of sight. Again.... May I ask, what was the extent of your +property in his trust?" + +"A couple of hundred-thousands." + +"And he believed you dead and was unable to find your widow ..." + +"Oh, I don't think _that_!" Whitaker expostulated. + +"Nor do I. We're merely considering possible explanations. There's a +third ..." + +"Well?" + +"He may have received a strong hint that he was nominated for the fate +that overtook young Custer, Hamilton and Thurston; and so planned to +give his disappearance the colour of a similar end." + +"You don't mean to say _you_ think there was any method in that train of +tragedies?" + +"I'm not in the least superstitious, my dear man. I don't for an instant +believe, as some people claim to, that Sara Law is a destroying angel, +hounded by a tragic fate: that her love is equivalent to the death +warrant of the man who wins it." + +"But what do you think, then?" + +"I think," said Ember, slowly, his gaze on the table, "that some one +with a very strong interest in keeping the young woman single--and on +the stage--" + +"Max! Impossible!" + +Ember shrugged. "In human nature, no madness is impossible. There's not +a shred of evidence against Jules Max. And yet--he's a gambler. All +theatrical managers are, of course; but Max is a card-fiend. The tale of +his plunging runs like wild-fire up and down Broadway, day by day. A +dozen times he's been on the verge of ruin, yet always he has had Sara +Law to rely upon; always he's been able to fall back upon that asset, +sure that her popularity would stave off bankruptcy. And he's +superstitious: he believes she is his mascot. I don't accuse him--I +suspect him, knowing him to be capable of many weird extravagances.... +Furthermore, it's a fact that Max was a fellow-passenger with Billy +Hamilton when the latter disappeared in mid-ocean." + +Ember paused and sat up, preparatory to rising. "All of which," he +concluded, "explains why I have trespassed upon your patience and your +privacy. It seemed only right that you should get the straight, +undistorted story from an unprejudiced onlooker. May I venture to add a +word of advice?" + +"By all means." + +"Have you told Max of your relations with Sara Law?" + +"No." + +"Or anybody else?" + +"No." + +"Then keep the truth to yourself--at least until this coil is +straightened out." + +Ember got up. "Good night," he said pleasantly. + +Whitaker took his hand, staring. "Good night," he echoed blankly. +"But--I say--why keep it quiet?" + +Ember, turning to go, paused, his glance quietly quizzical. "You don't +mean to claim your wife?" + +"On the contrary, I expect to offer no defence to her action for +divorce." + +"Grounds of desertion?" + +"I presume so." + +"Just the same, keep it as quiet as possible until the divorce is +granted. If you live till then ... you may possibly continue to live +thereafter." + + + + +IX + +ENTR'ACTE + + +Dawn of Sunday found Whitaker still awake. Alone in his uncheerful hotel +bedchamber, his chair tilted back against the wall, he sat smoking and +thinking, reviewing again and again every consideration growing out of +his matrimonial entanglement. + +He turned in at length to the dreamless slumbers of mental exhaustion. + +The morning introduced him to a world of newspapers gone mad and +garrulous with accounts of the sensation of the preceding night. What +they told him only confirmed the history of his wife's career as +detailed by the gratuitous Mr. Ember. There was, however, no suggestion +in any report that Drummond had not in fact committed suicide--this, +despite the total disappearance of the hypothetical corpse. No doubts +seemed to have arisen from the circumstance that there had been, +apparently, but a single witness of the _felo de se_. A man, breathless +with excitement, had run up to the nearest policeman with word of what +he claimed to have seen. In the subsequent confusion he had vanished. +And so thoroughly, it seemed, had the mind of New York been prepared for +some fatal accident to this latest lover of Sara Law that no one dreamed +of questioning the authenticity of the report. + +Several sensational sheets ran exhaustive résumés, elaborately +illustrated, of the public life of "The Destroying Angel." + +Some remarked the fact that little or nothing was known of the history +of Sara Law prior to her appearance, under the management of Jules Max, +as _Joan Thursday_. + +Whitaker learned that she had refused herself to the reporters who +besieged her residence. + +It seemed to be an unanimous assumption that the news of Drummond's +suicide had in some manner been conveyed to the woman while on the +stage. + +No paper mentioned the name of Whitaker.... + +In the course of the forenoon a note for Whitaker was delivered at the +hotel. + +The heavy sheet of white paper, stamped with the address in +Fifty-seventh Street, bore this message in a strong but nervous hand: + + "I rely upon the generosity you promise me. This marriage of ours, + that is no marriage, must be dissolved. Please let my + attorneys--Landers, Grimshaw & Clark, 149 Broadway--know when and + where you will accept service. Forgive me if I seem ungrateful and + unfeeling. I am hardly myself. And please do not try to see me now. + Some day I hope to see and thank you; to-day--it's impossible. I am + going away to forget, if I can. + + "MARY LADISLAS WHITAKER." + +Before nightfall Whitaker had satisfied himself that his wife had, in +truth, left her town house. The servants there informed all who inquired +that they had been told to report and to forward all letters to Messrs. +Landers, Grimshaw & Clark. + +Whitaker promptly notified those attorneys that he was ready to be +served at their convenience. He further desired them to inform their +client that her suit would be uncontested. But beyond their brief and +business-like acknowledgment, he heard nothing more of the action for +divorce. + +He sought Max several times without success. When at length run to +ground in the roulette room of a Forty-fourth Street gambling-house, the +manager was grimly reticent. He professed complete ignorance of his +star's welfare and whereabouts. He advised Whitaker to consult the +newspapers, if his interest was so insatiable. + +Warned by the manager's truculent and suspicious tone that his secret +was, after all, buried no more than skin-deep, Whitaker dissembled +artfully his anxiety, and abandoned Max to his pet vices. + +The newspapers reported Sara Law as being in retirement in several +widely separated sections of the country. She was also said to have gone +abroad, sailing incognito by a second-class steamship from Philadelphia. + +The nine-days' wonder disintegrated naturally. The sobriquet of "The +Destroying Angel" disappeared from the newspaper scare-heads. So also +the name of Drummond. Hugh Morten Whitaker, the dead man come to life, +occupied public interest for a brief half-day. By the time that the +executors of Carter Drummond and the attorneys representing his clients +began to make sense of his estate and interests, their discoveries +failed to command newspaper space. + +This phenomenon was chiefly due to the fact that Whitaker didn't care to +raise an outcry about his loss. Ember, it seemed, had guessed shrewdly: +Drummond had appropriated to his own uses every dollar of the small +fortune left in his care by his erstwhile partner. No other client of +his had suffered, however. His peculations had been confined wholly to +the one quarter whence he had had every reason to anticipate neither +protest nor exposure. In Whitaker's too-magnanimous opinion, the man had +not been so much a thief as one who yielded to the temptation to convert +to his own needs and uses a property against which, it appeared, no +other living being cared to enter a claim. + +Whether or not he had ever learned or guessed that Sara Law was the wife +of Whitaker, remained problematic. Whitaker inclined to believe that +Drummond had known--that he had learned the truth from the lips of his +betrothed wife. But this could not be determined save through her. And +she kept close hidden. + +The monetary loss was an inconsiderable thing to a man with an interest +in mines in the Owen Stanley country. He said nothing. Drummond's name +remained untarnished, save in the knowledge of a few. + +Of these, Martin Ember was one. Whitaker made a point of hunting him up. +The retired detective received confirmation of his surmise without any +amazement. + +"You still believe that he's alive?" + +"Implicitly," Ember asserted with conviction. + +"Could you find him, if necessary?" + +"Within a day, I think. Do you wish me to?" + +"I don't know..." + +Ember permitted Whitaker to consider the matter in silence for some +moments. Then, "Do you want advice?" he inquired. + +"Well?" + +"Hunt him down and put him behind the bars," said Ember instantly. + +"What's the good of that?" + +"Your personal safety." + +"How?" + +"Don't you suppose he misses all he's been accustomed to?--living as he +does in constant terror of being discovered, the life of a hunted thing, +one of the under-world, an enemy of society! Don't you suppose he'd be +glad to regain all he's lost--business, social position, the esteem of +his friends, the love of a woman who will soon be free to marry him?" + +"Well?" + +"With you out of the way, he could come back without fear." + +"Oh--preposterous!" + +"_Is_ it?" + +"Drummond's not that sort. He's weak, perhaps, but no criminal." + +"A criminal is the creature of a warped judgment. There'd be no +criminals if every one were able to attain his desires within the law. +Misfortunes breed weird maggots in a man's brain. Drummond's dragging +out a wretched existence in a world of false perspectives; he's not to +be blamed if he presently begins to see things as they are not." + +Ember permitted another pause to lengthen, unbroken by Whitaker. + +"Shall I try to find him for you?" he asked quietly, in the end. + +"No," Whitaker decided. "No. Let him alone--poor devil!" + +Ember disclaimed further responsibility with a movement of his +shoulders. + +"But my wife? Could you find her as readily?" + +"Possibly," the detective admitted cautiously. "But I don't mean to." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you don't want me to. Do you?" + +"No..." + +"But principally because she doesn't want me to. Otherwise she'd let you +know where to look for her." + +"True." + +These fragments of dialogue are from a conversation that took place in +the month of June, nearly seven weeks after the farewell performance at +the Theatre Max. Interim, Whitaker had quietly resumed his place in the +life of the town, regaining old friendships, renewing old associations. +Save for the fact that he pursued no gainful occupation, all with him +was much as it had been: as if the intervening six years of exile had +been blotted out, or had never been. The mild excitement occasioned by +his reappearance had already subsided; he was again an accepted and +substantial factor in the society of his kind. + +He had abandoned all thought of returning to New Guinea, entertained, +indeed, no inclination whatever to do so. The life he now led was more +or less normal to him. Yet he was sensible of a growing restlessness. He +had nothing to busy himself with: this was the unguessed secret of his +unsettled temper. And the approach of hot weather was narrowing the +circle of his acquaintances. People were leaving town daily, for Europe, +for the seashore, for the mountains. + +He began to receive invitations for week-ends and longer visits out of +town. A few of the former he accepted--always, however, returning to New +York with a sense of necessity strong upon his spirit. Something held +him there, some influence elusive of analysis. He was discontented, but +felt that he could not find content elsewhere. + +Gradually he began to know more hours of loneliness than suited his +tastes. His rooms--the old rooms overlooking Bryant Park, regained and +refurnished much as they had been six years before--knew his solitary +presence through many a long evening. July came with blistering breath, +and he took to the Adirondacks, meaning to be gone a month. Within ten +days he was home again, drawn back irresistibly by that strange +insatiable craving of unformulated desire. Town bored him, yet he could +not seem to rest away from it. + +He wandered in and out, up and down, an unquiet, irresolute soul, +tremendously perplexed.... + +There came one dark and sultry night, heavy beneath skies overcast, in +August. Whitaker left a roof-garden in the middle of a stupid +performance, and walked the streets till long after midnight, courting +the fatigue that alone could bestow untroubled sleep. On his return, a +sleepy hall-boy with a wilted collar ran the elevator up to his +tenth-floor landing and, leaving him fumbling at the lock of his door, +dropped clankingly out of sight. Whitaker entered and shut himself in +with the pitch-blackness of his private hall. + +He groped along the wall for the electric switch, and found only the +shank of it--the hard-rubber button having disappeared. And then, while +still he was trying to think how this could have happened, he sustained +a murderous assault. + +A miscalculation on the part of the marauder alone saved him. The +black-jack (or whatever the weapon was) missing his head by the +narrowest shave, descended upon his left shoulder with numbing force. +Notwithstanding his pain and surprise, Whitaker rallied and grappled, +thus escaping a second and possibly more deadly blow. + +But his shoulder was almost useless, and the pain of it began to sicken +him, while the man in his grip fought like a devil unchained. He found +himself wedged back into a corner, brutal fingers digging deep into the +flesh round his windpipe. He fought desperately to escape strangulation. +Eventually he struggled out of the corner and gave ground through the +doorway into his sitting-room. + +For some minutes the night in that quiet room, high above the city, was +rendered wild and violent with the crashes of overthrown furniture and +the thud and thump of struggling bodies. Then by some accident little +short of miraculous, Whitaker broke free and plunged across the room in +what he imagined to be the direction of a dresser in which he kept a +revolver. His foot slipped on the hardwood floor, the ankle twisted, and +he fell awkwardly, striking his head against a table-leg with such force +that he lay half-stunned. An instant later his assailant emptied five +chambers of a revolver into the darkness about him, and then, alarmed by +a racket of pounding on the hall door, fled successfully by way of the +fire-escape to adjoining roofs and neighbouring back-yards. + +By the time Whitaker was able to pull himself together and hobble to the +door, a brace of intelligent policemen who had been summoned by the +hall-boy were threatening to break it down. Admitted, they took his +safety into their care and, simultaneously, the revolver which he +incautiously admitted possessing. Later they departed, obviously +disgruntled by the unprofessional conduct of the "crook" who had left no +"clues," with a warning to the house-holder that he might expect to be +summoned to court, as soon as he was able to move, to answer for the +crime of keeping a weapon of defence. + +Whitaker took to his bed in company with a black temper and the aroma of +arnica. + +He entertained, the next day, several persons: reporters; a physician; a +futile, superfluous, unornamental creature misleadingly designated a +plain-clothes man; finally his friend (by now their acquaintance had +warmed to real friendship) Ember. + +The retired investigator found Whitaker getting into his clothes: a +ceremony distinguished by some profanity and numerous grunts. + +"Afternoon," he said, taking a chair and surveying the sufferer with +slightly masked amusement. "Having a good time?" + +"You go to thunder!" said Whitaker in disgust. + +"Glad to see you're not hurt much," pursued the other, unabashed. + +Whitaker withered him with a glare. "I suppose it's nothing to have a +shoulder and arm black-and-blue to the elbow! a bump on the side of my +head as big as a hard-boiled egg! a bruised throat and an ankle next +door to sprained! Oh, no--I'm not much hurt!" + +"You're lucky to be alive," observed Ember, exasperatingly philosophic. + +"A lot you know about it!" + +"I'm a canny little guesser," Ember admitted modestly. + +"Where'd you get your information, then?" + +Ember waved a non-committal hand. "I hear things...." + +"Oh, yes--you know a lot. I suppose you could lay this thug by the heels +in a brace of shakes?" + +"Just about," Ember admitted placidly. "I wouldn't mind trying." + +"Then why don't you?" Whitaker demanded heatedly. + +"I had a notion you wouldn't want me to." + +Whitaker stared aggressively. "You mean ... Drummond?" + +The answer was a nod. + +"I don't believe it." + +"You'll at all events do me the credit to recall that I warned you two +months ago." + +"All the same, I don't believe it was Drummond." + +"You haven't missed any property, I believe?" + +"No." + +"So presumably the fellow had some motive other than a desire to thieve. +Besides, if he'd been on the loot he might much more easily have tried +one of the lower floors--and more sensibly." + +"It would seem so," Whitaker admitted sulkily. + +"And that missing switch-button--" + +"What do _you_ know about that?" + +"My sources of information.... It strikes me that a man who took that +much trouble to prevent your turning on the light must have been rather +anxious to avoid recognition. I shed the inference for its intrinsic +worth, merely." + +"Well...." Whitaker temporized. + +"And I'd like to know what you mean to do." + +"About what?" + +"With the understanding that you're content to leave the case of +burglary and assault to the mercies of the police: what do you mean to +do with yourself?" + +"I don't know--hadn't thought." + +"Unless you're hell-bent on sticking around here to get your head bashed +in--I venture respectfully to suggest that you consign yourself to my +competent care." + +"Meaning--?" + +"I've got a bungalow down on Long Island--a one-horse sort of a bachelor +affair--and I'm going to run down there this evening and stay awhile. +There's quiet, no society and good swimming. Will you come along and be +my guest until you grow tired of it?" + +Whitaker looked his prospective host over with a calculating, suspicious +eye. + +"I ought to be able to take care of myself," he grumbled childishly. + +"Granted." + +"But I've a great mind to take you up." + +"Sensibly spoken. Can you be ready by three? I'll call with the car +then, if you can." + +"Done with you!" declared Whitaker with a strong sense of relief. + +As a matter of fact, he was far less incredulous of Ember's theory than +he chose to admit. + + + + +X + +THE WINDOW + + +Though they left New York not long after three in the afternoon, +twilight was fast ebbing into night when the motor-car--the owner +driving, Whitaker invalided to the lonely grandeur of the tonneau--swept +up from a long waste of semi-wooded countryside, sparsely populated, +bumped over railroad tracks, purred softly at sedate pace through the +single street of a drowsy village, and then struck away from the main +country road. + +Once clear of the village bounds, as if assured of an unobstructed way, +Ember gave the motor its head; with a long, keen whine of delight it +took the bit between its teeth and flung away like a thoroughbred +romping down the home-stretch. Its headlights clove a path through +darkness, like a splendid sword; a pale shining ribbon of road seemed to +run to the wheels as if eager to be devoured; on either hand woodlands +and desolate clearings blurred into dark and rushing walls; the wind +buffeted the faces of the travellers like a soft and tender hand, +seeking vainly if with all its strength to withstand their impetus: only +the wonderful wilderness of stars remained imperturbable. + +Whitaker, braced against the jolting, snatched begrudged mouthfuls of +air strong of the sea. From time to time he caught fugitive glimpses of +what seemed to be water, far in the distances to the right. He had no +very definite idea of their whereabouts, having neglected through sheer +indifference to question Ember, but he knew that they were drawing +minute by minute closer to the Atlantic. And the knowledge was soothing +to the unquiet of his soul, who loved the sea. He dreamed vaguely, with +yearning, of wave-swept shores and their sonorous silences. + +After some time the car slowed to a palpitant pause at a spot where the +road was bordered on one hand by a woods, on the other by meadow-lands +running down to an arm of a bay, on whose gently undulant surface the +flame-tipped finger of a distant lighthouse drew an undulant path of +radiance. + +Ember jumped out to open a barred gate, then returning swung the car +into a clear but narrow woodland road. "Mine own domain," he informed +Whitaker with a laugh, as he stopped a second time to go back and close +the gate. "Now we're shut of the world, entirely." + +The car crawled cautiously on, following a path that, in the searching +glare of headlights, showed as two parallel tracks of white set apart by +a strip of livid green and walled in by a dense tangle of scrub-oak and +pine and second growth. Underbrush rasped and rattled against the +guards. Outside the lighted way arose strange sounds audible above even +the purring of the motor--vast mysterious whisperings and rustlings: +stealthy and murmurous protests against this startling trespass. + +Whitaker bent forward, inquiring: "Where are we?" + +"Almost there. Patience." + +Whitaker sat back again, content to await enlightenment at the pleasure +of his host. Really, he didn't much care where they were: the sense of +isolation, strong upon his spirit, numbed all his curiosity. + +He reckoned idly that they must have threaded a good two miles of +woodland, when at length the car emerged upon a clearing and immediately +turned aside to the open doorway of a miniature garage. + +For the first time in five hours he was aware of the hush of Nature; the +motor's song was ended for the night. + +The clearing seemed no more than a fair two acres in extent; the forest +hemmed it in on three sides; on the fourth lay water. Nor was it an +unqualified clearing; a hundred yards distant the lighted windows of a +one-story structure shone pleasantly through a scattering plantation of +pine. + +Linking arms the better to guide his guest, Ember drew him toward the +lights. + +"Bungalow," he explained, sententious, flourishing his free hand: +"hermitage--retreat." + +"Paradise," Whitaker summed up, in the same humour. + +"Still-water swimming at the front door; surf bathing on the beach +across the bay; sailing, if you care for it; fishing, if you don't care +what you say; all sorts of civilized loafing and no society except our +own." + +"No women?" + +"Not a petticoat." + +"No neighbours?" + +"Oh"--Ember motioned to his left as they faced the water--"there's a +married establishment over there somewhere, but we don't bother one +another. Fellow by the name of Fiske. I understand the place is shut +up--Fiske not coming down this year." + +"So much the better. I've been wanting just this all summer, without +realizing it." + +"Welcome, then, to Half-a-loaf Lodge!" + +Skirting the edges of the plantation, they had come round to the front +of the house. An open door, warm with light, welcomed them. They entered +a long and deep living-room with walls of peeled logs and, at one end, a +stone fireplace wherein a wood fire blazed heartily. Two score candles +in sconces furnished an illumination mellow and benign. At a comfortable +distance from the hearth stood a table bright with linen, silver and +crystal--covers for two. The rear wall was broken by three doors, in one +of which a rotund Chinaman beamed oleaginously. Ember hailed him by the +title of Sum Fat, explaining that it wasn't his name, but claiming for +it the virtue of exquisite felicity. + +"My servant in town, here man-of-all-work; I've had him for years; +faithful and indispensable...." + +Toward the end of an excellent dinner, Whitaker caught himself nodding +and blinking with drowsiness. The fatigue of their long ride, added to +the nervous strain and excitement of the previous night, was proving +more than he had strength to struggle against. Ember took laughing +compassion upon him and led him forthwith to a bedroom furnished with +the rigid simplicity of a summer camp. Once abed he lay awake only long +enough to recognize, in the pulsating quiet, the restless thunder of +surf on the beach across the bay. Then he slept round the clock. + +He recovered consciousness to lie luxuriating in the sensation of +delicious and complete repose, and to listen lazily to the drum of +raindrops on the low roof--too lazy, indeed, to turn his head and +consult his watch. Yet he knew it must be late in the morning, for the +light was broad, if gray. + +The shrill, imperative rattle of a telephone bell roused him more +thoroughly. Lifting on his elbow, he eyed his watch, then hastily swung +his legs out of bed; for it was nearly ten o'clock. + +As he dressed he could hear the voice of Ember in the living-room +talking over the telephone. Presently there came a tap at his door, and +his host entered. + +"Up, eh?" he said cheerfully. "I was afraid I'd have to wake you. You're +surely a sincere young sleeper.... I say!" His smile vanished beneath +the clouds of an impatient frown. "This is the devil of a note: I've got +to leave you." + +"What's the trouble?" + +"That's what I'm called upon to find out. A friend of mine's in a tight +place, and I've got to go and help pull him through. He just called me +up--and I can't refuse. D'you mind being left alone for a day or so?" + +"Certainly not--only I'm sorry." + +"No more than I. But I'll try to get back to-morrow. If I don't, the +next day--or as soon as I possibly can. Meanwhile, please consider +yourself lord and master here. Sum Fat will take good care of you. +Anything you want, just ask him. Now I've got to get into waterproofs: +it's raining like all get-out, but I can't wait for a let-up." + +By the time Whitaker was ready for breakfast, his host had splashed off +to his motor car. + +Later, while Sum Fat crooned to himself over the dish-pan in the +kitchen, Whitaker explored his quarters; to begin with, not in the least +disconsolate to be left alone. The place had for his imagination the +zest of novelty and isolation. He rather enjoyed the sensation of +complete dissociation from the rest of the world, of freedom to humour +his idlest whim without reference to the prejudices of any neighbour. + +Within-doors there was every comfort conceivably to be desired by any +other than a sybarite; without--viewed from the shelter of a wide +veranda--a vague world of sweeping mist and driving rain; pine trees +Japanesque against the mist, as if etched in bronze-green on frosted +silver; a breadth of rough, hummocky ground sloping down to the water's +edge, with a private landing-stage and, farther out, a courtesying +cat-boat barely discernible. + +The wind, freshening and driving very respectable if miniature rollers +against the beach, came in heavy gusts, alternating with periods of +steady, strong blowing. At times the shining lances of the rain seemed +to drive almost horizontally. Whitaker shivered a little, not +unpleasantly, and went indoors. + +He poked his head into the kitchen. In that immaculate place, from which +every hint of breakfast had disappeared as if by magic, Sum Fat was +religiously cleaning his teeth--for the third time that morning, to +Whitaker's certain knowledge. + +When he had finished, Whitaker put a question: + +"Sum Fat, which way does the wind blow--do you know?" + +Sum Fat flashed him a dazzling smile. + +"East'ly," he said in a cheerful, clucking voice. "I think very fine +damn three-day blow." + +"At least," said Whitaker, "you're a high-spirited prophet of evil. I +thank you." + +He selected a book from several shelves stocked with a discriminating +taste, and settled himself before the fire. + +The day wore out before his patience did, and with every indication of +fulfilling the prognosis of Sum Fat; by nightfall the wind had developed +into an enthusiastic gale, driving before it sheeted rain and great +ragged wastes of mist. Whitaker absolutely enjoyed the sensation of +renewed intimacy with the weather, from which his life in New York had +of late divorced him so completely. He read, dozed, did full justice to +the admirable cuisine of Sum Fat, and between whiles considered the +state of his soul, the cycle of the suns, his personal marital +entanglement, and the further preservation, intact, of his bruised +mortal body. + +The ceaseless pattering on the shingled roof reminded him very strongly +of that dark hour, long gone, when he had made up his mind to wed a +strange woman. He marvelled at that madness with an inexhaustible wonder +and with an equally vast, desolate, poignant regret. + +He considered faithfully what he had gained by reasserting his identity, +and found it an empty thing. He had been happier when a Wilful Missing, +unmissed, unmourned. It seemed as if it might be best to go away again, +to eliminate Hugh Whitaker from the coil his reappearance had created. +Then his wife could gain her freedom--and incidentally free him--and +marry as she willed. And Drummond would be free to come to life--with +hands unstained, his honour besmirched only in the knowledge of a few +who would not tell. + +Did he remain, Drummond, he feared, would prove a troublesome problem. +Whitaker was, in the light of sober after-thought, more than half +convinced that Ember had guessed cunningly at the identity of his +assailant. The thing was conceivable, at least, of Drummond: the +hedonist and egoist seeking to regain his forfeited world in one +murderous cast. And it was hardly conceivable that he would hesitate to +make a second attempt whenever opportunity offered. New York, Whitaker +saw clearly, was far too small to contain them both while Drummond +remained at liberty. By attempting to stay there he would simply invite +a second attempt upon his life, merely strengthen Drummond's temptation. + +He thought it very curious that he had heard nothing more of the +proposed action for divorce. It might be well to communicate again with +his wife's attorneys. + +He went to bed with a mind unsettled, still curious, speculative, unable +to fix upon any definite course of conduct. + +And the second day was like unto the first: a day of rain and wind and +fog periodically punctuated by black squalls that tore shrieking across +the bay with the blind fury of spirits of destruction gone stark, raving +mad. + +The third day broke full of the spirit of the second; but toward noon +the rain ceased, and by mid-afternoon the violence of the wind had +moderated perceptibly to a stiffish but failing breeze beneath a +breaking cloud-rack. With the disappearance of fog, for the first time +since Whitaker's arrival the neighbourhood discovered perspectives. By +evening, when the wind went down with the sun, leaving absolute calm, +the barrier beach far across the quiet waters of the shallow, landlocked +bay shone like a bar of ruddy gold against a horizon of melting mauve. + +In the evening, too, a telegram from Ember was transmitted by telephone +to the bungalow, advising Whitaker of his host's intention to return by +the following night at the latest. + +This communication worked with the turn of the weather to effect a +change in the temper of Whitaker, who by this time had managed to fret +himself to the verge of incontinent departure for Australia _via_ New +York. He decided, however, to wait and thank Ember for his hospitality, +and thought seriously of consulting him as to the wisest and fairest +course to pursue. + +None the less, the restlessness and impatience bred of nearly three days +of enforced inaction possessed him like a devil. After another of Sum +Fat's admirable dinners, his craving for open air and exercise drove him +out, despite the failing light, to explore the clearing rather +thoroughly, and to some extent the surrounding woodlands. At one time, +indeed, he caught sight, through thinning trees, of a summer home +somewhat more pretentious than Half-a-loaf Lodge--evidently the property +termed by Ember "the Fiske place." But it was then so nearly dark that +he didn't pause to investigate an impression that the place was +tenanted, contradictory to his host's casual statement; and he was back +on the bungalow porch in time to see the moon lift up like a great +shield of brass through the haze beyond the barrier beach. + +Sounds of splashings and of song drew him down to the water's edge, to +find that Sum Fat had rowed out to the anchored cat-boat and, almost as +naked as industrious, was bailing it clear of the three days' +accumulation of rain-water. He came in, presently, and having performed +what was probably at least the eighth cleaning of his teeth since +morning, went to bed. + +Wearying at length of the lunar spectacle, and quite as weary of the +sedulous attentions of a cloud of famished mosquitoes, Whitaker lounged +disconsolately indoors to a pipe and a book by candle-light. But the one +needed cleaning, and the other was out of tune with his temper, and the +flame of the candle excited the amorous interest of a great fluttering +fool of a moth until Whitaker blew it out and sat on in darkness, not +tired enough to go to bed, too tired to bestir himself and seek +distraction from a tormenting train of thought. + +A pool of limpid moonlight lay like milk upon the floor beneath a window +and held his dreaming gaze while memory marshalled for his delectation a +pageant of wasted years, infinitely desolate and dreary in his vision. A +life without profit, as he saw it: an existence rendered meaningless by +a nameless want--a lack he had not wit to name.... The romance of his +life enchanted him, its futility furnished him a vast and profound +perplexity. To what end?--this was the haunting burden of his +complaint.... + +How long he sat unstirring, preoccupied with fruitless inquiry, he did +not guess. But later he reckoned it could not have been long after ten +o'clock when he was disturbed. The sound of a footfall, hushed and +stealthy on the veranda, roused him with a start, and almost at the same +instant he became aware of a shadow that troubled the pool of moonlight, +the foreshortened shadow of a man's head and shoulders. He sat up, +tense, rigid with surprise and wonder, and stared at the silhouetted +body at pause just outside the window. The fellow was stooping to peer +in. Whether he could distinguish Whitaker in the shadows was debatable, +but he remained motionless through a long minute, as if fascinated by +the undeviating regard returned by Whitaker. Then the latter broke the +spell with a hasty movement. Through the feeling of surprised resentment +there had filtered a gnawing suspicion that he was acquainted with the +pose of that head and the set of those shoulders. Had Drummond hunted +him down to this isolate hiding-place? On the thought he leaped up, in +two strides slammed out through the door. + +"I say!" he cried loudly. But he cried, apparently, to empty air. The +man was gone--vanished as strangely and as quietly as he had appeared. + +Whitaker shut teeth on an oath and, jumping down from the veranda, cast +wildly about the bungalow without uncovering a single sign of the +trespasser. In transit from his chair to the door, he had lost sight of +the fellow for no more, certainly, than half a second; and yet, in that +absurdly scanty space of time, the trespasser had managed to effect an +absolute disappearance. No conjuring trick was ever turned more neatly. +There one instant, gone the next!--the mystery of it irritated and +perplexed more than did the question of identity. It was all very +plausible to suspect Drummond--but whither could Drummond have juggled +himself in the twinkling of an eyelash? That it was no trick of an idle +imagination, Whitaker was prepared to swear: he was positive he had seen +what he had seen. And yet.... It was, on the other hand, impossible to +say where in the plantation of pines the man might not then be skulking. +Whitaker instituted a narrow search, but fruitless. + +Eventually pausing and glaring round the clearing in complete +bewilderment, he detected or else fancied a slight movement in the +shadows on the edge of the encompassing woodland. Instantly, heedless of +the risk he ran if the man were indeed Drummond and if Drummond were +indeed guilty of the assault now four nights old, Whitaker broke for the +spot. It proved to be the entrance to one of the woodland paths, and +naturally--whether or no his imagination were in fault--there was nobody +waiting there to be caught. + +But if any one had been there, he had unquestionably fled along the +trail. Whitaker in a rage set himself to follow, sticking to the path +partly through instinct, mainly thanks to a spectral twilight +manufactured in the forest by moon-beams filtered thin through +innumerable leaves and branches. Once or twice he paused to listen, then +again plunged on: misled perhaps by the mysterious but inevitable noises +of the nocturnal woodland. Before he realized he could have covered half +the distance, he emerged abruptly into the clearing of the Fiske place. + +Here he pulled up, for the first time alive to the intrinsic idiocy of +his conduct, and diverted besides by the discovery that his impression +of the early evening, that the cottage was tenanted, had been well +founded. + +The ground floor windows shone with a dim but warm illumination. There +was one quite near him, a long window opening upon the railed veranda, +through which he could see distinctly part of a living-room rather +charmingly furnished in a summery way. At its farther end a dark-haired +woman in a plain black dress with a short apron and lace cap sat reading +by lamplight: evidently a maid. Her mistress--judged by appearances--was +outside on the lawn below the veranda, strolling to and fro in company +with a somewhat short and heavy man who wore an automobile duster and +visored cap. By contrast, her white-clad figure, invested with the +illusion of moonlight, seemed unusually tall. Her hair was fair, shining +like a head-dress of palest gold as she bent her head, attentive to her +companion. And Whitaker thought to discern an unusual quality in her +movements, a quality of charm and a graciousness of mien rarely to be +noticed even in the most beautiful of the women he had known. + +Of a sudden the man paused, produced a watch from beneath his duster, +consulted it briefly and shut the case with a snap. He said something in +a brusque tone, and was answered by what sounded like a pleasant +negative. Promptly, as if annoyed, he turned and strode hastily away, +disappearing round the house. + +Alone, the woman watched him as long as he was in sight, her head to one +side with an effect of critical amusement. Then with a low laugh she +crossed the veranda and entered the lighted room. At the same time, +Whitaker, lingering and watching without in the least understanding or +even questioning why he was doing this thing so contrary to his +instincts, heard the heavy rumble of a motor-car on the far side of the +house and saw the machine swing off across the clearing and into the +woods. + +In the living-room the woman was saying: "You may go now, Elise. I'll be +ready for bed before long." + +"Yes, madam." The maid rose and moved briskly out of sight. + +Her mistress, casting aside a scarf of embroidered Chinese brocade, +moved about the room with an air at once languid and distrait. Pausing +beside a table, she took up a book, opened it, shut it smartly, +discarding it as if hopeless of finding therein any sort of diversion. +She stood for a moment in deep thought, her head bowed, the knuckle of a +slender forefinger tapping her chin--charmingly posed. Whitaker abruptly +understood why it was he loitered, peeping: she was absolutely +beautiful, a creature both exquisite and superb, a matchless portrait +for the galleries of his memory. + +With a sigh and a quick movement of impatience, seating herself at a +cottage piano she ran her fingers over the keys. Whitaker recognized the +opening bars of something or other of Beethoven's--he couldn't say +precisely what, at the instant; and even as he tried a thing happened +which drove the music altogether from his mind: in short, he discovered +that he was not the only watcher below the window. + +Something--a movement or perhaps a slight sound--had drawn his attention +from the woman. He saw the other man standing boldly in full moonlight, +all his attention concentrated on the brilliant picture framed by the +window. He was unquestionably without knowledge of the nearness of the +other--of Whitaker in the shadows. And though his back was to the moon +and his face further shadowed by a peaked cap, Whitaker was absolutely +sure of the man: he was certainly Drummond. + +Without pause for thought he sprang toward him, in a guarded voice +uttering his name--"Drummond!" But the fellow proved too alert and quick +for him. Whitaker's hands closed on nothing more substantial than thin +air; at the same time he received a blow upon his bruised shoulder smart +and forcible enough to stagger him and evoke an involuntary grunt of +pain. And before he could regain his balance the fellow was thrashing +noisily away through the woodland underbrush. + +Involuntarily Whitaker glanced through the window to see if the woman +had been alarmed. But apparently a succession of sonorous chords from +the piano had deafened her to all other sounds. She played on with every +sign of total unconsciousness. + +Forthwith he struck off and blundered senselessly through the forest, +misled by its elusive phantasmagoria, until, realizing at length he did +but duplicate an earlier folly, he gave up the chase in disgust and +slowly made his way back to the bungalow. + +And yet (for all the mystery and the wonder of his experience) it was +with a somewhat sheepish feeling that he took the precaution of locking +the doors and windows before turning in. After all, what grounds had he +for his suspicions? Merely a hasty guess at the identity of one who +might turn out to be nothing more than a hapchance tramp--a skulking +vagabond on the watch for a chance to pilfer and fly. + +If he were Drummond and as murderous-minded as Ember claimed, why had he +neglected his dozen opportunities to ambush his prey in the woods? + +A shade of incredulity insensibly began to color Whitaker's +apprehensions. In time, with impatience, he dismissed them altogether +from his mind. + +He dozed off while dwelling upon the vision of a fair-haired woman +idling over a piano, swaying slightly as she played. + + + + +XI + +THE SPY + + +Whitaker slept soundly but lightly: the adventures of the evening had +not been so fatiguing as to render his slumbers profound, after three +days of sheer loafing. And he awoke early, roused by a level beam of +blood-red light thrown full upon his face by the rising sun. + +He lay for a time languid, watching the incarnadined walls and lazily +examining the curious thrill of interest with which he found himself +anticipating the day to come. It seemed a long time since he had looked +forward to the mere routine of existence with so strong an assurance of +emotional diversion. He idled in whimsical humour with an odd conceit to +the effect that the roots of his soul had somehow been mysteriously +watered, so that it was about to burgeon like a green bay tree--whatever +that might mean. And with this he experienced an exhilarating glow of +well-being that had of late been more a stranger to his body than he +liked to admit. + +He wondered why. Was the change in the weather responsible? Or had the +mere act of withdrawing from the world for a little time wrought some +esoteric change in the inscrutable chemistry of his sentiments? Had the +recent innocuous waste of time somehow awakened him to the value of the +mere act of living? Or, again--absurd surmise!--was all this due simply +to the instinct of sex: was it merely the man in him quickening to the +knowledge that a pretty woman existed in his neighbourhood? + +At this last he laughed openly, and jumped out of bed. At all events, no +healthy man had any business dawdling away a single minute of so rare a +morning. + +Already the sun was warm, the faint breeze bland. Standing at the window +and shading his eyes against the glare, he surveyed a world new-washed +and radiant: the sun majestically climbing up and away from the purple +lattice-work of cloud that barred the nitid mauve horizon; the distant +beach, a violet-tinted barrier between the firmament and sea; the +landlocked bay dimpled with vagrant catspaws and smitten with sunlight +as with a scimitar of fire; the earth fresh and fragrant, steaming +faintly in the ardent glow of dawn. + +In another moment he was at the kitchen door, interrupting Sum Fat's +first matutinal attentions to his teeth with a demand for a +bathing-suit. One of Ember's was promptly forthcoming, and by happy +accident fitted him indifferently well; so that three minutes later +found him poised on the end of the small dock, above fifteen feet of +water so limpid bright that he could easily discern the shapes of +pebbles on the bottom. + +He dived neatly, coming to the surface with his flesh tingling with +delight of the cool water; then with the deliberate and powerful +movements of an experienced swimmer, struck away from the land. + +Two hundred yards out he paused, rolled over on his back and, hands +clasped beneath his head, floated serenely, sunlight warming his +upturned face, his body rejoicing in the suave, clean, fluid embrace, an +almost overpowering sense of physical sanity and boundless strength +rioting through him. Quietly, intimately, he smiled at the sound, good +old world, athrill with the wonder and beauty of life. + +Then something disturbed him: a dull fluttering, vibrant upon his +submerged eardrums. Extending his arms and moving his hands gently to +preserve his poise, he lifted his head from the water. The neighbouring +shore-line leaped flashing to his vision like an exquisite disclosure of +jewelled marquetry. His vision ranged quickly from Ember's landing-stage +to that on the water-front of the Fiske place, and verified a surmise +with the discovery of a motor-boat standing out from the latter. The +churning of its propeller had roused him. + +Holding its present course, the boat would clear him by several hundred +yards. He lay quiet, watching. Despite its generous proportions--it was +a fair-sized cabin cruiser, deep-seaworthy in any ordinary weather--he +could see but a single person for all its crew. Seated astern, dividing +her attention between the side steering-wheel and the engine, she was +altogether ignorant of the onlooker. Only her head and shoulders showed +above the coaming: her head with its shining golden crown, her shoulders +cloaked with a light wrap gathered at the throat. + +Whitaker, admiring, wondered.... + +Sweeping in a wide arc as it gathered speed, the boat presently shot out +smartly on a straight course for the barrier beach. + +Why? What business had she there? And at an hour so early? + +No affair of his: Whitaker admitted as much, freely. And yet, no reason +existed why he should not likewise take an impersonal interest in the +distant ocean beach. As a matter of fact (he discovered upon +examination) he was vastly concerned in that quarter. Already he was +beginning his fourth day on the Great West Bay without having set foot +upon its Great South Beach! Ridiculous oversight! And one to be remedied +without another hour's delay. + +Grinning with amused toleration of his own perverse sophistry, he turned +over on his side and struck out in the wake of the motor-boat. He had +over a mile to go; but such a distance was nothing dismaying to a +swimmer of Whitaker's quality, who had all his life been on very +friendly terms with the sea. + +No one held a watch on him; but when at length he waded ashore he was +complacent in the knowledge that he had made very good time. + +He found the motor-boat moored in shallow water at the end of a long and +substantial dock. The name displayed in letters of brass on its stern +was, frankly, _Trouble_. He paused waist-deep to lean over the side and +inspect the cockpit; the survey drew from him an expression of approval. +The boat seemed to be handsomely appointed, and the motor exposed by the +open hatch of the engine pit was of a make synonymous with speed and +reliability. He patted the flanks of the vessel as he waded on. + +"Good little boat!" said he. + +A weather-beaten sign-board on the dock advertised a surf-bathing +station. Ashore a plank walk crossed first a breadth of sedge marsh and +then penetrated a tumbled waste of dunes. Where the summits of the +latter met the sky, there were visible a series of angular and unlovely +wooden edifices. + +Whitaker climbed up on the walk and made seawards. He saw nothing of the +lady of the motor-boat. + +In fact, for some time he saw nothing in human guise; from other +indications he was inclined to conclude that the bathing station was +either closed for the season or else had been permanently abandoned +within a year or so. There was a notable absence of rowboats and sailing +craft about the dock, with, as he drew nearer to the shuttered and +desolate cluster of bath-houses, an equally remarkable lack of garments +and towels hanging out to dry. + +Walking rapidly, he wasn't long in covering the distance from shore to +shore. Very soon he stood at the head of a rude flight of wooden steps +which ran down from the top of a wave-eaten sand bluff, some ten or +twelve feet in height, to the broad and gently shelving ocean beach. +Whipping in from the sea, a brisk breeze, from which the dunes had +heretofore sheltered him, now cooled his dripping bathing-suit not +altogether pleasantly. But he didn't mind. The sight of the surf +compensated. + +He had long since been aware of its resonant diapason, betokening a +heavy sea; but the spectacle of it was one ever beautiful in his sight. +Whitecaps broke the lustrous blue, clear to its serrated horizon. +Inshore the tide was low; the broad and glistening expanse of naked wet +sand mirrored the tender blueness of the skies far out to where the +breakers weltered in confusion of sapphire, emerald and snow. A mile +offshore a fishing smack with a close-reefed, purple patch of sail was +making heavy weather of it; miles beyond it, again, an inward-bound +ocean steamship shouldered along contemptuously; and a little way +eastwards a multitude of gulls with flashing pinions were wheeling and +darting and screaming above something in the sea--presumably a school of +fish. + +Midway between the sand bluff and the breaking waters stood the woman +Whitaker had followed. (There wasn't any use mincing terms: he _had_ +followed her in his confounded, fatuous curiosity!) Her face was to the +sea, her hands clasped behind her. Now the wind modelled her cloak +sweetly to her body, now whipped its skirts away, disclosing legs +straight and slender and graciously modelled. She was dressed, it +seemed, for bathing; she had crossed the bay for a lonely bout with the +surf, and having found it dangerously heavy, now lingered, disappointed +but fascinated by the majestic beauty of its fury. + +Whitaker turned to go, his inquisitiveness appeased; but he was aware of +an annoying sense of shame, which he considered rather low on the part +of his conscience. True, he had followed her; true, he had watched her +at a moment when she had every reason to believe herself alone with the +sky, the sand, the sea and the squabbling gulls. But--the beach was free +to all; there was no harm done; he hadn't really meant to spy upon her, +and he had not the slightest intention of forcing himself upon her +consciousness. + +Intentions, however, are one thing; accidents, another entirely. History +is mainly fashioned of intentions that have met with accidents. + +Whitaker turned to go, and turning let his gaze sweep up from the beach +and along the brow of the bluff. He paused, frowning. Some twenty feet +or so distant the legs of a man, trousered and booted, protruded from a +hollow between two hummocks of sand. And the toes of the boots were +digging into the sand, indicating that the man was lying prone; and that +meant (if he were neither dead nor sleeping) that he was watching the +woman on the beach. + +Indignation, righteous indignation, warmed Whitaker's bosom. It was all +very well for him to catch sight of the woman through her cottage +window, by night, and to swim over to the beach in her wake the next +morning, but what right had anybody else to constitute himself her +shadow?... All this on the mute evidence of the boots and trousers: +Whitaker to his knowledge had never seen them before, but he had so +little doubt they belonged to the other watcher by the window last night +that he readily persuaded himself that this must be so. + +Besides, it was possible that the man was Drummond. + +Anyway, nobody was licensed to skulk among sand-dunes and spy upon +unescorted females! + +Instantly Whitaker resolved himself into a select joint committee for +the Promulgation of the Principles of Modern Chivalry and the +Elucidation of the Truth. + +He strode forward and stood over the man, looking down at his back. It +was true, as he had assumed: the fellow was watching the woman. Chin in +hands, elbows half-buried in sand, he seemed to be following her with an +undeviating regard. And his back was very like Drummond's; at least, in +height and general proportion his figure resembled Drummond's closely +enough to leave Whitaker without any deterring doubt. + +A little quiver of excitement mingled with anticipative satisfaction ran +through him. Now, at last, the mystery was to be cleared up, his future +relations with the pseudo suicide defined and established. + +Deliberately he extended his bare foot and nudged the man's ribs. + +"Drummond...." he said in a clear voice, decided but unaggressive. + +With an oath and what seemed a single, quick motion, the man jumped to +his feet and turned to Whitaker a startled and inflamed countenance. + +"What the devil!" he cried angrily. "Who are you? What do you want? What +d'you mean by coming round here and calling me Drummond?" + +He was no more Drummond than he was Whitaker himself. + +Whitaker retreated a step, nonplussed. "I beg pardon," he stammered +civilly, in his confusion; "I took you for a fr--a man I know." + +"Well, I ain't, see!" For a moment the man glowered at Whitaker, his +features twitching. Apparently the shock of surprise had temporarily +dislocated his sense of proportion. Rage blazed from his bloodshot, +sunken eyes, and rage was eloquent in the set of his rusty, square-hewn +chin and the working of his heavy and begrimed hands. + +"Damn you!" he exploded suddenly. "What d'you mean by butting in--" + +"For that matter"--something clicked in Whitaker's brain and +subconsciously he knew that his temper was about to take the +bridge--"what the devil do _you_ mean by spying on that lady yonder?" + +It being indisputably none of his concern, the unfairness of the +question only lent it offensive force. It was quite evidently more than +the man could or would bear from any officious stranger. He made this +painfully clear through the medium of an intolerable epithet and an +attempt to land his right fist on Whitaker's face. + +The face, however, was elsewhere when the fist reached the point for +which it had been aimed; and Whitaker closed in promptly as the fellow's +body followed his arm, thrown off balance by the momentum of the +unobstructed blow. Thoroughly angered, he had now every intention of +administering a sound and salutary lesson. + +In pursuance with this design, he grappled and put forth his strength to +throw the man. + +What followed had entered into the calculations of neither. Whitaker +felt himself suddenly falling through air thick with a blinding, choking +cloud of dust and sand. The body of the other was simultaneously +wrenched violently from his grasp. Then he brought up against solidity +with a bump that seemed to expel every cubic inch of air from his lungs. +And he heard himself cry out sharply with the pain of his weak ankle +newly twisted.... + +He sat up, gasping for breath, brushed the sand from his face and eyes, +and as soon as his whirling wits settled a little, comprehended what had +happened. + +Half buried in the débris of a miniature landslide, he sat at the foot +of the bluff, which reared its convex face behind and over him. +Immediately above his head a ragged break in its profile showed where +the sand, held together solely by beach grass, had given way beneath the +weight of the antagonists. + +A little distance from him the other man was picking himself up, +apparently unhurt but completely surfeited. Without delay, with not even +so much as a glance at Whitaker, he staggered off for a few paces, then +settled into a heavy, lumbering trot westward along the beach. + +This conduct was so inconsistent with his late belligerent humour that +Whitaker felt inclined to rub his eyes a second time. He had +anticipated--as soon as in condition to reason at all--nothing less than +an immediate resumption of hostilities. Yet here was the fellow running +away. Incomprehensible! + +And yet, save at the first blush, not so incomprehensible: the chief of +the man's desire had been unquestionably to see without being seen; his +rage at being detected had led him to a misstep; now he was reverting to +his original plan with all possible expedition. He did not wish the +woman to recognize him; therefore he was putting himself out of her way. +For she was approaching. + +When Whitaker caught sight of her, she was already close at hand. She +had been running. Now as their glances met, hers keenly inquiring of +Whitaker's still bewildered eyes, she pulled up abruptly and stood +astare. He saw, or fancied, something closely akin to fright and +consternation in her look. The flush in her cheeks gave way to a swift +pallor. The hands trembled that drew her beach-cloak close about her. +She seemed to make an ineffectual effort to speak. + +On his part, Whitaker tried to get up. A keen twinge in his ankle, +however, wrung an involuntary grunt from him, and with a wry grimace he +sank back. + +"Oh!" cried the woman, impulsively. "You're hurt!" She advanced a pace, +solicitous and sympathetic. + +"Oh, not much," Whitaker replied in a tone more of hope than of +assurance. He felt tenderly of the injured member. "Only my +ankle--twisted it a few days ago, and now again. It'll be all right in a +moment or two." + +Her gaze travelled from him to the edge of the bluff. + +"I didn't see--I mean, I heard something, and turned, and saw you trying +to sit up and the other man rising." + +"Sorry we startled you," Whitaker mumbled, wondering how the deuce he +was going to get home. His examination of the ankle hadn't proved +greatly encouraging. + +"But I--ah--how did it happen?" + +"A mere misunderstanding," he said lightly. "I mistook the gentleman for +some one I knew. He resented it, so we started to scrap like a couple of +schoolboys. Then ... I wish to Heaven it had been his leg instead of +mine!" + +"But still I hardly understand...." + +She was now more composed. The colour had returned to her face. She +stood with head inclined a trifle forward, gaze intent beneath delicate +brows; most distractingly pretty, he thought, in spite of the +ankle--which really didn't hurt much unless moved. + +"Well, you see, I--ah--I'm visiting Ember--the cottage next to yours, I +believe. That is, if I'm not mistaken, you have the Fiske place?" + +She nodded. + +"And so, this morning, it struck me as a fine young idea to swim over +here and have a look at the beach. I--ah--you rather showed me the way, +with your motor-boat. I mean I saw you start out." + +He felt better after that: open confession is a great help when one +feels senselessly guilty. He ventured an engaging smile and noted with +relief that it failed either to terrify or to enrage the young woman. + +On the other hand, she said encouragingly: "I see." + +"And then I found that chap watching you--" + +That startled her. "How do you mean--watching me?" + +"Why--ah--that's what he seemed to be doing. He was lying at full length +up there, half hidden--to all appearances watching you from behind a +screen of beach grass." + +"But--I don't understand--why should he have been watching me?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, if you don't." + +She shook her head: "You must be mistaken." + +"Daresay. I generally am when I jump at conclusions. Anyway, he didn't +like it much when I called him out of his name. I gathered, in fact, +that he was considerably put out. Silly, wasn't it?" + +"Rather!" she agreed gravely. + +For a moment or two they eyed one another in silence, Whitaker wondering +just how much of a fool she was thinking him and dubiously considering +various expedients to ingratiate himself. She was really quite too +charming to be neglected, after so auspicious an inauguration of their +acquaintance. Momentarily he was becoming more convinced that she was +exceptional. Certain he was he had never met any woman quite like +her--not even the fair but false Miss Carstairs of whom he had once +fancied himself so hopelessly enamoured. Here he divined an uncommon +intelligence conjoined with matchless loveliness. Testimony to the +former quality he acquired from eyes serenely violet and thoughtful. As +for the latter, he reflected that few professional beauties could have +stood, as this woman did, the acid test of that mercilessly brilliant +morning. + +"I don't seem to think of anything useful to say," he ventured. "Can you +help me out? Unless you'd be interested to know that my name's +Whitaker--Hugh Whitaker--?" + +She acknowledged the information merely by a brief nod. "It seems to +me," she said seriously, "that the pressing question is, what are you +going to do about that ankle? Shall you be able to walk?" + +"Hard to say," he grumbled, a trifle dashed. He experimented gingerly, +moving his foot this way and that and shutting his teeth on groans that +the test would surely have evoked had he been alone. "'Fraid not. Still, +one can try." + +"It isn't sprained?" + +"Oh, no--just badly wrenched. And, as I said, this is the second time +within a week." + +With infinite pains and the aid of both hands and his sound foot, he +lifted himself and contrived to stand erect for an instant, then bore a +little weight on the hurt ankle--and blenched, paling visibly beneath +his ineradicable tan. + +"I don't suppose," he said with effort--"they grow--crutches--on this +neck of land?" + +And he was about to collapse again upon the sands when, without warning, +he found the woman had moved to his side and caught his hand, almost +brusquely passing his arm across her shoulders, so that she received no +little of his weight. + +"Oh, I say--!" he protested feebly. + +"Don't say anything," she replied shortly. "I'm very strong--quite able +to help you to the boat. Please don't consider me at all; just see if we +can't manage this way." + +"But I've no right to impose--" + +"Don't be silly! Please do as I say. Won't you try to walk?" + +He endeavoured to withdraw his arm, an effort rendered futile by her +cool, firm grasp on his fingers. + +"Please!" she said--not altogether patiently. + +He eyed her askance. There was in this incredible situation a certain +piquancy, definitely provocative, transcending the claims his injury +made upon his interest. Last night for the first time he had seen this +woman and from a distance had thought her desirable; now, within twelve +hours, he found himself with an arm round her neck! + +He thought it a tremendously interesting neck, slender, not thin, and +straight and strong, a milk-white column from the frilled collar of her +bathing-cloak to the shimmering tendrils that clustered behind her ears. +Nor was the ear she presented to his inspection an everyday ear, lacking +its individual allure. He considered that it owned its distinctive +personality, not unworthy of any man's studious attention. + +He saw her face, of course, en profile: her head bowed, downcast lashes +long upon her cheeks, her mouth set in a mould of gravity, her brows +seriously contracted--signifying preoccupation with the problem of the +moment. + +And then suddenly she turned her head and intercepted his whole-hearted +stare. For a thought wonder glimmered in the violet eyes; then they +flashed disconcertingly; finally they became utterly cold and +disdainful. + +"Well?" she demanded in a frigid voice. + +He looked away in complete confusion, and felt his face burning to the +temples. + +"I beg your pardon," he mumbled unhappily. + +He essayed to walk. Twenty feet and more of treacherous, dry, yielding +sand separated them from the flight of steps that ascended the bluff. It +proved no easy journey; and its difficulty was complicated by his +determination to spare the woman as much as he could. Gritting his +teeth, he grinned and bore without a murmur until, the first stage of +the journey accomplished, he was able to grasp a handrail at the bottom +of the stairs and breathe devout thanks through the medium of a gasp. + +"Shall we rest a bit?" the woman asked, compassionate, ignoring now the +impertinence she had chosen to resent a few moments ago. + +"Think I can manage--thanks," he said, panting a little. "It'll be +easier now--going up. I shan't need help." + +He withdrew his arm, perhaps not without regret, but assuredly with a +comforting sense of decent consideration for her, as well as with some +slight and intrinsically masculine satisfaction in the knowledge that he +was overcoming her will and her resistance. + +"No--honestly!" he insisted. "These handrails make it easy." + +"But please be sure," she begged. "Don't take any chances. _I_ don't +mind...." + +"Let me demonstrate, then." + +The stairway was comfortably narrow; he had only to grasp a rail with +either hand, and half lift himself, half hop up step by step. In this +manner he accomplished the ascent in excellent, if hopelessly +ungraceful, style. At the top he limped to a wooden seat beside one of +the bath-houses and sat down with so much grim decision in his manner +that it was evident to the woman the moment she rejoined him. But he +mustered a smile to meet her look of concern, and shook his head. + +"Thus far and no farther." + +"Oh, but you must not be stubborn!" + +"I mean to be--horrid stubborn. In fact, I don't mind warning you that +there's a famous strain of mule in the Whitaker make-up." + +She was, however, not to be diverted; and her fugitive frown bespoke +impatience, if he were any judge. + +"But seriously, you must--" + +"Believe me," he interrupted, "if I am to retain any vestige of +self-respect, I must no longer make a crutch of you." + +"But, really, I don't see why--!" + +"Need I remind you I am a man?" he argued lightly. "Even as you are a +very charming woman...." + +The frown deepened while she conned this utterance over. + +"How do you mean me to interpret that?" she demanded, straightforward. + +"The intention was not uncomplimentary, perhaps," he said gravely; +"though the clumsiness is incontestable. As for the rest of it--I'm not +trying to flirt with you, if that's what _you_ mean--yet. What I wished +to convey was simply my intention no longer to bear my masculine weight +upon a woman--either you or any other woman." + +A smile contended momentarily with the frown, and triumphed brilliantly. + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure. But do you mind telling me what you do +mean to do?" + +"No." + +"Well, then--?" The smile was deepening very pleasantly. + +"I mean to ask you," he said deliberately, taking heart of this +favourable manifestation: "to whom am I indebted--?" + +To his consternation the smile vanished, as though a cloud had sailed +before the sun. Doubt and something strongly resembling incredulity +informed her glance. + +"Do you mean to say you don't _know_?" she demanded after a moment. + +"Believe me, I've no least idea--" + +"But surely Mr. Ember must have told you?" + +"Ember seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that the Fiske +place was without a tenant." + +"Oh!" + +"And I'm sure he was sincere. Otherwise it's certain wild horses +couldn't have dragged him back to New York." + +"Oh!" Her tone was thoughtful. "So he has gone back to town?" + +"Business called him. At least such was the plausible excuse he advanced +for depriving himself of my exclusive society." + +"I see," she nodded--"I see...." + +"But aren't you going to tell me? Or ought I to prove my human +intelligence by assuming on logical grounds that you're Miss Fiske?" + +"If you please," she murmured absently, her intent gaze seeking the +distances of the sea. + +"Then that's settled," he pursued in accents of satisfaction. "You are +Miss Fiske--Christian name at present unknown to deponent. I am one +Whitaker, as already deposed--baptized Hugh. And we are neighbours. Do +you know, I think this a very decent sort of a world after all?" + +"And still"--she returned to the charge--"you haven't told me what you +mean to do, since you refuse my help." + +"I mean," he asserted cheerfully, "to sit here, aping Patience on a +monument, until some kind-hearted person fetches me a stick or other +suitable piece of wood to serve as emergency staff. Then I shall make +shift to hobble to your motor-boat and thank you very kindly for +ferrying me home." + +"Very well," she said with a business-like air. "Now we understand one +another, I'll see what I can find." + +Reviewing their surroundings with a swift and comprehensive glance, she +shook her head in dainty annoyance, stood for an instant plunged in +speculation, then, light-footed, darted from sight round the side of the +bath-house. + +He waited, a tender nurse to his ankle, smiling vaguely at the benign +sky. + +Presently she reappeared, dragging an eight-foot pole, which, from +certain indications, seemed to have been formerly dedicated to the +office of clothes-line prop. + +"Will this do?" + +Whitaker took it from her and weighed it with anxious judgment. + +"A trifle tall, even for me," he allowed. "Still...." + +He rose on one foot and tested the staff with his weight. "'Twill do," +he decided. "And thank you very much." + +But even with its aid, his progress toward the boat necessarily consumed +a tedious time. It was impossible to favour the injured foot to any +great extent. Between occasional halts for rest, Whitaker hobbled with +grim determination, suffering exquisitely but privately. The girl +considerately schooled her pace to his, subjecting him to covert +scrutiny when, as they moved on, his injury interested him exclusively. + +He made little or no attempt to converse while in motion; a spirit of +bravado alone, indeed, would have enabled him to pay attention to +anything aside from the problem of the next step; and bravado was a +stranger to his cosmos then, if ever. So she had plenty of opportunity +to make up her mind about him. + +If her eyes were a reliable index, she found him at least interesting. +At times their expression was enigmatic beyond any rending. Again they +seemed openly perplexed. At all times they were warily regardful. + +Once she sighed quietly with a passing look of sadness of which he was +wholly unaware.... + +"Odd--about that fellow," he observed during a halt. "I was sure I knew +him, both times--last night as well as to-day." + +"Last night?" she queried with patent interest. + +"Oh, yes: I meant to tell you. He was prowling round the +bungalow--Ember's, I mean--when I first saw him. I chased him off, lost +him in the woods, and later picked him up again just at the edge of your +grounds. That's why I thought it funny that he should be over here this +morning, shadowing you--as they say in detective stories." + +"No wonder!" she commented sympathetically. + +"And the oddest thing of all was that I should be so sure he was +Drummond--until I saw--" + +"Drummond!" + +"Friend of mine.... You don't by any chance know Drummond, do you?" + +"I've heard the name." + +"You must have. The papers were full of his case for a while. Man +supposed to have committed suicide--jumped off Washington Bridge a week +before he was to marry Sara Law, the actress?" + +"Why ... yes. Yes, I remember. But.... 'Supposed to have committed +suicide'--did you say?" + +He nodded. "He may have got away with it, at that. Only, I've good +reason to believe he didn't.... I may as well tell you: it's no secret, +although only a few people know it: Ember saw Drummond, or thinks he +did, alive, in the flesh, a good half-hour after the time of his +reported suicide." + +"Really!" the girl commented in a stifled voice. + +"Oh, for all that, there's no proof Ember wasn't misled by an accidental +resemblance--no real proof--merely circumstantial evidence. Though for +my part, I'm quite convinced Drummond still lives." + +"How very curious!" There was nothing more than civil but perfunctory +interest in the comment. "Are you ready to go on?" + +And another time, when they were near the boat: + +"When do you expect Mr. Ember?" asked the girl. + +"To-night, probably. At least, he wired yesterday to say he'd be down +to-night. But from what little I've seen of him, you can never be sure +of Ember. He seems to lead the sedentary and uneventful life of a flea +on a hot griddle." + +"I shall be glad to see him," said the girl in what Whitaker thought a +curious tone. "Please tell him, will you? Don't forget." + +"If that's the way you feel about him, I shall be tempted to wire him +not to come." + +"Just what do you mean by that?" asked the woman sharply, a glint of +indignation in her level, challenging stare. + +"Merely that your tone sounded a bit vindictive. I thought possibly you +might want to have it out with him, for the sin of permitting me to +infest this neck o' the woods." + +"Absurd!" she laughed, placated. + +When finally they came to the end of the dock, he paused, considering +the three-foot drop to the deck of the motor-boat with a dubious look +that but half expressed his consternation. It would be practically +impossible to lower himself without employing the painful member to an +extent he didn't like to anticipate. He met the girl's inquiring glance +with one wholly rueful. + +"If it weren't low tide...." he explained, crest-fallen. + +She laughed lightly. "But, since it is low tide, you'll have to let me +help you again." + +Cautiously lowering himself to a sitting position on the dock, feet +overhanging the boat, he nodded. "'Fraid so. Sorry to be a nuisance." + +"You're not a nuisance. You're merely masculine," the girl retorted, +jumping lightly but surely to the cockpit. + +She turned and offered him a hand, eyes dancing with gay malice. + +Whitaker delayed, considering her gravely. + +"Meaning--?" he inquired pleasantly. + +"Like all men you must turn to a woman in the end--however brave your +strut." + +"Oh, it's that way, is it? Thank you, but I fancy I can manage." + +And with the aid of the clothes-prop he did manage to make the descent +without her hand and without disaster. + +"Pure _blague_!" the girl taunted. + +"That's French for I-think-I'm-smart-don't-I--isn't it?" he inquired +with an innocent stare. "If so, the answer is: I do." + +Her lips and eyes were eloquent of laughter repressed. + +"But now?" she argued, sure of triumph. "You've got to admit you +couldn't do without me now!" + +"Oh, I can manage a motor, if that's what you mean," he retorted +serenely; "though I confess there are a few new kinks to this one that +might puzzle me a bit at the start. That chain-and-cogwheel affair to +turn the flywheel with, for instance--that's a new one. The last time I +ran a marine motor in this country we had to break our backs and run +chances of breaking our arms as well, turning up by hand." + +The girl had gone forward, over the cabin roof, to cast off. She +returned along the outboard, pushing the boat clear, then, jumping back +into the cockpit, started the engine with a single, almost effortless +turn of the crank which Whitaker had mentioned, and took the wheel as +the boat swung droning away from the dock. Not until she had once or +twice advanced the spark and made other minor adjustments, did she +return attention to her passenger. + +Then, in a casual voice, she inquired: "You've been out of the country +for some time, I think you said?" + +"Almost six years on the other side of the world--got back only last +spring." + +"What," she asked, eyes averted, spying out the channel--"what does one +do on the other side of the world?" + +"This one knocked about, mostly, for his health's sake. That is, I went +away expecting to die before long, was disappointed, got well and strong +and--took to drifting.... I beg your pardon," he broke off hastily; "a +civil answer to a civil question needn't necessarily be the history of +one's life." + +The girl put the wheel down slowly, swinging the boat upon a course +direct to the landing-stage at Half-a-loaf Lodge. + +"But surely you didn't waste six years simply 'drifting'?" + +"Well, I did drift into a sort of business, after a bit--gold mining in +a haphazard, happy-go-lucky fashion--did pretty well at it and came home +to astonish the natives." + +"Was it a success?" + +"Rather," he replied dryly. + +"I meant your plan to astonish the natives." + +"So did I." + +"You find things--New York--disappointing?" she analyzed his tone. + +"I find it overpowering--and lonely. Nobody sent a brass band to greet +me at the dock; and all the people I used to know are either married and +devoted to brats, or divorced and devoted to bridge; and my game has +gone off so badly in six years that I don't belong any more." + +She smiled, shaping her scarlet lips deliciously. The soft, warm wind +whipped stray strands of hair, like cords of gold, about her face. Her +eyelids were half lowered against the intolerable splendour of the day. +The waters of the bay, wind-blurred and dark, seemed a shield of +sapphire fashioned by nature solely to set off in clear relief her +ardent loveliness. + +Whitaker, noting how swiftly the mainland shores were disclosing the +finer details of their beauty, could have wished the bay ten times as +wide. + + + + +XII + +THE MOUSE-TRAP + + +Late in the afternoon of the same day, Ember, appearing suddenly in +front of the bungalow, discovered Whitaker sitting up in state; a +comfortable wicker chair supported his body and a canvas-seated camp +stool one of his feet; which last was discreetly veiled in a dripping +bath-towel. Otherwise he was fastidiously arrayed in white flannels and, +by his seraphic smile and guileless expression, seemed abnormally at +peace with his circumstances. + +Halting, Ember surveyed the spectacle with mocking disfavour, as though +he felt himself slightly at a disadvantage. He was, indeed, in a state +that furnished an admirable contrast to that of the elegant if disabled +idler. His face was scarcely whiter with the impalpable souvenirs of the +road than was his slate-coloured mohair duster. The former, indeed, +suffered by comparison, its personal coat of dust being deep-rutted with +muddy paths of perspiration; beneath all lay the dull flush of flesh +scorched by continuous exposure to sunlight and the swift rush of +superheated air. None the less, his eyes, gleaming bright as through a +mask, were not unamiable. + +"Hel-_lo_!" he observed, beginning to draw off his gauntlets as he +ascended the veranda steps and dropped into another wicker chair. + +"How _do_ you do?" returned Whitaker agreeably. + +"I'm all right; but what the deuce's the matter with you?" + +"Game leg, thanks. Twisted my ankle again, this morning. Sum Fat has +been doctoring it with intense enthusiasm, horse liniment and chopped +ice." + +"That's the only proper treatment for sprains. Bad, is it?" + +"Not very--not half as bad as I thought it would be at first. Coming on +top of the other wrench made it extra painful for a while--that's all. +By to-morrow morning I'll be skipping like the silly old hills in the +Scriptures." + +"Hope so; but you don't want to overdo the imitation, you know. Give +nature a chance to make the cure complete. Otherwise--well, you must've +had a pretty rotten stupid time of it, with that storm." + +"Oh, not at all. I really enjoyed it," Whitaker protested. + +"Like this place, eh?" + +"Heavenly!" asserted the invalid with enthusiasm. "I can't thank you +enough." + +"Oh, if you forgive me for leaving you alone so much, we'll call it +square." Ember lifted his voice: "Sum Fat, ahoy!" + +The Chinaman appeared in the doorway, as suddenly and silently as if +magically materialized by the sound of his name. He bore with +circumspection a large tray decorated with glasses, siphons, decanters +and a bowl of cracked ice. + +"I make very remarkable damn fine quick guess what you want first," he +observed suavely, placing the tray on a small table convenient to +Ember's hand. "That all now?" + +"You're a sulphur-coloured wizard with pigeon-toed eyes," replied Ember +severely. "Go away from here instantly and prepare me all the dinner in +the establishment, lest an evil fate overtake you." + +"It is written," returned Sum Fat, "that I die after eight-seven years +of honourable life from heart-failure on receiving long-deferred raise +in wages." + +He shuffled off, chuckling. + +"Scotch or Irish?" demanded Ember, clinking glasses. + +"Irish, please. How's your friend's case?" + +"Coming along. You don't seem surprised to see me." + +"I had your telegram, and besides I heard your car, just now." + +"Oh!" There was a significance in the ejaculation which Whitaker chose +to ignore as he blandly accepted his frosted glass. "You +weren't--ah--lonely?" Ember persisted. + +"Not in the least." + +"I fancied I saw the flutter of a petticoat through the trees, as I came +up to the house." + +"You did." + +"Found a--ah--friend down here?" + +"Acquaintance of yours, I believe: Miss Fiske." + +"Miss Fiske!" There was unfeigned amazement in the echo. + +"Anything wonderful about that?" inquired Whitaker, sharply. "I fancied +from what she said that you two were rather good friends." + +"Just surprised--that's all," said Ember, recovering. "You see, I didn't +think the Fiske place was open this year." + +He stared suspiciously at Whitaker, but the latter was transparently +ingenuous. + +"She expressed an unaccountable desire to see you--told me to tell you." + +"Oh? Such being the case, one would think she might've waited." + +"She had just started home when you drove in," Whitaker explained with +elaborate ease. "She'd merely run over for a moment to inquire after my +ankle, and couldn't wait." + +"Thoughtful of her." + +"Wasn't it?" To this Whitaker added with less complacency: "You'll have +to call after dinner, I suppose." + +"Sorry," said Ember, hastily, "but shan't be able to. Fact is, I only +ran in to see if you were comfortable--must get back to town immediately +after dinner--friend's case at a critical stage." + +"Everybody loves me and worries about my interesting condition--even +you, wretched host that you are." + +"I apologize." + +"Don't; you needn't. I wouldn't for the world interfere with your +desperate business. I'm really quite happy here--alone." + +"Alone--I think you said?" Ember inquired after a brief pause. + +"Alone," Whitaker reiterated firmly. + +"I'm glad you like the place." + +"It's most attractive, really.... I say, who are the Fiskes, anyway?" + +"Well ... the Fiskes are the people who own the next cottage." + +"I know, but--" + +"Oh, I never troubled to inquire; have a hazy notion Fiske does +something in Wall Street." Ember passed smoothly over this flaw in his +professional omniscience. "How did you happen to meet her?" + +"Oh, mere accident. Over on the beach this morning. I slipped and hurt +my ankle. She--ah--happened along and brought me home in her +motor-boat." + +On mature reflection, Whitaker had decided that it would be as well to +edit his already sketchy explanation of all reference to the putative +spy who wasn't Drummond; in other words, to let Ember's sleeping +detective instincts lie. And with this private understanding with +himself, he felt a little aggrieved because of the quarter toward which +Ember presently saw fit to swing their talk. + +"You haven't seen Drummond--or any signs of him, have you?" + +"Eh--what?" Whitaker sat up, startled. "No, I ... er ... how should I?" + +"I merely wondered. You see, I.... Well, to tell the truth, I took the +liberty of camping on his trail, while in town, with the idea of serving +him with notice to behave. But he'd anticipated me, apparently; he'd +cleared out of his accustomed haunts--got away clean. I couldn't find +any trace of him." + +"You're a swell sleuth," Whitaker commented critically. + +"You be damn'.... That's the true reason why I ran down to-day, when I +really couldn't spare the time; I was a bit worried--afraid he'd maybe +doped out my little scheme for keeping you out of harm's way." + +"Oh, I say!" Whitaker expostulated, touched by this evidence of +disinterested thoughtfulness. "You don't mean--" + +"On the contrary, I firmly believe him responsible for that attack on +you the other night. The man's a dangerous monomaniac; brooding over his +self-wrought wrongs has made him such." + +"You persuade yourself too much, old man. You set up an inference and +idolize it as an immortal truth. Why, you had me going for a while. Only +last night there was a fellow skulking round here, and I was just dippy +enough, thanks to your influence, to think he resembled Drummond. But +this morning I got a good look at him, and he's no more Drummond than +you are." + +"The hell you say!" Ember sat up, eyes snapping. "Who was he then?" + +"Simply a good-for-nothing vagabond--tramp." + +"What'd he want?" + +"Search me." + +"But why the devil didn't you tell me this before?" + +"You don't mean to say you attach any importance to the mere fact that +an ordinary tramp--" + +"I attach importance to many things that other people overlook. That's +my artfulness. I don't suppose it has occurred to you that tramps follow +the railroads, and that Long Island is free of the vermin for the simple +reason that the Long Island Railroad doesn't lead anywhere any +self-respecting tramp would care to go?" + +"It's true--I hadn't thought of that. So that makes the appearance of a +tramp in these parts a cir-spicious sus-cumstance?" + +"It does. Now tell me about him--everything." + +So the truth would out, after all. Whitaker resignedly delivered himself +of the tale of the mare's-nest--as he still regarded it. When he had +come to the lame conclusion thereof, Ember yawned and rose. + +"What are you going to do about it?" Whitaker inquired with irony. + +"Wash and make myself fit to eat food," was the response. "I may +possibly think a little. It's an exhilarating exercise which I don't +hesitate to recommend to your distinguished consideration." + +He was out of earshot, within the bungalow, before Whitaker could think +up an adequately insolent retort. He could, however, do no less than +smile incredulously at the beautiful world: so much, at least, he owed +his self-respect. + +He lolled comfortably, dreaming, forgetful of his cold-storage foot, +serene in the assurance that Ember was an alarmist, Drummond (if alive) +to a degree hand-bound by his own misconduct, a wretched creature +self-doomed to haunt the under-world, little potent either for good or +for evil; while it was a certainty, Whitaker believed, that to-morrow's +sun would find him able to be up and about--able to hobble, even if with +difficulty, at least as much as the eighth of a mile. + +Long shadows darkened athwart the clearing. The bay was quick with +moving water, its wonderful deep blue shading to violet in the distant +reaches. Beyond the golden arm of the barrier beach drifted the lazy +purple sails of coastwise schooners. Gradually these blushed red, the +golden arm took on a ruddy tinge, the bosom of the waters a translucent +pink, mirroring the vast conflagration in the western skies. + +Somewhere--not far away--a whippoorwill whistled with plaintive +insistence. + +In the deepening twilight a mental shadow came to cloud the brightness +of Whitaker's confident contentment. He sat brooding and mumbling curses +on the ache in his frost-bitten foot, and was more than slightly +relieved when Sum Fat lighted the candles in the living-room and +summoned Ember to help the invalid indoors. + +Neither good food nor good company seemed able to mitigate this sudden +seizure of despondency. He sat glooming over his plate and glass, the +burden of his conversation _yea, yea_ and _nay, nay_; nor was anything +of Ember's intermittent banter apparently able to educe the spirited +retorts ordinarily to be expected of him. + +His host diagnosed his complaint from beneath shrewd eyebrows. + +"Whitaker," he said at length, "a pessimist has been defined as a dog +that won't scratch." + +"Well?" said the other sourly. + +"Come on. Be a sport. Have a good scratch on me." + +Whitaker grinned reluctantly and briefly. + +"Where's my wife?" he demanded abruptly. + +"How in blazes--!" + +"There you are!" Whitaker complained. "You make great pretensions, and +yet you fall down flat on your foolish face three times in less than as +many hours. You don't know who the Fiskes are, you've lost track of your +pet myth, Drummond, and you don't know where I can find my wife. And yet +I'm expected to stand round with my mouth open, playing Dr. Watson to +your Sherlock Holmes. I could go to that telephone and consult +'Information' to better advantage!" + +"What you need," retorted the other, unmoved, "is a clairvoyant, not a +detective. If you can't keep track of your trial marriages yourself...!" + +He shrugged. + +"Then you don't know--haven't the least idea where she is?" + +"My dear man, I myself am beginning to doubt her existence." + +"I don't see why the dickens she doesn't go ahead with those divorce +proceedings!" Whitaker remarked morosely. + +"I've met few men so eager for full membership in the Alimony Club. +What's your hurry?" + +"Oh, I don't know." Which was largely truth unveneered. "I'd like to get +it over and done with." + +"You might advertise--offer a suitable reward for information concerning +the whereabouts of one docile and dormant divorce suit--" + +"I might, but you'd never earn it." + +"Doubtless. I've long since learned never to expect any reward +commensurate with my merits." + +Ember pushed back his chair and, rising, strolled to the door. "Moonrise +and a fine, clear night," he said, staring through the wire mesh of the +screen. "Wish you were well enough to go riding with me. However, you +won't be laid up long, I fancy. And I'll be back day after to-morrow. +Now I must cut along." + +And within ten minutes Whitaker heard the motor-car rumble off on the +woodland road. + +He wasn't altogether sorry to be left to his own society. He was, in +fact, rather sharp-set for the freedom of solitude, that he might pursue +one or two self-appointed tasks without interruption. + +For one of these Sum Fat, not without wonder, furnished him materials: +canvas, stout thread, scissors, a heavy needle, a bit of beeswax: with +which Whitaker purposed manufacturing an emergency ankle-strap. And at +this task he laboured diligently and patiently for the better part of +two hours, with a result less creditable to his workmanship than to a +nature integrally sunny and prone to see the bright side of things. +Whitaker himself, examining the finished product with a prejudiced eye, +was fain to concede its crudity. It was not pretty, but he believed +fatuously in its efficiency. + +His other task was purely one of self-examination. Since afternoon he +had found reason gravely to doubt the stability of his emotional poise. +He had of late been in the habit of regarding himself as one whose mind +retained no illusions; a bit prematurely aged, perhaps, but wise with a +wisdom beyond his years; no misogynist, but comfortably woman-proof; a +settled body and a sedate, contemplating with an indulgent smile the +futile antics of a mad, mad world. But now he was being reminded that no +man is older than his heart, and that the heart is a headstrong member, +apt to mutiny without warning and proclaim a youth quite inconsistent +with the years and the mentality of its possessor. In fine, he could not +be blind to the fact that he was in grave danger of making an ass of +himself if he failed to guide himself with unwonted circumspection. + +And all because he had an eye and a weakness for fair women, a lonely +path to tread through life, and a gregarious tendency, a humorous +faculty and a keen appreciation of a mind responsive to it.... + +And all in the face of the fact that he was not at liberty to make +love.... + +And all this problem the result of a single day of propinquity! + +He went to bed, finally, far less content with himself than with the +crazy issue of his handicraft. The latter might possibly serve its +purpose; but Hugh Whitaker seemed a hopeless sort of a proposition, not +in the least amenable to the admonitions of common sense. If he were, +indeed, he would have already been planning an abrupt escape to Town. As +matters stood with him, he knew he had not the least intention of doing +anything one-half so sensible. + +But in spite of his half-hearted perturbation and dissatisfaction, the +weariness of a long, full day was so heavy upon him that he went to +sleep almost before Sum Fat had finished making him comfortable. + +Extinguishing the candle, the Chinaman, moving with the silent assurance +of a cat in the dark, closed and latched the shutters, then sat down +just outside the living-room door, to wait and watch, sleeplessly alert. + +An hour passed in silence, and another, and yet another: Sum Fat sat +moveless in the shadow, which blended so perfectly with his dark +blue-silk garments as to render him almost indistinguishable: a figure +as patient and imperturbable as any bland, stout, graven god of his +religion. Slowly the moonlight shifted over the floor, lengthened until +it almost touched the toe of one of his felt-soled shoes, and +imperceptibly withdrew. The wind had fallen, and the night was very +quiet; few sounds disturbed the stillness, and those inconsiderable: the +steady respiration of the sleeping man; such faint, stealthy creakings +as seemingly infest every human habitation through the night; the dull +lisp and murmur of the tide groping its way along the shore; the muted +grumble of the distant surf; hushed whisperings of leaves disturbed by +wandering airs. + +Sum Fat heard all and held impassive. But in time there fell upon his +ears another sound, to which he stirred, if imperceptibly--drawing +himself together, tensing and flexing his tired muscles while his eyes +shifted quickly from one quarter to another of the darkened living-room +and the still more dark bedchamber. + +And yet, apparently all that had aroused him was the drowsy whistle of a +whippoorwill. + +Then, with no other presage, a shadow flitted past one of the side +windows, and in another reappeared more substantially on the veranda. +Sum Fat grew altogether tense, his gaze fixed and exclusively focussed +upon that apparition. + +Cautiously, noiselessly, edging inch by inch across the veranda, the man +approached the door. It was open, hooked back against the wall; only the +wire screen was in his way. Against this he flattened his face; and a +full, long minute elapsed while he carefully surveyed what was visible +of the interior. Even Sum Fat held his breath throughout that +interminable reconnoissance. + +At length, reassured, the man laid hold of the screen and drew it open. +It complained a little, and he started violently and waited another +minute for the alarm which did not ensue. Then abruptly he slipped into +the room and slowly drew the screen shut behind him. Another minute: no +sound detectable more untoward than that of steady respiration in the +bedroom; with a movement as swift and sinister as the swoop of a vulture +the man sprang toward the bedroom door. + +Leaping from a sitting position, with a bound that was little less than +a flight through the air, the Chinaman caught him halfway. There +followed a shriek, a heavy fall that shook the bungalow, the report of a +revolver, sounds of scuffling.... + +Whitaker, half dazed, found himself standing in the doorway, regardless +of his injury. + +He saw, as one who dreams and yet is conscious that he does but dream, +Ember lighting candles--calmly applying the flame of a taper to one +after another as he made a round of the sconces. The moonlight paled and +the windows turned black as the mellow radiance brightened. + +Then a slight movement in the shadow of the table drew his attention to +the floor. Sum Fat was kneeling there, on all fours, above something +that breathed heavily and struggled without avail. + +Whitaker's sleep-numbed faculties cleared. + +"Ember!" he cried. "What in the name of all things strange--!" + +Ember threw him a flickering smile. "Oh, there you are?" he said +cheerfully. "I've got something interesting to show you. Sum Fat"--he +stooped and picked up a revolver--"you may let him up, now, if you think +he's safe." + +"Safe enough." Sum Fat rose, grinning. "Had damn plenty." + +He mounted guard beside the door. + +For an instant his captive seemed reluctant to rise; free, he lay +without moving, getting his breath in great heaving sobs; only his gaze +ranged ceaselessly from Ember's face to Whitaker's and back again, and +his hands opened and closed convulsively. + +Ember moved to his side and stood over him, balancing the revolver in +his palm. + +"Come," he said impatiently. "Up with you!" + +The man sat up as if galvanized by fear, got more slowly to his knees, +then, grasping the edge of the table, dragged himself laboriously to a +standing position. He passed a hand uncertainly across his mouth, +brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to steady himself, attempting +to infuse defiance into his air, even though cornered, beaten and +helpless. + +Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity. He +couldn't deny the man, yet he found it hard to believe that this +quivering, shaken creature, with his lean and pasty face and desperate, +glaring eyes, this man in rough, stained, soiled and shapeless garments, +could be identical with the well set-up, prosperous and confident man of +affairs he remembered as Drummond. And yet they were one. Appalling to +contemplate the swift devastating course of moral degeneration, that had +spread like gangrene through all the man's physical and mental fibre.... + +"Take a good look," Ember advised grimly. "How about that pet myth +thing, now? What price the astute sleuth--eh? Perhaps you'd like to take +a few more funny cracks at my simple faith in hallucinations." + +"Good God!" said Whitaker in a low voice, unable to remove his gaze from +Drummond. + +"I had a notion he'd be hanging round," Ember went on; "I thought I saw +somebody hiding in the woods this afternoon; and then I was sure I saw +him skulking round the edges of the clearing, after dinner. So I set Sum +Fat to watch, drove back to the village to mislead him, left my car +there and walked back. And sure enough--!" + +Without comment, Whitaker, unable to stand any longer without +discomfort, hobbled to a chair and sat down. + +"Well?" Drummond demanded harshly in a quavering snarl. "Now that you've +got me, what're you going to do with me?" + +There was a high, hysterical accent in his voice that struck +unpleasantly on Ember's ear. He cocked his head to one side, studying +the man intently. + +Drummond flung himself a step away from the table, paused, and again +faced his captors with bravado. + +"Well?" he cried again. "Well?" + +Ember nodded toward Whitaker. "Ask him," he said briefly. + +Whitaker shook his head. It was difficult to think how to deal with this +trapped animal, so wildly different from the cultivated gentleman he +always had in mind when he thought of Drummond. The futility of +attempting to deal with him according to any code recognized by men of +honour was wretchedly apparent. + +"Drummond," he said slowly, "I wish to God you hadn't done this thing." + +Drummond laughed discordantly. "Keep your mealy-mouthed compassion for +yourself," he retorted, sneering. "I'm no worse than you, only I got +caught." He added in a low tone, quivering with uncontrollable hatred: +"Damn you!" + +Whitaker gave a gesture of despair. "If you'd only been content to keep +out of the way...! If only you'd let me alone--" + +"Then _you_ let Sara Law alone, d'you hear?" + +Surprised, Whitaker paused before replying. "Please understand," he said +quietly, "that Mrs. Whitaker is seeking a divorce from me. After that, +if she has any use for you, I have no objection to her marrying you. And +as for the money you stole, I have said nothing about that--intend to +say nothing. If you'd had the sense to explain things to me--if I could +count on you to leave me alone and not try again to murder me--" + +"Oh, go to hell!" + +The interruption was little short of a shriek. Ember motioned to Sum +Fat, who quietly drew nearer. + +"I swear I don't know what to do or say--" + +"Then shut up--" + +"That'll be about all," Ember interposed quietly. At a glance from him, +Sum Fat closed in swiftly and caught and pinioned Drummond's arms from +behind. + +A disgusting change took place in Drummond. In an instant he was +struggling, screaming, slavering: his face congested, eyes starting, +features working wildly as he turned and twisted in his efforts to free +himself. + +Sum Fat held him as he would have held an unruly child. Whitaker looked +away, feeling faint and sick. Ember looked on with shrewd and +penetrating interest, biding the time when a break in Drummond's ravings +would let him be heard. When it came at length, together with a gradual +weakening of the man's struggles, the detective turned to Whitaker. + +"Sorry," he said. "I didn't dare take any further chances. He'd've been +at your throat in another minute. I could see him working himself up to +a frenzy. If Sum Fat hadn't grabbed him in time, there's no telling what +might not have happened." + +Whitaker nodded. + +"It isn't as if we had simply an everyday crook to deal with," Ember +went on, approaching the man. "He's not to be trusted or reasoned with. +He's just short of a raving morphomaniac, or I miss my guess." + +With a quick movement he caught Drummond's left arm, pulled the sleeve +of his coat back to the elbow, unbuttoned and turned back his cuff. +"_Hmm_--yes," he continued bending over to inspect the exposed forearm, +in spite of Drummond's efforts to twist away. "Deadly work of the busy +little needle. Good Lord, he's fairly riddled with punctures!" + +"That explains...." Whitaker muttered, sickened. + +"It explains a lot." Ember readjusted the sleeve and turned away. "And +it shows us our path of duty, clear," he continued, despite +interruptions from the maddened drug fiend. "I think a nice little +sojourn in a sanatorium--what?" + +"Right," Whitaker agreed, relieved. + +"We'll see what a cure does for him before we indulge in criminal +proceedings--shall we?" + +"By all means." + +"Good." Ember glanced at his watch. "I'll have to hurry along now--must +be in town not later than nine o'clock this morning. I'll take him with +me. No, don't worry--I can handle him easily. It's a bit of a walk to +the village, but that will only help to quiet him down. I'll be back +to-morrow; meanwhile you'll be able to sleep soundly unless--" + +He checked, frowning thoughtfully. + +"Unless what?" + +Ember jerked his head to indicate the prisoner. "Of course, this isn't +by any chance the fellow you mixed it up with over on the beach--and so +forth?" + +"Nothing like him." + +"Queer. I can't find any trace of him--the other one--nor can I account +for him. He doesn't seem to fit in anywhere. However"--his expression +lightened--"I daresay you were right; he's probably only some idle, +light-fingered prowler. I'd keep my eyes open for him, but I don't +really believe you need worry much." + +Within ten minutes he was off on his lonely tramp through two miles of +woodland and as many more of little travelled country road, at dead of +night, with a madman in handcuffs for sole company. + + + + +XIII + +OFFSHORE + + +"You ask me, I think very excellent damn quick cure." + +Sum Fat having for the third time since morning anointed with liniment +and massaged Whitaker's ankle, tenderly adjusted and laced the makeshift +canvas brace, drew a sock over it, and then with infinite care inserted +the foot in a high-cut canvas tennis shoe. + +He stood up, beaming. + +Whitaker extended his leg and cast a critical eye over the heavily +bandaged ankle. + +"Anyway," he observed, "the effect is arresting. I look like a half +Clydesdale." + +Sum Fat's eyes clouded, then again gleamed with benevolent interest. +"You take it easy one day or two--no walk much--just loaf--no go see +pretty ladies--" + +"Go 'way, you heathen--go clean your teeth!" cried Whitaker, +indignantly. + +"--and I think be all well and sound," concluded Sum Fat. + +He waddled away, chuckling. + +Waiting till he was well out of sight, Whitaker got up, and with the aid +of a cane made a number of tentative experiments in the gentle art of +short-distance pedestrianism. The results were highly satisfactory: he +felt little or no pain, thanks to Sum Fat's ice-packs and assiduous +attentions in general; and was hampered in free movement solely by the +stiff brace and high-laced shoe. + +On the other hand, he felt that the advice to which he had just listened +was sound; it would be unwise to attempt a neighbourly call within at +least another twenty-four hours. + +He resumed his chair on the veranda, and sighed. It was late afternoon, +and he was lonely. After the interest and excitement of the preceding +day and night, to-day seemed very dull and uneventful; it had been, in +truth, nothing less than stupid--a mere routine of meals and pipes +interrupted by no communication from the outer world more blood-stirring +than the daily calls of the village grocer and butcher. Ember had not +telephoned, as Whitaker had hoped he would; and the chatelaine of the +neighbouring cottage had not manifested any interest whatever in the +well-being of the damaged amateur squire of dames. + +Whitaker felt himself neglected and abused. He inclined to sulks. The +loveliness of a day of unbroken calm offered him no consolation. +Solitude in a lonely lodge is all very well, if one cares for that sort +of thing; but it takes two properly to appreciate the beauties of the +wilderness. + +The trouble with him was (he began to realize) that he had lived too +long a hermit. For six years he had been practically isolated and cut +off from the better half of existence; femininity had formed no factor +in his cosmos. Even since his return to America his associations had +been almost exclusively confined to the wives and daughters of old +friends, the former favouring him only with a calm maternal patronage, +the daughters obviously regarding him as a sort of human curio old +enough to be entitled to a certain amount of respectful consideration, +but not to be taken seriously--"like a mummy," Whitaker told himself, +not without sympathy for the view-point of the younger generation. + +But now, of a sudden, he had been granted a flash of insight into the +true significance of companionship between a man and a woman who had +something in common aside from community in their generation. Not two +hours altogether of such intercourse had been his, but it had been +enough to infuse all his consciousness with a vague but irking +discontent. He wanted more, and wanted it ardently; and what Whitaker +desired he generally set himself to gain with a single-hearted +earnestness of purpose calculated to compass the end in view with the +least possible waste of time. + +In this instance, however, he was handicapped to exasperation by that +confounded ankle! + +Besides, he couldn't in decency pursue the woman; she was entitled to a +certain amount of privacy, of freedom from his attentions. + +Furthermore, he had no right as yet to offer her attentions. It seemed +necessary frequently to remind himself of that fact, in spite of the +vile humour such reminders as a rule aroused. + +He passed into one such now, scowling darkly in the face of an +exquisite, flawless day. + +One thing was settled, he assured himself: as soon as he was able to get +about with comfort, he would lose no time in hunting up his wife's +attorneys and finding out why they were slow about prosecuting her case. +Failing satisfaction in that quarter--well, he would find some way to +make things move. It wasn't fair to him to keep him bound to the vows of +a farcical union. He was not prepared to submit to such injustice. He +would, if needs must, hire detectives to find him his wife, that he +might see and in person urge upon her his equal right to release from an +unnatural bondage! + +He had lashed himself into a very respectable transport of resentful +rage before he realized what way his thoughts were leading him; but he +calmed down as quickly when, chancing to lift his eyes from their +absorbed study of the planks composing the veranda floor, he discovered +a motor-boat drawing in toward the landing-stage. + +At once a smile of childlike serenity displaced the scowl. Instinctively +he gathered himself together to rise, but on reconsideration retained +his seat, gallantry yielding to an intuitive sense of dramatic values; a +chair-bound invalid is a much more sympathetic object than a man +demonstrating a surprisingly quick recovery from an incapacitating +accident. + +Nevertheless, there seemed no objection to his returning a cheerful +flourish to the salute of a slender arm, brown and bare to the point +where a turned-back shirtwaist sleeve met a rounded elbow. + +At precisely the proper distance from the dock, the motor ceased its +purring; the boat swept on, white water crisping beneath its stem, +ripples widening fanlike from its flanks and sketching sweeping plumes +of purple on the calm ultra-marine surface--its speed at first not +perceptibly moderated. Gradually, then, it yielded to the passive +resistance of the waters, moving slower and more slow until at length it +nosed the landing-stage with a touch well-nigh as gentle as a caress. + +Poised lightly over the bows, the woman waited, her figure all in white +sharp-cut against the blue of sky and water, with an effect as vital as +it was graceful. Then at the right instant leaping to the dock with the +headwarp, she made the little vessel fast with two deft half-hitches +round the out-most pile, and turning came swinging to dry land and up +the gentle slope to the veranda, ease and strength and joy of living +inherent in every flowing movement, matching well the bright comeliness +of her countenance and the shining splendour of her friendly eyes. + +No imaginable consideration, however selfish, could have kept Whitaker +any longer in his chair. + +"The most amiable person I know!" he cried, elated. "Greetings!" + +She paused by the steps, looking up, a fascinating vision. + +"No--please! I've only stopped for an instant. Do sit down." + +"Shan't--until you do." + +"But I really can't stop." + +She ascended the steps and dropped coolly into a chair, laughing at her +own lack of consistency. Whitaker resumed his seat. + +"You're really able to stand without assistance?" + +"I'm ashamed to admit it. Between you and me--a dead secret--there's +nothing really the matter with me any more. Sum Fat's a famous +physician. I could run a race--only it's pleasanter to pretend I +mustn't." + +"Very well. Then I shan't waste any more sympathy on you." + +"As a matter of fact, I can move only at the cost of excruciating +agony." + +She considered him with a sober face and smiling eyes. "I don't believe +you. You're a fraud. Besides, I didn't come to see you at all; I came to +find out why Mr. Ember dares so to neglect me. Did you deliver my +invitation?" + +"I did, unwillingly. He was desolated, but he couldn't accept--had to +run back to town immediately after dinner." + +"He's as great a fraud as you. But since he isn't here, I shall go." + +She got up with a very evident intention of being as good as her word. +Whitaker in despair sought wildly for an excuse to detain her. + +"Please--I'm famished for human society. Have pity. Sit down. Tell me +where you've been with the boat." + +"Merely to the head of the bay to have the gasoline tanks filled. A most +boresome errand. They've no proper facilities for taking care of +motor-boats. Imagine having to sit with your hands folded while +garrulous natives fill a sixty-gallon tank by hand." + +"Expressions of profound sympathy. Tell me some more. See, I even +consent not to talk about myself as an extra inducement--if you'll only +stay." + +"No--really--unique though the prospect be! I left Elise and the cook +alone, two poor defenceless women; the gardener is taking his weekly +day-off in the village. We won't see anything of him till morning, +probably--when he'll show up very meek and damp about the head." + +"Aren't you afraid?" + +"I? Nonsense! I'm shamelessly able-bodied--and not afraid to pull a +trigger, besides. Moreover, there aren't any dangerous characters in +this neighbourhood." + +"Then I presume it's useless for me to offer my services as watch-dog?" + +"Entirely so. And when I choose a protector, I shall pick out one sound +of limb as well as wind." + +"Snubbed," he said mournfully. "And me that lonesome.... Think of the +long, dull evening I've got to live through somehow." + +"I have already thought of it. And being kind-hearted, it occurred to me +that you might be one of those mean-spirited creatures who can enjoy +double-dummy." + +"It's the only game I really care for with a deathless passion." + +"Then, if I promise to come over this evening and play you a rubber or +two--will you permit me to go home now?" + +"On such terms I'll do anything you can possibly suggest," he declared, +enchanted. "You mean it--honest Injun?" + +"Cross my heart and hope to die--" + +"But ... how will you get here? Not alone, through the woods! I can't +permit that." + +"Elise shall row me down the shore and then go back to keep cook +company. Sum Fat can see me home--if you find it still necessary to keep +up the invalid pose." + +"I'm afraid," he laughed, "I shall call my own bluff.... Must you really +go so soon?" + +"Good afternoon," she returned demurely; and ran down the steps and off +to her boat. + +Smiling quietly to himself, Whitaker watched her cast the boat off, get +under way, and swing it out of sight behind the trees. Then his smile +wavered and faded and gave place to a look of acute discontent. + +He rose and limped indoors to ransack Ember's wardrobe for evening +clothes--which he failed, perhaps fortunately, to find. + +He regarded with an overwhelming sense of desolation the tremendous arid +waste of time which must intervene before he dared expect her: a good +four hours--no, four and a half, since she would in all likelihood dine +at a sensible hour, say about eight o'clock. By half-past eight, then, +he might begin to look for her; but, since she was indisputably no woman +to cheapen herself, she would probably keep him waiting till nearly +nine. + +Colossal waste of time, impossible to contemplate without +exacerbation...! + +To make matters worse, Sum Fat innocently enough served Whitaker's +dinner promptly at six, under the misapprehension that a decent +consideration for his foot would induce the young man to seek his bed +something earlier than usual. + +Three mortal hours to fritter away in profitless anticipation ... + +At seven Whitaker was merely nervous. + +By eight he was unable to sit still. + +Half an hour later the house was too small to contain him. He found his +cane and took to the veranda, but only to be driven from its shelter by +a swarm of mosquitoes attracted by the illuminated windows. Not in the +least resentful, since his ankle was occasioning him no pain whatever, +he strolled down toward the shore: not a bad idea at all--to be there to +welcome her. + +The night was loud and dark. The moon was not to rise for another +half-hour, and since sundown the wind had come in from the southwest to +dissipate the immaculate day-long calm and set the waters and the trees +in motion with its urgent, animating breath. Blowing at first fitfully, +it was settling momentarily down into a steady, league-devouring stride, +strong with the promise of greater strength to come. + +Whitaker reflected: "If she doesn't hurry, she won't come by boat at +all, for fear of a wetting." + +He thought again: "And of course--I might've known--she won't start till +moonrise, on account of the light." + +And again, analyzing the soft, warm rush of air: "We'll have rain before +morning." + +He found himself at the end of the dock, tingling with impatience, but +finding some little consolation in the restless sweep of the wind +against his face and body. He stood peering up along the curve of the +shore toward the other landing-stage. He could see little--a mere +impressionistic suggestion of the shore-line picked out with the dim, +semi-phosphorescent glow of breaking wavelets. The night was musical +with the clash of rushing waters, crisp and lively above the long, +soughing drone of the wind in the trees. Eastward the barrier beach was +looming stark and black against a growing greenish pallor in the sky. A +mile to the westward, down the shore, the landlocked lighthouse reared +its tower, so obscure in gloom that the lamp had an effect of hanging +without support, like a dim yellow Japanese lantern afloat in mid-air. + +Some minutes elapsed. The pallor of the east grew more marked. Whitaker +fancied he could detect a figure moving on the Fiske dock. + +Then, startled, he grew conscious of the thick drone of a +heavily-powered motor boat near inshore. Turning quickly, he discovered +it almost at once: a black, vague shape not twenty yards from where he +stood, showing neither bow nor side-lights: a stealthy and mysterious +apparition creeping toward the dock with something of the effect of an +animal about to spring. + +And immediately he heard a man's voice from the boat, abrupt with anger: + +"Not this place, you ass--the next." + +"Shut up," another voice replied. "There's somebody on that dock." + +At the same time the bows of the boat swung off and the shadow slipped +away to westward--toward the Fiske place. + +A wondering apprehension of some nameless and desperate enterprise, +somehow involving the woman who obsessed his thoughts, crawled in +Whitaker's mind. The boat--running without cruising lights!--was seeking +the next landing-stage. Those in charge of it had certainly some reason +for wishing to escape observation. + +Automatically Whitaker turned back, let himself down to the beach, and +began to pick his way toward the Fiske dock, half running despite his +stiff ankle and following a course at once more direct and more +difficult than the way through the woods. That last would have afforded +him sure footing, but he would have lost much time seeking and sticking +to its meanderings, in the uncertain light. As it was, he had on one +hand a low, concave wall of earth, on the other the wash of crisping +wavelets; and between the two a yard-wide track with a treacherous +surface of wave-smoothed pebbles largely encumbered with heavy +bolster-like rolls of seaweed, springy and slippery, washed up by the +recent gale. + +But in the dark and formless alarm that possessed him, he did not stop +to choose between the ways. He had no time. As it was, if there were +anything evil afoot, no earthly power could help him cover the distance +in time to be of any aid. Indeed, he had not gone half the way before he +pulled up with a thumping heart, startled beyond expression by a cry in +the night--a cry of wild appeal and protest thrown out violently into +the turbulent night, and abruptly arrested in full peal as if a hand had +closed the mouth that uttered it. + +And then ringing clear down the wind, a voice whose timbre was +unmistakably that of a woman: "_Aux secours! Aux secours!_" + +Twice it cried out, and then was hushed as grimly as the first +incoherent scream. No need now to guess at what was towards: Whitaker +could see it all as clearly as though he were already there; the +power-boat at the dock, two women attacked as they were on the point of +entering their rowboat, the cry of the mistress suddenly cut short by +her assailant, the maid taking up the appeal, in her fright +unconsciously reverting to her native tongue, in her turn being forcibly +silenced.... + +All the while he was running, heedless of his injured foot--pitching, +slipping, stumbling, leaping--somehow making progress. + +By now the moon had lifted above the beach high enough to aid him +somewhat with its waxing light; and, looking ahead, he could distinguish +dimly shapes about the dock and upon it that seemed to bear out his most +cruel fears. The power-boat was passably distinct, her white side +showing plainly through the tempered darkness. Midway down the dock he +made out struggling figures--two of them, he judged: a man at close +grips with a frantic woman. And where the structure joined the land, a +second pair, again a man and a woman, strove and swayed.... + +And always the night grew brighter with the spectral glow of the moon +and the mirroring waters. + +For all his haste, he was too slow; he was still a fair thirty yards +away when the struggle on the dock ended abruptly with the collapse of +the woman; it was as if, he thought, her strength had failed all in an +instant--as if she had fainted. He saw the man catch her up in his arms, +where she lay limp and unresisting, and with this burden step from the +stage to the boat and disappear from sight beneath the coaming. An +instant later he reappeared, standing at full height in the cockpit. +Without warning his arm straightened out and a tongue of flame jetted +from his hand; there was a report; in the same breath a bullet buried +itself in the low earth bank on Whitaker's right. Heedless, he pelted +on. + +The shot seemed to signal the end of the other struggle at the +landing-stage. Scarcely had it rung out ere Whitaker saw the man lift a +fist and dash it brutally into the woman's face. Without a sound audible +at that distance she reeled and fell away; while the man turned, ran +swiftly out to the end of the dock, cast off the headwarp and jumped +aboard the boat. + +She began to sheer off as Whitaker set foot upon the stage. She was +twenty feet distant when he found himself both at its end and at the end +of his resource. He was too late. Already he could hear the deeper +resonance of the engine as the spark was advanced and the throttle +opened. In another moment she would be heading away at full tilt. + +Frantic with despair, he thrashed the air with impotent arms: a fair +mark, his white garments shining bright against the dark background of +the land. Aboard the moving boat an automatic fluttered, spitting ten +shots in as many seconds. The thud and splash of bullets all round him +brought him to his senses. Choking with rage, he stumbled back to the +land. + +On the narrow beach, near the dock, a small flat-bottomed rowboat lay, +its stern afloat, its bows aground--as it had been left by the women +surprised in the act of launching it. Jumping down, Whitaker put his +shoulder to the stem. + +As he did so, the other woman roused, got unsteadily to her feet, +screamed, then catching sight of him staggered to his side. It was--as +he had assumed--the maid, Elise. + +"_M'sieur!_" she shrieked, thrusting a tragic face with bruised and +blood-stained mouth close to his. "_Ah, m'sieur--madame--ces +canailles-là--!_" + +"Yes, I know," he said brusquely. "Get out of the way--don't hinder me!" + +The boat was now all afloat. He jumped in, dropped upon the middle +thwart, and fitted the oars in the rowlocks. + +"But, m'sieur, what mean you to do?" + +"Don't know yet," he panted--"follow--keep them in sight--" + +The blades dipped; he bent his back to them; the rowboat shot away. + +A glance over his shoulder showed him the boat of the marauders already +well away. She now wore running lights; the red lamp swung into view as +he glanced, like an obscene and sardonic eye. They were, then, making +eastwards. He wrought only the more lustily with the oars. + +Happily the Fiske motor-boat swung at a mooring not a great distance +from the shore. Surprisingly soon he had the small boat alongside. +Dropping the oars, he rose, grasped the coaming and lifted himself into +the cockpit. Then scrambling hastily forward to the bows, he disengaged +the mooring hook and let it splash. As soon as this happened, the +liberated _Trouble_ began to drift sluggishly shoreward, swinging +broadside to the wind. + +Jumping back into the cockpit, Whitaker located the switch and closed +the battery circuit. An angry buzzing broke out beneath the engine-pit +hatch, but was almost instantly drowned out by the response of the motor +to a single turn of the new-fangled starting-crank which Whitaker had +approved on the previous morning. + +He went at once to the wheel. Half a mile away the red light was +slipping swiftly eastward over silvered waters. He steadied the bows +toward it, listening to the regular and business-like _chug-chug_ of the +motor with the concentrated intentness of a physician with an ear over +the heart of a patient. But the throbbing he heard was true if slow; +already the boat was responding to the propeller, resisting the action +of wind and water, even beginning to surge heavily forward. + +Hastily kicking the hatch cover out of the way, he bent over the open +engine-pit, quickly solved the puzzle of the controlling levers, +accelerated the ignition and opened the throttle wide. The motor +answered this manipulation with an instantaneous change of tune; the +staccato drumming of the slow speed merged into a long, incessant rumble +like the roll of a dozen muffled snare-drums. The _Trouble_ leaped out +like a live thing, settling to its course with the fleet precision of an +arrow truly loosed. + +With a brief exclamation of satisfaction, Whitaker went back to the +wheel, shifted the ignition from batteries to magneto; and for the first +time since he had appreciated the magnitude of the outrage found himself +with time to think, to take stock of his position, to consider what he +had already accomplished and what he must henceforward hold himself +prepared to attempt. Up to that moment he had acted almost blindly, +swayed by impulse as a tree by the wind, guided by unquestioning +instinct in every action. Now.... + +He had got the boat under way with what in retrospect appealed to him as +amazing celerity, bearing in mind his unfamiliarity with its equipment. +The other boat had a lead of little if any more than half a mile; or so +he gauged the distance that separated them, making due allowance for the +illusion of the moon-smitten night. Whether that gap was to diminish or +to widen would develop before many minutes had passed. The _Trouble_ was +making a fair pace: roughly reckoned, between fourteen and sixteen miles +an hour. He suspected the other boat of having more power, but this did +not necessarily imply greater speed. At all events (he concluded) twenty +minutes at the outside would see the end of the chase--however it was to +end: the eastern head of the bay was not over five miles away; they +could not long hold to their present course without running aground. + +He hazarded wild guesses as to their plans: of which the least +implausible was that they were making for some out-of-the-way landing, +intending there to transfer to a motor-car. At least, this would +presumably prove to be the case, if the outrage were what, at first +blush, it gave evidence of being: a kidnapping uncomplicated by any +fouler motive.... And what else could it be?... But who was he to say? +What did he know of the woman, of her antecedents and circumstances? +Nothing more than her name, that she had attracted him--as any handsome +woman might have--that she had been spied upon within his personal +knowledge and had now been set upon and carried off by _force majeure_. + +And knowing no more than this, he had without an instant's thought of +consequences elected himself her champion! O headlong and infatuate! + +Probably no more severe critic of his own chivalric foolishness ever set +himself to succour a damsel in distress. Withal he entertained not the +shadow of a thought of drawing back. As long as the other boat remained +in sight; as long as the gasoline and his strength held out; as long as +the _Trouble_ held together and he retained the wit to guide her--so +long was Whitaker determined to stick to the wake of the kidnappers. + +A little more than halfway between their starting-point and the head of +the bay, the leading boat swung sharply in toward the shore, then shot +into the mouth of a narrow indentation. Whitaker found that he was +catching up quickly, showing that speed had been slackened for this +man[oe]uvre. But the advantage was merely momentary, soon lost. The boat +slipped out of sight between high banks. And he, imitating faithfully +its course, was himself compelled to throttle down the engine, lest he +run aground. + +For two or three minutes he could see nothing of the other. Then he +emerged from a tortuous and constricted channel into a deep cut, perhaps +fifty feet in width and spanned by a draw-bridge and a railroad trestle. +At the farther end of this tide-gate canal connecting the Great West Bay +with the Great Peconic, the leading power boat was visible, heading out +at full speed. And by the time he had thrown the motor of the _Trouble_ +back into its full stride, the half-mile lead was fully reëstablished, +if not improved upon. + +The tide was setting in through the canal--otherwise the gates had been +closed--with a strength that taxed the _Trouble_ to surpass. It seemed +an interminable time before the banks slipped behind and the boat picked +up her heels anew and swept out over the broad reaches of the Peconic +like a hound on the trail. The starboard light of the leader was slowly +becoming more and more distinct as she swung again to the eastward. That +way, Whitaker figured, with his brows perplexed, lay Shelter Island, +Greenport, Sag Harbor (names only in his understanding) and what else he +could not say. Here he found himself in strange waters, knowing no more +than that the chase seemed about to penetrate a tangled maze of islands +and distorted channels, in whose intricacies it should prove a matter of +facility to lose a pursuer already well distanced. + +Abandoning the forward wheel in favour of that at the side, near the +engine pit, for a time he divided his attention between steering and +tinkering with the motor, with the result that the _Trouble_ began +presently to develop more speed. Slowly she crept up on the leader, +until, with Robins Island abeam (though he knew it not by name) the +distance between them had been abridged by half. But more than that she +seemed unable to accomplish. He surmised shrewdly that the others, +tardily observing his gain, had met it with an equalizing demand upon +their motor--that both boats were now running at the extreme of their +power. The _Trouble_, at least, could do no better. To this he must be +resigned. + +Empty of all other craft, weird and desolate in moonlight, the Little +Peconic waters widened and then narrowed about the flying vessels. Shore +lights watched them, now dim and far, now bright and near at hand. +Shelter Island Sound received them, slapped their flanks encouragingly +with its racing waves, sped them with an ebbing tide that tore seawards +between constricted shores, carried them past high-wooded bluffs and low +wastes of sedge, past simple cottage and pretentious country home, past +bobbing buoys--nun and can and spar--and moored flotillas of small +pleasure craft, past Sag Harbor and past Cedar Island Light, delivering +them at length into the lonelier wastes of Gardiner's Bay. Their +relative positions were unchanged: still the _Trouble_ retained her +hard-won advantage. + +But it was little comfort that Whitaker derived from contemplation of +this fact. He was beginning to be more definitely perplexed and +distressed. He had no watch with him, no means of ascertaining the time +even roughly; but unquestionably they had been upwards of two hours if +not more at full tilt, and now were braving wilder waters; and still he +saw no sign of anything resembling a termination of the adventure. In +fact, they were leaving behind them every likely landing place. + +"Damn it!" he grumbled. "What are they aiming at--Boston?" + +Near the forward wheel a miniature binnacle housing a compass with +phosphorescent card, advised him from time to time, as he consulted it, +of the lay of their course. They were just then ploughing almost due +northeast over a broad expanse, beckoned on by the distant flicker of a +gas-buoy. But the information was less than worthless, and every +reasonable guess he might have made as to their next move would have +proved even more futile than merely idle; for when they had rounded the +buoy, instead of standing, as any reasonable beings might have been +expected to, on to Fisher's Island or at a tangent north toward the +Connecticut littoral, they swung off something south of east--a course +that could lead them nowhere but to the immensities of the sea itself. + +Whitaker's breath caught in his throat as he examined this startling +prospect. The Atlantic was something a trifle bigger than he had +bargained for. To dare its temper, with a southwester brewing (by every +weather sign he knew) in what was to all intents an open boat, since he +would never be able to leave the cockpit for an instant's shelter in the +cabin in any sort of a seaway--! + +He shook a dubious, vastly troubled head. But he held on grimly in the +face of dire forebodings. + +Once out from under the lee of Gardiner's Island, a heavier run of waves +beset them, catching the boats almost squarely on the beam: fortunately +a sea of long, smooth, slow shouldering rollers, as yet not angry. Now +and again, for all that, one would favour the _Trouble_ with a +quartering slap that sent a shower of spray aboard her to drench +Whitaker and swash noisily round the cockpit ere the self-bailing +channels could carry it off. He was quickly wet to the skin and +shivering. The hour was past midnight, and the strong air whipping in +from the open sea had a bitter edge. His only consolation inhered in the +reflection that he had companions in his misery: those who drove the +leading boat could hardly escape what he must suffer; though he hoped +and believed that the woman was shut below, warm and dry in the cabin. + +Out over the dark waste to starboard a white light lifted, flashing. For +a while a red eye showed beneath it, staring unwinkingly with a +steadfast and sardonic glare, then disappeared completely, leaving only +the blinking white. Far ahead another light, fixed white, hung steadily +over the port counter, and so remained for over an hour. + +Then most gradually the latter wore round upon the beam and dropped +astern. Whitaker guessed at random, but none the less rightly, that they +were weathering Block Island to the south with a leeway of several +miles. Indisputably the Atlantic held them in the hollow of its +tremendous hand. The slow, eternal deep-sea swell was most perceptible: +a ceaseless impulse of infinite power running through the pettier, if +more threatening, drive of waves kicked up by the wind. Fortunately the +course, shifting to northeast by east, presently took them out of the +swinging trough of the sea. The rollers now led them on, an endless +herd, one after another falling sullenly behind as the two boats shot +down into their shallow intervals and began to creep slowly up over the +long gray backs of those that ran before. + +It was after three in the morning, and, though Whitaker had no means of +knowing it, they were on the last and longest leg of the cruise. They +still had moonlight, but it was more wan and ghastly and threatened +presently to fail them altogether, blotted out by the thickening +weather. The wind was blowing with an insistent, unintermittent force it +had not before developed. A haze, vaguely opalescent, encircled the +horizon like a ghost of absinthe. The cold, formless, wavering dusk of +dawn in time lent it a sickly hue of gray together with a seeming more +substantial. Swathed in its smothering folds, the moon faded to the +semblance of a plaque of dull silver, then vanished altogether. By +four-thirty, when the twilight was moderately bright, Whitaker was +barely able to distinguish the leading boat. The two seemed as if +suspended, struggling like impaled insects, the one in the midst, the +other near the edge, of a watery pit walled in by vapours. + +He recognized in this phenomenon of the weather an exceptionally +striking variation of what his sea-going experience had taught him to +term a smoky sou'wester. + +That hour found him on the verge of the admission that he was, as he +would have said, about all in: the limit of endurance nearly approached. +He was half-dazed with fatigue; his wet skin crawled with goose-flesh; +his flesh itself was cold as stone. In the pit of his stomach lurked an +indefinite, sickening sensation of chilled emptiness. His throat was +sore and parched, his limbs stiff and aching, his face crusted with +stinging particles of salt, his eyes red, sore and smarting. If his +ankle troubled him, he was not aware of it; it would need sharp agony to +penetrate the aura of dull, interminable misery that benumbed his +consciousness. + +With all this, he tormented himself with worry lest the tanks run dry. +Though they had been filled only the day before, he had no clear notion +of the horse-power of the motor or its hourly consumption of gasoline; +and the drain upon the supply could not have been anything but +extraordinary. If it were to run out before they made a landing or safe +anchorage, he would find himself in ticklish straits; but this troubled +him less than the fear that he might be obliged to give up the chase to +which he had stuck so long and with a pertinacity which somewhat +surprised even his own wonder. + +And to give up now, when he had fought so far ... it was an intolerable +thought. He protested against it with a vain, bitter violence void of +any personal feeling or any pride of purpose and endurance. It was his +solicitude for the woman alone that racked him. Whatever the enigmatic +animus responsible for this outrage, it seemed most undeniable that none +but men of the most desperate calibre would have undertaken it--men in +whose sight no crime would be abominable, however hideous. To +contemplate her fate, if abandoned to their mercies...! + +The end came just before dawn, with a swiftness that stunned the +faculties--as though one saw the naked wrath of God leap like lightning +from the sky. + +They were precisely as they had been, within a certain distance of one +another, toiling on and ever on like strange misshapen spirits doomed to +run an endless race. The harsh, shapeless light of imminent day alone +manufactured a colour of difference: Whitaker now was able to see as two +dark shapes the men in the body of the leading boat. The woman was not +visible, but the doors to the cabin were closed, confirming his surmise +that she at least had been sheltered through the night. One of the men +was standing by the wheel, forward, staring ahead. The other occupied a +seat in the cockpit, head and shoulders alone visible above the coaming. +For the most part he seemed sunk in lethargy, head fallen forward, chin +on chest; but now and then he looked up and back at the pursuing boat, +his face a featureless patch of bleached pink. + +Now suddenly the man at the wheel cried out something in a terrible +voice of fright, so high and vehement that it even carried back against +the booming gale for Whitaker to hear. Simultaneously he put the wheel +over, with all his might. The other jumped from his seat, only to be +thrown back as the little vessel swung broadside to the sea, heeling +until she lay almost on her beam ends. The next instant she ceased, +incredibly, to move--hung motionless in that resistless surge, an +amazing, stupefying spectacle. It seemed minutes before Whitaker could +force his wits to comprehend that she had struck and lay transfixed upon +some submerged rock or reef. + +A long, gray roller swept upon and over her, brimming her cockpit with +foaming water. As it passed he saw the half-drowned men release the +coamings, to which they had clung on involuntary impulse to escape being +swept away, scramble upon the cabin roof, and with one accord abandon +themselves to the will of the next wave to follow. As it broke over the +boat and passed, he caught an instantaneous glimpse of their heads and +arms bobbing and beating frantically as they whirled off through the +yeasty welter. + +But he saw this without pity or compassion. If he had been able to have +his will with them, he would have sunk both ten fathoms deep without an +instant's respite. His throat was choked with curses that welled up from +a heart wrenched and raging at this discovery of cowardice unparalleled. + +They had done what they could for themselves without even hesitating to +release the woman imprisoned in the cabin. + + + + +XIV + +DÉBÂCLE + + +The _Trouble_, meantime, was closing in upon the scene of tragedy with +little less than locomotive speed. Yet, however suddenly disaster had +overtaken the other vessel, Whitaker saw what he saw and had time to +take measures to avoid collision, if what he did was accomplished wholly +without conscious thought or premeditation. He had applied the reversing +gear to the motor before he knew it. Then, while the engine choked, +coughing angrily, and reversed with a heavy and resentful pounding in +the cylinder-heads, he began to strip off his coat. He was within ten +yards of the wreck when a wave overtook the _Trouble_ and sent a sheet +of water sprawling over her stern to fill the cockpit ankle-deep. The +next instant he swung the wheel over; the boat, moving forward despite +the resistance of the propeller, drove heavily against the wreck, +broadside to its stern. As this happened Whitaker leaped from one to the +other, went to his knees in the cockpit of the wreck, and rose just in +time to grasp the coaming and hold on against the onslaught of a +hurtling comber. + +It came down, an avalanche, crashing and bellowing, burying him deep in +green. Thunderings benumbed him, and he began to strangle before it +passed.... + +He found himself filling his lungs with free air and fighting his way +toward the cabin doors through water waist-deep. Then he had won to +them, had found and was tearing frantically at the solid brass bolt that +held them shut. In another breath he had torn them open, wide, +discovering the woman, her head and shoulders showing above the flood as +she stood upon a transom, near the doorway, grasping a stanchion for +support. Her eyes met his, black and blank with terror. He snatched +through sheer instinct at a circular life-preserver that floated out +toward him, and simultaneously managed to crook an arm round her neck. + +Again the sea buried them beneath tons of raging dark water. Green +lightnings flashed before his eyes, and in his ears there was a crashing +like the crack of doom. His head was splitting, his heart on the point +of breaking. The wave passed on, roaring. He could breathe. Now if +ever.... + +As if stupefied beyond sensibility, the woman was passive to his +handling. If she had struggled, if she had caught at and clung to him, +or even if she had tried to help herself, he would in all likelihood +have failed to cheat destruction. But she did none of these things, and +he managed somehow to drag her from the cabin to the cockpit and to jam +the life ring over her head and under one arm before the next wave bore +down upon them. + +As the wall of living green water drew near, he twisted one hand into +the life-line of the cork ring and lifted the woman to the seat of the +cockpit. + +They were borne down, brutally buffeted, smothered and swept away. They +came to the surface in the hollow of a deep, gray swale, fully fifty +feet from the wreck. Whitaker retained his grasp of the life-preserver +line. The woman floated easily in the support. He fancied a gleam of +livelier consciousness in her staring eyes, and noticed with a curiously +keen feeling of satisfaction that she was not only keeping her mouth +closed, but had done so, apparently, while under water. + +Relieved from danger of further submersion, at all events for the time +being, he took occasion to rally his wits and look about him as well as +he was able. It was easy, now, to understand how the kidnappers had come +to their disaster; at this distance he could see plainly, despite the +scudding haze, the profile of a high bluff of wave-channelled and bitten +earth rising from a boulder-strewn beach, upon which the surf broke with +a roar deafening and affrighting. Even a hardy swimmer might be pardoned +for looking askance at such a landing. And Whitaker had a woman to think +of and care for. Difficult to imagine how he was to drag her, and +himself, through that vicious, pounding surf, without being beaten to +jelly against the boulders.... + +As the next billow swung them high on its racing crest, he, gaining a +broader field of vision, caught an instantaneous impression of a stark +shoulder of the land bulking out through the mists several hundred yards +to the left; suggesting that the shore curved inward at that spot. The +thought came to him that if he could but weather that point, he might +possibly find on the other side a better landing-place, out of the more +forcible, direct drive of surf. It would be next to an impossibility to +make it by swimming, with but one arm free, and further handicapped by +the dead weight of the woman. And yet that way lay his only hope. + +In that same survey he saw the _Trouble_, riding so low, with only bow +and coamings awash, that he knew she must be waterlogged, rolling +beam-on in to the beach. Of the two men from the other boat he saw +nothing whatever. And when again he had a similar chance to look, the +hapless power-boat was being battered to pieces between the boulders. +Even such would be their fate unless.... + +He put forth every ounce of strength and summoned to his aid all his +water wisdom and skill. But he fought against terrible odds, and there +was no hope in him as he fought. + +Then suddenly, to his utter amazement, the lift of a wave discovered to +him a different contour of the shore; not that the shore had changed, +but his position with regard to it had shifted materially and in +precisely the way that he had wished for and struggled to bring about. +Instead of being carried in to the rock-strewn beach, they were in the +grip of a backwash which was bearing them not only out of immediate +danger, but at the same time alongshore toward the point under whose lee +he hoped to find less turbulent conditions. + +It was quite half the battle--more than half; he had now merely to see +that the set of this backward flow did not drag them too far from shore. +Renewed faith in his star, a sense of possible salvation, lent strength +to his flagging efforts. Slowly, methodically, he worked with his charge +toward the landward limits of the current, cunningly biding the time to +abandon it. And very soon that time came; they were abreast the point; +he could see something of a broad, shelving beach, backed by lesser +bluffs, to leeward of it. He worked free of the set with a mighty +expenditure of force, nervous and physical, and then for a time, rested, +limiting his exertion strictly to the degree requisite to keep him +afloat, while the waves rocked him landwards with the woman. He found +leisure even to give her a glance to see whether she still lived, was +conscious or comatose. + +He found her not only fully aware of her position, but actually swimming +a little--striking out with more freedom than might have been expected, +considering how her arms and shoulders were hampered by the life-ring. A +suspicion crossed his mind that most probably she had been doing as much +for a considerable time, that to her as much as to himself their escape +from the offshore drift had been due. Certainly he could not doubt that +her energies had been subjected to a drain no less severe than he had +suffered. Her face was bloodless to the lips, pale with the pallor of +snow; deep bluish shadows ringed eyes that had darkened strangely, so +that they seemed black rather than violet; her features were so drawn +and pinched that he almost wondered how he could have thought her +beautiful beyond all living women. And her wondrous hair, broken from +its fastenings, undulated about her like a tangled web of sodden +sunbeams. + +Three times he essayed to speak before he could wring articulate sounds +from his cracked lips and burning throat. + +"You ... all right?" + +She replied with as much difficulty: + +"Yes ... you may ... let go...." + +To relax the swollen fingers that grasped the life-line was pure +torture. + +He attempted no further communication. None, indeed, was needed. It was +plain that she understood their situation. + +Some minutes passed before he became aware that they were closing in +quickly to the shelving beach--so swiftly, indeed, that there was reason +to believe the onward urge of the waves measurably reënforced by a +shoreward set of current. But if they had managed to escape the greater +fury on the weather side of the point, they had still a strong and angry +surf to reckon with. Only a little way ahead, breakers were flaunting +their white manes, while the thunder of their breaking was as the +thundering of ten thousand hoofs. + +Whitaker looked fearfully again at the woman. But she was unquestionably +competent to care for herself. Proof of this he had in the fact that she +had contrived to slip the life-preserver up over her head and discard it +altogether. Thus disencumbered, she had more freedom for the impending +struggle. + +He glanced over his shoulder. They were on the line of breakers. Behind +them a heavy comber was surging in, crested with snow, its concave belly +resembling a vast sheet of emerald. In another moment it would be upon +them. It was the moment a seasoned swimmer would seize. + +[Illustration: Whitaker felt land beneath his feet] + +His eye sought the girl's. In hers he read understanding and assent. Of +one mind, they struck out with all their strength. The comber overtook +them, clasped them to its bosom, tossed them high upon its great glassy +shoulder. They fought madly to retain that place, and to such purpose +that they rode it over a dozen yards before it crashed upon the beach, +annihilating itself in a furious welter of creaming waters. Whitaker +felt land beneath his feet.... + +The rest was like the crisis of a nightmare drawn out to the limit of +human endurance. Conscious thought ceased: terror and panic and the +blind instinct of self-preservation--these alone remained. The undertow +tore at Whitaker's legs as with a hundred murderous hands. He fought his +way forward a few paces--or yard or two--only to be overwhelmed, ground +down into the gravel. He rose through some superhuman effort and lunged +on, like a blind, hunted thing.... He came out of it eventually to find +himself well up on the beach, out of the reach of the waves. But the +very earth seemed to billow about him, and he could hardly keep his +feet. A numbing faintness with a painful retching at once assailed him. +He was but vaguely aware of the woman reeling not far from him, but +saved.... + +Later he found that something of the worst effects had worn away. His +scattered wits were reëstablishing intercommunication. The earth was +once more passably firm beneath him. He was leaning against the careened +hulk of a dismantled cat-boat with a gaping rent in its side. At a +little distance the woman was sitting in the sands, bosom and shoulders +heaving convulsively, damp, matted hair veiling her like a curtain of +sunlit seaweed. + +He moved with painful effort toward her. She turned up to him her +pitiful, writhen face, white as parchment. + +"Are you--hurt?" he managed to ask. "I mean--injured?" + +She moved her head from side to side, as if she could not speak for +panting. + +"I'm--glad," he said dully. "You stay--here.... I'll go get help." + +He raised his eyes, peering inland. + +Back of the beach the land rose in long, sweeping hillocks, treeless but +green. His curiously befogged vision made out a number of shapes that +resembled dwellings. + +"Go ... get ... help ..." he repeated thickly. + +He started off with a brave, staggering rush that carried him a dozen +feet inland. Then his knees turned to water, and the blackness of night +shut down upon his senses. + + + + +XV + +DISCLOSURES + + +Sleep is a potent medicine for the mind; but sometimes the potion is +compounded with somewhat too heavy a proportion of dreams and nonsense; +when it's apt to play curious tricks with returning consciousness. When +Whitaker awoke he was on the sands of Narragansett, and the afternoon +was cloudy-warm and bright, so that his eyes were grateful for the shade +of a white parasol that a girl he knew was holding over him; and his age +was eighteen and his cares they were none; and the girl was saying in a +lazy, laughing voice: "I love my love with a P because he's Perfectly +Pulchritudinous and Possesses the Power of Pleasing, and because he +Prattles Prettily and his socks are Peculiarly Purple--" + +"And," the man who'd regained his youth put in, "his name is Peter and +he's Positively a Pest...." + +But the voice in which he said this was quite out of the picture--less a +voice than a croak out of a throat kiln-dry and burning. So he grew +suspicious of his senses; and when the parasol was transformed into the +shape of a woman wearing a clumsy jacket of soiled covert-cloth over a +non-descript garment of weirdly printed calico--then he was sure that +something was wrong with him. + +Besides, the woman who wasn't a parasol suddenly turned and bent over +him an anxious face, exclaiming in accents of consternation: "O dear! If +he's delirious--!" + +His voice, when he strove to answer, rustled and rattled rather than +enunciated, surprising him so that he barely managed to say: "What +nonsense! I'm just thirsty!" Then the circuit of returning consciousness +closed and his lost youth slipped forever from his grasp. + +"I thought you would be," said the woman, calmly; "so I brought water. +Here...." + +She offered a tin vessel to his lips, as he lay supine, spilling a +quantity of its contents on his face and neck and a very little into his +mouth, if enough to make him choke and splutter. He sat up suddenly, +seized the vessel--a two-quart milk-pail--and buried his face in it, +gradually tilting it, while its cool, delicious sweetness irrigated his +arid tissues, until every blessed drop was drained. Then, and not till +then, he lowered the pail and with sane vision began to renew +acquaintance with the world. + +He was sitting a trifle out of the shallow imprint of his body in the +sands, in the lee of the beached cat-boat he now recalled as one might +the features of an incubus. The woman he had rescued sat quite near him. +The gale was still booming overhead, but now with less force (or so he +fancied); and the surf still crashed in thunders on the beach a hundred +feet or more away; but the haze was lighter, and the blue of the sky was +visible, if tarnished. + +Looking straight ahead from where he sat, the sands curved off in a wide +crescent, ending in a long, sandy spit. Beyond this lay a broad expanse +of maddened water, blue and white, backed by the empurpled loom of a +lofty headland, dim in the smoky distance. + +On his right lay the green landscape, reminiscent even as the boat was +reminiscent in whose shadow he found himself: both fragments of the +fugitive impressions gathered in that nightmare time of landing. There +was a low, ragged earth-bank rising from the sands to a clutter of +ramshackle, unpainted, hideous wooden buildings--some hardly more than +sheds; back of these and stretching away on either hand, a spreading +vista of treeless uplands, gently undulant and richly carpeted with +grass and under-growth in a melting scheme of tender browns and greens +and yellows, with here and there a trace of dusky red. Midway between +the beach and where the hazy uplands lifted their blurred profile +against the faded sky, set some distance apart from the community of +dilapidated structures, stood a commonplace farm-house, in good repair, +strongly constructed and neatly painted; with a brood of out buildings. +Low stone fences lined the uplands with wandering streaks of gray. Here +and there, in scattered groups and singly, sheep foraged. But they were +lonely evidences of life. No human being was visible in any quarter. + +With puzzled eyes Whitaker sought counsel and enlightenment of the +woman, and found in her appearance quite as much to confound +anticipation and deepen perplexity. She was hardly to be identified with +the delightfully normal, essentially well-groomed creature he +remembered. What she had worn when setting forth to call on him, +accompanied by her maid, the night before, he could not say; but it +certainly could have had nothing in common with her present dress--the +worn, stained, misshapen jacket covering her shoulders, beneath it the +calico wrapper scant and crude beyond belief, upon her feet the rusty +wrecks that once had been shoes. + +As for himself, a casual examination proved that the rags and tatters +adorning him were at least to be recognized as the remains of his own +clothing. His coat was lost, of course, and his collar he had torn away, +together with a portion of his shirt, while in the water after the +disaster; but his once white flannel trousers were precious souvenirs, +even if one leg was ripped open to the knee, and even though the cloth +as a whole had contracted to an alarming extent--uncomfortable as well; +while his tennis shoes remained tolerably intact, and the canvas brace +had shrunk upon his ankle until it gripped it like a vise. + +But all these details he absorbed rather than studied, in the first few +moments subsequent to his awakening. His chiefest and most direct +interest centred upon the woman; and he showed it clearly in the +downright, straightforward sincerity of his solicitous scrutiny. And, +for all the handicap of her outlandish dress, she bore inspection +wonderfully well. + +Marvellously recuperative, as many women are, she had regained all her +ardent loveliness; or, if any trace remained of the wear and tear of her +fearful experience, he was in no condition to know it, much less to +carp. There was warm color in the cheeks that he had last seen livid, +there was the wonted play of light and shadow in her fascinating eyes; +there were gracious rounded curves where had been sunken surfaces, +hollowed out by fatigue and strain; and there remained the ineluctable +allurement of her tremendous vitality.... + +"You are not hurt?" he demanded. "You are--all right?" + +"Quite," she told him with a smile significant of her appreciation of +his generous feeling. "I wasn't hurt, and I've recovered from my shock +and fright--only I'm still a little tired. But you?" + +"Oh, I ... never better. That is, I'm rested; and there was nothing else +for me to get over." + +"But your ankle--?" + +"I've forgotten it ever bothered me.... Haven't you slept at all?" + +"Oh, surely--a great deal. But I've been awake for some time--a few +hours." + +"A few hours!" His stare widened with wonder. "How long have I--?" + +"All day--like a log." + +"But I--! What time is it?" + +"I haven't a watch, but late afternoon, I should think--going by the +sun. It's nearly down." + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, dashed. "I _have_ slept!" + +"You earned your right to.... You needed it far more than I." Her eyes +shone, warm with kindness. + +She swayed almost imperceptibly toward him. Her voice was low pitched +and a trifle broken with emotion: + +"You saved my life--" + +"I--? Oh, that was only what any other man--" + +"None other did!" + +"Please don't speak of it--I mean, consider it that way," he stammered. +"What I want to know is, where are we?" + +Her reply was more distant. "On an island, somewhere. It's uninhabited, +I think." + +He could only echo in bewilderment: "An island...! Uninhabited...!" +Dismay assailed him. He got up, after a little struggle overcoming the +resistance of stiff and sore limbs, and stood with a hand on the coaming +of the dismantled cat-boat, raking the island with an incredulous stare. + +"But those houses--?" + +"There's no one in any of them, that I could find." She stirred from her +place and offered him a hand. "Please help me up." + +He turned eagerly, with a feeling of chagrin that she had needed to ask +him. For an instant he had both her hands, warm and womanly, in his +grasp, while she rose by his aid, and for an instant longer--possibly by +way of reward. Then she disengaged them with gentle firmness. + +She stood beside him so tall and fair, so serenely invested with the +flawless dignity of her womanhood that he no longer thought of the +incongruity of her grotesque garb. + +"You've been up there?" he asked, far too keenly interested to scorn the +self-evident. + +She gave a comprehensive gesture, embracing the visible prospect. "All +over.... When I woke, I thought surely ... I went to see, found nothing +living except the sheep and some chickens and turkeys in the farmyard. +Those nearer buildings--nothing there except desolation, ruin, and the +smell of last year's fish. I think fishermen camp out here at times. And +the farm-house--apparently it's ordinarily inhabited. Evidently the +people have gone away for a visit somewhere. It gives the impression of +being a home the year round. There isn't any boat--" + +"No boat!" + +"Not a sign of one, that I can find--except this wreck." She indicated +the cat-boat. + +"But we can't do anything with this," he expostulated. + +The deep, wide break in its side placed it beyond consideration, even if +it should prove possible to remedy its many other lacks. + +"No. The people who live here must have a boat--I saw a mooring-buoy out +there"--with a gesture toward the water. "Of course. How else could they +get away?" + +"The question is, how we are to get away," he grumbled, morose. + +"You'll find the way," she told him with quiet confidence. + +"I! I'll find the way? How?" + +"I don't know--only you must. There must be some way of signalling the +mainland, some means of communication. Surely people wouldn't live here, +cut off from all the World.... Perhaps we'll find something in the +farm-house to tell us what to do. I didn't have much time to look round. +I wanted clothing, mostly--and found these awful things hanging behind +the kitchen door. And then I wanted something to eat, and I found +that--some bread, not too stale, and plenty of eggs in the hen-house.... +And you--you must be famished!" + +The reminder had an effect singularly distressing. Till then he had been +much too thunderstruck by comprehension of their anomalous plight to +think of himself. Now suddenly he was stabbed through and through with +pangs of desperate hunger. He turned a little faint, was seized with a +slight sensation of giddiness, at the thought of food, so that he was +glad of the cat-boat for support. + +"Oh, you are!" Compassion thrilled her tone. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me +for not thinking of it at once. Come--if you can walk." She caught his +hand as if to help him onward. "It's not far, and I can fix you +something quickly. Do come." + +"Oh, surely," he assented, recovering. "I am half starving--and then +some. Only I didn't know it until you mentioned the fact." + +The girl relinquished his hand, but they were almost shoulder to +shoulder as they plodded through the dry, yielding sand toward firmer +ground. + +"We can build a fire and have something hot," she said; "there's plenty +of fuel." + +"But--what did you do?" + +"I--oh, I took my eggs _au naturel_--barring some salt and pepper. I was +in too much of a hurry to bother with a stove--" + +"Why in a hurry?" + +She made no answer for an instant. He turned to look at her, wondering. +To his unutterable astonishment she not only failed to meet his glance, +but tried to seem unconscious of it. + +The admirable ease and gracious self-possession which he had learned to +associate with her personality as inalienable traits were altogether +gone, just then--obliterated by a singular, exotic attitude of +constraint and diffidence, of self-consciousness. She seemed almost to +shrink from his regard, and held her face a little averted from him, the +full lips tense, lashes low and trembling upon her cheeks. + +"I was ... afraid to leave you," she said in a faltering voice, under +the spell of this extraordinary mood. "I was afraid something might +happen to you, if I were long away." + +"But what _could_ happen to me, here--on this uninhabited island?" + +"I don't know.... It was silly of me, of course." With an evident +exertion of will power she threw off this perplexing mood of shyness, +and became more like herself, as he knew her. "Really, I presume, it was +mostly that I was afraid for myself--frightened of the loneliness, +fearful lest it be made more lonely for me by some accident--" + +"Of course," he assented, puzzled beyond expression, cudgelling his wits +for some solution of a riddle sealed to his masculine obtuseness. + +What could have happened to influence her so strangely? Could he have +said or done--anything--? + +The problem held him in abstraction throughout the greater part of their +walk to the farm-house, though he heard and with ostensible intelligence +responded to her running accompaniment of comment and suggestion.... + +They threaded the cluster of buildings that, their usefulness outlived, +still encumbered the bluff bordering upon the beach. The most careless +and superficial glance bore out the impression conveyed by the girl's +description of the spot. Doorless doorways and windows with shattered +sashes disclosed glimpses of interiors fallen into a state of ruin +defying renovation. What remained intact of walls and roofs were mere +shells half filled with an agglomeration of worthlessness--mounds of +crumbled, mouldering plaster, shards, rust-eaten tins, broken bottles, +shreds of what had once been garments: the whole perhaps threatened by +the overhanging skeleton of a crazy staircase.... An evil, disturbing +spot, exhaling an atmosphere more melancholy and disheartening than that +of a rain-sodden November woodland: a haunted place, where the hand of +Time had wrought devastation with the wanton efficacy of a destructive +child: a good place to pass through quickly and ever thereafter to +avoid. + +In relief against it the uplands seemed the brighter, stretching away in +the soft golden light of the descending sun. The wind sang over them a +boisterous song of strength and the sweep of open spaces. The air was +damp and soft and sweet with the scent of heather. Straggling sheep +suspended for a moment their meditative cropping and lifted their heads +to watch the strangers with timorous, stupid eyes. A flock of young +turkeys fled in discordant agitation from their path. + +Halfway up to the farm-house a memory shot through Whitaker's mind as +startling as lightning streaking athwart a peaceful evening sky. He +stopped with an exclamation that brought the girl beside him to a +standstill with questioning eyes. + +"But the others--!" he stammered. + +"The others?" she repeated blankly. + +"They--the men who brought you here--?" + +Her lips tightened. She moved her head in slow negation. + +"I have seen nothing of either of them." + +Horror and pity filled him, conjuring up a vision of wild, raving +waters, mad with blood-lust, and in their jaws, arms and heads +helplessly whirling and tossing. + +"Poor devils!" he muttered. + +She said nothing. When he looked for sympathy in her face, he found it +set and inscrutable. + +He delayed another moment, thinking that soon she must speak, offer him +some sort of explanation. But she remained uncommunicative. And he could +not bring himself to seem anxious to pry into her affairs. + +He took a tentative step onward. She responded instantly to the +suggestion, but in silence. + +The farm-house stood on high ground, commanding an uninterrupted sweep +of the horizon. As they drew near it, Whitaker paused and turned, +narrowing his eyes as he attempted to read the riddle of the enigmatic, +amber-tinted distances. + +To north and east the island fell away in irregular terraces to wide, +crescent beaches whose horns, joining in the northeast, formed the sandy +spit. To west and south the moorlands billowed up to the brink of a +precipitous bluff. In the west, Whitaker noted absently, a great +congregation of gulls were milling amid a cacophony of screams, just +beyond the declivity. Far over the northern water the dark promontory +was blending into violet shadows which, in turn, blended imperceptibly +with the more sombre shade of the sea. Beyond it nothing was +discernable. Southeast from it the coast, backed by dusky highlands, ran +on for several miles to another, but less impressive, headland; its +line, at an angle to that of the deserted island, forming a funnel-like +tideway for the intervening waters fully six miles at its broadest in +the north, narrowing in the east to something over three miles. + +There was not a sail visible in all the blue cup of the sea. + +"I don't know," said Whitaker slowly, as much to himself as to his +companion. "It's odd ... it passes me...." + +"Can't you tell where we are?" she inquired anxiously. + +"Not definitely. I know, of course, we must be somewhere off the south +coast of New England: somewhere between Cape Cod and Block Island. But +I've never sailed up this way--never east of Orient Point; my boating +has been altogether confined to Long Island Sound.... And my +geographical memory is as hazy as the day. There _are_ islands off the +south coast of Massachusetts--a number of them: Nantucket, you know, and +Martha's Vineyard. This might be either--only it isn't, because they're +summer resorts. That"--he swept his hand toward the land in the +northeast--"might be either, and probably is one of 'em. At the same +time, it may be the mainland. I don't know." + +"Then ... then what are we to do?" + +"I should say, possess our souls in patience, since we have no boat. At +least, until we can signal some passing vessel. There aren't any in +sight just now, but there must be some--many--in decent weather." + +"How--signal?" + +He looked round, shaking a dubious head. "Of course there's nothing like +a flagpole here--but me, and I'm not quite long enough. Perhaps I can +find something to serve as well. We might nail a plank to the corner of +the roof and a table-cloth to that, I suppose." + +"And build fires, by night?" + +He nodded. "Best suggestion yet. I'll do that very thing to-night--after +I've had a bite to eat." + +She started impatiently away. "Oh, come, come! What am I thinking of, to +let you stand there, starving by inches?" + +They entered the house by the back door, finding themselves in the +kitchen--that mean and commonplace assembly-room of narrow and pinched +lives. The immaculate cleanliness of decent, close poverty lay over it +all like a blight. And despite the warmth of the air outside, within it +was chill--bleak with an aura of discontent bred of the incessant +struggle against crushing odds which went on within those walls from +year's end to year's end.... + +Whitaker busied himself immediately with the stove. There was a full +wood-box near by; and within a very few minutes he had a brisk fire +going. The woman had disappeared in the direction of the barn. She +returned in good time with half a dozen eggs. Foraging in the pantry and +cupboards, she brought to light a quantity of supplies: a side of bacon, +flour, potatoes, sugar, tea, small stores of edibles in tins. + +"I'm hungry again, myself," she declared, attacking the problem of +simple cookery with a will and a confident air that promised much. + +The aroma of frying bacon, the steam of brewing tea, were all but +intolerable to an empty stomach. Whitaker left the kitchen hurriedly +and, in an endeavour to control himself, made a round of the other +rooms. There were two others on the ground floor: a "parlour," a +bedroom; in the upper story, four small bedchambers; above them an +attic, gloomy and echoing. Nowhere did he discover anything to moderate +the impression made by the kitchen: it was all impeccably neat, +desperately bare. + +Depressed, he turned toward the head of the stairs. Below a door whined +on its hinges, and the woman called him, her voice ringing through the +hallway with an effect of richness, deep-toned and bell-true, that +somehow made him think of sunlight flinging an arm of gold athwart the +dusk of a darkened room. He felt his being thrill responsive to it, as +fine glass sings its answer to the note truly pitched. More than all +this, he was staggered by something in the quality of that full-throated +cry, something that smote his memory until it was quick and vibrant, +like a harp swept by an old familiar hand. + +"Hugh?" she called; and again: "Hugh! Where are you?" + +He paused, grasping the balustrade, and with some difficulty managed to +articulate: + +"Here ... coming...." + +"Hurry. Everything's ready." + +Waiting an instant to steady his nerves, he descended and reëntered the +kitchen. + +The meal was waiting--on the table. The woman, too, faced him as he +entered, waiting in the chair nearest the stove. But, once within the +room, he paused so long beside the door, his hand upon the knob, and +stared so strangely at her, that she moved uneasily, grew restless and +disturbed. A gleam of apprehension flickered in her eyes. + +"Why, what's the matter?" she asked with forced lightness. "Why don't +you come in and sit down?" + +He said abruptly: "You called me Hugh!" + +She inclined her head, smiling mischievously. "I admit it. Do you mind?" + +"Mind? No!" He shut the door, advanced and dropped into his chair, still +searching her face with his troubled gaze. "Only," he said--"you +startled me. I didn't think--expect--hope--" + +"On so short an acquaintance?" she suggested archly. "Perhaps you're +right. I didn't think.... And yet--I do think--with the man who risked +his life for me--I'm a little justified in forgetting even that we've +never met through the medium of a conventional introduction." + +"It isn't that, but...." He hesitated, trying to formulate phrases to +explain the singular sensation that had assailed him when she called +him: a sensation the precise nature of which he himself did not as yet +understand. + +She interrupted brusquely: "Don't let's waste time talking. I can't wait +another instant." + +Silently submissive, he took up his knife and fork and fell to. + + + + +XVI + +THE BEACON + + +Through the meal, neither spoke; and if there were any serious thinking +in process, Whitaker was not only ignorant of it, but innocent of +participation therein. With the first taste of food, he passed into a +state of abject surrender to sheer brutish hunger. It was not easily +that he restrained himself, schooled his desires to decent expression. +The smell, the taste, the sight of food: he fairly quivered like a +ravenous animal under the influence of their sensual promise. He was +sensible of a dull, carking shame, and yet was shameless. + +The girl was the first to finish. She had eaten little in comparison; +chiefly, perhaps, because she required less than he. Putting aside her +knife and fork, she rested her elbows easily on the table, cradled her +chin between her half-closed hands. Her eyes grew dark with speculation, +and oddly lambent. He ate on, unconscious of her attitude. When he had +finished, it was as if a swarm of locusts had passed that way. Of the +more than plentiful meal she had prepared, there remained but a beggarly +array of empty dishes to testify to his appreciation. + +He leaned back a little in his chair, surprised her intent gaze, laughed +sheepishly, and laughing, sighed with repletion. + +A smile of sympathetic understanding darkened the corners of her lips. + +"Milord is satisfied?" + +"Milord," he said with an apologetic laugh, "is on the point of passing +into a state of torpor. He begins to understand the inclination of the +boa-constrictor--or whatever beast it is that feeds once every six +months--to torp a little, gently, after its semi-annual gorge." + +"Then there's nothing else...?" + +"For a pipe and tobacco I would give you half my kingdom!" + +"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" + +"Don't be. It won't harm me to do without nicotine for a day or two." +But his sigh belied the statement. "Anyway, I'll forget all about it +presently. I'll be too busy." + +"How?" + +"It's coming on night. You haven't forgotten our signal fires?" + +"Oh, no--and we must not forget!" + +"Then I've got my work cut out for me, to forage for fuel. I must get +right at it." + +The girl rose quickly. "Do you mind waiting a little? I mustn't neglect +my dishes, and--if you don't mind--I'd rather not be left alone any +longer than necessary. You know...." + +She ended with a nervous laugh, depreciatory. + +"Why, surely. And I'll help with the dish-cloth." + +"You'll do nothing of the sort. I'd rather do it all myself. Please." +She waved him back to his chair with a commanding gesture. "I mean +it--really." + +"Well," he consented, doubtful, "if you insist...." + +She worked rapidly above the steaming dish-pan, heedless of the effects +upon her hands and bared arms: busy and intent upon her business, the +fair head bowed, the cheeks faintly flushed. + +Whitaker lounged, profoundly intrigued, watching her with sober and +studious eyes, asking himself questions he found for the present +unanswerable. What did she mean to him? Was what he had been at first +disposed to consider a mere, light-hearted, fugitive infatuation, +developing into something else, something stronger and more enduring? +And what did it mean, this impression that had come to him so suddenly, +within the hour, and that persisted with so much force in the face of +its manifest impossibility, that he had known her, or some one strangely +like her, at some forgotten time--as in some previous existence? + +It was her voice that had made him think that, her voice of marvellous +allure, crystal-pure, as flexible as tempered steel, strong, tender, +rich, compassionate, compelling.... Where had he heard it before, and +when? + +And who was she, this Miss Fiske? This self-reliant and self-sufficient +woman who chose to spend her summer in seclusion, with none but servants +for companions; who had comprehension of machinery and ran her +motor-boat alone; who went for lonely swims in the surf at dawn; who +treated men as her peers--neither more nor less; who was spied upon, +shadowed, attacked, kidnapped by men of unparalleled desperation and +daring; who had retained her self-possession under stress of +circumstance that would have driven strong men into pseudo-hysteria; who +now found herself in a position to the last degree ambiguous and +anomalous, cooped up, for God only knew how long, upon a lonely +hand's-breadth of land in company with a man of whom she knew little +more than nothing; and who accepted it all without protest, with a +serene and flawless courage, uncomplaining, displaying an implicit and +unquestioning faith in her companion: what manner of woman was this? + +At least one to marvel over and admire without reserve; to rejoice in +and, if it could not be otherwise, to desire in silence and in pride +that it should be given to one so unworthy the privileges of desiring +and of service and mute adoration.... + +"It's almost dark," her pleasant accents broke in upon his revery. +"Would you mind lighting the lamp? My hands are all wet and sticky." + +"Assuredly." + +Whitaker got up, found matches, and lighted a tin kerosene lamp in a +bracket on the wall. The windows darkened and the walls took on a sombre +yellow as the flame grew strong and steady. + +"I'm quite finished." The girl scrubbed her arms and hands briskly with +a dry towel and turned down her sleeves, facing him with her fine, +frank, friendly smile. "If you're ready...." + +"Whenever you are," he said with an oddly ceremonious bow. + +To his surprise she drew back, her brows and lips contracting to level +lines, her eyes informed with the light of wonder shot through with the +flashings of a resentful temper. + +"Why do you look at me so?" she demanded sharply. "What are you +thinking...?" She checked, her frown relaxed, her smile flickered +softly. "Am I such a fright--?" + +"I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I was merely thinking, +wondering...." + +She seemed about to speak, but said nothing. He did not round out his +apology. A little distance apart, they stood staring at one another in +that weird, unnatural light, wherein the glow from the lamp contended +garishly with the ebbing flush of day. And again he was mute in +bewildered inquiry before that puzzling phenomenon of inscrutable +emotion which once before, since his awakening, had been disclosed to +him in her mantling colour, in the quickening of her breath, and the +agitation of her bosom, in the timid, dumb questioning of eyes grown +strangely shy and frightened. + +And then, in a twinkling, an impatient gesture exorcised the +inexplicable mood that had possessed her, and she regained her normal, +self-reliant poise as if by witchcraft. + +"What a quaint creature you are, Hugh," she cried, her smile whimsical. +"You've a way of looking at one that gives me the creeps. I see +things--things that aren't so, and never were. If you don't stop it, I +swear I shall think you're the devil! Stop it--do you hear me, sir? And +come build our bonfire." + +She swung lithely away and was out of the house before he could regain +his wits and follow. + +"I noticed a lot of old lumber around the barn," she announced, when he +joined her in the dooryard--"old boxes and barrels and rubbish. And a +wheelbarrow. So you won't have far to go for fuel. Now where do you +purpose building the beacon?" + +He cast round, peering through the thickening shades of dusk, and +eventually settled upon a little knoll a moderate distance to leeward of +the farm-house. Such a location would be safest, even though the wind +was falling steadily with the flight of the hours; and the fire would be +conspicuously placed for observation from any point in the north and +east. + +Off in the north, where Whitaker had marked down the empurpled headland +during the afternoon, a white light lanced the gloom thrice with a +sweeping blade, vanished, and was replaced by a glare of angry red, +which in its turn winked out. + +Whitaker watched it briefly with the finger-tips of his right hand +resting lightly on the pulse in his left wrist. Then turning away, he +announced: + +"Three white flashes followed by a red at intervals of about ten +seconds. Wonder what _that_ stands for!" + +"What is it?" the girl asked. "A ship signalling?" + +"No; a lighthouse--probably a first-order light--with its characteristic +flash, not duplicated anywhere along this section of the Atlantic coast. +If I knew anything of such matters, it would be easy enough to tell from +that just about where we are. _If_ that information would help us." + +"But, if we can see their light, they'll see ours,--won't they?--and +send to find out what's the matter." + +"Perhaps. At least--let's hope so. They're pretty sure to see it, but as +to their attaching sufficient importance to it to investigate--that's a +question. They may not know that the people who live here are away. They +may think the natives here are merely celebrating their silver wedding, +or Roosevelt's refusal of a third term, or the accession of Edward the +Seventh--or anything." + +"Please don't be silly--and discouraging. Do get to work and build the +fire." + +He obeyed with humility and expedition. + +As she had said, there was no lack of fodder for the flames. By dint of +several wheelbarrow trips between the knoll and the farmyard, he had +presently constructed a pyre of impressive proportions; and by that time +it was quite dark--so dark, indeed, that he had been forced to hunt up a +yard lantern, carrying the which the girl had accompanied him on his two +final trips. + +"Here," he said clumsily, when all was ready, offering her matches. "You +light it, please--for luck." + +Their fingers touched as she took the matches. Something thumped in his +breast, and a door opened in the chambers of his understanding, letting +in light. + +Kneeling at the base of the pyre, she struck a match and applied it to a +quantity of tinder-dry excelsior. The stuff caught instantly, puffing +into a brilliant patch of blaze; she rose and stood back, _en +silhouette_, delicately poised at attention, waiting to see that her +work was well done. He could not take his gaze from her. + +So what he had trifled and toyed with, fought with and prayed against, +doubted and questioned, laughed at and cried down, was sober, painful +fact. Truth, heart-rending to behold in her stark, shining beauty, had +been revealed to him in that moment of brushing finger-tips, and he had +looked in her face and known his unworthiness; and he trembled and was +afraid and ashamed.... + +Spreading swiftly near the ground, the flames mounted as quickly, with +snappings and cracklings, excavating in the darkness an arena of reddish +radiance. + +The girl retreated to his side, returning the matches. + +A tongue of flame shot up from the peak of the pyre, and a column of +smoke surpassed it, swinging off to leeward in great, red-bosomed +volutes and whorls picked out with flying regiments of sparks. + +"You'd think they couldn't help understanding that it's a signal of +distress." + +"You would think so. I hope so. God knows I hope so!" + +There was a passion in his tones to make her lift wondering eyes to his. + +"Why do you say that--that way? We should be thankful to be safe--alive. +And we're certain to get away before long." + +"I know--yes, I know." + +"But you spoke so strangely!" + +"I'm sorry. I'd been thinking clearly; for the first time, I believe, +since I woke up." + +"About what? Us? Or merely me?" + +"You. I was considering you alone. It isn't right that you should be in +this fix. I'd give my right hand to remedy it!" + +"But I'm not distressed. It isn't altogether pleasant, but it can't be +helped and might easily have been worse." + +"And still I can't help feeling, somehow, the wretched injustice of it +to you. I want to protest--to do something to mend matters." + +"But since you can't"--she laughed in light mockery, innocent of +malice--"since we're doing our best, let's be philosophical and sit down +over there and watch to see if there's any answer to our signal." + +"There won't be." + +"You _are_ a difficult body. Never mind. Come along!" she insisted with +pretty imperiousness. + +They seated themselves with their backs to the fire and at a respectful +distance from it, where they could watch the jetting blades of light +that ringed the far-off headland. Whitaker reclined on an elbow, +relapsing into moody contemplation. The girl drew up her knees, clasped +her arms about them, and stared thoughtfully into the night. + +Behind them the fire flamed and roared, volcanic. All round it in a +radius of many yards the earth glowed red, while, to one side, the grim, +homely façade of the farm-house edged blushing out of the ambient night, +all its staring windows bloodshot and sinister. + +The girl stirred uneasily, turning her head to look at Whitaker. + +"You know," she said with a confused attempt to laugh: "this is really +no canny, this place. Or else I'm balmy. I'm seeing things--shapes that +stir against the blackness, off there beyond the light, moving, halting, +staring, hating us for butchering their age-old peace and quiet. Maybe +I'll forget to see them, if you'll talk to me a little." + +"I can't talk to you," he said, ungracious in his distress. + +"You can't? It's the first time it's been noticeable, then. What's +responsible for this all-of-a-sudden change of heart?" + +"That's what's responsible." The words spoke themselves almost against +his will. + +"What--change of heart?" + +"Yes," he said sullenly. + +"You're very obscure. Am I to understand that you've taken a sudden +dislike to me, so that you can't treat me with decent civility?" + +"You know that isn't so." + +"Surely"--she caught her breath sharply, paused for an instant, then +went on--"surely you don't mean the converse!" + +"I've always understood women knew what men meant before the men did, +themselves." His voice broke a little. "Oh, can't you see how it is with +me? Can't you see?" he cried. "God forgive me! I never meant to inflict +this on you, at such a time! I don't know why I have...." + +"You mean," she stammered in a voice of amaze--"you mean--love?" + +"Can you doubt it?" + +"No ... not after what's happened, I presume. You wouldn't have +followed--you wouldn't have fought so to save me from drowning--I +_suppose_--if you hadn't--cared.... But I didn't know." + +She sighed, a sigh plaintive and perturbed, then resumed: "A woman never +knows, really. She may suspect; in fact, she almost always does; she is +obliged to be so continually on guard that suspicion is ingrained in her +nature; but...." + +"Then you're not--offended?" he asked, sitting up. + +"Why should I be?" The firelight momentarily outlined the smiling, half +wistful countenance she turned to him. + +"But"--he exploded with righteous wrath, self-centred--"only a scoundrel +would force his attentions upon a woman, in such circumstances! You +can't get away from me--I may be utterly hateful to you--" + +"Oh, you're not." She laughed quietly. "You're not; nor am I +distressed--because of the circumstances that distress you, at least. +What woman would be who received as great and honourable a +compliment--from you, Hugh? Only"--again the whimsical little laugh that +merged into a smothered sigh--"I wish I knew!" + +"Wish you knew what?" + +"What's going on inside that extraordinary head of yours: what's in the +mind behind the eyes that I so often find staring at me so curiously." + +He bowed that head between hands that compressed cruelly his temples. +"I wish _I_ knew!" he groaned in protest. "It's a mystery to me, +the spell you've laid upon my thoughts. Ever since we met you've +haunted me with a weird suggestion of some elusive relationship, some +entanglement--intimacy--gone, perished, forgotten.... But since you +called me to supper, a while ago, by name--I don't know why--your voice, +as you used it then, has run through my head and through, teasing my +memory like a strain of music from some half-remembered song. It +half-maddens me; I feel so strongly that everything would be so straight +and plain and clear between us, if I could only fasten upon that +fugitive, indefinable something that's always fluttering just beyond my +grasp!" + +"You mean all that--honestly?" she demanded in an oddly startled voice. + +"Most honestly." He looked up in excitement. "You don't mean _you_'ve +felt anything of the sort?" + +"No, I"--her voice broke as if with weariness--"I don't mean that, +precisely. I mean.... Probably I don't know what I do mean. I'm really +very tired, too tired to go on, just now--to sit here with you, +badgering our poor wits with esoteric subtleties. I think--do you +mind?--I'd better go in." + +She rose quickly, without waiting for his hand. Whitaker straightened +out his long body with more deliberation, standing finally at full +height, his grave and moody countenance strongly relieved in the ruddy +glow, while her face was all in shadow. + +"One moment," he begged humbly--"before we go in. I ... I've something +else to say to you, if I may." + +She waited, seriously attentive. + +"I haven't played fair, I'm afraid," he said, lowering his head to +escape her steadfast gaze. "I've just told you that I love you, but...." + +"Well?" she demanded in an odd, ringing voice. "Isn't it true?" + +"True?" He laughed unnaturally. "It's so true I--wish I had died before +I told you!" + +"Why?" + +"Because ... because you didn't resent my telling you...." + +It seemed impossible for him to speak connectedly or at any length, +impossible to overcome his distaste for the hateful confession he must +make. And she was intolerably patient with him; he resented her quiet, +contained patience; while he feared, yet he was relieved when she at +length insisted: "Well?" + +"Since you didn't resent that confession, I am led to believe you +don't--exactly--dislike me. That makes it just so much the harder to +forfeit your regard." + +"But must you?" + +"Yes." + +"Please explain," she urged, a trace wearily. + +"I who love you with all my heart and mind and soul--I am not free to +love you." + +"You aren't free--!" + +"I.... No." + +After several moments, during which he fought vainly with his inability +to go on, she resumed her examination with a manner aloof and yet +determined: + +"You've told me so much, I think you can hardly refuse to tell more." + +"I," he stammered--"I am already married." + +She gave a little, stifled cry--whether of pain or horror or of +indignation he could not tell. + +"I'm sorry--I--" he began. + +"Don't you think you might have thought of this before?" + +"I ... you don't understand--" + +"Are you in the habit of declaring yourself first and confessing +later?... Don't answer, if you don't want to. I've no real right to +know. I asked out of simple curiosity." + +"If you'd only listen to me!" he broke out suddenly. "The thing's so +strange, so far off--dreamlike--that I forget it easily." + +"So it would seem," she put in cruelly. + +"Please hear me!" + +"Surely you must see I am listening, Mr. Whitaker." + +"It was several years ago--nearly seven. I was on the point of +death--had been told to expect death within a few months.... In a moment +of sentimental sympathy--I wasn't at all myself--I married a girl I'd +never seen before, to help her out of a desperate scrape she'd got +into--meaning simply to give her the protection of my name. She was in +bad trouble.... We never lived together, never even saw one another +after that hour. She had every reason to think me dead--as I should have +been, by rights. But now she knows that I'm alive--is about to sue for a +divorce.... Now you know just what sort of a contemptible hound I am, +and why it was so hard to tell you." + +After a long pause, during which neither stirred, she told him, in a +faint voice: "Thank you." + +She moved toward the house. + +"I throw myself upon your mercy--" + +"Do you?" she said coolly, pausing. + +"If you will forgive me--" + +"Oh, I forgive you, Mr. Whitaker. My heart is really not quite so +fragile as all this implies." + +"I didn't mean that--you know I didn't. I'm only trying to assure you +that I won't bother you--with this trouble of mine--again. I don't want +you to be afraid of me." + +"I am not." + +The words were terse and brusque enough; the accompanying swift gesture, +in which her hand rested momentarily on his arm as if in confidence +approaching affection, he found oddly contradictory. + +"You don't see--anything?" she said with an abrupt change of manner, +swinging to the north. + +He shaded his eyes, peering intently through the night, closely sweeping +its encompassing obscurity from northwest to southeast. + +"Nothing," he said, dropping his hand. "If there were a boat heading +this way, we couldn't help seeing her lights." + +"Then there's no use waiting?" + +"I'm afraid not. They'd hardly come to-night, anyway; more likely by +daylight, if they should happen to grow suspicious of our beacon." + +"Then I think I'll go to bed. I'm very, very tired, in spite of my sleep +on the sands. That didn't rest me, really." + +"Of course." + +"And you--?" + +"Oh, I'm all right." + +"But what are you going to do?" + +"Why--keep the fire going, I presume." + +"Is it necessary, do you think? Or even worth while?" + +He made a doubtful gesture. + +"I wish," she continued--"I wish you'd stay in the house. I--I'm really +a bit timid: unnerved, I presume. It's been, you know, rather a +harrowing experience. Anything might happen in a place like this...." + +"Oh, certainly," he agreed, something constrained. "I'd feel more +content, myself, to know I was within call if anything should alarm +you." + +They returned to the kitchen. + +In silence, while Whitaker fidgeted about the room, awkward and unhappy, +the girl removed a glass lamp from the shelf above the sink, assured +herself that it was filled, and lighted it. Then, over her shoulder: + +"I hope you don't mean to stay up all night." + +"I--well, I'm really not sleepy." + +"Oh, but you are," she contradicted calmly. + +"Honestly; I slept so long down there on the beach--" + +"Please don't try to deceive me. I know that slumbers like those--of +exhaustion--don't rest one as they should. Besides, you show how tired +you are in every gesture, in the way you carry yourself, in your very +eyes." + +"You're mistaken," he contended, looking away for fear lest his eyes +were indeed betraying him. "Besides, I mean merely to sit up here, to +see that everything is all right." + +"How should it be otherwise?" She laughed the thought away, yet not +unkindly. "This island is as empty as a last-year's bird's-nest. What +could happen to harm, or even alarm us--or me?" + +"You never can tell--" + +"Nonsense! I'm not in the least frightened. And furthermore I shan't +sleep a wink--shan't even try to sleep unless you promise me not to be +silly. There's a comfortable room right at the foot of the stairs. If +you sleep there, I shall feel more than secure. Will you promise?" + +He gave in at discretion: "Yes; I promise." + +"As soon as you feel the least need of sleep, you'll go to bed?" + +"I promise." + +"Very well, then." + +The insistent note faded from her tones. She moved toward the table, put +the lamp down, and hesitated in one of her strange, unpresaged moods of +diffidence, looking down at the finger-tips with which she traced a +meaningless pattern on the oil-cloth. + +"You are kind," she said abruptly, her head bowed, her face hidden from +him. + +"Kind!" he echoed, dumfounded. + +"You are kind and sweet and generous to me," she insisted in a level +voice. "You have shown me your heart--the heart of a gentleman--without +reserve; but of me you have asked nothing." + +"I don't understand--" + +"I mean, you haven't once referred to what happened last night. You've +been content to let me preserve my confidence, to remain secretive and +mysterious in your sight.... That is how I seem to you--isn't it?" + +"Secretive and mysterious? But I have no right to your confidence; your +affairs are yours, inviolable, unless you choose to discuss them." + +"You would think that way--of course!" Suddenly she showed him her face +illumined with its frank, shadowy smile, her sweet eyes, kind and as +fearless as the eyes of a child. "Other men would not, I know. And you +have every right to know." + +"I--!" + +"You; and I shall tell you.... But not now; there's too much to tell, to +explain and make understandable; and I'm too terribly tired. To-morrow, +perhaps--or when we escape from this weird place, when I've had time to +think things out--" + +"At your pleasure," he assented gently. "Only--don't let anything worry +you." + +Impulsively she caught both his hands in a clasp at once soft and +strong, wholly straightforward and friendly. + +"Do you know," she said in a laughing voice, her head thrown back, soft +shadows darkening her mystical eyes, the lamplight caressing her hair +until it was as if her head were framed in a halo of pure gold, bright +against the sombre background of that mean, bare room--"Do you know, +dear man, that you are quite, quite blind?" + +"I think," he said with his twisted smile, "it would be well for me if I +were physically blind at this instant!" + +She shook her head in light reproof. + +"Blind, quite blind!" she repeated. "And yet--I'm glad it's so with you. +I wouldn't have you otherwise for worlds." + +She withdrew her hand, took up the lamp, moved a little away from him, +and paused, holding his eyes. + +"For Love, too, is blind," she said softly, with a quaint little nod of +affirmation. "Good night." + +He started forward, eyes aflame; took a single pace after her; paused as +if against an unseen barrier. His hands dropped by his sides; his chin +to his chest; the light died out of his face and left it gray and deeply +lined. + +In the hallway the lamp's glow receded, hesitated, began to ascend, +throwing upon the unpapered walls a distorted silhouette of the rude +balustrade; then disappeared, leaving the hall cold with empty darkness. + +An inexplicable fit of trembling seized Whitaker. Dropping into a chair, +he pillowed his head on his folded arms. Presently the seizure passed, +but he remained moveless. With the drift of minutes, insensibly his taut +muscles relaxed. Odd visions painted the dark tapestries of his closed +eyes: a fragment of swinging seas shining in moonlight; white swords of +light slashing the dark night round their unseen eyrie; the throat of a +woman swelling firm and strong as a tower of ivory, tense from the +collar of her cheap gown to the point of her tilted chin; a shrieking, +swirling rabble of gulls seen against the fading sky, over the edge of a +cliff.... + +He slept. + +Through the open doorway behind him and through the windows on either +hand drifted the sonorous song of the surf, a muted burden for the +stealthy disturbances of the night in being. + + + + +XVII + +DISCOVERY + + +In time the discomfort of his posture wore through the wrappings of +slumber. He stirred drowsily, shifted, and discovered a cramp in his +legs, the pain of which more effectually aroused him. He rose, yawned, +stretched, grimaced with the ache in his stiffened limbs, and went to +the kitchen door. + +There was no way to tell how long he had slept. The night held +black--the moon not yet up. The bonfire had burned down to a great +glowing heap of embers. The wind was faint, a mere whisper in the void. +There was a famous show of stars, clear, bright, cold and distant. + +Closing and locking the door, he found another lamp, lighted it, and +took it with him to the corner bedchamber, where he lay down without +undressing. He had, indeed, nothing to change to. + +A heavy lethargy weighed upon his faculties. No longer desperately +sleepy, he was yet far from rested. His body continued to demand repose, +but his mind was ill at ease. + +He napped uneasily throughout the night, sleeping and waking by fits and +starts, his brain insatiably occupied with an interminable succession of +wretched dreams. The mad, distorted face of Drummond, bleached and +degraded by his slavery to morphine, haunted Whitaker's consciousness +like some frightful and hideous Chinese mask. He saw it in a dozen +guises, each more pitiful and terrible than the last. It pursued him +through eons of endless night, forever at his shoulder, blind and +weeping. Thrice he started from his bed, wide awake and glaring, +positive that Drummond had been in the room but the moment gone.... And +each time that he lay back and sleep stole in numbing waves through his +brain, he passed into subconsciousness with the picture before his eyes +of a seething cloud of gulls seen against the sky, over the edge of a +cliff. + +He was up and out in the cool of dawn, before sunrise, delaying to +listen for some minutes at the foot of the stairway. But he heard no +sound in that still house, and there was no longer the night to affright +the woman with hinted threats of nameless horrors lurking beneath its +impenetrable cloak. He felt no longer bound to stand sentinel on the +threshold of her apprehensions. He went out. + +The day would be clear: he drew promise of this from the gray bowl of +the sky, cloudless, touched with spreading scarlet only on its eastern +rim. There was no wind; from the cooling ashes of yesternight's +beacon-fire a slim stalk of smoke grew straight and tall before it +wavered and broke. The voice of the sea had fallen to a muffled +throbbing. + +In the white magic of air like crystal translucent and motionless, the +world seemed more close-knitted and sane. What yesterday's veiling of +haze had concealed was now bold and near. In the north the lighthouse +stood like a horn on the brow of the headland, the lamp continuing to +flash even though its light was darkened, its beams out-stripped by the +radiant forerunners of the sun. Beyond it, over a breadth of water +populated by an ocean-going tug with three barges in tow and a becalmed +lumber schooner, a low-lying point of land (perhaps an island) thrust +out into the west. On the nearer land human life was quickening: here +and there pale streamers of smoke swung up from hidden chimneys on its +wooded rises. + +Whitaker eyed them with longing. But they were distant from attainment +by at the least three miles of tideway through which strong waters +raced--as he could plainly see from his elevation, in the pale, streaked +and wrinkled surface of the channel. + +He wagged a doubtful head, and scowled: no sign in any quarter of a boat +heading for the island, no telling when they'd be taken off the cursed +place! + +In his mutinous irritation, the screaming of the gulls, over in the +west, seemed to add the final touch of annoyance, a superfluous addition +to the sum of his trials. Why need they have selected that island for +their insane parliament? Why must his nerves be racked forever by their +incessant bickering? He had dreamed of them all night; must he endure a +day made similarly distressing? + +What _was_ the matter with the addle-pated things, anyway? + +There was nothing to hinder him from investigating for himself. The girl +would probably sleep another hour or two. + +He went forthwith, dulling the keen edge of his exasperation with a +rapid tramp of half a mile or so over the uneven uplands. + +The screaming was well-nigh deafening by the time he stood upon the +verge of the bluff; beneath him gulls clouded the air like bees +swarming. And yet he experienced no difficulty in locating the cause of +their excitement. + +Below, a slow tide crawled, slavering, up over the boulder-strewn sands. +In a wave-scooped depression between two of the larger boulders, the +receding waters had left a little, limpid pool. In the pool lay the body +of a man, face downward, limbs frightfully sprawling. Gulls fought for +place upon his back. + +The discovery brought with it no shock of surprise to the man on the +bluff: horror alone. He seemed to have known all along that such would +be the cause. Yet he had never consciously acknowledged the thought. It +had lain sluggish in the deeps beneath surfaces agitated by emotions +more poignant and immediate. Still, it had been there--that +understanding. That, and that only, had so poisoned his rest.... + +But he shrank shuddering from the thought of the work that lay to his +hand--work that must be accomplished at once and completely; for she +must know nothing of it. She had suffered enough, as it was. + +Hastening back to the farmstead, he secured a spade from the barn and +made his way quickly down to the beach by way of the road through the +cluster of deserted fishermen's huts. + +Fifteen minutes' walk brought him to the pool. Ten minutes' hard work +with the spade sufficed to excavate a shallow trench in the sands above +high-water mark. He required as much time again to nerve himself to the +point of driving off the gulls and moving the body. There were likewise +crabs to be dealt with.... + +When it was accomplished, and he had lifted the last heavy stone into +place above the grave, he dragged himself back along the beach and round +a shoulder of the bluff to a spot warmed by the rays of the rising sun. +There, stripping off his rags, he waded out into the sea and cleansed +himself as best he might, scrubbing sand into his flesh until it was +scored and angry; then crawled back, resumed his garments, and lay down +for a time in the strength-giving light, feeling giddy and faint with +the after-effects of the insuppressible nausea which had prolonged +intolerably his loathsome task. + +Very gradually the bluish shadows faded from about his mouth and eyes, +and natural colour replaced his pallor. And presently he rose and went +slowly up to the house, all his being in a state of violent rebellion +against the terror and mystery of life. + +What the gulls and the crabs and the shattering surf had left had been +little, but enough for indisputable identification. + +Whitaker had buried Drummond. + + + + +XVIII + +BLIGHT + + +By the time he got back to the farm-house, the woman was up, dressed in +the rent and stained but dry remnants of her own clothing (for all their +defects, infinitely more becoming than the garments to which she had +been obliged to resort the previous day) and busy preparing breakfast. + +There was no question but that her rest had been sound and undisturbed. +If her recuperative powers had won his envy before, now she was wholly +marvellous in his eyes. Her radiant freshness dazzled, her elusive but +absolute quality of charm bewitched--and her high spirits dismayed him. +He entered her presence reluctantly, yielding alone to the spur of +necessity. To keep out of her way was not only an impossibility, but +would have served to rouse her suspicions; and she must not know: +however difficult the task, he must dissemble, keep her in ignorance of +his discovery. On that point he was resolved. + +"Well, sir!" she called heartily over her shoulder. "And where, pray, +have you been all this long time?" + +"I went for a swim," he said evasively--"thought it might do me good." + +"You're not feeling well?" She turned to look him over. + +He avoided her eye. "I had a bad night--probably because I had too much +sleep during the day. I got up feeling pretty rusty--the weight of my +years. Cold water's ordinarily a specific for that sort of thing, but it +didn't seem to work this time." + +"Still got the hump, eh?" + +"Still got the hump," he assented, glad thus to mask his unhappiness. + +"Breakfast and a strong cup of tea or two will fix that," she announced +with confidence. "It's too bad there's no coffee." + +"Yes," he said--"sorry!" + +"No signs of a response to our C. Q. D.?" + +"None as yet. Of course, it's early." + +He lounged out of the kitchen with a tin bowl, a towel and a bar of +yellow soap, and splashed conscientiously at the pump in the dooryard, +taking more time for the job than was really necessary. + +From her place by the stove, she watched him through a window, her eyes +like a sunlit sea dappled with shadows of clouds speeding before the +wind. + +He lingered outside until she called him to breakfast. + +His stout attempts to match her cheerfulness during the meal fell +dismally short of conviction. After two or three false starts he gave it +up and took refuge in his plea of indisposition. She humoured him with a +covert understanding that surmised more in a second than he could have +compressed into a ten-minute confession. + +The meal over, he rose and sidled awkwardly toward the door. + +"You'll be busy for a while with the dishes and things, won't you?" he +asked with an air meant to seem guileless. + +"Oh, yes; for some time," she replied quickly. + +"I--I think I'll take a stroll round the island. There might be +something like a boat hidden away somewhere along the beach." + +"You prefer to go alone?" + +"If you don't mind." + +"Not in the least. I've plenty to occupy my idle hands. If I can find +needle and thread, for instance...." She indicated her clothing with a +humorously rueful gesture. + +"To be sure," he agreed, far too visibly relieved. Then his wits +stumbled. "I want to think out some things," he added most +superfluously. + +"You won't go out of sight?" she pleaded through the window. + +"It can't be done," he called back, strolling out of the dooryard with +much show of idle indecision. + +His real purpose was, in fact, definite. There was another body to be +accounted for. It was quite possible that the sea might have given it up +at some other point along the island coast. True: there was no second +gathering of gulls to lend colour to this grisly theory; yet the danger +was one to be provided against, since she was not to know. + +Starting from its northwestern extreme, he made a complete circuit of +the island, spending the greater part of the time along the edges of the +western and southern bluffs, where he had not seldom to pause and +scrutinize carefully the beach below, to make sure he had been deceived +by some half-buried rock or curiously shaped boulder. + +To his intense relief, he made no further discovery other than a +scattering drift of wreckage from the motor-boats. + +By the time he had finished, the morning was well advanced. He turned at +length and trudged wearily up from the northern beach, through the +community of desolation, back toward the farm-house. + +Since breakfast he had seen nothing of the girl; none of the elaborately +casual glances which he had from time to time cast inland had discovered +any sign of her. But now she appeared in the doorway, and after a slight +pause, as of indecision, moved down the path to meet him. + +He was conscious that, at sight of her, his pulses quickened. Something +swelled in his breast, something tightened the muscles of his throat. +The way of her body in action, the way of the sun with her hair...! + +Dismay shook him like an ague; he felt his heart divided against itself; +he was so glad of her, and so afraid.... He could not keep his eyes from +her, nor could he make his desire be still; and yet ... and yet.... + +Walking the faster of the two, she met him midway between the house and +the beach. + +"You've taken your time, Mr. Whitaker," said she. + +"It was a bit of a walk," he contended, endeavouring to imitate her +lightness of manner. + +They paused beside one of the low stone walls that meandered in a +meaningless fashion this way and that over the uplands. With a satisfied +manner that suggested she had been seeking just that very spot, the girl +sat down upon the lichened stones, then looked up to him with a smile +and a slight movement of the head that plainly invited him to a place +beside her. + +He towered above her, darkly reluctant. + +"Do sit down. You must be tired." + +"I am." + +Dubiously he seated himself at a little distance. + +"And only your pains for your trouble?" + +He nodded. + +"I watched you, off and on, from the windows. You might have been +looking for a pin, from your painstaking air, off there along the +cliffs." + +He nodded again, gloomily. Her comment seemed to admit of no more +compromising method of reply. + +"Then you've nothing to tell me?" + +He pursed his lips, depreciatory, lifted his shoulders not quite +happily, and swung one lanky leg across the other as he slouched, +morosely eyeing the sheets of sapphire that made their prison walls. + +"No. There's no good news yet." + +"And you've no inclination to talk to me, either?" + +"I've told you I don't feel--well--exactly light-hearted this morning." + +There was a little silence. She watched him askance with her fugitive, +shadowy, sympathetic and shrewd smile. + +"Must I make talk, then?" she demanded at length. + +"If we must, I suppose--you'll have to show the way. My mind's hardly +equal to trail-breaking to-day." + +"So I shall, then. Hugh...." She leaned toward him, dropping her hand +over his own with an effect of infinite comprehension. "Hugh," she +repeated, meeting his gaze squarely as he looked up, startled--"what's +the good of keeping up the make-believe? You _know_!" + +The breath clicked in his throat, and his glance wavered uneasily, then +steadied again to hers. And through a long moment neither stirred, but +sat so, eye to eye, searching each the other's mind and heart. + +At length he confessed it with an uncertain, shamefaced nod. + +"That's right," he said: "I do know--now." + +She removed her hand and sat back without lessening the fixity of her +regard. + +"When did you find it out?" + +"This morning. That is, it came to me all of a sudden--" His gaze fell; +he stammered and felt his face burning. + +"Hugh, that's not quite honest. I know you hadn't guessed, last night--I +_know_ it. How did you come to find it out this morning? Tell me!" + +He persisted, as unconvincing as an unimaginative child trying to +explain away a mischief: + +"It was just a little while ago. I was thinking things over--" + +"Hugh!" + +He shrugged sulkily. + +"Hugh, look at me!" + +Unwillingly he met her eyes. + +"How did you find out?" + +He was an inexpert liar. Under the witchery of her eyes, his resource +failed him absolutely. He started to repeat, stammered, fell still, and +then in a breath capitulated. + +"Before you were up--I meant to keep this from you--down there on the +beach--I found Drummond." + +"Drummond!" + +It was a cry of terror. She started back from him, eyes wide, cheeks +whitening. + +"I'm sorry.... But I presume you ought to know.... His body ... I buried +it...." + +She gave a little smothered cry, and seemed to shrink in upon herself, +burying her face in her hands--an incongruous, huddled shape of grief, +there upon the gray stone wall, set against all the radiant beauty of +the exquisite, sun-gladdened world. + +He was patient with her, though the slow-dragging minutes during which +she neither moved nor made any sound brought him inexpressible distress, +and he seemed to age visibly, his face, settling in iron lines, gray +with suffering. + +At length a moan--rather, a wail--came from the stricken figure beside +him: + +"Ah, the pity of it! the pity of it!... What have I done that this +should come to me!" + +He ventured to touch her hand in gentle sympathy. + +"Mary," he said, and hesitated with a little wonder, remembering that +this was the first time he had ever called her by that name--"Mary, did +you care for him so much?" + +She sat, mute, her face averted and hidden. + +"I'd give everything if I could have mended matters. I was fond of +Drummond--poor soul! If he'd only been frank with me from the start, all +this could have been avoided. As soon as I knew--that night when I +recognized you on the stage--I went at once to you to say I would clear +out--not stand in the way of your happiness. I would have said as much +to him, but he gave me no chance." + +"Don't blame him," she said softly. "He wasn't responsible." + +"I know." + +"How long have you known?" She swung suddenly to face him. + +"For some time--definitely, for two or three days. He tried twice to +murder me. The first time he must have thought he'd done it.... Then he +tried again, the night before you were carried off. Ember suspected, +watched for him, and caught him. He took him away, meaning to put him in +a sanitarium. I don't understand how he got away--from Ember. It worries +me--on Ember's account. I hope nothing has happened to him." + +"Oh, I hope not!" + +"You knew--I mean about the cause--the morphine?" + +"I never guessed until that night. Then, as soon as I got over +the first awful shock, I realized he was a madman. He talked +incoherently--raved--shouted--threatened me with horrible things. I +can't speak of them. Later, he quieted down a little, but that was after +he had come down into the cabin to--to drug himself.... It was very +terrible--that tiny, pitching cabin, with the swinging, smoking lamp, +and the madman sitting there, muttering to himself over the glass in +which the morphine was dissolving.... It happened three times before the +wreck; I thought I should go out of my own mind." + +She shuddered, her face tragic and pitiful. + +"Poor girl!" he murmured inadequately. + +"And that--that was why you were searching the beach so closely!" + +"Yes--for the other fellow. I--didn't find him." + +A moment later she said thoughtfully: "It was the man you saw watching +me on the beach, I think." + +"I assumed as much. Drummond had a lot of money, I fancy--enough to hire +a desperate man to do almost anything.... The wages of sin--" + +"Don't!" she begged. "Don't make me think of that!" + +"Forgive me," he said. + +For a little she sat, head bowed, brooding. + +"Hugh!" she cried, looking up to search his face narrowly--"Hugh, you've +not been pretending--?" + +"Pretending?" he repeated, thick-witted. + +"Hugh, I could never forgive you if you'd been pretending. It would be +too cruel.... Ah, but you haven't been! Tell me you haven't!" + +"I don't understand.... Pretending what?" + +"Pretending you didn't know who I was--pretending to fall in love with +me just because you were sorry for me, to make me think it was _me_ you +loved and not the woman you felt bound to take care of, because +you'd--you had--" + +"Mary, listen to me," he interrupted. "I swear I didn't know you. +Perhaps you don't understand how wonderfully you've changed. It's hard +for me to believe you can be one with the timid and distracted little +girl I married that rainy night. You're nothing like.... Only, that +night on the stage, as _Joan Thursday_, you _were_ that girl again. Max +told me it was make-up; I wouldn't believe him; to me you hadn't changed +at all; you hadn't aged a day.... But that morning when I saw you first +on the Great South Beach--I never dreamed of associating you with my +wife. Do you realize I had never seen you in full light--never knew the +colour of your hair?... Dear, I didn't know, believe me. It was you who +bewitched me--not the wife for whose sake I fought against what I +thought infatuation for you. I loved--I love you only, you as you +are--not the poor little girl of the Commercial House." + +"Is it true?" she questioned sadly, incredulous. + +"It is true, Mary. I love you." + +"I have loved you always," she said softly between barely parted +lips--"always, Hugh. Even when I thought you dead.... I did believe that +you were drowned out there, Hugh! You know that, don't you?" + +"I have never for an instant questioned it." + +"It wouldn't be like you to, my dear; it wouldn't be you, my Hugh.... +But even then I loved the memory of you.... You don't know what you have +meant in my life, Hugh. Always, always you have stood for all that was +fine and strong and good and generous--my gentlest man, my knight _sans +peur et sans reproche_.... No other man I ever knew--no, let me say +it!--ever measured up to the standard you had set for me to worship. +But, Hugh--you'll understand, won't you?--about the others--?" + +"Please," he begged--"please don't harrow yourself so, Mary!" + +"No; I must tell you.... The world seemed so empty and so lonely, Hugh: +my Galahad gone, never to return to me.... I tried to lose myself in my +work, but it wasn't enough. And those others came, beseeching me, +and--and I liked them. There was none like you, but they were all good +men of their kind, and I liked them. They made love to me and--I was +starving for affection, Hugh. I was made to love and to be loved. Each +time I thought to myself: 'Surely this time it is true; now at last am I +come into my kingdom. It can't fulfil my dreams, for I have known the +bravest man, but'--" + +Her voice broke and fell. Her eyes grew dull and vacant; her vision +passed through and beyond him, as if he had not been there; the bitter +desolation of all the widowed generations clouded her golden face. Her +lips barely moved, almost inaudibly enunciating the words that were +shaken from her as if by some occult force, ruthless and inexorable: + +"Each time, Hugh, it was the same. One by one they were taken from me, +strangely, terribly.... Poor Tom Custer, first; he was a dear boy, but I +didn't love him and couldn't marry him. I had to tell him so. He killed +himself.... Then Billy Hamilton; I became engaged to him; but he was +taken mysteriously from a crowded ship in mid-ocean.... A man named +Mitchell Thurston loved me. I liked him; perhaps I might have consented +to marry him. He was assassinated--shot down like a mad dog in broad +daylight--no one ever knew by whom, or why. He hadn't an enemy in the +world we knew of.... And now Drummond...!" + +"Mary, Mary!" he pleaded. "Don't--don't--those things were all +accidents--" + +She paid him no heed. She didn't seem to hear. He tried to take her +hand, with a man's dull, witless notion of the way to comfort a +distraught woman; but she snatched it from his touch. + +"And now"--her voice pealed out like a great bell tolling over the +magnificent solitude of the forsaken island--"and now I have it to live +through once again: the wonder and terror and beauty of love, the agony +and passion of having you torn from me!... Hugh!... I don't believe I +can endure it again. I can't _bear_ this exquisite torture. I'm afraid I +shall go mad!... Unless ... unless"--her voice shuddered--"I have the +strength, the strength to--" + +"Good God!" he cried in desperation. "You must not go on like this! +Mary! Listen to me!" + +This time he succeeded in imprisoning her hand. "Mary," he said gently, +drawing closer to her, "listen to me; understand what I say. I love you; +I am your husband; nothing can possibly come between us. All these other +things can be explained. Don't let yourself think for another instant--" + +Her eyes, fixed upon the two hands in which he clasped her own, had +grown wide and staring with dread. Momentarily she seemed stunned. Then +she wrenched it from him, at the same time jumping up and away. + +"No!" she cried, fending him from her with shaking arms. "No! Don't +touch me! Don't come near me, Hugh! It's ... it's death! My touch is +death! I know it now--I had begun to suspect, now I _know_! I am +accursed--doomed to go through life like pestilence, leaving sorrow and +death in my wake.... Hugh!" She controlled herself a trifle: "Hugh, I +love you more than life; I love you more than love itself. But you must +not come near me. Love me if you must, but, O my dear one! keep away +from me; avoid me, forget me if you can, but at all cost shun me as you +would the plague! I will not give myself to you to be your death!" + +Before he could utter a syllable in reply, she turned and fled from him, +wildly, blindly stumbling, like a hunted thing back up the ascent to the +farm-house. He followed, vainly calling on her to stop and listen to +him. But she outdistanced him, and by the time he had entered the house +was in her room, behind a locked door. + + + + +XIX + +CAPITULATION + + +Grimly Whitaker sat himself down in the kitchen and prepared to wait the +reappearance of his wife--prepared to wait as long as life was in him, +so that he were there to welcome her when, her paroxysm over, she would +come to him to be comforted, soothed and reasoned out of her distorted +conception of her destiny. + +Not that he had the heart to blame or to pity her for that terrified +vision of life. Her history was her excuse. Nor was his altogether a +blameless figure in that history. At least it was not so in his sight. +Though unwittingly, he had blundered cruelly in all his relations with +the life of that sad little child of the Commercial House. + +Like sunlight penetrating storm wrack, all the dark disarray of his +revery was shot through and through by the golden splendour of the +knowledge that she loved him.... + +As for this black, deadly shadow that had darkened her life--already he +could see her emerging from it, radiant and wonderful. But it was not to +be disregarded or as yet ignored, its baleful record considered closed +and relegated to the pages of the past. Its movement had been too +rhythmic altogether to lack a reason. His very present task was to read +its riddle and exorcise it altogether. + +For hours he pondered it there in the sunlit kitchen of the silent +house--waiting, wondering, deep in thought. Time stole away without his +knowledge. Not until late in the afternoon did the shifted position of +the sun catch his attention and arouse him in alarm. Not a sound from +above...! + +He rose, ascended the stairs, tapped gently on the locked door. + +"Mary," he called, with his heart in his mouth--"Mary!" + +Her answer was instant, in accents sweet, calm and clear: + +"I am all right. I'm resting, dear, and thinking. Don't fret about me. +When I feel able, I will come down to you." + +"As you will," he assented, unspeakably relieved; and returned to the +kitchen. + +The diversion of thought reminded him of their helpless and forlorn +condition. He went out and swept the horizon with an eager and hopeful +gaze that soon drooped in disappointment. The day had worn on in +unbroken calm: not a sail stirred within the immense radius of the +waters. Ships he saw in plenty--a number of them moving under power east +and west beyond the headland with its crowning lighthouse; others--a +few--left shining wakes upon the burnished expanse beyond the farthest +land visible in the north. Unquestionably main-travelled roads of the +sea, these, so clear to the sight, so heartbreakingly unattainable.... + +And then his conscience turned upon him, reminding him of the promise +(completely driven out of his mind by his grim adventure before dawn, +together with the emotional crisis of mid-morning) to display some sort +of a day-signal of distress. + +For something like half an hour he was busy with the task of nailing a +turkey-red table-cloth to a pole, and the pole in turn (with the +assistance of a ladder) to the peak of the gabled barn. But when this +was accomplished, and he stood aside and contemplated the drooping, +shapeless flag, realizing that without a wind it was quite meaningless, +the thought came to him that the very elements seemed leagued together +in a conspiracy to keep them prisoners, and he began to nurse a +superstitious notion that, if anything were ever to be done toward +winning their freedom, it would be only through his own endeavour, +unassisted. + +Thereafter for a considerable time he loitered up and down the dooryard, +with all his interest focussed upon the tidal strait, measuring its +greatest and its narrowest breadth with his eye, making shrewd guesses +at the strength and the occasions of the tides. + +If the calm held on and the sky remained unobscured by cloud, by eleven +there would be clear moonlight and, if he guessed aright, the beginning +of a period of slack water. + +Sunset interrupted his calculations--sunset and his wife. Sounds of some +one moving quietly round the kitchen, a soft clash of dishes, the +rattling of the grate, drew him back to the door. + +She showed him a face of calm restraint and implacable resolve, if +scored and flushed with weeping. And her habit matched it: she had +overcome her passion; her eyes were glorious with peace. + +"Hugh"--her voice had found a new, sweet level of gentleness and +strength--"I was wondering where you were." + +"Can I do anything?" + +"No, thank you. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am." + +"For what, in Heaven's name?" + +She smiled.... "For neglecting you so long. I really didn't think of it +until the sunlight began to redden. I've let you go without your lunch." + +"It didn't matter--" + +"I don't agree. Man must be fed--and so must woman. I'm famished!" + +"Well," he admitted with a short laugh--"so am I." + +She paused, regarding him with her whimsical, indulgent smile. "You +strange creature!" she said softly. "Are you angry with +me--impatient--for this too facile descent from heroics to the +commonplace? But, Hugh"--she touched his arm with a gentle and +persuasive hand--"it _must_ be commonplace. We're just mortals, after +all, you know, no matter how imperishable our egos make us feel: and the +air of the heights is too fine and rare for mortals to breathe long at a +time. Life is, after all, an everyday affair. We've just got to blunder +through it from day to day--mostly on the low levels. Be patient with +me, dear." + +But, alarmed by his expression, her words stumbled and ran out. She +stepped back a pace, a little flushed and tremulous. + +"Hugh! No, Hugh, no!" + +"Don't be afraid of me," he said, turning away. "I don't mean to bother. +Only--at times--" + +"I know, dear; but it must _not_ be." She had recovered; there was cool +decision in her accents. She began to move briskly round the kitchen, +setting the table, preparing the meal. + +He made no attempt to reason with her, but sat quietly waiting. His rôle +was patience, tolerance, strength restrained in waiting.... + +"Shall you make a fire again to-night?" she asked, when they had +concluded the meal. + +"In three places," he said. "We'll not stay another day for want of +letting people know we're here." + +She looked down, shyly. Coquetry with her was instinctive, +irrepressible. Her vague, provoking smile edged her lips: + +"You--you want to be rid of me again, so soon, Hugh?" + +He bent over the table with a set face, silent until his undeviating +gaze caught and held her eyes. + +"Mary," he said slowly, "I want _you_. I mean to have you. Only by +getting away from this place will that be possible. You must come to me +of your own will." + +She made the faintest negative motion of her head, her eyes fixed to his +in fascination. + +"You will," he insisted, in the same level tone. "If you love me, as you +say, you must.... No--that's nonsense I won't listen to! Renunciation is +a magnificent and noble thing, but it must have a sane excuse.... You +said a while ago, this was a commonplace world, life an everyday affair. +It is. The only thing that lifts it out of the deadly, intolerable rut +is this wonderful thing man has invented and named Love. Without it we +are as Nature made us--brute things crawling and squabbling in blind +squalor. But love lifts us a little above that: love _is_ supernatural, +the only thing in all creation that rises superior to nature. There's no +such thing as a life accursed; no such thing as a life that blights; +there are no malign and vicious forces operating outside the realm of +natural forces: love alone is supreme, subject to no known laws. I mean +to prove it to you; I mean to show you how little responsible you have +been in any way for the misfortunes that have overtaken men who loved +you; I shall show you that I am far more blameworthy than you.... And +when I have done that, you will come to me." + +"I am afraid," she whispered breathlessly--"I am afraid I shall." + +He rose. "Till then, my dearest girl, don't, please don't ever shrink +from me again. I may not be able to dissemble my love, but until your +fears are done away with, your mind at rest, no act of mine, within my +control, shall ever cause you even so much as an instant's annoyance or +distress." + +His tone changed. "I'll go now and build my fires. When you are +ready--?" + +"I shan't be long," she said. + +But for long after he had left her, she lingered moveless by a window, +her gaze following him as he moved to and fro: her face now wistful, now +torn by distress, now bright with longing. Strong passions contended +within her--love and fear, joy and regret; at times crushing +apprehensions of evil darkened her musings, until she could have cried +out with the torment of her fears; and again intimations possessed her +of exquisite beauty, warming and ennobling her heart, all but persuading +her. + +At length, sighing, she lighted the lamp and went about her tasks, with +a bended head, wondering and frightened, fearfully questioning her own +inscrutable heart. Was it for this only that she had fought herself all +through that day: that she should attain an outward semblance of calm so +complete as to deceive even herself, so frail as to be rent away and +banished completely by the mere tones of his mastering voice? Was she to +know no rest? Was it to be her fate to live out her days in yearning, +eating her heart alone, feeding with sighs the passing winds? Or was she +too weary to hold by her vows? Was she to yield and, winning happiness, +in that same instant encompass its destruction?... + +When it was quite dark, Whitaker brought a lantern to the door and +called her, and they went forth together. + +As he had promised, he had built up three towering pyres, widely apart. +When all three were in full roaring flame, their illumination was hot +and glowing over all the upland. It seemed impossible that the world +should not now become cognizant of their distress. + +At some distance to the north of the greatest fire--that nearest the +farm-house--they sat as on the previous night, looking out over the +black and unresponsive waters, communing together in undertones. + +In that hour they learned much of one another: much that had seemed +strange and questionable assumed, in the understanding of each, the +complexion of the normal and right. Whitaker spoke at length and in much +detail of his Wilful Missing years without seeking to excuse the +wrong-minded reasoning which had won him his own consent to live under +the mask of death. He told of the motives that had prompted his return, +of all that had happened since in which she had had no part--with a +single reservation. One thing he kept back: the time for that was not +yet. + +A listener in his turn, he heard the history of the little girl of the +Commercial House breaking her heart against the hardness of life in what +at first seemed utterly futile endeavour to live by her own efforts, +asking nothing more of the man who had given her his name. To make +herself worthy of that name, so that, living or dead, he might have no +cause to be ashamed of her or to regret the burden he had assumed: this +was the explanation of her fierce striving, her undaunted renewal of the +struggle in the face of each successive defeat, her renunciation of the +competence his forethought had provided for her. So also--since she +would take nothing from her husband--pride withheld her from asking +anything of her family or her friends. She cut herself off utterly from +them all, fought her fight alone. + +He learned of the lean years of drifting from one theatrical +organization to another, forced to leave them one by one by conditions +impossible and intolerable, until Ember found her playing ingenue parts +in a mean provincial stock company; of the coming of Max, his interest +in her, the indefatigable pains he had expended coaching her to bring +out the latent ability his own genius divined; of the initial +performance of "Joan Thursday" before a meagre and indifferent audience, +her instant triumph and subsequent conquest of the country in half a +dozen widely dissimilar rôles; finally of her decision to leave the +stage when she married, for reasons comprehensible, demanding neither +exposition nor defence. + +"It doesn't matter any longer," she commented, concluding: "I loved and +I hated it. It was deadly and it was glorious. But it no longer matters. +It is finished: Sara Law is no more." + +"You mean never to go back to the stage?" + +"Never." + +"And yet--" he mused craftily. + +"Never!" She fell blindly into his trap. "I promised myself long ago +that if ever I became a wife--" + +"But you are no wife," he countered. + +"Hugh!" + +"You are Mrs. Whitaker--yes; but--" + +"Dear, you are cruel to me!" + +"I think it's you who would be cruel to yourself, dear heart." + +She found no ready answer; was quiet for a space; then stirred, +shivering. Behind them the fires were dying; by contrast a touch of +chill seemed to pervade in the motionless air. + +"I think," she announced, "we'd better go in." + +She rose without assistance, moved away toward the house, paused and +returned. + +"Hugh," she said gently, with a quaver in her voice that wounded his +conceit in himself; for he was sure it spelled laughter at his expense +and well-merited--"Hugh, you big sulky boy! get up this instant and come +back to the house with me. You know I'm timid. Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?" + +"I suppose so," he grumbled, rising. "I presume it's childish to want +the moon--and sulk when you find you can't have it." + +"Or a star?" + +He made no reply; but his very silence was eloquent. She attempted a +shrug of indifference to his disapproval, but didn't convince even +herself; and when he paused before entering the house for one final look +into the north, she waited on the steps above him. + +"Nothing, Hugh?" she asked in a softened voice. + +"Nothing," he affirmed dully. + +"It's strange," she sighed. + +"Lights enough off beyond the lighthouse yonder," he complained: "red +lights and green, bound east and west. But you'd think this place was +invisible, from the way we're ignored. However...." + +They entered the kitchen. + +"Well--however?" she prompted, studying his lowering face by lamplight. + +"Something'll have to be done; if they won't help us, we'll have to help +ourselves." + +"Hugh!" There was alarm in her tone. He looked up quickly. "Hugh, what +are you thinking of?" + +"Oh--nothing. But I've got to think of something." + +She came nearer, intuitively alarmed and pleading. "Hugh, you wouldn't +leave me here alone?" + +"What nonsense!" + +"Promise me you won't." + +"Don't be afraid," he said evasively. "I'll be here--as always--when you +wake up." + +She drew a deep breath, stepped back without removing her gaze from his +face, then with a gesture of helplessness took up her lamp. + +"Good night, Hugh." + +"Good night," he replied, casting about for his own lamp. + +But when he turned back, she was still hesitating in the doorway. He +lifted inquiring brows. + +"Hugh...." + +"Yes?" + +"I trust you. Be faithful, dear." + +"Thank you," he returned, not without flavour of bitterness. "I'll try +to be. Good night." + +She disappeared; the light of her lamp faded, flickering in the draught +of the hall, stencilled the wall with its evanescent caricature of the +balustrade, and was no longer visible. + +"Hugh!" her voice rang from the upper floor. + +He started violently out of deep abstraction, and replied inquiringly. + +"You won't forget to lock the door?" + +He swore violently beneath his breath; controlled his temper and +responded pleasantly: "Certainly not." + +Then he shut the outside door with a convincing bang. + +"If this be marriage...!" He smiled his twisted smile, laughed a little +quietly, and became again his normal, good-natured self, if a little +unusually preoccupied. + +Leaving the kitchen light turned low, he went to his own room and, as on +the previous night, threw himself upon the bed without undressing; but +this time with no thought of sleep. Indeed, he had no expectation of +closing his eyes in slumber before the next night, at the earliest; he +had no intention other than to attempt to swim to the nearest land. In +the illusion of night, his judgment worked upon by his emotions, that +plan which had during the afternoon suggested itself, been thoroughly +considered, rejected as too desperately dangerous, and then reconsidered +in the guise of their only possible chance of escape at any reasonably +early date, began to assume a deceptive semblance of feasibility. + +He did not try to depreciate its perils: the tides that swept through +that funnel-shaped channel were unquestionably heavy: heavier than even +so strong a swimmer as he should be called upon to engage; the chances +of being swept out to sea were appallingly heavy. The slightest error in +judgment, the least miscalculation of the turn of the tide, and he was +as good as lost. + +On the other hand, with a little good luck, by leaving the house shortly +after moonrise, he should be able to catch the tide just as it was +nearing high water. Allowing it to swing him northwest until it fulled, +he ought to be a third of the way across by the time it slackened, and +two-thirds of the distance before it turned seawards again. And the +distance was only three miles or so. + +And the situation on the island had grown unendurable. He doubted his +strength to stand the torment and the provocation of another day. + +Allow an hour and a half for the swim--say, two; another hour in which +to find a boat; and another to row or sail back: four hours. He should +be back upon the island long before dawn, even if delayed. Surely no +harm could come to her in that time; surely he ought to be able to +reckon on her sleeping through his absence--worn down by the stress of +the day's emotions as she must certainly be. True, he had given her to +understand he would not leave her; but she need not know until his +return; and then his success would have earned him forgiveness. + +An hour dragged out its weary length, and the half of another while he +reasoned with himself, drugging his conscience and his judgment alike +with trust in his lucky star. In all that time he heard no sound from +the room above him; and for his part he lay quite unstirring, his whole +body relaxed, resting against the trial of strength to come. + +Insensibly the windows of his room, that looked eastward, filled with +the pale spectral promise of the waning moon. He rose, with infinite +precaution against making any noise, and looked out. The night was no +less placid than the day had been. The ruins of his three beacons shone +like red winking eyes in the black face of night. Beyond them the sky +was like a dome of crystal, silvery green. And as he looked, an edge of +silver shone on the distant rim of the waters; and then the moon, +misshapen, wizened and darkling, heaved sluggishly up from the deeps. + +Slowly, on tiptoes, Whitaker stole toward the door, out into the hall; +at the foot of the stairs he paused, listening with every nerve tense +and straining; he fancied he could just barely detect the slow, regular +respiration of the sleeping woman. And he could see that the upper +hallway was faintly aglow. She had left her lamp burning, the door open. +Last night, though the lamp had burned till dawn, that door had been +closed.... + +He gathered himself together again, took a single step on toward the +kitchen; and then, piercing suddenly the absolute stillness within the +house, a board squealed like an animal beneath his tread. + +In an instant he heard the thud and patter of her footsteps above, her +loud, quickened breathing as she leaned over the balustrade, looking +down, and her cry of dismay: "Hugh! Hugh!" + +He halted, saying in an even voice: "Yes; it is I." She had already seen +him; there was no use trying to get away without her knowledge now; +besides, he was no sneak-thief to fly from a cry. He burned with +resentment, impatience and indignation, but he waited stolidly enough +while the woman flew down the stairs to his side. + +"Hugh," she demanded, white-faced and trembling, "what is the matter? +Where are you going?" + +He moved his shoulders uneasily, forcing a short laugh. "I daresay +you've guessed it. Undoubtedly you have. Else why--" He didn't finish +save by a gesture of resignation. + +"You mean you were going--going to try to swim to the mainland?" + +"I meant to try it," he confessed. + +"But, Hugh--your promise?" + +"I'm sorry, Mary; I didn't want to promise. But you see ... this state +of things cannot go on. Something has got to be done. It's the only way +I know of. I--I can't trust myself--" + +"You'd leave me here while you went to seek death--!" + +"Oh, it isn't as dangerous as all that. If you'd only been asleep, as I +thought you were, I'd've been back before you knew anything about it." + +"I should have known!" she declared passionately. "I _was_ asleep, but I +knew the instant you stirred. Tell me; how long did you stand listening +here, to learn if I was awake or not?" + +"Several minutes." + +"I knew it, though I was asleep, and didn't waken till the board +squeaked. I knew you would try it--knew it from the time when you +quibbled and evaded and wouldn't give me a straight promise. Oh, Hugh, +my Hugh, if you had gone and left me...!" + +Her voice shook and broke. She swayed imperceptibly toward him, then +away, resting a shoulder against the wall and quivering as though she +would have fallen but for that support. He found himself unable to +endure the reproach of those dark and luminous eyes set in the mask of +pallor that was her face in the half-light of the hallway. He looked +away, humbled, miserable, pained. + +"It's too bad," he mumbled. "I'm sorry you had to know anything about +it. But ... it can't be helped, Mary. You've got to brace up. I won't be +gone four hours at the longest." + +"Four hours!" She stood away from the wall, trembling in every limb. +"Hugh, you--you don't mean--you're not going--_now_?" + +He nodded a wretched, makeshift affirmation. + +"It must be done," he muttered. "Please--" + +"But it must not be done! Hugh!" Her voice ascended "I--I can't let you. +I won't let you! You ... It'll be your death--you'll drown. I shall have +let you go to your death--" + +"Oh, now, really--" he protested. + +"But, Hugh, I _know_ it! I feel it here." A hand strayed to rest, +fluttering, above her heart. "If I should let you go ... Oh, my dear +one, don't, don't go!" + +"Mary," he began hoarsely, "I tell you--" + +"You're only going, Hugh, because ... because I love you so I ... I am +afraid to let you love me. That's true, isn't it? Hugh--it's true?" + +"I can't stay ..." he muttered with a hang-dog air. + +She sought support of the wall again, her body shaken by dry sobbing +that it tore his heart to hear. "You--you're really going--?" + +He mumbled an almost inaudible avowal of his intention. + +"Hugh, you're killing me! If you leave me--" + +He gave a gesture of despair and capitulation. + +"I've done my best, Mary. I meant to do the right thing. I--" + +"Hugh, you mean you won't go?" Joy from a surcharged heart rang vibrant +in every syllable uttered in that marvellous voice. + +But now he dared meet her eyes. "Yes," he said, "I won't go"--nodding, +with an apologetic shadow of his twisted smile. "I can't if ... if it +distresses you." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" + +Whitaker started, staggered with amaze, and the burden of his wife in +his arms. Her own arms clipped him close. Her fragrant tear-gemmed face +brushed his. He knew at last the warmth of her sweet mouth, the dear +madness of that first caress. + +The breathless seconds spun their golden web of minutes. They did not +move. Round them the silence sang like the choiring seraphim.... + +Then through the magical hush of that time when the world stood still, +the thin, clear vibrations of a distant hail: + +"_Aho-oy!_" + +In his embrace his wife stiffened and lifted her head to listen like a +startled fawn. As one their hearts checked, paused, then hammered +wildly. With a common impulse they started apart. + +"You heard--?" + +"Listen!" He held up a hand. + +This time it rang out more near and most unmistakable: + +"Ahoy! The house, ahoy!" + +With the frenzied leap of a madman, Whitaker gained the kitchen door, +shook it, controlled himself long enough to draw the bolt, and flung out +into the dim silvery witchery of the night. He stood staring, while the +girl stole to his side and caught his arm. He passed it round her, +lifted the other hand, dumbly pointed toward the northern beach. For the +moment he could not trust himself to speak. + +In the sweep of the anchorage a small white yacht hovered ghostlike, +broadside to the island, her glowing ports and green starboard lamp +painting the polished ebony of the still waters with the images of many +burning candles. + +On the beach itself a small boat was drawn up. A figure in white waited +near it. Issuing from the deserted fishing settlement, rising over the +brow of the uplands, moved two other figures in white and one in darker +clothing, the latter leading the way at a rapid pace. + +With one accord Whitaker and his wife moved down to meet them. As they +drew together, the leader of the landing party checked his pace and +called: + +"Hello there! Who are you? What's the meaning of your fires--?" + +Mechanically Whitaker's lips uttered the beginning of the response: +"Shipwrecked--signalling for help--" + +"Whitaker!" the voice of the other interrupted with a jubilant shout. +"Thank God we've found you!" + +It was Ember. + + + + +XX + +TEMPERAMENTAL + + +Seldom, perhaps, has an habitation been so unceremoniously vacated as +was the solitary farm-house on that isolated island. Whitaker delayed +only long enough to place a bill, borrowed from Ember, on the kitchen +table, in payment for what provisions they had consumed, and to +extinguish the lamps and shut the door. + +Ten minutes later he occupied a chair beneath an awning on the after +deck of the yacht, and, with an empty glass waiting to be refilled +between his fingers and a blessed cigar fuming in the grip of his teeth, +stared back to where their rock of refuge rested, brooding over its +desolation, losing bulk and conformation and swiftly blending into a +small dark blur upon the face of the waters. + +"Ember," he demanded querulously, "what the devil is that place?" + +"You didn't know?" Ember asked, amused. + +"Not the smell of a suspicion. This is the first pleasure, in a manner +of speaking, cruise I've taken up along this coast. I'm a bit weak on +its hydrography." + +"Well, if that's the case, I don't mind admitting that it is No Man's +Land." + +"I'm strong for its sponsors in baptism. They were equipped with a +strong sense of the everlasting fitness of things. And the other--?" + +"Martha's Vineyard. That's Gay Head--the headland with the lighthouse. +Off to the north of it, the Elizabeth Islands. Beyond them, Buzzards +Bay. This neat little vessel is now standing about west-no'th-west to +pick up Point Judith light--if you'll stand for the nautical patois. +After that, barring a mutiny on the part of the passengers, she'll swing +on to Long Island Sound. If we're lucky, we'll be at anchor off East +Twenty-fourth Street by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Any kick +coming?" + +"Not from me. You might better consult--my wife," said Whitaker with an +embarrassed laugh. + +"Thanks, no: if it's all the same to you. Besides, I've turned her over +to the stewardess, and I daresay she won't care to be interrupted. She's +had a pretty tough time of it: I judge from your rather disreputable +appearance. Really, you're cutting a most romantical, shocking figger." + +"Glad of that," Whitaker remarked serenely. "Give me another drink.... I +like to be consistent--wouldn't care to emerge from a personally +conducted tour of all hell looking like a George Cohan chorus-boy.... +Lord! how good tobacco does taste after you've gone without it a few +days!... Look here: I've told you how things were with us, in brief; but +I'm hanged if you've disgorged a single word of explanation as to how +you came to let Drummond slip through your fingers, to say nothing of +how you managed to find us." + +"He didn't slip through my fingers," Ember retorted. "He launched a +young earthquake at my devoted head and disappeared before the dust +settled. More explicitly: I had got him to the edge of the woods, that +night, when something hit me from behind and my light went out in a +blaze of red fire. I came to some time later with a tasty little gag in +my mouth and the latest thing in handcuffs on my wrists, behind my +back--the same handcuffs that I'd decorated Drummond with--and several +fathoms of rope wound round my legs. I lay there--it was a sort of open +work barn--until nearly midnight the following night. Then the owner +happened along, looking for something he'd missed--another ass, I +believe--and let me loose. By the time I'd pulled myself together, from +what you tell me, you were piling up on the rocks back there." + +"Just before dawn, yesterday." + +"Precisely. Finding you'd vacated the bungalow, I interviewed Sum Fat +and Elise, and pieced together a working hypothesis. It was easy enough +to surmise Drummond had some pal or other working with him: _I_ was +slung-shotted from behind, while Drummond was walking ahead. And two men +had worked in the kidnapping of Mrs. Whitaker. So I went sleuthing; +traced you through the canal to Peconic; found eye-witnesses of your +race as far as Sag Harbor. There I lost you--and there I borrowed this +outfit from a friend, an old-time client of mine. Meanwhile I'd had a +general alarm sent out to the police authorities all along the +coast--clear to Boston. No one had seen anything of you anywhere. It was +heavy odds-on, that you'd gone to the bottom in that blow, all of you; +but I couldn't give up. We kept cruising, looking up unlikely places. +And, at that, we were on the point of throwing up the sponge when I +picked up a schooner that reported signal fires on No Man's Land.... I +think that clears everything up." + +"Yes," said Whitaker, sleepily. "And now, without ingratitude, may I ask +you to lead me to a bath and my bunk. I have just about fifteen minutes +of semi-consciousness to go on." + +Nor was this exaggeration; it was hard upon midnight, and he had been +awake since before dawn of a day whose course had been marked by a +succession of increasingly exhaustive emotional crises, following a +night of interrupted and abbreviated rest; add to this the inevitable +reaction from high nervous tension. His reserve vitality seemed barely +sufficient to enable him to keep his eyes open through the rite of the +hot salt-water bath. After that he gave himself blindly into Ember's +guidance, and with a mumbled, vague good night, tumbled into the berth +assigned him. And so strong was his need of sleep that it was not until +ten o'clock the following morning, when the yacht lay at her mooring in +the East River, that Ember succeeded in rousing him by main strength and +good-will. + +This having been accomplished, he was left to dress and digest the fact +that his wife had gone ashore an hour ago, after refusing to listen to a +suggestion that Whitaker be disturbed. The note Ember handed him +purported to explain what at first blush seemed a singularly ungrateful +and ungracious freak. It was brief, but in Whitaker's sight eminently +adequate and compensating. + + "DEAREST BOY: I won't let them wake you, but I must run away. It's + early and I _must_ do some shopping before people are about. My + house here is closed; Mrs. Secretan is in Maine with the only keys + aside from those at Great West Bay; and I'm a _positive fright_ in + a coat and skirt borrowed from the stewardess. I don't want even + you to see me until I'm decently dressed. I shall put up at the + Waldorf; come there to-night, and we will dine together. Every + fibre of my being loves you. + + "MARY." + +Obviously not a note to be cavilled at. Whitaker took a serene and +shining face to breakfast in the saloon, under the eyes of Ember. + +Veins of optimism and of gratulation like threads of gold ran through +the texture of their talk. There seemed to exist a tacit understanding +that, with the death of Drummond, the cloud that had shadowed the career +of Sara Law had lifted, while her renunciation of her public career had +left her with a future of glorified serenity and assured happiness. By +common consent, with an almost superstitious awe, they begged the +question of the shadowed and inexplicable past--left the dead past to +bury itself, bestowing all their fatuous concern with the to-day of +rejoicing and the to-morrow of splendid promise. + +Toward noon they parted ashore, each taking a taxicab to his lodgings. +The understanding was that they were to dine together--all three, +Whitaker promising for his wife--upon the morrow. + +At six that evening, returning to his rooms to dress, Whitaker found +another note awaiting him, in a handwriting that his heart recognized +with a sensation of wretched apprehension. + +He dared not trust himself to read it in the public hall. It was agony +to wait through the maddeningly deliberate upward flight of the +elevator. When he at length attained to the privacy of his own +apartment, he was sweating like a panic-stricken horse. He could hardly +control his fingers to open the envelope. He comprehended its contents +with difficulty, half blinded by a swimming mist of foreboding. + + "MY DEAR: I find my strength unequal to the strain of seeing you + to-night. Indeed, I am so worn out and nerve-racked that I have had + to consult my physician. He orders me immediately to a sanatorium, + to rest for a week or two. Don't worry about me. I shan't fail to + let you know as soon as I feel strong enough to see you. Forgive + me. I love you dearly. + + "MARY." + +The paper slipped from Whitaker's trembling hand and fluttered unheeded +to the floor. He sprang to the telephone and presently had the Waldorf +on the wire; it was true, he learned: Mrs. Whitaker had registered at +the hotel in the morning, and had left at four in the afternoon. He was +refused information as to whether she had left a forwarding address for +her mail. + +He wrote her immediately, and perhaps not altogether wisely, under +stress of distraction, sending the letter by special delivery in care of +the hotel. It was returned him in due course of time, embellished with a +pencilled memorandum to the effect that Mrs. Whitaker had left no +address. + +He communicated at once with Ember, promptly enlisting his willing +services. But after several days of earnest investigation the detective +confessed himself baffled. + +"If you ask me," he commented at the conclusion of his report, "the +answer is: she means to be let alone until she's quite ready to see you +again. I don't pin any medals on myself for this demonstration of +extraordinary penetration; I merely point out the obvious for your own +good. Contain yourself, my dear man--and stop gnawing your knuckles like +the heavy man in a Third Avenue melodrama. It won't do any good; your +wife promised to communicate with you as soon as her health was +restored. And not only is she a woman who keeps her promise, but it is +quite comprehensible that she should have been shaken up by her +extraordinary experience to an extent we can hardly appreciate who +haven't the highly sensitive organization of a woman to contend with. +Give her time." + +"I don't believe it!" Whitaker raged. "She--she loved me there on the +island. She couldn't change so quickly, bring herself to treat me so +cruelly, unless some infernal influence had been brought to bear upon +her." + +"It's possible, but I--" + +"Oh, I don't mean that foolishness about her love being a man's +death-warrant. That may have something to do with it, but--but, damn +it!--I conquered that once. She promised ... was in my arms ... I'd won +her.... She loved me; there wasn't any make-believe about it. If there +were any foundation for that poppycock, I'd be a dead man now--instead +of a man damnably ill-used!... No: somebody has got hold of her, worked +on her sympathies, maligned me...." + +"Do you object to telling me whom you have in mind?" + +"The man you suspect as well as I--the one man to whom her allegiance +means everything: the man you named to me the night we met for the first +time, as the one who'd profit the most by keeping her from leaving the +stage!" + +"Well, if it's Max, you'll know in time. It won't profit him to hide the +light of his star under a bushel; he can only make money by displaying +it." + +"I'll know before long. As soon as he gets back in town--" + +"So you've been after him?" + +"Why not? But he's out on the Pacific coast; or so they tell me at the +theatre." + +"And expected back--when?" + +"Soon." + +"Do you know when he left?" + +"About the middle of July--they say in his office." + +"Then that lets him out." + +"But it's a lie." + +"Well--?" + +"I've just remembered: Max was at the Fiske place, urging her to return, +the night before you caught Drummond at the bungalow. I saw them, +walking up and down in front of the cottage, arguing earnestly: I could +tell by her bearing she was refusing whatever he proposed. But I didn't +know her then, and naturally I never connected Max with the fellow I +saw, disguised in a motoring coat and cap. Neither of 'em had any place +in my thoughts that night." + +Ember uttered a thoughtful "Oh?" adding: "Did you find out at all +definitely when Max is expected back?" + +"Two or three weeks now, they say. He's got his winter productions to +get under way. As a matter of fact, it looks to me as if he must be +neglecting 'em strangely; it's my impression that the late summer is a +producing manager's busiest time." + +"Max runs himself by his own original code, I'm afraid. The chances are +he's trying to raise money out on the Coast. No money, no +productions--in other words." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +"But there may be something in what you say--suspect, that is. If I +agree to keep an eye on him, will you promise to give me a free hand?" + +"Meaning--?" + +"Keep out of Max's way: don't risk a wrangle with him." + +"Why the devil should I be afraid of Max?" + +"I know of no reason--as yet. But I prefer to work unhampered by the +indiscretions of my principals." + +"Oh--go ahead--to blazes--as far as you like." + +"Thanks," Ember dryly wound up the conference; "but these passing +flirtations with your present-day temper leave me with no hankering for +greater warmth...." + +Days ran stolidly on into weeks, and these into a month. Nothing +happened. Max did not return; the whispered rumour played wild-fire in +theatrical circles that the eccentric manager had encountered financial +difficulties insuperable. The billboards flanking the entrance to the +Theatre Max continued to display posters announcing the reopening early +in September with a musical comedy by Tynan Dodd; but the comedy was not +even in rehearsal by September fifteenth. + +Ember went darkly about his various businesses, taciturn--even a trace +more than ever reserved in his communication with Whitaker--preoccupied, +but constant in his endeavour to enhearten the desponding husband. He +refused to hazard any surmises whatever until the return of Max or the +reappearance of Mary Whitaker. + +She made no sign. Now and then Whitaker would lose patience and write to +her: desperate letters, fond and endearing, passionate and insistent, +wistful and pleading, strung upon a single theme. Despatched under the +address of her town house, they vanished from his ken as mysteriously +and completely as she herself had vanished. He received not a line of +acknowledgment. + +Day by day he made up his mind finally and definitely to give it up, to +make an end of waiting, to accept the harsh cruelty of her treatment of +him as an absolute definition of her wishes--to sever his renewed life +in New York and return once and for all to the Antipodes. And day by day +he paltered, doubted, put off going to the steamship office to engage +passage. The memory of that last day on the lonely island would not +down. Surely she dared not deny the self she had then revealed to him! +Surely she must be desperately ill and unable to write, rather than +ignoring him so heartlessly and intentionally. Surely the morrow would +bring word of her! + +Sometimes, fretted to a frenzy, he sought out Ember and made wild and +unreasonable demands upon him. These failing of any effect other than +the resigned retort, "I am a detective, not a miracle-monger," he would +fly into desperate, gnawing, black rages that made Ember fear for his +sanity and self-control and caused him to be haunted by that gentleman +for hours--once or twice for days--until he resumed his normal poise of +a sober and civilized man. He was, however, not often aware of this +sedulous espionage. + +September waned and October dawned in grateful coolness: an exquisite +month of crisp nights and enlivening days, of mellowing sunlight and +early gloamings tenderly coloured. Country houses were closed and +theatres reopened. Fifth Avenue after four in the afternoon became +thronged with an ever thickening army--horse, foot and motor-car. +Several main-travelled thoroughfares were promptly torn to pieces and +set up on end by municipal authorities with a keen eye for the +discomfort of the public. A fresh electric sign blazed on Broadway every +evening, and from Thirty-fourth Street to Columbus Circle the first +nights crackled, detonated, sputtered and fizzled like a string of cheap +Chinese firecrackers. One after another the most exorbitant restaurants +advanced their prices and decreased their portions to the prompt and +extraordinary multiplication of their clientèle: restaurant French for a +species of citizen whose birth-rate is said to be steadfast to the ratio +of sixty to the hour. Wall Street wailed loudly of its poverty and +hurled bitter anathemas at the President, the business interest of the +country continued to suffer excruciating agonies, and the proprietors of +leading hotels continued to add odd thousands of acres to their game +preserves. + +Then suddenly the town blossomed overnight with huge eight-sheet posters +on every available hoarding, blazoning the news: + + JULES MAX + begs to announce the return of + SARA LAW + in a new Comedy entitled FAITH + by JULES MAX + Theatre MAX--Friday October 15th + +But Whitaker had the information before he saw the broad-sides in the +streets. The morning paper propped up on his breakfast table contained +the illuminating note under the caption, "News of Plays and Players": + + "Jules Max has sprung another and perhaps his greatest surprise on + the theatre-going public of this city. In the face of the rumor + that he was in dire financial straits and would make no productions + whatever this year, the astute manager has been out of town for two + months secretly rehearsing the new comedy entitled 'Faith' of which + he is the author and in which Sara Law will return finally to the + stage. + + "Additional interest attaches to this announcement in view of the + fact that Miss Law has authorized the publication of her intention + never again to retire from the stage. Miss Law is said to have + expressed herself as follows: 'It is my dearest wish to die in + harness. I have come to realize that a great artiste has no duty + greater than her duty to her art. I dedicate my life and artistry + to the American Public.' + + "The opening performance of 'Faith' will take place at the Theatre + Max to-morrow evening, Friday, October 15. The sale of seats opens + at the box-office this morning. Despite the short notice, a bumper + house is confidently expected to welcome back this justly popular + and most charming American actress in the first play of which Mr. + Max has confessed being the author." + +Whitaker glanced up incredulously at the date-line of the sheet. Short +notice, indeed: the date was Thursday, October fourteenth. Max had +planned his game and had played his cards cunningly, in withholding this +announcement until the last moment. So much was very clear to him whose +eyes had wit to read between those lines of trite press-agent +phraseology. + +After a pause Whitaker rose and began to walk the length of the room, +hands in his pockets, head bowed in thought. He was telling himself that +he was not greatly surprised, after all; he was wondering at his +coolness; and he was conning over, with a grim, sardonic kink in his +twisted smile, the needless precautions taken by the dapper little +manager in his fear of Whitaker's righteous wrath. For Whitaker had no +intention of interfering in any way. He conceived it a possibility that +his congé might have been more kindly given him, but ... he had received +it, and he was not slow to recognize it as absolute and without appeal. +The thing was finished. The play was over, so far as concerned his part +therein. He had no doubt played it poorly; but at least his exit would +not lack a certain quality of dignity. Whitaker promised himself that. + +He thought it really astonishing, his coolness. He analyzed his +psychological processes with a growing wonder and with as much, if less +definite, resentment. He would not have thought it credible of himself. +Search as he would, he could discover no rankling indignation, no +smouldering rage threatening to flame at the least breath of +provocation, not even what he might have most confidently looked forward +to--the sickening writhings of self-love mortally wounded and impotent +to avenge itself: nothing but some self-contempt, that he had allowed +himself to be so carried away by infatuation for an ignoble woman, and a +cynic humour that made it possible for him to derive a certain +satisfaction from contemplating the completeness of this final +revelation of herself. + +However, he had more important things to claim his attention than the +spectacle of a degraded soul making public show of its dishonour. + +He halted by the window to look out. Over the withered tree-tops of +Bryant Square, set against the rich turquoise of that late autumnal sky, +a gigantic sign-board heralded the news of perfidy to an unperceptive +world that bustled on, heedless of Jules Max, ignorant (largely) of the +existence of Hugh Whitaker, unconcerned with Sara Law save as she +employed herself for its amusement. + +After all, the truth was secret and like to stay so, jealously husbanded +in four bosoms at most. Max would guard it as he would a system for +winning at roulette; Mary Whitaker might well be trusted never to +declare herself; Ember was as secret as the grave.... + +Returning to the breakfast table, he took up the paper, turned to the +shipping news and ran his eye down the list of scheduled sailings: +nothing for Friday; his pick of half a dozen boats listed to sail +Saturday. + +The telephone enabled him to make a hasty reservation on the biggest and +fastest of them all. + +He had just concluded that business and was waiting with his hand on the +receiver to call up Ember and announce his departure, when the door-bell +interrupted. Expecting the waiter to remove the breakfast things, he +went to the door, threw it open, and turned back instantly to the +telephone. As his fingers closed round the receiver a second time, he +looked round and saw his wife.... + +His hand fell to his side. Otherwise he did not move. But his glance was +that of one incuriously comprehending the existence of a stranger. + +The woman met it fairly and fearlessly, with her head high and her lips +touched with a trace of her shadowy, illegible smile. She was dressed +for walking, very prettily and perfectly. There were roses in her +cheeks: a healthful glow distinguishable even in the tempered light of +the hallway. Her self-possession was faultless. + +After a moment she inclined her head slightly. "The hall-boys said you +were busy on the telephone. I insisted on coming directly up. I wish +very much to see you for a few moments. Do you mind?" + +"By no means," he said, a little stiffly but quite calmly. "If you will +be good enough to come in--" + +He stood against the wall to let her pass. For a breath she was too +close to him: he felt his pulses quicken faintly to the delicate and +indefinite perfume of her person. But it was over in an instant: she had +passed into the living-room. He followed, grave, collected, aloof. + +"I had to come this morning," she explained, turning. "This afternoon we +have a rehearsal...." + +He bowed an acknowledgment. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you." Seated, she subjected him to a quick, open appraisal, +disarming in its naïve honesty. + +"Hugh ... aren't you a bit thinner?" + +"I believe so." He had a match for that impertinence: "But you, I see, +have come off without a blemish." + +"I am very well," she admitted, unperturbed. Her glance embraced the +room. "You're very comfortable here." + +"I have been." + +"I hope that doesn't mean I'm in the way." + +"To the contrary; but I sail day after to-morrow for Australia." + +"Oh? That's very sudden, isn't it? You don't seem to have done any +packing. Or perhaps you mean to come back before a great while?" + +"I shan't come back, ever." + +"Must I believe you made up your mind this morning?" + +"I have only just read the announcement of your opening to-morrow +night." + +"Then ... I am driving you out of the country?" + +Her look was impersonal and curious. He prided himself that he was +managing his temper admirably--at least until he discovered that he had, +inexplicably, no temper to speak of; that he, in fact, suffered mostly +from what seemed to be nothing more than annoyance at being hindered in +making the necessary arrangements against his departure. + +His shoulders moved negligently. "Not to rant about it," he replied: "I +find I am not needed here." + +"Oh, dear!" Her lips formed a fugitive, petulant moue: "And it's my +fault?" + +"There's no use mincing matters, is there? I am not heartbroken, and if +I am bitterly disappointed I don't care to--in fact, I lack the +ability--to dramatize it." + +"You are taking it well, Hugh," said she, critical. + +Expressionless, he waited an instant before inquiring pointedly: +"Well...?" + +Deliberately laying aside her light muff, her scarf and hand-bag, she +rose: equality of poise was impossible if he would persist in standing. +She moved a little nearer, examining his face closely, shook her head, +smiled almost diffidently, and gave a helpless gesture. + +"Hugh," she said in a voice of sincerity, "I'm awfully sorry--truly I +am!" + +He made no reply; waited. + +"Perhaps I'm wrong," she went on, "but I think most women would have +spared themselves this meeting--" + +"Themselves and the man," he interjected dryly. + +"Don't be cross, Hugh.... I had to come. I had to explain myself. I +wanted you to understand. Hugh, I--" She was twisting her hands together +with a manner denoting great mental strain. Of a sudden she checked and +dropped them, limp and open by her sides. "You see," she said with the +apologetic smile, "I'm _trying_ not to act." + +"Oh," he said in a tone of dawning comprehension--"so that's it!" + +"I'm afraid so, Hugh.... I'm dreadfully sorry for you--poor boy!--but +I'm afraid that's the trouble with me, and it can never be helped. +I was born with a talent for acting; life has made me an actress. +Hugh ... I've found out something." Her eyes appealed wistfully. "I'm +not genuine." + +He nodded interestedly. + +"I'm just an actress, an instrument for the music of emotions. I've been +trained to respond, until now I respond without knowing it, when there's +no true response here." She touched the bosom of her frock. + +He said nothing. + +With a half sigh she moved away to the window, and before she spoke +again posed herself very effectively there, looking out over the park +while she cleared her mind. + +"Of course, you despise me. I despise myself--I mean, the self that was +me before I turned from a woman into an actress. But it's the truth: I +have no longer any real capacity for emotion, merely an infinite +capacity for appreciation of the artistic delineation of emotion, true +or feigned. That ... that is why, when you showed me you had grown to +love me so, I responded so quickly. You _were_ in love--more honestly +than I had ever seen love revealed. It touched me. I was proud to have +inspired such a love. I wanted, for the time being, to have you with me +always, that I might always study the wonderful, the beautiful +manifestations of your love. Why, Hugh, you even managed to make me +believe I was worth it--that my response was sufficient repayment for +your adoration...." + +He said nothing. She glanced furtively at him and continued: + +"I meant to be sweet and faithful when I left that note for you on the +yacht, Hugh; I was grateful, and I meant to be generous.... But when I +went to the Waldorf, the first person I met was Max. Of course I had to +tell him what had happened. And then he threw himself upon my +compassion. It seems that losing me had put him in the most terrible +trouble about money. He was short, and he couldn't get the backing he +needed without me, his call upon my services, by way of assurance to his +backers. And I began to think. I knew I didn't love you honestly, Hugh, +and that life with you would be a living lie. What right had I to +deceive you that way, just to gratify my love of being loved? And +especially if by doing that I ruined Max, the man to whom, next to you, +I owed everything? I couldn't do it. But I took time to think it +over--truly I did. I really did go to a sanatorium, and rested there +while I turned the whole matter over carefully in my mind, and at length +reached my decision to stick by Max and let you go, free to win the +heart of a woman worthy of you." + +She paused again, but still he was mute and immobile. + +"So now you know me--what I am. No other man has ever known or ever +will. But I had to tell you the truth. It seems that the only thing my +career had left uncalloused was my fundamental sense of honesty. So I +had to come and tell you." + +And still he held silence, attentive, but with a set face that betrayed +nothing of the tenor of his thoughts. + +Almost timidly, with nervously fumbling fingers, she extracted from her +pocket-book a small ticket envelope. + +"Max was afraid you might upset the performance again, as you did on my +last appearance, Hugh," she said; "but I assured him it was just the +shock of recognizing you that bowled me over. So I've bought you a box +for to-morrow night. I want you to use it--you and Mr. Ember." + +He broke in with a curt monosyllable: "Why?" + +"Why--why because--because I want you--I suppose it's simply my +vanity--to see me act. Perhaps you'll feel a little less hardly toward +me if you see that I am really a great actress, that I give you up for +something bigger than just love--" + +"What rot!" he said with an odd, short laugh. "Besides, I harbour no +resentment." + +She stared, losing a little colour, eyes darkening with apprehension. + +"I did hope you'd come," she murmured. + +"Oh, I'll come," he said with spirit. "Wild horses couldn't keep me +away." + +"Really, Hugh? And you don't mind? Oh, I'm _glad_!" + +"I really don't mind," he assured her with a strange smile. +"But ... would you mind excusing me one moment? I've forgotten +something very important." + +"Why, certainly...." + +He was already at the telephone in the hallway, just beyond the +living-room door. It was impossible to escape overhearing his words. The +woman listened perforce with, in the beginning, a little visible wonder, +then with astonishment, ultimately with a consternation that shook her +with violent tremblings. + +"Hello," said Whitaker; "get me Rector two-two-hundred.... + +"Hello? Rector two-two-hundred? North German Lloyd?... This is Mr. H. M. +Whitaker. I telephoned you fifteen minutes ago about a reservation on +the _George Washington_, sailing Saturday ... Yes.... Yes.... Yes, I +promised to call for the ticket before noon, but I now find I shan't be +able to go. Will you be kind enough to cancel it, if you please.... +Thank you.... Good-by." + +But when he turned back into the living-room he found awaiting him a +quiet and collected woman, perhaps a thought more pale than when she had +entered and with eyes that seemed a trifle darker; but on the whole +positively the mistress of herself. + +"Why did you do that?" she asked evenly. + +"Because," said Whitaker, "I've had my eyes opened. I've been watching +the finest living actress play a carefully rehearsed rôle, one that she +had given long study and all her heart to--but her interpretation didn't +ring true. Mary, I admit, at first you got me: I believed you meant what +you said. But only my mind believed it; my heart knew better, just as it +has always known better, all through this wretched time of doubt and +misery and separation you've subjected us both to. And that was why I +couldn't trust myself to answer you; for if I had, I should have laughed +for joy. O Mary, Mary!" he cried, his voice softening, "my dear, dear +woman, you can't lie to love! You betray yourself in every dear word +that would be heartless, in every adorable gesture that would seem +final! And love knows better always.... Of course I shall be in that box +to-morrow night; of course I shall be there to witness your triumph! And +after you've won it, dear, I shall carry you off with me...." + +He opened his arms wide, but with a smothered cry she backed away, +placing the table between them. + +"No!" she protested; and the words were almost sobs--"No!" + +"Yes!" he exclaimed exultantly. "Yes! A thousand times yes! It must be +so!" + +With a swift movement she seized her muff and scarf from the chair and +fled to the door. There pausing, she turned, her face white and blazing. + +"It is not true!" she cried. "You are mistaken. Do you hear me? You are +utterly mistaken. I do not love you. You are mad to think it. I have +just told you I don't love you. I am afraid of you; I daren't stay with +you for fear of you. I--I despise you!" + +[Illustration: "I do not love you. You are mad to think it"] + +"I don't believe it!" he cried, advancing. + +But she was gone. The hall door slammed before he could reach it. + +He halted, turned back, his whole long body shaking, his face wrung with +fear and uncertainty. + +"Good God!" he cried--"which of us is right--she or I?" + + + + +XXI + +BLACK OUT + + +Toward eight in the evening, after a day-long search through all his +accustomed haunts, Ember ran Whitaker to earth in the dining-room of the +Primordial. The young man, alone at table, was in the act of topping off +an excellent dinner with a still more excellent cordial and a +super-excellent cigar. His person seemed to diffuse a generous +atmosphere of contentment and satisfaction, no less mental than physical +and singularly at variance with his appearance, which, moreover, was +singularly out of keeping not only with his surroundings but also with +his normal aspect. + +He wore rough tweeds, and they were damp and baggy; his boots were +muddy; his hair was a trifle disorderly. The ensemble made a figure +wildly incongruous to the soberly splendid and stately dining-hall of +the Primordial Club, with its sparse patronage of members in +evening-dress. + +Ember, himself as severely beautiful in black and white as the +ceremonious livery of to-day permits a man to be, was wonder-struck at +sight of Whitaker in such unconventional guise, at such a time, in such +a place. With neither invitation nor salutation, he slipped into a chair +on the other side of the table, and stared. + +Whitaker smiled benignantly upon him, and called a waiter. + +Ember, always abstemious, lifted his hand and smiled a negative smile. + +Whitaker dismissed the waiter. + +"Well...?" he inquired cheerfully. + +"What right have you got to look like that?" Ember demanded. + +"The right of every free-born American citizen to make an ass of himself +according to the dictates of his conscience. I've been exploring the +dark backwards and abysm of the Bronx--afoot. Got caught in the rain on +the way home. Was late getting back, and dropped in here to celebrate." + +"I've been looking for you everywhere, since morning." + +"I suspected you would be. That's why I went walking--to be lonesome and +thoughtful for once in a way." + +Ember stroked his chin with thoughtful fingers. + +"You've heard the news, then?" + +"In three ways," Whitaker returned, with calm. + +"How's that--three ways?" + +"Through the newspapers, the billboards, and--from the lips of my wife." + +Ember opened his eyes wide. + +"You've been to see her?" + +"On the contrary." + +"The devil you say!" + +"She called this morning--" + +But Ember interrupted, thrusting a ready and generous hand across the +table: + +"My dear man, I _am_ glad!" + +Whitaker took the proffered hand readily and firmly. "Thank you.... I +was saying: she called this morning to inform me that, though wedded +once, we must be strangers now--and evermore!" + +"But you--of course--you argued that nonsense out of her head." + +"To the contrary--again." + +"But--my dear man!--you said you were celebrating; you permitted me to +congratulate you just now--" + +"The point is," said Whitaker, with a bland and confident grin; "I've +succeeded in arguing that nonsense out of my head--not hers--_mine_." + +Ember gave a helpless gesture. "I'm afraid this is one of my stupid +nights...." + +"I mean that, though Mary ran away from me, wouldn't listen to reason, I +have, in the course of an afternoon's hard tramping, come to the +conclusion that there is nothing under the sun which binds me to sit +back and accept whatever treatment she purposes according me by courtesy +of Jules Max." + +Whitaker bent forward, his countenance discovering a phase of +seriousness hitherto masked by his twisted smile. He emphasized his +points with a stiff, tapping forefinger on the cloth. + +"I mean, I'm tired of all this poppycock. Unless I'm an infatuated ass, +Mary loves me with all her heart. She has made up her mind to renounce +me partly because Max has worked upon her feelings by painting some +lurid picture of his imminent artistic and financial damnation if she +leaves him, partly because she believes, or has been led to believe, in +this 'destroying angel' moonshine. Now she's got to listen to reason. +So, likewise, Max." + +"You're becoming more human word by word," commented Ember with open +approval. "Continue; elucidate; I can understand how a fairly resolute +lover with the gift of gab can talk a weak-minded, fond female into +denying her pet superstition; but how you're going to get round Max +passes my comprehension. The man unquestionably has her under +contract--" + +"But you forgot his god is Mammon," Whitaker put in. "Max will do +anything in the world for money. Therein resides the kernel of my plan. +It's simplicity itself: I'm going to buy him." + +"Buy Max!" + +"Body--artistic soul--and breeches," Whitaker affirmed confidently. + +"Impossible!" + +"You forget how well fixed I am. What's the use of my owning half the +gold in New Guinea if it won't buy me what I already own by every moral +and legal right?" + +"He won't listen to you; you don't know Max." + +"I'm willing to lay you a small bet that there will be no first +performance at the Theatre Max to-morrow night." + +"You'll never persuade him--" + +"I'll buy the show outright and my wife's freedom to boot--or else Max +will begin to accumulate the local colour of a hospital ward." + +Ember smiled grimly. "You're beginning to convince even me. When, may I +ask, do you propose to pull off this sporting proposition?" + +"Do you know where Max can be found to-night?" + +"At the theatre--" + +"Then the matter will be arranged at the theatre between this hour and +midnight." + +"I doubt if you succeed in getting the ear of the great man before +midnight; however, I'm not disposed to quibble about a few hours." + +"But why shouldn't I?" + +"Because Max is going to be the busiest young person in town to-night. +And that is why I've been looking for you.... Conforming to his custom, +he's giving an advance glimpse of the production to the critics and a +few friends in the form of a final grand dress-rehearsal to-night. +Again, in conformance with his custom, he has honoured me with a bid. +I've been chasing you all day to find out if you'd care to go--" + +"Eight o'clock and a bit after," Whitaker interrupted briskly, +consulting his watch. "Here, boy," he hailed a passing page; "call a +taxicab for me." And then, rising alertly: "Come along; I've got to +hustle home and make myself look respectable enough for the occasion; +but at that, with luck, I fancy we'll be there before the first +curtain." + +This mood of faith, of self-reliance and assured optimism held unruffled +throughout the dash homewards, his hurried change of clothing and the +ride to the theatre. Nothing that Ember, purposely pessimistic, could +say or do availed to diminish the high buoyancy of his humour. He +maintained a serene faith in his star, a spirited temper that refused to +recognize obstacles in the way of his desire. + +In the taxicab, en route to the Theatre Max, he contrived even to distil +a good omen from the driving autumnal downpour itself.... The rain-swept +pavements, their polished blackness shot with a thousand strands of +golden brilliance; the painted bosom of the lowering, heavy sky; the +tear-drenched window-panes; even the incessant crepitation on the roof +of the scurrying, skidding cab seemed to lend a colour of assurance to +his thoughts. + +"On such a day as this," he told his doubting friend, "I won her first; +on such a day I shall win her anew, finally and for all time!..." + +From Broadway to Sixth Avenue, Forty-sixth Street was bright with the +yellow glare of the huge sign in front of the Theatre Max. But this +night, unlike that other night when he had approached the stage of his +wife's triumphs, there was no crawling rank of cabs, no eager and +curious press of people in the street; but few vehicles disputed their +way; otherwise the rain and the hurrying, rain-coated wayfarers had the +thoroughfare to themselves.... And even this he chose to consider a +favourable omen: there was not now a public to come between him and his +love--only Max and her frightened fancies. + +The man at the door recognized Ember with a cheerful nod; Whitaker he +did not know. + +"Just in time, Mr. Ember; curtain's been up about ten minutes...." + +The auditorium was in almost total darkness. A single voice was audible +from the stage that confronted it like some tremendous, moonlight canvas +in a huge frame of tarnished gold. They stole silently round the +orchestra seats to the stage-box--the same box that Whitaker had on the +former occasion occupied in company with Max. + +They succeeded in taking possession without attracting attention, either +from the owners of that scanty scattering of shirt-bosoms in the +orchestra--the critical fraternity and those intimates bidden by the +manager to the first glimpse of his new revelation in stage-craft--or +from those occupying the stage. + +The latter were but two. Evidently, though the curtain had been up for +some minutes, the action of the piece had not yet been permitted to +begin to unfold. Whitaker inferred that Max had been dissatisfied with +something about the lighting of the scene. The manager was standing in +mid-stage, staring up at the borders: a stout and pompous figure, +tenacious to every detail of that public self which he had striven so +successfully to make unforgettably individual; a figure quaintly +incongruous in his impeccable morning-coat and striped trousers and +flat-brimmed silk hat, perched well back on his head, with his malacca +stick and lemon-coloured gloves and small and excessively glossy +patent-leather shoes, posed against the counterfeit of a moonlit formal +garden. + +Aside from him, the only other occupant of the stage was Sara Law. She +sat on a stone bench with her profile to the audience, her back to the +right of the proscenium arch; so that she could not, without turning, +have noticed the entrance of Ember and her husband. A shy, slight, +deathlessly youthful figure in pale and flowing garments that moulded +themselves fluently to her sweet and girlish body, in a posture of +pensive meditation: she was nothing less than adorable. Whitaker could +not take his eyes from her, for sheer wonder and delight. + +He was only vaguely conscious that Max, at length satisfied, barked a +word to that effect to an unseen electrician off to the left, and waving +his hand with a gesture indelibly associated with his personality, +dragged a light cane-seated chair to the left of the proscenium and sat +himself down. + +"All ready?" he demanded in a sharp and irritable voice. + +The woman on the marble seat nodded imperceptibly. + +"Go ahead," snapped the manager.... + +An actor advanced from the wings, paused and addressed the seated woman. +His lines were brief. She lifted her head with a startled air, +listening. He ceased to speak, and her voice of golden velvet filled the +house with the flowing beauty of its unforgettably sweet modulations. +Beyond the footlights a handful of sophisticated and sceptical habitués +of the theatre forgot for the moment their ingrained incredulity and +thrilled in sympathy with the wonderful rapture of that voice of eternal +Youth. Whitaker himself for the time forgot that he was the husband of +this woman and her lover; she moved before his vision in the guise of +some divine creature, divinely unattainable, a dream woman divorced +utterly from any semblance of reality. + +That opening scene was one perhaps unique in the history of the stage. +Composed by Max in some mad, poetical moment of inspired plagiarism, it +not only owned a poignant and enthralling beauty of imagery, but it +moved with an almost Grecian certitude, with a significance +extraordinarily direct and devoid of circumlocution, seeming to lay bare +the living tissue of immortal drama. + +But with the appearance of other characters, there came a change: the +rare atmosphere of the opening began to dissipate perceptibly. The +action clouded and grew vague. The auditors began to feel the +flutterings of uncertainty in the air. Something was failing to cross +the footlights. The sweeping and assured gesture of the accomplished +playwright faltered: a clumsy bit of construction was damningly exposed; +faults of characterization multiplied depressingly. Sara Law herself +lost an indefinable proportion of her rare and provoking charm; the +strangeness of failing to hold her audience in an ineluctable grasp +seemed at once to nettle and distress her. Max himself seemed suddenly +to wake to the amazing fact that there was something enormously and +irremediably wrong; he began with exasperating frequency to halt the +action, to interrupt scenes with advice and demands for repetition. He +found it impossible to be still, to keep his seat or control his +rasping, irritable voice. Subordinate characters on the stage lost their +heads and either forgot to act or overacted. And then--intolerable +climax!--of a sudden somebody in the orchestra chairs laughed in +outright derision in the middle of a passage meant to be tenderly +emotional. + +The voice of Sara Law broke and fell. She stood trembling and unstrung. +Max without a word turned on his heel and swung out of sight into the +wings. Four other actors on the stage, aside from Sara Law, hesitated +and drew together in doubt and bewilderment. And then abruptly, with no +warning whatever, the illusion of gloom in the auditorium and moonlight +in the postscenium was rent away by the glare of the full complement of +electric lights installed in the house. + +A thought later, while still all were blinking and gasping with +surprise, Max strode into view just behind the footlights. Halting, he +swept the array of auditors with an ominous and truculent stare. + +So quickly was this startling change consummated that Whitaker had no +more than time to realize the reappearance of the manager before he +caught his wrathful and venomous glance fixed to his own bewildered +face. And something in the light that flickered wildly behind Max's eyes +reminded him so strongly of a similar expression he had remarked in the +eyes of Drummond, the night the latter had been captured by Ember and +Sum Fat, that in alarm he half rose from his seat. + +Simultaneously he saw Max spring toward the box, with a distorted and +snarling countenance. He was tugging at something in his pocket. It +appeared in the shape of a heavy pistol. + +Instantly Whitaker was caught and tripped by Ember and sent sprawling on +the floor of the box. As this happened, he heard the voice of the +firearm, sharp and vicious--a single report. + +Unhurt, he picked himself up in time to catch a glimpse of Max, on the +stage, momentarily helpless in the embrace of a desperate and frantic +woman who had caught his arms from behind and, presumably, had so +deflected his arm. In the same breath Ember, who had leaped to the +railing round the box, threw himself across the footlights with the +lithe certainty of a beast of prey and, seemingly in as many deft +motions, knocked the pistol from the manager's hand, wrested him from +the arms of the actress, laid him flat and knelt upon him. + +With a single bound Whitaker followed him to the stage; in another he +had his wife in his arms and was soothing her first transports of +semi-hysterical terror.... + + * * * * * + +It was possibly a quarter of an hour later when Ember paused before a +door in the ground floor dressing-room gangway of the Theatre Max--a +door distinguished by the initials "S L" in the centre of a golden star. +With some hesitation, with even a little diffidence, he lifted a hand +and knocked. + +At once the door was opened by the maid, Elise. Recognizing Ember, she +smiled and stood aside, making way for him to enter the small, curtained +lobby. + +"Madam--and Monsieur," she said with smiling significance, "told me to +show you in at once, Monsieur Ember." + +From beyond the curtains, Whitaker's voice lifted up impatiently: "That +you, old man? Come right in!" + +Nodding to the maid, Ember thrust aside the portières and stepped into +the brightly-lighted dressing-room, then paused, bowing and smiling his +self-contained, tolerant smile: in appearance as imperturbable and +well-groomed as though he had just escaped from the attentions of a +valet, rather than from a furious hand-to-hand tussle with a vicious +monomaniac. + +Mary Whitaker, as yet a little pale and distrait and still in costume, +was reclining on a chaise-longue. Whitaker was standing close beside his +wife; his face the theatre of conflicting emotions; Ember, at least, +thought with a shrewd glance to recognize a pulsating light of joy +beneath a mask of interest and distress and a flush of embarrassment. + +"I am intruding?" he suggested gravely, with a slight turn as if +offering to withdraw. + +"No." + +The word faltering on the lips of Mary Whitaker was lost in an emphatic +iteration by Whitaker. + +"Sit down!" he insisted. "As if we'd let you escape, now, after you'd +kept us here in suspense!" + +He offered a chair, but Ember first advanced to take the hand held out +to him by the woman on the chaise-longue. + +"You are feeling--more composed?" he inquired. + +Her gaze met his bravely. "I am--troubled, perhaps--but happy," she +said. + +"Then I am very glad," he said, smiling at the delicate colour that +enhanced her exquisite beauty as she made the confession. "I had hoped +as much." He looked from the one to the other. "You ... have made up +your minds?" + +The wife answered for both: "It is settled, dear friend: I can struggle +no longer. I thought myself a strong woman; I have tried to believe +myself a genius bound upon the wheel of an ill-starred destiny; but I +find I am"--the glorious voice trembled slightly--"only a woman in love +and no stronger than her love." + +"I am very glad," Ember repeated, "for both your sakes. It's a happy +consummation of my dearest wishes." + +"We owe you everything," Whitaker said with feeling, dropping an awkward +hand on the other's shoulder. "It was you who threw us together, down +there on the Great West Bay, so that we learned to know one another...." + +"I plead guilty to that little plot--yes," Ember laughed. "But, best of +all, this comes at just the right time--the rightest time, when there +can no longer be any doubts or questions or misunderstandings, no ground +for further fears and apprehensions, when 'the destroying angel' of your +'ill-starred destiny,' my dear"--he turned to the woman--"is +exorcised--banished--proscribed--" + +"Max--!" Whitaker struck in explosively. + +"--is on his way to the police-station, well guarded," Ember affirmed +with a nod and a grim smile. "I have his confession, roughly jotted down +but signed, and attested by several witnesses.... I'm glad you were out +of the way; it was rather a painful scene, and disorderly; it wouldn't +have been pleasant for Mrs. Whitaker.... We had the deuce of a time +clearing the theatre: human curiosity is a tremendously persistent and +resistant force. And then I had some trouble dealing with the misplaced +loyalty of the staff of the house.... However, eventually I got Max to +myself--alone, that is, with several men I could depend on. And then I +heartlessly put him through the third degree--forestalling my friends, +the police. By dint of asserting as truths and personal discoveries what +I merely suspected, I broke down his denials. He owned up, doggedly +enough, and yet with that singular pride which I have learned to +associate with some phases of homicidal mania.... I won't distress you +with details: the truth is that Max was quite mad on the subject of his +luck; he considered it, as I suspected, indissolubly associated with +Sara Law. When poor Custer committed suicide, he saved Max from ruin and +innocently showed him the way to save himself thereafter, when he felt +in peril, by assassinating Hamilton and, later, Thurston. Drummond only +cheated a like fate, and you"--turning to Whitaker--"escaped by the +narrowest shave. Max hadn't meant to run the risk of putting you out of +the way unless he thought it absolutely necessary, but the failure of +his silly play in rehearsal to-night, coupled with the discovery that +you were in the theatre, drove him temporarily insane with hate, chagrin +and jealousy." + +Concluding, Ember rose. "I must follow him now to the police-station.... +I shall see you both soon again--?" + +The woman gave him both her hands. "There's no way to thank you," she +said--"our dear, dear friend!" + +"No way," Whitaker echoed regretfully. + +"No way?" Ember laughed quietly, holding her hands tightly clasped. "But +I see you together--happy--Oh, believe me, I am fully thanked!" + +Bowing, he touched his lips gently to both hands, released them with a +little sigh that ended in a contented chuckle, exchanged a short, firm +grasp with Whitaker, and left them.... + +Whitaker, following almost immediately to the gangway, found that Ember +had already left the theatre. + +For some minutes he wandered to and fro in the gangway, pausing now and +again on the borders of the deserted stage. There were but few of the +house staff visible, and those few were methodically busy with +preparations to close up. Beyond the dismal gutter of the footlights the +auditorium yawned cavernous and shadowy, peopled only by low rows of +chairs ghostly in their dust-cloths. The street entrances were already +closed, locked and dark. On the stage a single cluster-stand of electric +bulbs made visible the vast, gloomy dome of the flies and the +whitewashed walls against which sections of scenery were stacked like +cards. An electrician in his street clothes lounged beside the +door-keeper's cubicle, at the stage entrance, smoking a cigarette and +conferring with the doorman while subjecting Whitaker to a curious and +antagonistic stare. The muffled rumble of their voices were the only +sounds audible, aside from an occasional racket of boot-heels in the +gangways as one actor after another left his dressing-room and hastened +to the street, keen-set for the clash of gossiping tongues in theatrical +clubs and restaurants. + +Gradually the building grew more and more empty and silent, until at +length Whitaker was left alone with the shadows and the two employees. +These last betrayed signs of impatience. He himself felt a little +sympathy for their temper. Women certainly did take an unconscionable +time to dress!... + +At length he heard them hurrying along the lower gangway, and turned to +join his wife at the stage-entrance. Elise passed on, burdened with two +heavy hand-bags, and disappeared into the rain-washed alleyway. The +electrician detached his shoulders from the wall, ground his cigarette +under heel and lounged over to the switchboard. + +Mary Whitaker turned her face, shadowy and mystical, touched with her +faint and inscrutable smile, up to her husband's. + +"Wait," she begged in a whisper. "I want to see"--her breath +checked--"the end of it all." + +They heard hissings and clickings at the switchboard. The gangway lights +vanished in a breath. The single cluster-stand on the stage +disappeared--and the house disappeared utterly with its extinguishment. +There remained alight only the single dull bulb in the doorman's +cubicle. + +Whitaker slipped an arm round his wife. She trembled within his embrace. + +"Black out," she said in a gentle and regretful voice: "the last exit: +Curtain--End of the Play!" + +"No," he said in a voice of sublime confidence--"no; it's only +the prologue curtain. Now for the play, dear heart ... the real +play ... life ... love...." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL*** + + +******* This file should be named 32302-8.txt or 32302-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/3/0/32302 + + + +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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Keller</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Destroying Angel</p> +<p>Author: Louis Joseph Vance</p> +<p>Release Date: May 8, 2010 [eBook #32302]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/destroyingangel00vanciala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/destroyingangel00vanciala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<div class="figright"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + +<h1>THE DESTROYING ANGEL</h1> + +<h2>By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE</h2> + +<h3>Author of "The Brass Bowl," "The Bronze Bell," "The Bandbox," "Cynthia +of the Minute," Etc.</h3> + + +<h4>WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS<br /> +BY ARTHUR I. KELLER</h4> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h4>A. L. BURT COMPANY<br /> +<span class="smcap">Publishers New York</span></h4> + +<h4><i>Copyright, 1912</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By Louis Joseph Vance.</span></h4> + +<h4><i>All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign<br /> +languages, including the Scandinavian.</i></h4> + +<h4>Published, October, 1912.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4>TO</h4> + +<h4>ROBERT HOBART DAVIS</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus1" id="illus1"></a> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#I">I. <span class="smcap">Doom</span></a><br /> +<a href="#II">II. <span class="smcap">The Last Straw</span></a><br /> +<a href="#III">III. "<span class="smcap">Mrs. Morten</span>"</a><br /> +<a href="#IV">IV. <span class="smcap">Mrs. Whitaker</span></a><br /> +<a href="#V">V. <span class="smcap">Wilful Missing</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VI">VI. <span class="smcap">Curtain</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VII">VII. <span class="smcap">The Late Extra</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VIII">VIII. <span class="smcap">A History</span></a><br /> +<a href="#IX">IX. <span class="smcap">Entr'acte</span></a><br /> +<a href="#X">X. <span class="smcap">The Window</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XI">XI. <span class="smcap">The Spy</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XII">XII. <span class="smcap">The Mouse-Trap</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XIII">XIII. <span class="smcap">Offshore</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XIV">XIV. <span class="smcap">Débâcle</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XV">XV. <span class="smcap">Disclosures</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XVI">XVI. <span class="smcap">The Beacon</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XVII">XVII. <span class="smcap">Discovery</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XVIII">XVIII. <span class="smcap">Blight</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XIX">XIX. <span class="smcap">Capitulation</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XX">XX. <span class="smcap">Temperamental</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XXI">XXI. <span class="smcap">Black Out</span></a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#illus1">Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">Her eyes fastened dilating, upon his. The scene faltered perceptibly</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">Whitaker felt land beneath his feet</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">"I do not love you. You are mad to think it"</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE DESTROYING ANGEL</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3>DOOM</h3> + + +<p>"Then I'm to understand there's no hope for me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not...." Greyerson said reluctantly, sympathy in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"None whatever." The verdict was thus brusquely emphasized by Hartt, one +of the two consulting specialists.</p> + +<p>Having spoken, he glanced at his watch, then at the face of his +colleague, Bushnell, who contented himself with a tolerant waggle of his +head, apparently meant to imply that the subject of their deliberations +really must be reasonable: anybody who wilfully insists on footing the +measures of life with a defective constitution for a partner has no +logical excuse for being reluctant to pay the Piper.</p> + +<p>Whitaker looked quickly from one to the other of his three judges, +acutely sensitive to the dread significance to be detected in the +expression of each. He found only one kind and pitiful: no more than +might have been expected of Greyerson, who was his friend. Of the +others, Hartt had assumed a stony glare to mask the nervousness so +plainly betrayed by his staccato accents; it hurt him to inflict pain, +and he was horribly afraid lest the patient break down and "make a +scene." Bushnell, on the other hand, was imperturbable by nature: a man +to whom all men were simply "cases"; he sat stroking his long chin and +hoping that Whitaker would have the decency soon to go and leave them +free to talk shop—his pet dissipation.</p> + +<p>Failing to extract the least glimmering of hope from the attitude of any +one of them, Whitaker drew a long breath, unconsciously bracing himself +in his chair.</p> + +<p>"It's funny," he said with his nervous smile—"hard to realize, I mean. +You see, I <i>feel</i> so fit—"</p> + +<p>"Between attacks," Hartt interjected quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Whitaker had to admit, dashed.</p> + +<p>"Attacks," said Bushnell, heavily, "recurrent at intervals constantly +more brief, each a trifle more severe than its predecessor."</p> + +<p>He shut his thin lips tight, as one who has consciously pronounced the +last word.</p> + +<p>Greyerson sighed.</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand," argued the prisoner at the bar, plaintively +bewildered. "Why, I rowed with the Crew three years hand-running—not a +sign of anything wrong with me!"</p> + +<p>"If you had then had proper professional advice, you would have spared +yourself such strains. But it's too late now; the mischief can't be +undone."</p> + +<p>Evidently Bushnell considered the last word his prerogative. Whitaker +turned from him impatiently.</p> + +<p>"What about an operation?" he demanded of Greyerson.</p> + +<p>The latter looked away, making only a slight negative motion with his +head.</p> + +<p>"The knife?" observed Hartt. "That would merely hasten matters."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Bushnell affirmed....</p> + +<p>There was a brief uneasy silence in the gloomy consulting room. Then +Whitaker rose.</p> + +<p>"Well, how long will you give me?" he asked in a strained voice.</p> + +<p>"Six months," said Greyerson, miserably avoiding his eye.</p> + +<p>"Three," Hartt corrected jerkily.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps...." The proprietor of the last word stroked his chin with a +contemplative air.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," said Whitaker, without irony. He stood for an instant with his +head bowed in thought. "What a damned outrage," he observed +thoughtfully. And suddenly he turned and flung out of the room.</p> + +<p>Greyerson jumped to follow him, but paused as he heard the crash of the +street door. He turned back with a twitching, apologetic smile.</p> + +<p>"Poor devil!" he said, sitting down at his desk and fishing a box of +cigars from one of the drawers.</p> + +<p>"Takes it hard," commented Hartt.</p> + +<p>"You would, too, at his age; he's barely twenty-five."</p> + +<p>"Must feel more or less like a fellow whose wife has run off with his +best friend."</p> + +<p>"No comparison," said Bushnell bluntly. "Go out, get yourself arrested +for a brutal murder you didn't commit, get tried and sentenced to death +within six months, the precise date being left to the discretion of the +executioner—<i>then</i> you'll know how he feels."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me"—Greyerson handed round the box—"he feels pretty shaky +and abused, and he wants a drink badly—the same as me."</p> + +<p>He unlocked a cellaret.</p> + +<p>"Married?" Hartt inquired.</p> + +<p>"No. That's the only mitigating circumstance," said Greyerson, +distributing glasses. "He's quite alone in the world, as far as I +know—no near relatives, at least."</p> + +<p>"Well off?"</p> + +<p>"Tolerably. Comes of good people. Believe his family had a lot of money +at one time. Don't know how much of it there was left for Whitaker. He's +junior partner in a young law firm down-town—senior a friend or +classmate of his, I understand: Drummond & Whitaker. Moves with the +right sort of people. Young Stark—Peter Stark—is his closest +friend.... Well.... Say when."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST STRAW</h3> + + +<p>Greyerson was right in his surmise as to Hugh Whitaker's emotions. His +soul still numb with shock, his mind was altogether preoccupied with +petulant resentment of the unfairness of it all; on the surface of the +stunning knowledge that he might count on no more than six months of +life, floated this thin film of sensation of personal grievance. He had +done nothing to deserve this. The sheer brutality of it....</p> + +<p>He felt very shaky indeed.</p> + +<p>He stood for a long time—how long he never knew—bareheaded on a +corner, just as he had left Greyerson's office: scowling at nothing, +considering the enormity of the wrong that had been put upon him. Later, +realizing that people were staring, he clapped on his hat to satisfy +them and strode aimlessly down Sixth Avenue. It was five o'clock in the +afternoon of a day late in April—a raw, chilly, dark, unseasonable +brute of a day. He found himself walking fast, instinctively, to keep +his blood in warm circulation, and this struck him as so inconsistent +that presently he stopped short and snarled at himself:</p> + +<p>"You blithering fool, what difference does it make whether you're warm +or cold? Don't you understand you're going to die within half a year?"</p> + +<p>He strove manfully to grapple with this hideous fact. He felt so well, +so strong and efficient; and yet he walked in the black shadow of death, +a shadow from which there was for him no escape.</p> + +<p>He thought it the damnedest sensation imaginable!</p> + +<p>On top of this reflection came the third clause of Greyerson's analysis: +he made the discovery that he wanted a drink—a lot of drinks: in point +of fact, more than he had ever had before, enough to make him forget.</p> + +<p>He turned across-town toward Fifth Avenue, came to his club, and went +in. Passing through the office, force of habit swung his gaze to the +letter-rack. There was a square white envelope in the W pigeonhole, and +it proved to be addressed to him. He knew the handwriting very well—too +well; his heart gave a great jump as he recognized it, and then sank +like a stone; for not only must he die, but he must give up the girl he +loved and had planned to marry. The first thing he meant to do (after +getting that drink) was to write to her and explain and release her from +her promise. The next thing....</p> + +<p>He refused to let the idea of the next step form in his mind. But he +knew very well what it would be. In the backwards of his understanding +it lurked—a gray, grisly, shameful shadow.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow," he muttered, "I'm not going to stick round here, dying by +inches, wearing the sympathy of my friends to tatters."</p> + +<p>But as yet he dared not name the alternative.</p> + +<p>He stuffed the letter into his pocket, and passed on to the elevator +gates, meaning to go up to the library and there have his drink and read +his letter and write the answer, in peace and quiet. The problem of that +answer obsessed his thoughts. It would be hard—hard to write—that +letter that meant the breaking of a woman's faithful heart.</p> + +<p>The elevator kept him waiting a moment or two, just round the corner +from the grill-room door, whence came a sound of voices talking and +laughing. One was Billy Hamilton's unmistakable semi-jocular drawl. +Whitaker knew it without thinking of it, even as he heard what was being +said without, at first, comprehending—heard and afterwards remembered +in vivid detail.</p> + +<p>"Seems to be the open season for runaways," Hamilton was saying. "It's +only a few days since Thurlow Ladislas's daughter—what's her +name?—Mary—took the bit between her teeth and bolted with the old +man's chauffeur."</p> + +<p>Somebody asked: "How far did they get before old Ladislas caught up?"</p> + +<p>"He didn't give chase. He's not that kind. If he was put to it, old +Thurlow could play the unforgiving parent in a melodrama without any +make-up whatever."</p> + +<p>"That's right," little Fiske's voice put in. "Chap I know on the +<i>Herald</i>—reporter—was sent to interview him, but old Ladislas told him +quite civilly that he'd been misinformed—he hadn't any daughter named +Mary. Meaning, of course, that the girl had defied him, and that his +doors were thenceforth barred to her."</p> + +<p>"He's just like that," said Hamilton. "Remember his other daughter, +Grace, eloping with young Pettit a few years ago? Old Ladislas had a +down on Pettit—who's a decent enough kid, notwithstanding—so Grace was +promptly disowned and cast into the outer darkness, where there's +weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, because Pettit's only +something-on-a-small-salary in the diplomatic service, and they've no +hope of ever touching a penny of the Ladislas coin."</p> + +<p>"But what became of them—Mary and the stoker-person?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows, except possibly themselves. They're laying low +and—probably—getting first-hand information as to the quantity of +cheese and kisses they can afford on chauffeur's pay."</p> + +<p>"What's she like, this Mary-quite-contrary?" inquired George Brenton's +voice. "Anybody ever see her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing but a kid," said little Fiske. "I used to see her often, +last summer, kiting round Southampton on a bike. The old man's so mean +he wouldn't let her use the car alone.... Weedy little beggar, all legs +and eyes—skirts to her shoe-tops and hair to her waist."</p> + +<p>"Not over eighteen, I gather?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not a day," little Fiske affirmed.</p> + +<p>The elevator was waiting by this time, but Whitaker paused an instant +before taking it, chiefly because the sound of his own name, uttered by +Hamilton, had roused him out of the abstraction in which he had +overheard the preceding conversation.</p> + +<p>"Anyhow, I'm sorry for Hugh Whitaker. He's going to take this hard, +mighty hard."</p> + +<p>George Brenton asked, as if surprised: "What? I didn't know he was +interested in that quarter."</p> + +<p>"You must be blind. Alice Carstairs has had him going for a year. +Everybody thought she was only waiting for him to make some big +money—he as much as anybody, I fancy."</p> + +<p>Brenton added the last straw. "That's tough," he said soberly. +"Whitaker's a white man, and Alice Carstairs didn't deserve him. But I +wouldn't blame any man for feeling cut-up to be thrown over for an +out-and-out rotter like Percy Grimshaw...."</p> + +<p>Whitaker heard no more. At the first mention of the name of Alice +Carstairs he had snatched her letter from his pocket and thrust his +thumb beneath the flap. Now he had withdrawn the enclosure and was +reading.</p> + +<p>When a mean-spirited, selfish woman starts in to justify herself +(especially, on paper) for doing something thoroughly contemptible, the +result is apt to be bitterly unfair to everybody involved—except +herself. Nobody will ever know just what Alice Carstairs saw fit to +write to Hugh Whitaker when she made up her mind to run away with +another man; but there can be little doubt that they were venomous words +he read, standing there under the curious eyes of the elevator boy and +the pages. The blood ebbed from his face and left it ghastly, and when +he had torn the paper to shreds and let them flutter about his feet, he +swayed perceptibly—so much so that one of the pages took alarm and +jumped to his side.</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, Mr. Whitaker—did you call me?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker steadied himself and stared until he recognized the boy. "No," +he said thickly, "but I want you. Give me a bar order."</p> + +<p>The boy produced the printed form and Whitaker hastily scribbled his +order on it. "Bring that up to the library," he said, "and be quick +about it."</p> + +<p>He stumbled into the elevator, and presently found himself in the +library. There was no one else about, and Whitaker was as glad of that +as it was in him to be glad of anything just then. He dropped heavily +into a big arm-chair and waited, his brain whirling and seething, his +nerves on edge and screeching. In this state Peter Stark found him.</p> + +<p>Peter sauntered into the room with a manner elaborately careless. +Beneath that mask he was anything but indifferent, just as his +appearance was anything but fortuitous. It happened that the page who +had taken Whitaker's order, knowing that Peter and Hugh were close +friends, and suspecting that something was wrong with the latter, had +sought out Peter before going to get the order filled. Moreover, Peter +had already heard about Alice Carstairs and Percy Grimshaw.</p> + +<p>"Hel-<i>lo</i>!" he said, contriving by mere accident to catch sight of +Whitaker, who was almost invisible in the big chair with its back to the +body of the room. "What you doing up here, Hugh? What's up?"</p> + +<p>"It's all up," said Whitaker, trying to pull himself together. +"Everything's up!"</p> + +<p>"Don't believe it," said Stark, coolly. "My feet are on the ground; but +you look as if you'd seen a ghost."</p> + +<p>"I have—my own," said Whitaker. The page now stood beside him with a +tray. "Open it," he told the boy, indicating a half-bottle of champagne; +and then to Peter: "I'm having a bath. Won't you jump in?"</p> + +<p>Peter whistled, watching the wine cream over the brandy in the long +glass. "King's peg, eh?" he said, with a lift of disapproving eyebrows. +"Here, boy, bring me some Scotch and plain water for common people."</p> + +<p>The boy disappeared as Whitaker lifted his glass.</p> + +<p>"I'm not waiting," he said bluntly. "I need this now."</p> + +<p>"That's a question, in my mind, at least. Don't you think you've had +about enough for one day?"</p> + +<p>"I leave it to your superior knowledge of my capacity," said Whitaker, +putting aside the empty glass. "That's my first to-day."</p> + +<p>Peter saw that he was telling the truth, but the edge of his disapproval +remained keen.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he said thoughtfully, "that the man who started that lie about +drink making a fellow forget died the death of a dog. He deserved to, +anyway, because it's one of the cruellest practical jokes ever +perpetrated on the human race. I know, because I've tried it on, +hard—and waked up sick to my marrow to remember what a disgusting ass +I'd made of myself for all to behold." He stopped at Whitaker's side and +dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Hugh," he said, "you're one of the +best. Don't...."</p> + +<p>Whatever he had meant to say, he left unfinished because of the return +of the page with his Scotch; but he had said enough to let Whitaker +understand that he knew about the Carstairs affair.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," said Whitaker; "I'm not going to make a damn' fool +of myself, but I am in a pretty bad way. Boy—"</p> + +<p>"Hold on!" Peter interrupted. "You're not going to order another? What +you've had is enough to galvanize a corpse."</p> + +<p>"Barring the negligible difference of a few minutes or months, that's +me," returned Whitaker. "But never mind, boy—run along."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to know what you mean by that," Peter remarked, obviously +worried.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I'm practically a dead man—so near it that it makes no +difference."</p> + +<p>"The devil you say! What's the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Greyerson. I can't remember the name—it's too long—and I couldn't +pronounce it if I did."</p> + +<p>Peter's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness has Greyerson been putting into +your head?" he demanded. "I've a good mind to go punch his—"</p> + +<p>"It isn't his fault," Whitaker asserted. "It's my own—or rather, it's +something in the nature of a posthumous gift from my progenitors; +several of 'em died of it, and now it seems I must. Greyerson says so, +at least, and when I didn't believe him he called in Hartt and Bushnell +to hold my ante-mortem. They made it unanimous. If I'm uncommonly lucky +I may live to see next Thanksgiving."</p> + +<p>"Oh, shut up!" Peter exploded viciously. "You make me tired—you and +your bone-headed M.D.'s!"</p> + +<p>He worked himself into a comforting rage, damning the medical fraternity +liberally for a gang of bloodthirsty assassins and threatening to commit +assault and battery upon the person of Greyerson, though Whitaker did +his best to make him understand that matters were what they +were—irremediable.</p> + +<p>"You won't find any higher authorities than Hartt and Bushnell," he +said. "They are the court of last resort in such cases. When they hand +down a decision, there's no come-back."</p> + +<p>"You can't make me believe that," Peter insisted. "It just can't be so. +A man like you, who's always lived clean.... Why, look at your athletic +record! Do you mean to tell me a fellow could hold a job as undisputed +best all-round man in his class for four years, and all the time +handicapped by a constitutional...? Oh, get out! Don't talk to me. I'm +far more likely to be doing my bit beneath the daisies six months from +now.... I won't believe it!"</p> + +<p>His big, red, generous fist described a large and inconclusive gesture +of violence.</p> + +<p>"Well," he growled finally, "grant all this—which I don't, not for one +little minute—what do you mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind telling you," said Whitaker: "I don't know. Wish I did. Up +to within the last few minutes I fully intended to cut the knot with my +own knife. It's not reasonable to ask a man to sit still and watch +himself go slowly to pieces...."</p> + +<p>"No," said Stark, sitting down. "No," he admitted grudgingly; "but I'm +glad you've given that up, because I'm right and all these fool doctors +are wrong. You'll see. But...." He couldn't help being curious. "But +why?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Whitaker considered slowly—"it's Alice Carstairs. You know what +she's done."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you're going—that you think there's any +consideration due her?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you?" Whitaker smiled wearily. "Perhaps you're right. I don't +know. We won't discuss the ethics of the situation; right or wrong, I +don't mean to shadow whatever happiness she has in store for her by +ostentatiously snuffing myself out just now."</p> + +<p>Peter gulped and succeeded in saying nothing. But he stared.</p> + +<p>"At the same time," Whitaker resumed, "I don't think I can stand this +sort of thing. I can't go round with my flesh creeping to hear the +whisperings behind my back. I've got to do something—get away +somewhere."</p> + +<p>Abrupt inspiration sparked the imagination of Peter Stark, and he began +to sputter with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I've got it!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "A sea trip's just the +thing. Chances are, it'll turn the trick—bring you round all right-O, +and prove what asses doctors are. What d'you say? Are you game for a +sail? The <i>Adventuress</i> is laid up at New Bedford now, but I can have +her put in commission within three days. We'll do it—we'll just light +out, old man! We'll try that South Seas thing we've talked about so +long. What d'you say?"</p> + +<p>A warm light glowed in Whitaker's sunken eyes. He nodded slowly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3>"MRS. MORTEN"</h3> + + +<p>It was three in the morning before Peter Stark, having to the best of +his endurance and judgment tired Whitaker out with talking, took his hat +and his departure from Whitaker's bachelor rooms. He went with little +misgiving; Whitaker was so weary that he would have to sleep before he +could think and again realize his terror; and everything was arranged. +Peter had telegraphed to have the <i>Adventuress</i> rushed into commission; +they were to go aboard her the third day following. In the meantime, +Whitaker would have little leisure in which to brood, the winding up of +his affairs being counted upon to occupy him. Peter had his own affairs +to look to, for that matter, but he was prepared to slight them if +necessary, in order that Whitaker might not be left too much to +himself....</p> + +<p>Whitaker shut the hall door, when the elevator had taken Peter away, and +turned back wearily into his living-room. It was three in the morning; +his body ached with fatigue, his eyes were hot and aching in their +sockets, and his mouth hot and parched with excess of smoking; yet he +made no move toward his bedchamber. Insomnia was a diagnostic of his +malady: a fact he hadn't mentioned to his friend. He had little wish to +surrender his mind to the devils that haunt a wakeful pillow, especially +now when he could feel the reaction setting in from the anodynous +excitement of the last few hours. Peter Stark's whirlwind enthusiasm had +temporarily swept him off his feet, and he had yielded to it, +unresisting, selfish enough to want to be carried away against the wiser +counsels of his intuition.</p> + +<p>But now, alone, doubts beset him.</p> + +<p>Picking his way across a floor littered with atlases, charts, maps and +guide-books, he resumed his chair and pipe and with the aid of a copy of +"The Wrecker" and a nightcap, strove to drug himself again with the +fascination of the projected voyage. But the savour had gone out of it +all. An hour before he had been able to distil a potent magic, thought +obliterating, by sheer force of repetition of the names, Apia, Hawaii, +Tahiti, Samoa.... Now all their promise was an emptiness and a mockery. +The book slipped unheeded from his grasp; his pipe grew cold between his +teeth; his eyes burned like lamps in their deep hollows, with their +steady and undeviating glare....</p> + +<p>Dawn-dusk filled the high windows with violet light before he moved.</p> + +<p>He rose, went to the bath-room and took a bottle of chloral from the +medicine-closet. He wondered at the steadiness of the hand that measured +out the prescribed dose—no more, no less. He wondered at the strength +of will which enabled him to take no more. There was enough in the +bottle to purchase him eternity.</p> + +<p>What he took bought him three hours of oblivion. He rose at eight, +ordered his breakfast up by telephone, bathed and dressed. When the tray +came up, his mail came with it. Among others there was one letter in a +woman's hand which he left till the last, amusing himself by trying to +guess the identity of the writer, the writing being not altogether +strange to him. When at length he gave over this profitless employment, +he read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Hugh</span>: I can call you that, now, because you're Peter's +dearest friend and therefore mine, and the proof of that is that +I'm telling you first of all of our great happiness. Peter and I +found out that we loved one another only yesterday, so we're going +to be married the first of June and...."</p></div> + +<p>Whitaker read no more. He could guess the rest, and for the moment he +felt too sick a man to go through to the end. Indeed, the words were +blurring and running together beneath his gaze.</p> + +<p>After a long time he put the letter aside, absent-mindedly swallowed a +cup of lukewarm coffee and rose from an otherwise untasted meal.</p> + +<p>"That settles that, of course," he said quietly. "And it means I've got +to hustle to get ahead of Peter."</p> + +<p>He set busily about his preparations, thinking quickly while he packed. +It occurred to him that he had, after all, several hours in which to +catch together the loose ends of things and make an exit without leaving +the businesses of his clients in a hopeless snarl; Peter Stark would +sleep till eleven, at least, and it would be late in the afternoon +before the young man could see his fiancée and find out from her that +Whitaker knew of the sacrifice Peter contemplated for friendship's sake.</p> + +<p>Whitaker packed a hand-bag with a few essentials, not forgetting the +bottle of chloral. He was not yet quite sure what he meant to do after +he had definitely put himself out of Peter Stark's sphere of influence, +but he hadn't much doubt that the drug was destined to play a most +important part in the ultimate solution, and would as readily have +thought of leaving it behind as of going without a toothbrush or railway +fare.</p> + +<p>Leaving the bag in the parcels-room at the Grand Central Station, he +went down-town to his office and put in a busy morning. Happily his +partner, Drummond, was out of town for the day; so he was able to put +his desk in order unhindered by awkward questionings. He worked +expeditiously, having no callers until just before he was ready to +leave. Then he was obliged to admit one who desired to make a settlement +in an action brought against him by Messrs. Drummond & Whitaker. He took +Whitaker's receipt for the payment in cash, leaving behind him fifteen +one-hundred-dollar notes. Whitaker regarded this circumstance as a +special dispensation of Providence to save him the bother of stopping at +the bank on his way up-town; drew his personal check for the right +amount and left it with a memorandum under the paper-weight on +Drummond's desk; put a match to a shredded pile of personal +correspondence in the fireplace; and caught a train at the Grand Central +at one-three.</p> + +<p>Not until the cars were in motion did he experience any sense of +security from Peter Stark. He had been apprehensive until that moment of +some unforeseen move on the part of his friend; Peter was capable of +wide but sure casts of intuition on occasion, especially where his +affections were touched. But now Whitaker felt free, free to abandon +himself to meditative despair; and he did it, as he did most things, +thoroughly. He plunged headlong into an everlasting black pit of terror. +He considered the world through the eyes of a man sick unto death, and +found it without health. Behind him lay his home, a city without a +heart, a place of pointing fingers and poisoned tongues; before him the +brief path of Fear that he must tread: his broken, sword-wide span +leaping out over the Abyss....</p> + +<p>He was anything but a patient man at all times, and anything but sane in +that dark hour. Cold horror crawled in his brain like a delirium—horror +of himself, of his morbid flesh, of that moribund body unfit to sheathe +the clean fire of life. The thought of struggling to keep animate that +corrupt Self, tainted by the breath of Death, was invincibly terrible to +him. All sense of human obligation disappeared from his cosmos; remained +only the biting hunger for eternal peace, rest, freedom from the bondage +of existence....</p> + +<p>At about four o'clock the train stopped to drop the dining-car. Wholly +swayed by blind impulse, Whitaker got up, took his hand-bag and left the +car.</p> + +<p>On the station platform he found himself pelted by a pouring rain. He +had left Town in a sodden drizzle, dull and dismal enough in all +conscience; here was a downpour out of a sky three shades lighter than +India ink—a steadfast, grim rain that sluiced the streets like a +gigantic fire-hose, brimming the gutters with boiling, muddy torrents.</p> + +<p>The last to leave the train, he found himself without a choice of +conveyances; but one remained at the edge of the platform, an aged and +decrepit four-wheeler whose patriarchal driver upon the box might have +been Death himself masquerading in dripping black oilskins. To +Whitaker's inquiry he recommended the C'mercial House. Whitaker agreed +and imprisoned himself in the body of the vehicle, sitting on stained +and faded, threadbare cushions, in company with two distinct odours, of +dank and musty upholstery and of stale tuberoses. As they rocked and +crawled away, the blind windows wept unceasingly, and unceasingly the +rain drummed the long roll on the roof.</p> + +<p>In time they stopped before a rambling structure whose weather-boarded +façade, white with flaking paint, bore the legend: <span class="smcap">Commercial House</span>. +Whitaker paid his fare and, unassisted, carried his hand-bag up the +steps and across the rain-swept veranda into a dim, cavernous hall whose +walls were lined with cane-seated arm-chairs punctuated at every second +chair by a commodious brown-fibre cuspidor. A cubicle fenced off in one +corner formed the office proper—for the time being untenanted. There +was, indeed, no one in sight but a dejected hall-boy, innocent of any +sort of livery. On demand he accommodatingly disentangled himself from a +chair, a cigarette and a paper-backed novel, and wandered off down a +corridor, ostensibly to unearth the boss.</p> + +<p>Whitaker waited by the desk, a gaunt, weary man, hag-ridden by fear. +There was in his mind a desolate picture of the room up-stairs when +he—his soul: the imperishable essence of himself—should have finished +with it....</p> + +<p>At his elbow lay the hotel register, open at a page neatly headed with a +date in red ink. An absence of entries beneath the date-line seemed to +indicate that he was the first guest of the day. Near the book was a +small wooden corral neatly partitioned into stalls wherein were herded +an ink-well, toothpicks, matches, some stationery, and—severely by +itself—a grim-looking raw potato of uncertain age, splotched with ink +and wearing like horns two impaled penholders.</p> + +<p>Laboriously prying loose one of the latter, Whitaker registered; but +two-thirds of his name was all he entered; when it came to "Whitaker," +his pen paused and passed on to write "Philadelphia" in the residence +column.</p> + +<p>The thought came to him that he must be careful to obliterate all +laundry marks on his clothing.</p> + +<p>In his own good time the clerk appeared: a surly, heavy-eyed, loutish +creature in clothing that suggested he had been grievously misled by +pictures in the advertising pages of magazines. Whitaker noted, with +insensate irritation, that he wore his hair long over one eye, his mouth +ajar, his trousers high enough to disclose bony purple ankles. His +welcome to the incoming guest was comprised in an indifferent nod as +their eyes met, and a subsequent glance at the register which seemed +unaccountably to moderate his apathy.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Morton—uh?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Whitaker nodded without words.</p> + +<p>The youth shrugged and scrawled an hieroglyph after the name. "Here, +Sammy," he said to the boy—"Forty-three." To Whitaker he addressed the +further remark: "Trunks?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The youth seemed about to expostulate, but checked when Whitaker placed +one of his hundred-dollar notes on the counter.</p> + +<p>"I think that'll cover my liability," he said with a significance +misinterpreted by the other.</p> + +<p>"I ain't got enough change—"</p> + +<p>"That's all right; I'm in no hurry."</p> + +<p>The eyes of the lout followed him as he ascended the stairs in the path +of Sammy, who had already disappeared. Annoyed, Whitaker quickened his +pace to escape the stare. On the second floor he discovered the bell-boy +waiting some distance down a long, darksome corridor, indifferently +lighted by a single window at its far end. As Whitaker came into view, +the boy thrust open the door, disappeared for an instant, and came out +minus the bag. Whitaker gave him a coin in passing—an attention which +he acknowledged by pulling the door to with a bang the moment the guest +had entered the room. At the same time Whitaker became aware of a +contretemps.</p> + +<p>The room was of fair size, lighted by two windows overlooking the tin +roof of the front veranda. It was furnished with a large double bed in +the corner nearest the door a wash-stand, two or three chairs, a +bandy-legged table with a marble top; and it was tenanted by a woman in +street dress.</p> + +<p>She stood by the wash-stand, with her back to the light, her attitude +one of tense expectancy: hardly more than a silhouette of a figure +moderately tall and very slight, almost angular in its slenderness. She +had been holding a tumbler in one hand, but as Whitaker appeared this +slipped from her fingers; there followed a thud and a sound of spilt +liquid at her feet. Simultaneously she cried out inarticulately in a +voice at once harsh and tremulous; the cry might have been "<i>You!</i>" or +"<i>Hugh!</i>" Whitaker took it for the latter, and momentarily imagined that +he had stumbled into the presence of an acquaintance. He was pulling off +his hat and peering at her shadowed face in an effort to distinguish +features possibly familiar to him, when she moved forward a pace or two, +her hands fluttering out toward him, then stopped as though halted by a +force implacable and overpowering.</p> + +<p>"I thought," she quavered in a stricken voice—"I thought ... you ... my +husband ... Mr. Morton ... the boy said...."</p> + +<p>Then her knees buckled under her, and she plunged forward and fell with +a thump that shook the walls.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry—I beg pardon," Whitaker stammered stupidly to ears that +couldn't hear. He swore softly with exasperation, threw his hat to a +chair and dropped to his knees beside the woman. It seemed as if the +high gods were hardly playing fair, to throw a fainting woman on his +hands just then, at a time when he was all preoccupied with his own +absorbing tragedy.</p> + +<p>She lay with her head naturally pillowed on the arm she had +instinctively thrown out to protect her face. He could see now that her +slenderness was that of youth, of a figure undeveloped and immature. Her +profile, too, was young, though it stood out against the dark background +of the carpet as set and white as a death-mask. Indeed, her pallor was +so intense that a fear touched his heart, of an accident more serious +than a simple fainting spell. Her respiration seemed entirely suspended, +and it might have been merely his fancy that detected the least +conceivable syncopated pulsation in the icy wrist beneath his fingers.</p> + +<p>He weighed quickly half a dozen suggestions. His fundamental impulse, to +call in feminine aid from the staff of the hotel, was promptly relegated +to the status of a last resort, as involving explanations which might +not seem adequate to the singular circumstances; besides, he entertained +a dim, searching, intuitive suspicion that possibly the girl herself +would more cheerfully dispense with explanations—though he hardly knew +why.... He remembered that people burned feathers in such emergencies, +or else loosened the lady's stays (corsets plus a fainting fit equal +stays, invariably, it seems). But there weren't any feathers handy, +and—well, anyway, neither expedient made any real appeal to his +intelligence. Besides, there were sensible things he could do to make +her more comfortable—chafe her hands and administer stimulants: things +like that.</p> + +<p>Even while these thoughts were running through his mind, he was +gathering the slight young body into his arms; and he found it really +astonishingly easy to rise and bear her to the bed, where he put her +down flat on her back, without a pillow. Then turning to his hand-bag, +he opened it and produced a small, leather-bound flask of brandy; a +little of which would go far toward shattering her syncope, he fancied.</p> + +<p>It did, in fact; a few drops between her half-parted lips, and she came +to with disconcerting rapidity, opening dazed eyes in the middle of a +spasm of coughing. He stepped back, stoppering the flask.</p> + +<p>"That's better," he said pleasantly. "Now lie still while I fetch you a +drink of water."</p> + +<p>As he turned to the wash-stand his foot struck the tumbler she had +dropped. He stopped short, frowning down at the great, staring, wet, +yellow stain on the dingy and threadbare carpet. Together with this +discovery he got a whiff of an acrid-sweet effluvium that spelled +"<i>Oxalic Acid—Poison</i>" as unmistakably as did the druggist's label on +the empty packet on the wash-stand....</p> + +<p>In another moment he was back at the bedside with a clean glass of +water, which he offered to the girl's lips, passing his arm beneath her +shoulders and lifting her head so that she might drink.</p> + +<p>She emptied the glass thirstily.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said almost roughly under the lash of this new +fear—"you didn't really drink any of that stuff, did you?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes met his with a look of negation clouded by fear and +bewilderment. Then she turned her head away. Dragging a pillow beneath +it, he let her down again.</p> + +<p>"Good," he said in accents meant to be enheartening; "you'll be all +right in a moment or two."</p> + +<p>Her colourless lips moved in a whisper he had to bend close to +distinguish.</p> + +<p>"Please...."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't ... call anybody...."</p> + +<p>"I won't. Don't worry."</p> + +<p>The lids quivered down over her eyes, and her mouth was wrung with +anguish. He stared, perplexed. He wanted to go away quickly, but +couldn't gain his own consent to do so. She was in no condition to be +left alone, this delicate and fragile child, defenceless and beset. It +wasn't hard to conjecture the hell of suffering she must have endured +before coming to a pass of such desperation. There were dull blue +shadows beneath eyes red with weeping, a forlorn twist to her thin, +bloodless lips, a pinched look of wretchedness like a glaze over her +unhappy face, that told too plain a story. A strange girl, to find in a +plight like hers, he thought: not pretty, but quite unusual: delicate, +sensitive, high-strung, bred to the finer things of life—this last was +self-evident in the fine simplicity of her severely plain attire. Over +her hair, drawn tight down round her head, she wore one of those knitted +motor caps which were the fashion of that day. Her shoes were still wet +and a trifle muddy, her coat and skirt more than a trifle damp, +indicating that she had returned from a dash to the drug store not long +before Whitaker arrived.</p> + +<p>A variety of impressions, these with others less significant, crowded +upon his perceptions in little more than a glance. For suddenly Nature +took her in hand; she twisted upon her side, as if to escape his regard, +and covered her face, her palms muffling deep tearing sobs while waves +of pent-up misery racked her slender little body.</p> + +<p>Whitaker moved softly away....</p> + +<p>Difficult, he found it, to guess what to do; more difficult still to do +nothing. His nerves were badly jangled; light-footed, he wandered +restlessly to and fro, half distracted between the storm of weeping that +beat gustily within the room and the deadly blind drum of the downpour +on the tin roof beyond the windows. Since that twilight hour in that +tawdry hotel chamber, no one has ever been able to counterfeit sorrow +and remorse to Whitaker; he listened then to the very voice of utter +Woe.</p> + +<p>Once, pausing by the centre-table, he happened to look down. He saw a +little heap of the hotel writing-paper, together with envelopes, a pen, +a bottle of ink. Three of the envelopes were sealed and superscribed, +and two were stamped. The unstamped letter was addressed to the +Proprietor of the Commercial House.</p> + +<p>Of the others, one was directed to a Mr. C. W. Morton in care of another +person at a number on lower Sixth Avenue, New York; and from this +Whitaker began to understand the singular manner of his introduction to +the wrong room; there's no great difference between <i>Morton</i> and +<i>Morten</i>, especially when written carelessly.</p> + +<p>But the third letter caused his eyes to widen considerably. It bore the +name of Thurlow Ladislas, Esq., and a Wall Street address.</p> + +<p>Whitaker's mouth shaped a still-born whistle. He was recalling with +surprising distinctness the fragment of dialogue he had overheard at his +club the previous afternoon.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h3>MRS. WHITAKER</h3> + + +<p>He lived through a long, bad quarter hour, his own tensed nerves +twanging in sympathy with the girl's sobbing—like telegraph wires +singing in a gale—his mind busy with many thoughts, thoughts strangely +new and compelling, wearing a fresh complexion that lacked altogether +the colouring of self-interest.</p> + +<p>He mixed a weak draught of brandy and water and returned to the bedside. +The storm was passing in convulsive gasps ever more widely spaced, but +still the girl lay with her back to him.</p> + +<p>"If you'll sit up and try to drink this," he suggested quietly, "I think +you'll feel a good deal better."</p> + +<p>Her shoulders moved spasmodically; otherwise he saw no sign that she +heard.</p> + +<p>"Come—please," he begged gently.</p> + +<p>She made an effort to rise, sat up on the bed, dabbed at her eyes with a +sodden wisp of handkerchief, and groped blindly for the glass. He +offered it to her lips.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she whispered hoarsely.</p> + +<p>He spoke of the mixture in disparaging terms as to its potency, until at +length she consented to swallow it—teeth chattering on the rim of the +tumbler. The effect was quickly apparent in the colour that came into +her cheeks, faint but warm. He avoided looking directly at her, however, +and cast round for the bell-push, which he presently found near the head +of the bed.</p> + +<p>She moved quickly with alarm.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" she demanded in a stronger voice.</p> + +<p>"Order you something to eat," he said. "No—please don't object. You +need food, and I mean to see you get it before I leave."</p> + +<p>If she thought of protesting, the measured determination in his manner +deterred her. After a moment she asked:</p> + +<p>"Please—who are you?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Whitaker," he said—"Hugh Morten Whitaker."</p> + +<p>She repeated the name aloud. "Haven't I heard of you? Aren't you engaged +to Alice Carstairs?"</p> + +<p>"I'm the man you mean," he said quietly; "but I'm not engaged to Alice +Carstairs."</p> + +<p>"Oh...." Perplexity clouded the eyes that followed closely his every +movement. "How did you happen to—to find me here?"</p> + +<p>"Quite by accident," he replied. "I didn't want to be known, so +registered as Hugh Morten. They mistook me for your husband. Do you mind +telling me how long it is since you've had anything to eat?"</p> + +<p>She told him: "Last night."</p> + +<p>He suffered a sense of shame only second to her own, to see the dull +flush that accompanied her reply. His fingers itched for the throat of +Mr. C. W. Morton, chauffeur. Happily a knock at the door distracted him. +Opening it no wider than necessary to communicate with the bell-boy, he +gave him an order for the kitchen, together with an incentive to speed +the service.</p> + +<p>Closing the door, he swung round to find that the girl had got to her +feet.</p> + +<p>"He won't be long—" Whitaker began vaguely.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you something." She faced him bravely, though he refused +the challenge of her tormented eyes. "I ... I have no husband."</p> + +<p>He bowed gravely.</p> + +<p>"You're so good to me—" she faltered.</p> + +<p>"O—nothing! Let's not talk about that now."</p> + +<p>"I must talk—you must let me. You're so kind, I've got to tell you. +Won't you listen?"</p> + +<p>He had crossed to a window, where he stood staring out. "I'd rather +not," he said softly, "but if you prefer—"</p> + +<p>"I do prefer," said the voice behind him. "I—I'm Mary Ladislas."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"I ... I ran away from home last week—five days ago—to get married to +our chauffeur, Charles Morton...."</p> + +<p>She stammered.</p> + +<p>"Please don't go on, if it hurts," he begged without looking round.</p> + +<p>"I've got to—I've got to get it over with.... We were at Southampton, +at my father's summer home—I mean, that's where I ran away from. +He—Charley—drove me over to Greenport and I took the ferry there and +came here to wait for him. He went back to New York in the car, +promising to join me here as soon as possible...."</p> + +<p>"And he didn't come," Whitaker wound up for her, when she faltered.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And you wrote and telegraphed, and he didn't answer."</p> + +<p>"Yes—"</p> + +<p>"How much money of yours did he take with him?" Whitaker pursued.</p> + +<p>There was a brief pause of astonishment. "What do you know about that?" +she demanded.</p> + +<p>"I know a good deal about that type of man," he said grimly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't have any money to speak of, but I had some jewellery—my +mother's—and he was to take that and pawn it for money to get married +with."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>To his infinite relief the waiter interrupted them. The girl in her turn +went to one of the windows, standing with her back to the room, while +Whitaker admitted the man with his tray. When they were alone once more, +he fixed the place and drew a chair for her.</p> + +<p>"Everything's ready," he said—and had the sense not to try to make his +tone too cheerful.</p> + +<p>"I hadn't finished what I wanted to tell you," said the girl, coming +back to him.</p> + +<p>"Will you do me the favour to wait," he pleaded. "I think things will +seem—well, otherwise—when you've had some food."</p> + +<p>"But I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please!" he begged with his odd, twisted smile.</p> + +<p>She submitted, head drooping and eyes downcast. He returned to his +window, rather wishing that he had thought to order for himself as well +as for the girl; for it was suddenly borne strongly in upon him that he +himself had had little enough to eat since dinner with Peter Stark. He +lighted a cigarette, by way of dulling his appetite, and then let it +smoulder to ashes between his fingers, while he lost himself in profound +speculations, in painstaking analysis of the girl's position.</p> + +<p>Subconsciously he grew aware that the storm was moderating perceptibly, +the sky breaking....</p> + +<p>"I've finished," the girl announced at length.</p> + +<p>"You're feeling better?"</p> + +<p>"Stronger, I think."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything more—?"</p> + +<p>"If you wouldn't mind sitting down—"</p> + +<p>She had twisted her arm-chair away from the table. Whitaker took a seat +a little distance from her, with a keen glance appraising the change in +her condition and finding it not so marked as he had hoped. Still, she +seemed measurably more composed and mistress of her emotions, though he +had to judge mostly by her voice and manner, so dark was the room. +Through the shadows he could see little more than masses of light and +shade blocking in the slender figure huddled in a big, dilapidated +chair—the pallid oval of her face, and the darkness of her wide, +intent, young eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she cried sharply. "Please don't look at me so—"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to—"</p> + +<p>"It's only—only that you make me think of what you must be thinking +about me—"</p> + +<p>"I think you're rather fortunate," he said slowly.</p> + +<p>"Fortunate!"</p> + +<p>He shivered a little with the chill bitterness of that cry.</p> + +<p>"You've had a narrow but a wonderfully lucky escape."</p> + +<p>"Oh! ... But I'm not glad ... I was desperate—"</p> + +<p>"I mean," he interrupted coolly, "from Mr. Morton. The silver lining is, +you're not married to a blackguard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, yes!" she agreed passionately.</p> + +<p>"And you have youth, health, years of life before you!"</p> + +<p>He sighed inaudibly....</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't say that, if you understood."</p> + +<p>"There are worse things to put up with than youth and health and the +right to live."</p> + +<p>"But—how can I live? What am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Have you thought of going home?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't possible."</p> + +<p>"Have you made sure of that? Have you written to your +father—explained?"</p> + +<p>"I sent him a special delivery three days ago, and—and yesterday a +telegram. I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I ... I told him +everything. He didn't answer. He won't, ever."</p> + +<p>From what Whitaker knew of Thurlow Ladislas, he felt this to be too +cruelly true to admit of further argument. At a loss, he fell silent, +knitting his hands together as he strove to find other words wherewith +to comfort and reassure the girl.</p> + +<p>She bent forward, elbows on knees, head and shoulders cringing.</p> + +<p>"It hurts so!" she wailed ... "what people will think ... the shame, the +bitter, bitter shame of this! And yet I haven't any right to complain. I +deserve it all; I've earned my punishment."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say—!"</p> + +<p>"But I have, because—because I didn't love him. I didn't love him at +all, and I knew it, even though I meant to marry him...."</p> + +<p>"But, why—in Heaven's name?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was so lonely and ... misunderstood and unhappy at home. +You don't know how desperately unhappy.... No mother, never daring +to see my sister (she ran away, too) ... my friendships at school +discouraged ... nothing in life but a great, empty, lonesome house +and my father to bully me and make cruel fun of me because I'm not +pretty.... That's why I ran away with a man I didn't love—because +I wanted freedom and a little happiness."</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" he murmured beneath his breath, awed by the pitiful, +childish simplicity of her confession and the deep damnation that had +waited upon her.</p> + +<p>"So it's over!" she cried—"over, and I've learned my lesson, and I'm +disgraced forever, and friendless and—"</p> + +<p>"Stop right there!" he checked her roughly. "You're not friendless yet, +and that nullifies all the rest. Be glad you've had your romance and +learned your lesson—"</p> + +<p>"Please don't think I'm not grateful for your kindness," she +interrupted. "But the disgrace—that can't be blotted out!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it can," he insisted bluntly. "There's a way I know—"</p> + +<p>A glimmering of that way had only that instant let a little light in +upon the darkness of his solicitous distress for her. He rose and began +to walk and think, hands clasped behind him, trying to make what he had +in mind seem right and reasonable.</p> + +<p>"You mean beg my father to take me back. I'll die first!"</p> + +<p>"There mustn't be any more talk, or even any thought, of anything like +that. I understand too well to ask the impossible of you. But there is +one way out—a perfectly right way—if you're willing and brave enough +to take a chance—a long chance."</p> + +<p>Somehow she seemed to gain hope of his tone. She sat up, following him +with eyes that sought incredulously to believe.</p> + +<p>"Have I any choice?" she asked. "I'm desperate enough...."</p> + +<p>"God knows," he said, "you'll have to be!"</p> + +<p>"Try me."</p> + +<p>He paused, standing over her.</p> + +<p>"Desperate enough to marry a man who's bound to die within six months +and leave you free? I'm that man: the doctors give me six months more of +life. I'm alone in the world, with no one dependent upon me, nothing to +look forward to but a death that will benefit nobody—a useless end to a +useless life.... Will you take my name to free yourself? Heaven my +witness, you're welcome to it."</p> + +<p>"Oh," she breathed, aghast, "what are you saying?"</p> + +<p>"I'm proposing marriage," he said, with his quaint, one-sided smile. +"Please listen: I came to this place to make a quick end to my +troubles—but I've changed my mind about that, now. What's happened in +this room has made me see that nobody has any right to—hasten things. +But I mean to leave the country—immediately—and let death find me +where it will. I shall leave behind me a name and a little money, +neither of any conceivable use to me. Will you take them, employ them to +make your life what it was meant to be? It's a little thing, but it will +make me feel a lot more fit to go out of this world—to know I've left +at least one decent act to mark my memory. There's only this far-fetched +chance—I <i>may</i> live. It's a million-to-one shot, but you've got to bear +it in mind. But really you can't lose—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, stop, stop!" she implored him, half hysterical. "To think of +marrying to benefit by the death of a man like you—!"</p> + +<p>"You've no right to look at it that way." He had a wry, secret smile for +his specious sophistry. "You're being asked to confer, not to accept, a +favour. It's just an act of kindness to a hopeless man. I'd go mad if I +didn't know you were safe from a recurrence of the folly of this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she cried—"don't tempt me. You've no right.... You don't know +how frantic I am...."</p> + +<p>"I do," he countered frankly. "I'm depending on just that to swing you +to my point of view. You've got to come to it. I mean you shall marry +me."</p> + +<p>She stared up at him, spell-bound, insensibly yielding to the domination +of his will. It was inevitable. He was scarcely less desperate than +she—and no less overwrought and unstrung; and he was the stronger; in +the natural course of things his will could not but prevail. She was +little more than a child, accustomed to yield and go where others led or +pointed out the path. What resistance could she offer to the domineering +importunity of a man of full stature, arrogant in his strength +and—hounded by devils? And he in the fatuity of his soul believed that +he was right, that he was fighting for the girl's best interests, +fighting—and not ungenerously—to save her from the ravening +consequences of her indiscretion!</p> + +<p>The bald truth is, he was hardly a responsible agent: distracted by the +ravings of an ego mutinous in the shadow of annihilation, as well as by +contemplation of the girl's wretched plight, he saw all things in +distorted perspective. He had his being in a nightmare world of +frightful, insane realities. He could have conceived of nothing too +terrible and preposterous to seem reasonable and right....</p> + +<p>The last trace of evening light had faded out of the world before they +were agreed. Darkness wrapped them in its folds; they were but as voices +warring in a black and boundless void.</p> + +<p>Whitaker struck a match and applied it to the solitary gas-jet. A thin, +blue, sputtering tongue of flame revealed them to one another. The girl +still crouched in her arm-chair, weary and spent, her powers of +contention all vitiated by the losing struggle. Whitaker was trembling +with nervous fatigue.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, have your own way," she said drearily. "If it must be...."</p> + +<p>"It's for the best," he insisted obstinately. "You'll never regret it."</p> + +<p>"One of us will—either you or I," she said quietly. "It's too +one-sided. You want to give all and ask nothing in return. It's a fool's +bargain."</p> + +<p>He hesitated, stammering with surprise. She had a habit of saying the +unexpected. "A fool's bargain"—the wisdom of the sage from the lips of +a child....</p> + +<p>"Then it's settled," he said, business-like, offering his hand. "Fool's +bargain or not—it's a bargain."</p> + +<p>She rose unassisted, then trusted her slender fingers to his palm. She +said nothing. The steady gaze of her extraordinary eyes abashed him.</p> + +<p>"Come along and let's get it over," he muttered clumsily. "It's late, +and there's a train to New York at half-past ten, you might as well +catch."</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand, but continued to regard him steadfastly with her +enigmatic, strange stare. "So," she said coolly, "that's settled too, I +presume."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you couldn't catch an earlier one," he evaded. "Have you any +baggage?"</p> + +<p>"Only my suit-case. It won't take a minute to pack that."</p> + +<p>"No hurry," he mumbled....</p> + +<p>They left the hotel together. Whitaker got his change of a hundred +dollars at the desk—"Mrs. Morten's" bill, of course, included with +his—and bribed the bell-boy to take the suit-case to the railway +station and leave it there, together with his own hand-bag. Since he had +unaccountably conceived a determination to continue living for a time, +he meant to seek out more pleasant accommodations for the night.</p> + +<p>The rain had ceased, leaving a ragged sky of clouds and stars in +patches. The air was warm and heavy with wetness. Sidewalks glistened +like black watered silk; street lights mirrored themselves in fugitive +puddles in the roadways; limbs of trees overhanging the sidewalks +shivered now and again in a half-hearted breeze, pelting the wayfarers +with miniature showers of lukewarm, scented drops.</p> + +<p>Turning away from the centre of the town, they traversed slowly long +streets of residences set well back behind decent lawns. Warm lamplight +mocked them from a hundred homely windows. They passed few people—a +pair of lovers; three bareheaded giggling girls in short, light frocks +strolling with their arms round one another; a scattering of men +hurrying home to belated suppers.</p> + +<p>The girl lagged with weariness. Awakening to this fact, Whitaker +slackened his impatient stride and quietly slipped her arm through his.</p> + +<p>"Is it much farther?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No—not now," he assured her with a confidence he by no means felt.</p> + +<p>He was beginning to realize the tremendous difficulties to be overcome. +It bothered him to scheme a way to bring about the marriage without +attracting an appalling amount of gratuitous publicity, in a community +as staid and sober as this. He who would marry secretly should not +select a half-grown New England city for his enterprise....</p> + +<p>However, one rarely finds any really insuperable obstacles in the way of +an especially wrong-headed project.</p> + +<p>Whitaker, taking his heart and his fate in his hands, accosted a +venerable gentleman whom they encountered as he was on the point of +turning off the sidewalk to private grounds.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he began.</p> + +<p>The man paused and turned upon them a saintly countenance framed in hair +like snow.</p> + +<p>"There is something I can do for you?" he inquired with punctilious +courtesy.</p> + +<p>"If you will be kind enough to direct me to a minister...."</p> + +<p>"I am one."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," said Whitaker. "We wish to get married."</p> + +<p>The gentleman looked from his face to the girl's, then moved aside from +the gate. "This is my home," he explained. "Will you be good enough to +come in?"</p> + +<p>Conducting them to his private study, he subjected them to a kindly +catechism. The girl said little, Whitaker taking upon himself the brunt +of the examination. Absolutely straightforward and intensely sincere, he +came through the ordeal well, without being obliged to disclose what he +preferred to keep secret. The minister, satisfied, at length called in +the town clerk by telephone; who issued the license, pocketed his fee, +and, in company with the minister's wife, acted as witness....</p> + +<p>Whitaker found himself on his feet beside Mary Ladislas. They were being +married. He was shaken by a profound amazement. The incredible was +happening—with his assistance. He heard his voice uttering responses; +it seemed something as foreign to him as the voice of the girl at his +side. He wondered stupidly at her calm—and later, at his own. It was +all preposterously matter-of-fact and, at the same time, stupidly +romantic. He divined obscurely that this thing was happening in +obedience to forces nameless and unknown to them, strange and terrific +forces that worked mysteriously beyond their mortal ken. He seemed to +hear the droning of the loom of the Fates....</p> + +<p>And they were man and wife. The door had closed, the gate-latch clicked +behind them. They were walking quietly side by side through the scented +night, they whom God had joined together.</p> + +<p>Man and wife! Bride and groom, already started on the strangest, +shortest of wedding journeys—from the parsonage to the railroad +station!</p> + +<p>Neither found anything to say. They walked on, heels in unison pounding +the wet flagstones. The night was sweet with the scent of wet grass and +shrubbery. The sidewalks were boldly patterned with a stencilling of +black leaves and a milky dappling of electric light. At every corner +high-swung arcs shot vivid slants of silver-blue radiance through the +black and green of trees.</p> + +<p>These things all printed themselves indelibly upon the tablets of his +memory....</p> + +<p>They arrived at the station. Whitaker bought his wife a ticket to New +York and secured for her solitary use a drawing-room in the sleeper. +When that was accomplished, they had still a good part of an hour to +wait. They found a bench on the station platform, and sat down. Whitaker +possessed himself of his wife's hand-bag long enough to furnish it with +a sum of money and an old envelope bearing the name and address of his +law partner. He explained that he would write to Drummond, who would see +to her welfare as far as she would permit—issue her an adequate monthly +allowance and advise her when she should have become her own mistress +once more: in a word, a widow.</p> + +<p>She thanked him briefly, quietly, with a constraint he understood too +well to resent.</p> + +<p>People began to gather upon the platform, to loiter about and pass up +and down. Further conversation would have been difficult, even if they +had found much to say to one another. Curiously or not, they didn't. +They sat on in thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>Both, perhaps, were sensible of some relief when at length the train +thundered in from the East, breathing smoke and flame. Whitaker helped +his wife aboard and interviewed the porter in her behalf. Then they had +a moment or two alone in the drawing-room, in which to consummate what +was meant to be their first and last parting.</p> + +<p>"You'll get in about two," said Whitaker. "Better just slip across the +street to the Belmont for to-night. To-morrow—or the day +after—whenever you feel rested—you can find yourself more quiet +quarters."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said....</p> + +<p>He comprehended something of the struggle she was having with herself, +and respected it. If he had consulted his own inclinations, he would +have turned and marched off without another word. But for her sake he +lingered. Let her have the satisfaction (he bade himself) of knowing +that she had done her duty at their leave-taking.</p> + +<p>She caught him suddenly by the shoulders with both her hands. Her eyes +sought his with a wistful courage he could not but admire.</p> + +<p>"You know I'm grateful...."</p> + +<p>"Don't think of it that way—though I'm glad you are."</p> + +<p>"You're a good man," she said brokenly.</p> + +<p>He knew himself too well to be able to reply.</p> + +<p>"You mustn't worry about me, now. You've made things easy for me. I can +take care of myself, and ... I shan't forget whose name I bear."</p> + +<p>He muttered something to the effect that he was sure of that.</p> + +<p>She released his shoulders and stood back, searching his face with +tormented eyes. Abruptly she offered him her hand.</p> + +<p>"Good-by," she said, her lips quivering—"Good-by, good friend!"</p> + +<p>He caught the hand, wrung it clumsily and painfully and ... realized +that the train was in motion. He had barely time to get away....</p> + +<p>He found himself on the station platform, stupidly watching the rear +lights dwindle down the tracks and wondering whether or not +hallucinations were a phase of his malady. A sick man often dreams +strange dreams....</p> + +<p>A voice behind him, cool with a trace of irony, observed:</p> + +<p>"I'd give a good deal to know just what particular brand of damn' +foolishness you've been indulging in, this time."</p> + +<p>He whirled around to face Peter Stark—Peter quietly amused and very +much the master of the situation.</p> + +<p>"You needn't think," said he, "that you have any chance on earth of +escaping my fond attentions, Hugh. I'll go to the ends of the earth +after you, if you won't let me go with you. I've fixed it up with Nelly +to wait until I bring you home, a well man, before we get married; and +if you refuse to be my best man—well, there won't be any party. You can +make up your mind to that."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3>WILFUL MISSING</h3> + + +<p>It was one o'clock in the morning before Whitaker allowed himself to be +persuaded; fatigue reënforced every stubborn argument of Peter Stark's +to overcome his resistance. It was a repetition of the episode of Mary +Ladislas recast and rewritten: the stronger will overcame the +admonitions of a saner judgment. Whitaker gave in. "Oh, have your own +way," he said at length, unconsciously iterating the words that had won +him a bride. "If it must be...."</p> + +<p>Peter put him to bed, watched over him through the night, and the next +morning carried him on to New Bedford, where they superintended the +outfitting of Peter's yacht, the <i>Adventuress</i>. Beyond drawing heavily +on his bank and sending Drummond a brief note, Whitaker failed to renew +communication with his home. He sank into a state of semi-apathetic +content; he thought little of anything beyond the business of the +moment; the preparations for what he was pleased to term his funeral +cruise absorbed him to the exclusion of vain repinings or anxiety for +the welfare of his adventitious wife. Apparently his sudden +disappearance had not caused the least ripple on the surface of life in +New York; the newspapers, at all events, slighted the circumstance +unanimously: to his complete satisfaction.</p> + +<p>Within the week the <i>Adventuress</i> sailed.</p> + +<p>She was five months out of port before Whitaker began to be conscious +that he was truly accursed. There came a gradual thickening of the +shadows that threatened to eclipse his existence. And then, one day as +they dined with the lonely trader of an isolated station in the +D'Entrecasteaux Islands, he fell from his chair as if poleaxed. He +regained consciousness only to shiver with the chill of the wind that's +fanned by the wings of death. It was impossible to move him. The agonies +of the damned were his when, with exquisite gentleness, they lifted him +to a bed....</p> + +<p>Stark sailed in the <i>Adventuress</i> before sundown of the same day, +purposing to fetch a surgeon from Port Moresby. Whitaker said a last +farewell to his friend, knowing in his soul that they would never meet +again. Then he composed himself to die quietly. But the following +morning brought a hapchance trading schooner to the island, and with it, +in the estate of supercargo, a crapulous Scotch gentleman who had been a +famous specialist of London before drink laid him by the heels. He +performed an heroic operation upon Whitaker within an hour, announced by +nightfall that the patient would recover, and the next day sailed with +his ship to end his days in some abandoned Australian boozing-ken—as +Whitaker learned in Sydney several months later.</p> + +<p>In the same place, and at the same time, he received his first authentic +news of the fate of the <i>Adventuress</i>. The yacht had struck on an +uncharted reef, in heavy weather, and had foundered almost immediately. +Of her entire company, a solitary sailor managed to cling to a life-raft +until picked up, a week after the wreck, by a tramp steamship on whose +decks he gasped out his news and his life in the same breaths.</p> + +<p>Whitaker hunted up an account of the disaster in the files of a local +newspaper. He read that the owner, Peter Stark, Esq., and his guest, H. +M. Whitaker, Esq., both of New York, had gone down with the vessel. +There was also a cable despatch from New York detailing Peter Stark's +social and financial prominence—evidence that the news had been cabled +Home. To all who knew him Whitaker was as dead as Peter Stark.</p> + +<p>Sardonic irony of circumstance, that had robbed the sound man of life +and bestowed life upon the moribund! Contemplation wrought like a toxic +drug upon Whitaker's temper, until he was raving drunk with the black +draught of mutiny against the dictates of an Omnipotence capable of such +hideous mockeries of justice. The iron bit deep into his soul and left +corrosion there....</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is a world outside the one you know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To which for curiousness 'Ell can't compare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the place where wilful missings go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we can testify, for we are there."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Kipling's lines buzzed through his head more than once in the course of +the next few years; for he was "there." They were years of such +vagabondage as only the South Seas countenance: neither unhappy nor very +strenuous, not yet scarred by the tooth of poverty. Whitaker had between +four and five thousand dollars in traveller's checks which he converted +into cash while in Sydney. Memory of the wreck of the <i>Adventuress</i> was +already fading from the Australian mind; no one dreamed of challenging +the signature of a man seven months dead. And as certainly and as +quietly as the memory, Whitaker faded away; Hugh Morten took his place, +and Sydney knew him no more, nor did any other parts wherein he had +answered to his rightful name.</p> + +<p>The money stayed by him handsomely. Thanks to a strong constitution in a +tough body (now that its malignant demon was exorcised) he found it easy +to pick up a living by one means or another. Indeed, he played many +parts in as many fields before joining hands with a young Englishman he +had grown to like and entering upon what seemed a forlorn bid for +fortune. Thereafter he prospered amazingly.</p> + +<p>In those days his anomalous position in the world troubled him very +little. He was a Wilful Missing and a willing. The new life intrigued +him amazingly; he lived in open air, in virgin country, wresting a +fortune by main strength from the reluctant grasp of Nature. He was one +of the first two men to find and mine gold in paying quantities in the +Owen Stanley country.... Now that Peter Stark was dead, the ties of +interest and affection binding him to America were both few and slender. +His wife was too abstract a concept, a shadow too vague in his memory, +to obtrude often upon his reveries. Indeed, as time went on, he found it +anything but easy to recall much about the physical appearance of the +woman he had married; he remembered chiefly her eyes; she moved mistily +across the stage of a single scene in his history, an awkward, +self-conscious, unhappy, childish phantasm.</p> + +<p>Even the consideration that, fortified by the report of his death, she +might have married again, failed to disturb either his slumbers or his +digestion. If that had happened, he had no objection; the tie that bound +them was the emptiest of forms—in his understanding as meaningless and +as powerless to make them one as the printed license form they had been +forced to procure of the State of Connecticut. There had been neither +love nor true union—merely pity on one side, apathy of despair on the +other. Two souls had met in the valley of the great shadow, had paused a +moment to touch hands, had passed onward, forever out of one another's +ken; and that was all. His "death" should have put her in command of a +fair competence. If she had since sought and found happiness with +another man, was there any logical reason, or even excuse, for Whitaker +to abandon his new and pleasant ways of life in order to return and +shatter hers?</p> + +<p>He was self-persuaded of his generosity toward the girl.</p> + +<p>Casuistry of the Wilful Missing!...</p> + +<p>It's to be feared he had always a hard-headed way of considering matters +in the light of equity as distinguished from the light of ethical or +legal morality. This is not to be taken as an attempt to defend the man, +but rather as a statement of fact: even as the context is to be read as +an account of some things that happened rather than as a morality....</p> + +<p>When at length he did make up his mind to go Home, it wasn't because he +felt that duty called him; plain, everyday, human curiosity had +something to do with his determination—a desire to see how New York was +managing to get along without him—together with a dawning apprehension +that there was an uncomfortable amount of truth in the antiquated +bromidiom about the surprising littleness of the world.</p> + +<p>He was in Melbourne at that time, with Lynch, his partner. Having +prospered and laid by a lump of money, they had planned to finance their +holdings in the traditional fashion—that is, to let in other people's +money to do the work, while they rested and possessed their souls and +drew dividends on a controlling interest. Capital in Melbourne had +proved eager and approachable; the arrangement they desired was quickly +consummated; the day the papers were signed, Whitaker passed old friends +in the street. They were George Presbury and his wife—Anne Forsythe +that was—self-evident tourists, looking the town over between steamers. +Presbury, with no thought in his bumptious head of meeting Hugh Whitaker +before the Day of Judgment, looked at and through him without a hint of +recognition; but his wife was another person altogether. Whitaker could +not be blind to the surprise and perplexity that shone in her eyes, even +though he pretended to be blind to her uncertain nod; long after his +back alone was visible to her he could feel her inquiring stare boring +into it.</p> + +<p>The incident made him think; and he remembered that he was now a man of +independent fortune and of newly idle hands as well. After prolonged +consideration he suddenly decided, told Lynch to look out for his +interests and expect him back when he should see him, and booked for +London by a Royal Mail boat—all in half a day. From London Mr. Hugh +Morten crossed immediately to New York on the <i>Olympic</i>, landing in the +month of April—nearly six years to a day from the time he had left his +native land.</p> + +<p>He discovered a New York almost wholly new—an experience almost +inevitable, if one insists on absenting one's self even for as little as +half a decade. Intimations of immense changes were borne in upon +Whitaker while the steamer worked up the Bay. The Singer Building was an +unfamiliar sky-mark, but not more so than the Metropolitan Tower and the +Woolworth. The <i>Olympic</i> docked at an impressive steel-and-concrete +structure, new since his day; and Whitaker narrowly escaped a row with a +taxicab chauffeur because the fellow smiled impertinently when directed +to drive to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.</p> + +<p>A very few hours added amazingly to the catalogue of things that were +not as they had been: a list so extensive and impressive that he made up +his mind to maintain his incognito for a few days, until familiar with +the ways of his home. He was quick to perceive that he would even have +to forget most of the slang that had been current in his time, in +addition to unlearning all he had picked up abroad, and set himself with +attentive ears pricked forward and an open mind to master the new, +strange tongue his countrymen were speaking, if he were to make himself +intelligible to them—and them to him, for that matter.</p> + +<p>So he put up at the Ritz-Carlton, precisely as any foreigner might be +expected to do, and remained Hugh Morten while he prowled around the +city and found himself. Now and again in the course of his wanderings he +encountered well-remembered faces, but always without eliciting the +slightest gleam of recognition: circumstances that only went to prove +how thoroughly dead and buried he was in the estimation of his day and +generation.</p> + +<p>Nothing, indeed, seemed as he remembered it except the offerings in the +theatres. He sat through plays on three successive nights that sent him +back to his hotel saddened by the conviction that the tastes of his +fellow-countrymen in the matter of amusements were as enduring as +adamant—as long-enduring. Some day (he prophesied) New York would be +finished and complete; then would come the final change—its +name—because it wouldn't be New York unless ever changing; and when +that was settled, the city would know ease and, for want of something +less material to occupy it, begin to develop a soul of its own—together +with an inclination for something different in the way of theatrical +entertainment.</p> + +<p>But his ultimate and utter awakening to the truth that his home had +outgrown him fell upon the fourth afternoon following his return, when a +total but most affable gentleman presented himself to Whitaker's +consideration with a bogus name and a genuine offer to purchase him a +drink, and promptly attempted to enmesh him in a confidence game that +had degenerated into a vaudeville joke in the days when both of them had +worn knickerbockers. Gently but firmly entrusting the stranger to the +care of a convenient policeman, Whitaker privately admitted that he was +outclassed, that it was time for him to seek the protection of his +friends.</p> + +<p>He began with Drummond. The latter, of course, had moved his offices; no +doubt he had moved them several times; however that may be, Whitaker had +left him in quiet and contracted quarters in Pine Street; he found him +independently established in an imposing suite in the Woolworth +Building.</p> + +<p>Whitaker gave one of Mr. Hugh Morten's cards to a subdued office-boy. +"Tell him," he requested, "that I want to see him about a matter +relating to the estate of Mr. Whitaker."</p> + +<p>The boy dived through one partition-door and reappeared by way of +another with the deft certainty of a trained pantomime.</p> + +<p>"Says t' come in."</p> + +<p>Whitaker found himself in the presence of an ashen-faced man of +thirty-five, who clutched the side of his roll-top desk as if to save +himself from falling.</p> + +<p>"Whitaker!" he gasped. "My God!"</p> + +<p>"Flattered," said Whitaker, "I'm sure."</p> + +<p>He derived considerable mischievous amusement from Drummond's patent +stupefaction. It was all so right and proper—as it should have been. He +considered his an highly satisfactory resurrection, the sensation it +created as complete, considered in the relation of anticipation to +fulfilment, as anything he had ever experienced. Seldom does a scene +pass off as one plans it; the other parties thereto are apt to spoil +things by spouting spontaneously their own original lines, thus cheating +one out of a crushing retort or cherished epigram. But Drummond played +up his part in a most public-spirited fashion—gratifying, to say the +least.</p> + +<p>It took him some minutes to recover, Whitaker standing by and beaming.</p> + +<p>He remarked changes, changes as striking as the improvement in +Drummond's fortunes. Physically his ex-partner had gone off a bit; the +sedentary life led by the average successful man of business in New York +had marked his person unmistakably. Much heavier than the man Whitaker +remembered, he wore a thick and solid air of good-natured prosperity. +The hair had receded an inch or so from his forehead. Only his face +seemed as it had always been—sharply handsome and strong. Whitaker +remembered that he had always somewhat meanly envied Drummond his good +looks; he himself had been fashioned after the new order of +architecture—with a steel frame; but for some reason Nature, the master +builder, had neglected sufficiently to wall in and conceal the skeleton. +Admitting the economy of the method, Whitaker was inclined to believe +that the effect must be surprising, especially if encountered without +warning....</p> + +<p>He discovered that they were both talking at once—furiously—and, not +without surprise, that he had a great deal more enlightenment to impart +to Drummond than he had foreseen.</p> + +<p>"You've got an economical streak in you when it comes to +correspondence," Drummond commented, offering Whitaker a sheet of paper +he had just taken from a tin document-box. "That's Exhibit A."</p> + +<p>Whitaker read aloud:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'<span class="smcap">Dear</span> D., I'm not feeling well, so off for a vacation. Burke has +just been in and paid $1500 in settlement of our claim. I'm +enclosing herewith my check for your share. Yours, H. M. W.'"</p></div> + +<p>"Far be it from me to cast up," said Drummond; "but I'd like to know why +the deuce you couldn't let a fellow know how ill you were."</p> + +<p>Whitaker frowned over his dereliction. "Don't remember," he confessed. +"I was hardly right, you know—and I presume I must have counted on +Greyerson telling."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know Greyerson...."</p> + +<p>"That's so. And you never heard—?"</p> + +<p>"Merely a rumour ran round. Some one—I forget who—told me that you and +Stark had gone sailing in Stark's boat—to cruise in the West Indies, +according to my informant. And somebody else mentioned that he'd heard +you were seriously ill. More than that nothing—until we heard that the +<i>Adventuress</i> had been lost, half a year later."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," said Whitaker contritely. "It was thoughtless...."</p> + +<p>"But that isn't all," Drummond objected, flourishing another paper. "See +here—Exhibit B—came in a day or so later."</p> + +<p>"Yes." Whitaker recognized the document. "I remember insisting on +writing to you before we turned in that night."</p> + +<p>He ran through the following communication:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Drummond</span>: I married here, to-night, Mary Ladislas. Please +look out for her while I'm away. Make her an allowance out of my +money—five hundred a month ought to be enough. I shall die +intestate, and she'll get everything then, of course. She has your +address and will communicate with you as soon as she gets settled +down in Town.</p> + +<p>"Faithfully—</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Hugh Morten Whitaker</span>."</p></div> + +<p>"If it hadn't been so much in character," commented Drummond, "I'd've +thought the thing a forgery—or a poor joke. Knowing you as well as I +did, however ... I just sat back to wait for word from Mrs. Whitaker."</p> + +<p>"And you never heard, except that once!" said Whitaker thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Here's the sole and only evidence I ever got to prove that you had told +the truth."</p> + +<p>Drummond handed Whitaker a single, folded sheet of note-paper stamped +with the name of the Waldorf-Astoria.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Carter S. Drummond</span>, Esq., 27 Pine Street, City.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I inclose herewith a bank-note for $500, which you will +be kind enough to credit to the estate of your late partner and my +late husband, Mr. Hugh Morten Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"Very truly yours,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mary Ladislas Whitaker</span>."</p></div> + +<p>"Dated, you see, the day after the report of your death was published +here."</p> + +<p>"But why?" demanded Whitaker, dumfounded. "<i>Why?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I infer she felt herself somehow honour-bound by the monetary +obligation," said the lawyer. "In her understanding your marriage of +convenience was nothing more—a one-sided bargain, I think you said she +called it. She couldn't consider herself wholly free, even though you +were dead, until she had repaid this loan which you, a stranger, had +practically forced upon her—if not to you, to your estate."</p> + +<p>"But death cancels everything—"</p> + +<p>"Not," Drummond reminded him with a slow smile, "the obligation of a +period of decent mourning that devolves upon a widow. Mrs. Whitaker may +have desired to marry again immediately. If I'm any judge of human +nature, she argued that repayment of the loan wiped out every +obligation. Feminine logic, perhaps, but—"</p> + +<p>"Good Lord!" Whitaker breathed, appalled in the face of this contingency +which had seemed so remote and immaterial when he was merely Hugh +Morten, bachelor-nomad, to all who knew him on the far side of the +world.</p> + +<p>Drummond dropped his head upon his hand and regarded his friend with +inquisitive eyes.</p> + +<p>"Looks as though you may have gummed things up neatly—doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker nodded in sombre abstraction.</p> + +<p>"You may not," continued Drummond with light malice, "have been so +generous, so considerate and chivalric, after all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, cut that!" growled Whitaker, unhappily. "I never meant to come +back."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh ... I don't know. Chiefly because I caught Anne Presbury's sharp +eyes on me in Melbourne—as I said a while ago. I knew she'd talk—as +she surely will the minute she gets back—and I thought I might as well +get ahead of her, come home and face the music before anybody got a +chance to expose me. At the worst—if what you suggest has really +happened—it's an open-and-shut case; no one's going to blame the woman; +and it ought to be easy enough to secure a separation or divorce—"</p> + +<p>"You'd consent to that?" inquired Drummond intently.</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to do anything she wishes, within the law."</p> + +<p>"You leave it to her, then?"</p> + +<p>"If I ever find her—yes. It's the only decent thing I can do."</p> + +<p>"How do you figure that?"</p> + +<p>"I went away a sick man and a poor one; I come back as sound as a bell, +and if not exactly a plutocrat, at least better off than I ever expected +to be in this life.... To all intents and purposes I <i>made</i> her a +partner to a bargain she disliked; well, I'll be hanged if I'm going to +hedge now, when I look a better matrimonial risk, perhaps: if she still +wants my name, she can have it."</p> + +<p>Drummond laughed quietly. "If that's how you feel," he said, "I can only +give you one piece of professional advice."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"Find your wife."</p> + +<p>After a moment of puzzled thought, Whitaker admitted ruefully: "You're +right. There's the rub."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you won't find it an easy job. I did my best without +uncovering a trace of her."</p> + +<p>"You followed up that letter, of course?"</p> + +<p>"I did my best; but, my dear fellow, almost anybody with a decent +appearance can manage to write a note on Waldorf stationery. I made sure +of one thing—the management knew nothing of the writer under either her +maiden name or yours."</p> + +<p>"Did you try old Thurlow?"</p> + +<p>"Her father died within eight weeks from the time you ran away. He left +everything to charity, by the way. Unforgiving blighter."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's her sister, Mrs. Pettit."</p> + +<p>"She heard of the marriage first through me," asserted Drummond. "Your +wife had never come near her—nor even sent her a line. She could give +me no information whatever."</p> + +<p>"You don't think she purposely misled you—?"</p> + +<p>"Frankly I don't. She seemed sincerely worried, when we talked the +matter over, and spoke in a most convincing way of her fruitless +attempts to trace the young woman through a private detective agency."</p> + +<p>"Still, she may know now," Whitaker said doubtfully. "She may have heard +something since. I'll have a word with her myself."</p> + +<p>"Address," observed Drummond, dryly: "the American Embassy, Berlin.... +Pettit's got some sort of a minor diplomatic berth over there."</p> + +<p>"O the devil!... But, anyway, I can write."</p> + +<p>"Think it over," Drummond advised. "Maybe it might be kinder not to."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know—"</p> + +<p>"You've given me to understand you were pretty comfy on the other side +of the globe. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?"</p> + +<p>"It's the lie that bothers me—the living lie. It isn't fair to her."</p> + +<p>"Rather sudden, this solicitude—what?" Drummond asked with open +sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"I daresay it does look that way. But I can't see that it's the decent +thing for me to let things slide any longer. I've got to try to find +her. She may be ill—destitute—in desperate trouble again—"</p> + +<p>Drummond's eyebrows went up whimsically. "You surely don't mean me to +infer that your affections are involved?"</p> + +<p>This brought Whitaker up standing. "Good heavens—no!" he cried. He +moved to a window and stared rudely at the Post Office Building for a +time. "I'm going to find her just the same—if she still lives," he +announced, turning back.</p> + +<p>"Would you know her if you saw her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." Whitaker frowned with annoyance. "She's six years +older—"</p> + +<p>"A woman often develops and changes amazingly between the ages of +eighteen and twenty-four."</p> + +<p>"I know," Whitaker acknowledged with dejection.</p> + +<p>"Well, but what <i>was</i> she like?" Drummond pursued curiously.</p> + +<p>Whitaker shook his head. "It's not easy to remember. Matter of fact, I +don't believe I ever got one good square look at her. It was twilight in +the hotel, when I found her; we sat talking in absolute darkness, toward +the end; even in the minister's study there was only a green-shaded lamp +on the table; and on the train—well, we were both too much worked up, I +fancy, to pay much attention to details."</p> + +<p>"Then you really haven't any idea—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, hardly." Whitaker's thin brown hand gesticulated vaguely. "She was +tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age...."</p> + +<p>"Blonde or brune?"</p> + +<p>"I swear I don't know. She wore one of those funny knitted caps, tight +down over her hair, all the time."</p> + +<p>Drummond laughed quietly. "Rather an inconclusive description, +especially if you advertise. 'Wanted: the wife I married six years ago +and haven't seen since; tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age; wore +one of those funny knit—'"</p> + +<p>"I don't feel in a joking humour," Whitaker interrupted roughly. "It's a +serious matter and wants serious treatment.... What else have we got to +mull over?"</p> + +<p>Drummond shrugged suavely. "There's enough to keep us busy for several +hours," he said. "For instance, there's my stewardship."</p> + +<p>"Your which?"</p> + +<p>"My care of your property. You left a good deal of money and securities +lying round loose, you know; naturally I felt obliged to look after 'em. +There was no telling when Widow Whitaker might walk in and demand an +accounting. I presume we might as well run over the account—though it +is getting late."</p> + +<p>"Half-past four," Whitaker informed him, consulting his watch. "Take too +long for to-day. Some other time."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow suit you?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow's Sunday," Whitaker objected. "But there's no hurry at all."</p> + +<p>Drummond's reply was postponed by the office boy, who popped in on the +heels of a light knock.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Max's outside," he announced.</p> + +<p>"O the deuce!" The exclamation seemed to escape Drummond's lips +involuntarily. He tightened them angrily, as though regretting the lapse +of self-control, and glanced hurriedly askance to see if Whitaker had +noticed. "I'm busy," he added, a trace sullenly. "Tell him I've gone +out."</p> + +<p>"But he's got 'nappointment," the boy protested. "And besides, I told +him you was in."</p> + +<p>"You needn't fob him off on my account," Whitaker interposed. "We can +finish our confab later—Monday—any time. It's time for me to be +getting up-town, anyway."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that," Drummond explained doggedly. "Only—the man's a bore, +and—"</p> + +<p>"It isn't Jules Max?" Whitaker demanded excitedly. "Not little Jules +Max, who used to stage manage our amateur shows?"</p> + +<p>"That's the man," Drummond admitted with plain reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Then have him in, by all means. I want to say howdy to him, if nothing +more. And then I'll clear out and leave you to his troubles."</p> + +<p>Drummond hesitated; whereupon the office boy, interpreting assent, +precipitately vanished to usher in the client. His employer laughed a +trifle sourly.</p> + +<p>"Ben's a little too keen about pleasing Max," he said. "I think he looks +on him as the fountainhead of free seats. Max has developed into a +heavy-weight entrepreneur, you know."</p> + +<p>"Meaning theatrical manager? Then why not say so? But I might've guessed +he'd drift into something of the sort."</p> + +<p>A moment later Whitaker was vigorously pumping the unresisting—indeed +the apparently boneless—hand of a visibly flabbergasted gentleman, who +suffered him for the moment solely upon suspicion, if his expression +were a reliable index of his emotion.</p> + +<p>In the heyday of his career as a cunning and successful promoter of +plays and players, Jules Max indulged a hankering for the picturesquely +eccentric that sat oddly upon his commonplace personality. The hat that +had made Hammerstein famous Max had appropriated—straight crown, flat +brim and immaculate gloss—bodily. Beneath it his face was small of +feature, and fat. Its trim little mustache lent it an air of +conventionality curiously at war with a pince-nez which sheltered his +near-sighted eyes, its enormous, round, horn-rimmed lenses sagging to +one side with the weight of a wide black ribbon. His nose was +insignificant, his mouth small and pursy. His short, round little body +was invariably by day dressed in a dark gray morning-coat, white-edged +waistcoat, assertively-striped trousers, and patent-leather shoes with +white spats. He had a passion for lemon-coloured gloves of thinnest kid +and slender malacca walking-sticks. His dignity was an awful thing, as +ingrained as his strut.</p> + +<p>He reasserted the dignity now with a jerk of his maltreated hand, as +well as with an appreciable effort betrayed by his resentful glare.</p> + +<p>"Do I know you?" he demanded haughtily. "If not, what the devil do you +mean by such conduct, sir?"</p> + +<p>With a laugh, Whitaker took him by the shoulders and spun him round +smartly into a convenient chair.</p> + +<p>"Sit still and let me get a <i>good</i> look," he implored. "Think of it! +Juley Max daring to put on side with me! The impudence of you, Juley! +I've a great mind to play horse with you. How dare you go round the +streets looking like that, anyway?"</p> + +<p>Max recovered his breath, readjusted his glasses, and resumed his stare.</p> + +<p>"Either," he observed, "you're Hugh Whitaker come to life or a damned +outrage."</p> + +<p>"Both, if you like."</p> + +<p>"You sound like both," complained the little man. "Anyway, you were +drowned in the Philippines or somewhere long ago, and I never waste time +on a dead one.... Drummond—" He turned to the lawyer with a vastly +business-like air.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't!" Whitaker insisted, putting himself between the two men. +"I admit that you're a great man; you might at least admit that I'm a +live one."</p> + +<p>A mollified smile moderated the small man's manner. "That's a bargain," +he said, extending a pale yellow paw; "I'm glad to see you again, Hugh. +When did you recrudesce?"</p> + +<p>"An hour ago," Drummond answered for him; "blew in here as large as life +and twice as important. He's been running a gold farm out in New Guinea. +What do you know about that?"</p> + +<p>"It's very interesting," Max conceded. "I shall have to cultivate him; I +never neglect a man with money. If you'll stick around a few minutes, +Hugh, I'll take you up-town in my car." He turned to Drummond, +completely ignoring Whitaker while he went into the details of some +action he desired the lawyer to undertake on his behalf. Then, having +talked steadily for upwards of ten minutes, he rose and prepared to go.</p> + +<p>"You've asked him, of course?" he demanded of Drummond, nodding toward +Whitaker.</p> + +<p>Drummond flushed slightly. "No chance," he said. "I was on the point of +doing it when you butted in."</p> + +<p>"What's this?" inquired Whitaker.</p> + +<p>Max delivered himself of a startling bit of information: "He's going to +get married."</p> + +<p>Whitaker stared. "Drummond? Not really?"</p> + +<p>Drummond acknowledged his guilt brazenly: "Next week, in fact."</p> + +<p>"But why didn't you say anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't give me an opening. Besides, to welcome a deserter from the +Great Beyond is enough to drive all other thoughts from a man's mind."</p> + +<p>"There's to be a supper in honour of the circumstances, at the Beaux +Arts to-night," supplemented Max. "You'll come, of course."</p> + +<p>"Do you think you could keep me away with a dog?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't risk spoiling the dog," said Drummond. He added with a +tentative, questioning air: "There'll be a lot of old-time acquaintances +of yours there, you know."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," Whitaker declared with spirit. "I've played dead +long enough."</p> + +<p>"As you think best," the lawyer acceded. "Midnight, then—the Beaux +Arts."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there—and furthermore, I'll be waiting at the church a week +hence—or whenever it's to come off. And now I want to congratulate +you." Whitaker held Drummond's hand in one of those long, hard grips +that mean much between men. "But mostly I want to congratulate her. Who +is she?"</p> + +<p>"Sara Law," said Drummond, with pride in his quick color and the lift of +his chin.</p> + +<p>"Sara Law?" The name had a familiar ring, yet Whitaker failed to +recognize it promptly.</p> + +<p>"The greatest living actress on the English-speaking stage," Max +announced, preening himself importantly. "My own discovery."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of her. Is New Guinea, then, so +utterly abandoned to the march of civilization?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I've heard—but I have been out of touch with such things," +Whitaker apologized. "When shall I see her?"</p> + +<p>"At supper, to-night," said the man of law. "It's really in her +honour—"</p> + +<p>"In honour of her retirement," Max interrupted, fussing with a gardenia +on his lapel. "She retires from the stage finally, and forever—she +says—when the curtain falls to-night."</p> + +<p>"Then I've got to be in the theatre to-night—if that's the case," said +Whitaker. "It isn't my notion of an occasion to miss."</p> + +<p>"You're right there," Max told him bluntly. "It's no small matter to +me—losing such a star; but the world's loss of its greatest +artist—<i>ah!</i>" He kissed his finger-tips and ecstatically flirted the +caress afar.</p> + +<p>"'Fraid you won't get in, though," Drummond doubted darkly. "Everything +in the house for this final week was sold out a month ago. Even the +speculators are cleaned out."</p> + +<p>"<i>Tut!</i>" the manager reproved him loftily. "Hugh is going to see Sara +Law act for the last time from my personal box—aren't you, Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I am!" Whitaker asserted with conviction.</p> + +<p>"Then come along." Max caught him by the arm and started for the door. +"So long, Drummond...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>CURTAIN</h3> + + +<p>Nothing would satisfy Max but that Whitaker should dine with him. He +consented to drop him at the Ritz-Carlton, in order that he might dress, +only on the condition that Whitaker would meet him at seven, in the +white room at the Knickerbocker.</p> + +<p>"Just mention my name to the head waiter," he said with magnificence; +"or if I'm there first, you can't help seeing me. Everybody knows my +table—the little one in the southeast corner."</p> + +<p>Whitaker promised, suppressing a smile; evidently the hat was not the +only peculiarity of Mr. Hammerstein's that Max had boldly made his own.</p> + +<p>Max surprised him by a shrewd divination of his thoughts. "I know what +you're thinking," he volunteered with an intensely serious expression +shadowing his pudgy countenance; "but really, my dear fellow, it's good +business. You get people into the habit of saying, 'There's Max's +table,' and you likewise get them into the habit of thinking of Max's +theatre and Max's stars. As a matter of fact, I'm merely running an +immense advertising plant with a dramatic annex."</p> + +<p>"You are an immense advertisement all by your lonesome," Whitaker agreed +with a tolerant laugh, rising as the car paused at the entrance of the +Ritz.</p> + +<p>"Seven o'clock—you won't fail me?" Max persisted. "Really, you know, +I'm doing you an immense favour—dinner—a seat in my private box at +Sara Law's farewell performance—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm thoroughly impressed," Whitaker assured him, stepping out of +the car. "But tell me—on the level, now—why this staggering +condescension?"</p> + +<p>Max looked him over as he paused on the sidewalk, a tall, loosely built +figure attired impeccably yet with an elusive sense of carelessness, his +head on one side and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The twinkle was +momentarily reflected in the managerial gaze as he replied with an air +of impulsive candour: "One never can tell when the most unlikely-looking +material may prove useful. I may want to borrow money from you before +long. If I put you under sufficient obligation to me, you can't well +refuse.... Shoot, James!"</p> + +<p>The latter phrase was Max's way of ordering the driver to move on. The +car snorted resentfully, then pulled smoothly and swiftly away. Max +waved a jaunty farewell with a lemon-coloured hand, over the back of the +tonneau.</p> + +<p>Whitaker went up to his room in a reflective mood in which the +theatrical man had little place, and began leisurely to prepare his +person for ceremonious clothing—preparations which, at first, consisted +in nothing more strenuous than finding a pipe and sitting down to stare +out of the window. He was in no hurry—he had still an hour and a half +before he was due at the Knickerbocker—and the afternoon's employment +had furnished him with a great deal of material to stimulate his +thoughts.</p> + +<p>Since his arrival in New York he had fallen into the habit of seeking +the view from his window when in meditative humour. The vast sweep of +gullied roofs exerted an almost hypnotic attraction for his eyes. They +ranged southward to the point where vision failed against the false +horizon of dull amber haze. Late sunlight threw level rays athwart the +town, gilding towering westerly walls and striking fire from all their +windows. Between them like deep blue crevasses ran the gridironed +streets. The air was moveless, yet sonorously thrilled with the measured +movement of the city's symphonic roar. Above the golden haze a drift of +light cloud was burning an ever deeper pink against the vault of +robin's-egg blue.</p> + +<p>A view of ten thousand roofs, inexpressibly enchaining.... +Somewhere—perhaps—in that welter of steel and stone, as eternal and as +restless as the sea, was the woman Whitaker had married, working out her +lonely destiny. A haphazard biscuit tossed from his window might fall +upon the very roof that sheltered her: he might search for a hundred +years and never cross her path.</p> + +<p>He wondered....</p> + +<p>More practically he reminded himself not to forget to write to Mrs. +Pettit. He must try to get the name of the firm of private detectives +she had employed, and her permission to pump them; it might help him, to +learn the quarters wherein they had failed.</p> + +<p>And he must make an early opportunity to question Drummond more closely; +not that he anticipated that Drummond knew anything more than he had +already disclosed—anything really helpful at all events.</p> + +<p>His thoughts shifted to dwell temporarily on the two personalities newly +introduced into his cosmos, strikingly new, in spite of the fact that +they had been so well known to him of old. He wondered if it were +possible that he seemed to them as singularly metamorphosed as they +seemed to him—superficially if not integrally. He had lost altogether +the trick of thinking in their grooves, and yet they seemed very human +to him. He thought they supplemented one another somewhat weirdly: each +was at bottom what the other seemed to be. Beneath his assumption, for +purposes of revenue only, of outrageous eccentricities, Jules Max was as +bourgeois as César Birotteau; beneath his assumption of the +steady-going, keen, alert and conservative man of affairs, Drummond was +as romantic as D'Artagnan. But Max had this advantage of Drummond: he +was not his own dupe; whereas Drummond would go to his grave believing +himself bored to extinction by the commonplaceness of his fantastical +self....</p> + +<p>Irresponsibly, his reverie reëmbraced the memory he had of the woman who +alone held the key to his matrimonial entanglement. The business bound +his imagination with an ineluctable fascination. No matter how far his +thoughts wandered, they were sure to return to beat themselves to +weariness against that hard-faced mystery, like moths bewitched by the +light behind a clouded window-glass. It was very curious (he thought) +that he could be so indifferent and so interested at one and the same +time. The possibility that she might have married a second time did not +disturb his pulse by the least fraction of a beat. He even contemplated +the chance that she might be dead with normal equanimity. Fortunate, +that he didn't love her. More fortunate still, that he loved no one +else.</p> + +<p>It occurred to him suddenly that it would take a long time for a letter +to elicit information from Berlin.</p> + +<p>Incontinently he wrote and despatched a long, extravagant cablegram to +Mrs. Pettit in care of the American Embassy, little doubting that she +would immediately answer.</p> + +<p>Then he set whole-heartedly about the business of making himself +presentable for the evening.</p> + +<p>When eventually he strode into the white room, Max was already +established at the famous little table in the southeast corner. Whitaker +was conscious of turning heads and guarded comment as he took his place +opposite the little fat man.</p> + +<p>"Make you famous in a night," Max assured him importantly. "Don't happen +to need any notoriety, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, thanks."</p> + +<p>"Dine with me here three nights hand-running and they'll let you into +the Syndicate by the back door without even asking your name. P.T.A.'s +one grand little motto, my boy."</p> + +<p>"P.T.A.?"</p> + +<p>"Pays to advertise. Paste that in your hat, keep your head small enough +to wear it, and don't givadam if folks do think you're an addle-pated +village cut-up, and you'll have this town at heel like a good dog as +long as—well," Max wound up with a short laugh, "as long as your luck +lasts."</p> + +<p>"Yours seems to be pretty healthy—no signs of going into a premature +decline."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Max gloomily. "Seems!"</p> + +<p>With a morose manner he devoted himself to his soup.</p> + +<p>"Look me over," he requested abruptly, leaning back. "I guess I'm some +giddy young buck, what?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker reviewed the striking effect Max had created by encasing his +brief neck and double chin in an old-fashioned high collar and black +silk stock, beneath which his important chest was protected by an +elaborately frilled shirt decorated with black pearl studs. His waist +was strapped in by a pique waistcoat edged with black, and there was a +distinctly perceptible "invisible" stripe in the material of his evening +coat and trousers.</p> + +<p>"Dressed up like a fool," Max summed up the ensemble before his guest +could speak. "Would you believe that despair could gnaw at the vitals of +any one as wonderfully arrayed?"</p> + +<p>"I would not," Whitaker asserted.</p> + +<p>"Nobody would," said Max mournfully. "And yet, 'tis true."</p> + +<p>"Meaning—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm just down in the mouth because this is Sara's last appearance." +Max motioned the waiter to remove the débris of a course. "I'm as +superstitious as any trouper in the profession. I've got it in my knob +that she's my mascot. If she leaves me, my luck goes with her. I never +had any luck until she came under my management, and I don't expect to +have any after she retires. I made her, all right, but she made me, too; +and it sprains my sense of good business to break up a paying +combination like that."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," Whitaker contended warmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you were +telling me this afternoon that you stand next to Belasco as a producing +manager. The loss of one star isn't going to rob you of that prestige, +is it?"</p> + +<p>"You never can tell," the little man contended darkly; "I wouldn't bet +thirty cents my next production would turn out a hit."</p> + +<p>"What will it cost—your next production?"</p> + +<p>"The show I have in mind—" Max considered a moment then announced +positively: "between eighteen and twenty thousand."</p> + +<p>"I call that big gambling."</p> + +<p>"Gambling? Oh, that's just part of the game. I meant a side bet. If the +production flivvers, I'll need that thirty cents for coffee and sinkers +at Dennett's. So I won't bet.... But," he volunteered brightly, "I'll +sell you a half interest in the show for twelve thousand."</p> + +<p>"Is that a threat or a promise?"</p> + +<p>"I mean it," Max insisted seriously; "though I'll admit I'm not crazy +about your accepting—yet. I've had several close calls with Sara—she's +threatened to chuck the stage often before this; but every time +something happened to make her change her mind. I've got a hunch maybe +something will happen this time, too. If it does, I won't want any +partners."</p> + +<p>Whitaker laughed quietly and turned the conversation, accepting the +manager's pseudo-confidences at their face value—that is, as pure +bluff, quite consistent with the managerial pose.</p> + +<p>They rose presently and made their way out into the crowded, blatant +night of Broadway.</p> + +<p>"We'll walk, if you don't mind," Max suggested. "It isn't far, and I'd +like to get a line on the house as it goes in." He sighed affectedly. +"Heaven knows when I'll see another swell audience mobbing one of my +attractions!"</p> + +<p>His companion raised no objection. This phase of the life of New York +exerted an attraction for his imagination of unfailing potency. He was +more willing to view it afoot than from the windows of a cab.</p> + +<p>They pushed forward slowly through the eddying tides, elbowed by a +matchless motley of humanity, deafened by its thousand tongues, dazzled +to blindness by walls of living light. Whitaker experienced a sensation +of participating in a royal progress: Max was plainly a man of mark; he +left a wake of rippling interest. At every third step somebody hailed +him, as a rule by his first name; generally he responded by a curt nod +and a tightening of his teeth upon his cigar.</p> + +<p>They turned east through Forty-sixth Street, shouldered by a denser +rabble whose faces, all turned in one direction, shone livid with the +glare of a gigantic electric sign, midway down the block:</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Theatre Max</span><br /> +SARA LAW'S<br /> +FAREWELL</h4> + + +<p>It was nearly half-past eight; the house had been open since seven; and +still a queue ran from the gallery doors to Broadway, while still an +apparently interminable string of vehicles writhed from one corner to +the lobby entrance, paused to deposit its perishable freight, and +streaked away to Sixth Avenue. The lobby itself was crowded to +suffocation with an Occidental durbar of barbaric magnificence, the +city's supreme manifestation of its religion, the ultimate rite in the +worship of the pomps of the flesh.</p> + +<p>"Look at that," Max grumbled through his cigar. "Ain't it a shame?"</p> + +<p>"What?" Whitaker had to lift his voice to make it carry above the +buzzing of the throng.</p> + +<p>"The money I'm losing," returned the manager, vividly disgusted. "I +could've filled the Metropolitan Opera House three times over!"</p> + +<p>He swung on his heel and began to push his way out of the lobby. "Come +along—no use trying to get in this way."</p> + +<p>Whitaker followed, to be led down a blind alley between the theatre and +the adjoining hotel. An illuminated sign advertised the stage door, +through which, <i>via</i> a brief hallway, they entered the postscenium—a +vast, cavernous, cluttered, shadowy and draughty place, made visible for +the most part by an unnatural glow filtering from the footlights through +the canvas walls of an interior set. Whitaker caught hasty glimpses of +stage-hands idling about; heard a woman's voice declaiming loudly from +within the set; saw a middle-aged actor waiting for his cue beside a +substantial wooden door in the canvas walls; and—Max dragging him by +the arm—passed through a small door into the gangway behind the boxes.</p> + +<p>"Curtain's just up," Max told him; "Sara doesn't come on till near the +middle of the act. Make yourself comfortable; I'll be back before long."</p> + +<p>He drew aside a curtain and ushered his guest into the right-hand +stage-box, then vanished. Whitaker, finding himself the sole occupant of +the box, established himself in desolate grandeur as far out of sight as +he could arrange his chair, without losing command of the stage. A +single glance over the body of the house showed him tier upon tier of +dead-white shirt-bosoms framed in black, alternating with bare gleaming +shoulders and dazzling, exquisite gowns. The few empty stalls were +rapidly filling up. There was a fluent movement through the aisles. A +subdued hum and rustle rose from that portion of the audience which was +already seated. The business going on upon the stage was receiving +little attention—from Whitaker as little as from any one. He was +vaguely conscious only of a scene suggesting with cruel cleverness the +interior of a shabby-genteel New York flat and of a few figures peopling +it, all dominated by a heavy-limbed, harsh-voiced termagant. That to +which he was most sensitive was a purely psychological feeling of +suspense and excitement, a semi-hysterical, high-strung, emotional state +which he knew he shared with the audience, its source in fact. The +opening scene in the development of the drama interested the gathering +little or not at all; it was hanging in suspense upon the unfolding of +some extraordinary development, something unprecedented and extraneous, +foreign to the play.</p> + +<p>Was it due simply to the fact that all these people were present at the +last public appearance—as advertised—of a star of unusual popularity? +Whitaker wondered. Or was there something else in their minds, something +deeper and more profoundly significant?</p> + +<p>Max slipped quietly into the box and handed his guest a programme. +"Better get over here," he suggested in a hoarse whisper, indicating a +chair near the rail. "You may never have another chance to see the +greatest living actress."</p> + +<p>Whitaker thanked him and adopted the suggestion, albeit with reluctance. +The manager remained standing for a moment, quick eyes ranging over the +house. By this time the aisles were all clear, the rows of seats +presenting an almost unbroken array of upturned faces.</p> + +<p>Max combined a nod denoting satisfaction with a slight frown.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful house," he whispered, sitting down behind Whitaker. "Drummond +hasn't shown up yet, though."</p> + +<p>"That so?" Whitaker returned over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's funny; never knew him to be so late. He always has the aisle +seat, fourth row, centre. But he'll be along presently."</p> + +<p>Whitaker noted that the designated stall was vacant, then tried to fix +his attention upon the stage; but without much success; after a few +moments he became aware that he had missed something important; the +scene was meaningless to him, lacking what had gone before.</p> + +<p>He glanced idly at his programme, indifferently absorbing the +information that "Jules Max has the honour to present Miss Sara Law in +her first and greatest success entitled <span class="smcap">Joan Thursday</span>—a play in three +acts—"</p> + +<p>The audience stirred expectantly; a movement ran through it like the +movement of waters, murmurous, upon a shore. Whitaker's gaze was drawn +to the stage as if by an implacable force. Max shifted on the chair +behind him and said something indistinguishable, in an unnatural tone.</p> + +<p>A woman had come upon the stage, suddenly and tempestuously, banging a +door behind her. The audience got the barest glimpse of her profile as, +pausing momentarily, she eyed the other actors. Then, without speaking, +she turned and walked up-stage, her back to the footlights.</p> + +<p>Applause broke out like a thunderclap, pealing heavily through the big +auditorium, but the actress showed no consciousness of it. She was +standing before a cheap mirror, removing her hat, arranging her hair +with the typical, unconscious gestures of a weary shop-girl; she was +acting—living the scene, with no time to waste in pandering to her +popularity by bows and set smiles; she remained before the glass, +prolonging the business, until the applause subsided.</p> + +<p>Whitaker received an impression as of a tremendous force at work across +the footlights. The woman diffused an effect as of a terrible and +boundless energy under positive control. She was not merely an actress, +not even merely a great actress; she was the very soul of the drama of +to-day.</p> + +<p>Beyond this he knew in his heart that she was his wife. Sara Law was the +woman he had married in that sleepy Connecticut town, six years before +that night. He had not yet seen her face clearly, but he <i>knew</i>. To find +himself mistaken would have shaken the foundations of his understanding.</p> + +<p>Under cover of the applause, he turned to Max.</p> + +<p>"Who is that? What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"The divine Sara," Max answered, his eyes shining.</p> + +<p>"I mean, what is her name off the stage, in private life?"</p> + +<p>"The same," Max nodded with conviction; "Sara Law's the only name she's +ever worn in my acquaintance with her."</p> + +<p>At that moment, the applause having subsided to such an extent that it +was possible for her to make herself heard, the actress swung round from +the mirror and addressed one of the other players. Her voice was clear, +strong and vibrant, yet sweet; but Whitaker paid no heed to the lines +she spoke. He was staring, fascinated, at her face.</p> + +<p>Sight of it set the seal of certainty upon conviction: she was one with +Mary Ladislas. He had forgotten her so completely in the lapse of years +as to have been unable to recall her features and colouring, yet he had +needed only to see to recognize her beyond any possibility of doubt. +Those big, intensely burning eyes, that drawn and pallid face, the +quick, nervous movements of her thin white hands, the slenderness of her +tall, awkward, immature figure—in every line and contour, in every +gesture and inflection, she reproduced the Mary Ladislas whom he had +married.</p> + +<p>And yet ... Max was whispering over his shoulder:</p> + +<p>"Wonderful make-up—what?"</p> + +<p>"Make-up!" Whitaker retorted. "She's not made up—she's herself to the +last detail."</p> + +<p>Amusement glimmered in the manager's round little eyes: "You don't know +her. Wait till you get a pipe at her off the stage." Then he checked the +reply that was shaping on Whitaker's lips, with a warning lift of his +hand and brows: "Ssh! Catch this, now. She's a wonder in this scene."</p> + +<p>The superb actress behind the counterfeit of the hunted and hungry +shop-girl was holding spell-bound with her inevitable witchery the most +sophisticated audience in the world; like wheat in a windstorm it swayed +to the modulations of her marvellous voice as it ran through a +passage-at-arms with the termagant. Suddenly ceasing to speak, she +turned down to a chair near the footlights, followed by a torrent of +shrill vituperation under the lash of which she quivered like a whipped +thoroughbred.</p> + +<p>Abruptly, pausing with her hands on the back of the chair, there came a +change. The actress had glanced across the footlights; Whitaker could +not but follow the direction of her gaze; the eyes of both focussed for +a brief instant on the empty aisle-seat in the fourth row. A shade of +additional pallor showed on the woman's face. She looked quickly, +questioningly, toward the box of her manager.</p> + +<p>Seated as he was so near the stage, Whitaker's face stood out in rugged +relief, illumined by the glow reflected from the footlights. It was +inevitable that she should see him. Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon +his. The scene faltered perceptibly. She stood transfixed....</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon his. The scene faltered perceptibly</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>In the hush Max cried impatiently: "What the devil!" The words broke the +spell of amazement upon the actress. In a twinkling the pitiful +counterfeit of the shop-girl was rent and torn away; it hung only in +shreds and tatters upon an individuality wholly strange to Whitaker: a +larger, stronger woman seemed to have started out of the mask.</p> + +<p>She turned, calling imperatively into the wings: "<i>Ring down!</i>"</p> + +<p>Followed a pause of dumb amazement. In all the house, during the space +of thirty pulse-beats, no one moved. Then Max rapped out an oath and +slipped like quicksilver from the box.</p> + +<p>Simultaneously the woman's foot stamped an echo from the boards.</p> + +<p>"Ring down!" she cried. "Do you hear? Ring down!"</p> + +<p>With a rush the curtain descended as pandemonium broke out on both sides +of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<h3>THE LATE EXTRA</h3> + + +<p>Impulsively Whitaker got up to follow Max, then hesitated and sank back +in doubt, his head awhirl. He was for the time being shocked out of all +capacity for clear reasoning or right thinking. Uppermost in his +consciousness he had a half-formed notion that it wouldn't help matters +if he were to force himself in upon the crisis behind the scenes.</p> + +<p>Beyond all question his wife had recognized in him the man whom she had +been given every reason to believe dead: a discovery so unnerving as to +render her temporarily unable to continue. But if theatrical precedent +were a reliable guide, she would presently pull herself together and go +on; people of the stage seldom forget that their first duty is to the +audience. If he sat tight and waited, all might yet be well—as well as +any such hideous coil could be hoped ever to be....</p> + +<p>As has been indicated, he arrived at his conclusion through no such +detailed argument; his mind leaped to it, and he rested upon it while +still beset by a half-score of tormenting considerations.</p> + +<p>This, then, explained Drummond's reluctance to have him bidden to the +supper party; whatever ultimate course of action he planned to pursue, +Drummond had been unwilling, perhaps pardonably so, to have his romance +overthrown and altogether shattered in a single day.</p> + +<p>And Drummond, too, must have known who Sara Law was, even while denying +knowledge of the existence of Mary Ladislas Whitaker. He had lied, lied +desperately, doubtless meaning to encompass a marriage before Whitaker +could find his wife, and so furnish him with every reason that could +influence an honourable man to disappear a second time.</p> + +<p>Herein, moreover, lay the reason for the lawyer's failure to occupy his +stall on that farewell night. It was just possible that Whitaker would +not recognize his wife; and <i>vice versa</i>; but it was a chance that +Drummond hadn't the courage to face. Even so, he might have hidden +himself somewhere in the house, waiting and watching to see what would +happen.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, Max to a certainty was ignorant of the relationship +between his star and his old-time friend, just as he must have been +ignorant of her identity with the one-time Mary Ladislas. For that +matter, Whitaker had to admit that, damning as was the evidence to +controvert the theory, Drummond might be just as much in the dark as Max +was. There was always the chance that the girl had kept her secret to +herself, inviolate, informing neither her manager nor the man she had +covenanted to wed. Drummond's absence from the house might be due to any +one of a hundred reasons other than that to which Whitaker inclined to +assign it. It was only fair to suspend judgment. In the meantime....</p> + +<p>The audience was getting beyond control. The clamour of comment and +questioning which had broken loose when the curtain fell was waxing and +gaining a high querulous note of impatience. In the gallery the gods +were beginning to testify to their normal intolerance with shrill +whistles, cat-calls, sporadic bursts of hand-clapping and a steady, +sinister rumble of stamping feet. In the orchestra and dress-circle +people were moving about restlessly and talking at the top of their +voices in order to make themselves heard above the growing din. Had +there been music to fill the interval, they might have been more calm; +but Max had fallen in with the theatrical <i>dernier cri</i> and had +eliminated orchestras from his houses, employing only a peal of gongs to +insure silence and attention before each curtain.</p> + +<p>Abruptly Max himself appeared at one side of the proscenium arch. It was +plain to those nearest the stage that he was seriously disturbed. There +was a noticeable hesitancy in his manner, a pathetic frenzy in his +habitually mild and lustrous eyes. Advancing halfway to the middle of +the apron, he paused, begging attention with a pudgy hand. It was a full +minute before the gallery would let him be heard.</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced plaintively, "I much regret to +inform you that Miss Law has suffered a severe nervous shock"—his gaze +wandered in perplexed inquiry toward the right-hand stage-box, then was +hastily averted—"and will not be able to continue for a few moments. If +you will kindly grant us your patience for a very few minutes...." He +backed precipitately from view, hounded by mocking applause.</p> + +<p>A lull fell, but only temporarily. As the minutes lengthened, the +gallery grew more and more obstreperous and turbulent. Wave upon wave of +sound swept through the auditorium to break, roaring, against the +obdurate curtain. When eventually a second figure appeared before the +footlights, the audience seemed to understand that Max dared not show +himself again, and why. It was with difficulty that the man—evidently +the stage-manager—contrived to make himself disconnectedly audible.</p> + +<p>"Ladies and ..." he shouted, sweat beading his perturbed forehead ... +"regret ... impossible to continue ... money ... box-office...."</p> + +<p>An angry howl drowned him out. He retreated at accelerated discretion.</p> + +<p>Whitaker, slipping through the stage-door behind the boxes, ran into the +last speaker standing beside the first entrance, heatedly explaining to +any one who would listen the utter futility of offering box-office +prices in return for seat checks which in the majority of instances had +cost their holders top-notch speculator prices.</p> + +<p>"They'll wreck the theatre," he shouted excitedly, mopping his brow with +his coat sleeve, "and damned if I blame 'em! What t'ell'd she wana pull +a raw one like this for?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker caught his arm in a grasp compelling attention.</p> + +<p>"Where's Miss Law?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"You tell me and I'll make you a handsome present," retorted the man.</p> + +<p>"What's happened to her? Can't you find her?"</p> + +<p>"I dunno—go ask Max."</p> + +<p>"Where is <i>he</i>?"</p> + +<p>"You can search me; last I saw of him he was tearing the star +dressin'-room up by the roots."</p> + +<p>Whitaker hurried on just in time to see Max disappearing in the +direction of the stage-door, at which point he caught up with him, and +from the manager's disjointed catechism of the doorkeeper garnered the +information that the star had hurried out of the building while Max was +making his announcement before the curtain.</p> + +<p>Max swung angrily upon Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's you, is it? Perhaps you can explain what this means? She was +looking straight at you when she dried up! I saw her—"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd better find Miss Law and ask her," Whitaker interrupted. +"Have you any idea where she's gone?"</p> + +<p>"Home, probably," Max snapped in return.</p> + +<p>"Where's that?"</p> + +<p>"Fifty-seventh Street—house of her own—just bought it."</p> + +<p>"Come on, then." Passing his arm through the manager's, Whitaker drew +him out into the alley. "We'll get a taxi before this mob—"</p> + +<p>"But, look here—what business've <i>you</i> got mixing in?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Miss Law," said Whitaker, shortly. It had been on the tip of his +tongue to tell the man flatly: "I'm her husband." But he retained wit +enough to deny himself the satisfaction of this shattering rejoinder. "I +know her," he added; "that's enough for the present."</p> + +<p>"If you knew her all the time, why didn't you say so?" Max expostulated +with passion.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I knew her—by that name," said Whitaker lamely.</p> + +<p>At the entrance to the alley Max paused to listen to the uproar within +his well-beloved theatre.</p> + +<p>"I'd give five thousand gold dollars if I hadn't met you this +afternoon!" he groaned.</p> + +<p>"It's too late, now," Whitaker mentioned the obvious. "But if I'd +understood, I promise you I wouldn't have come—at least to sit where +she could see me."</p> + +<p>He began gently to urge Max toward Broadway, but the manager hung back +like a sulky child.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he grumbled. "I always knew that woman was a Jonah!"</p> + +<p>"You were calling her your mascot two hours ago."</p> + +<p>"She'll be the death of me, yet," the little man insisted gloomily. He +stopped short, jerking his arm free. "Look here, I'm not going. What's +the use? We'd only row. And I've got my work cut out for me back +there"—with a jerk of his head toward the theatre.</p> + +<p>Whitaker hesitated, then without regret decided to lose him. It would be +as well to get over the impending interview without a third factor.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, beckoning a taxicab in to the curb. "What's the +address?"</p> + +<p>Max gave it sullenly.</p> + +<p>"So long," he added morosely as Whitaker opened the cab door; "sorry I +ever laid eyes on you."</p> + +<p>Whitaker hesitated. "How about that supper?" he inquired. "Is it still +on?"</p> + +<p>"How in blazes do I know? Come round to the Beaux Arts and find out for +yourself—same's I'll have to."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Whitaker doubtfully. He nodded to the chauffeur, and +jumped into the cab. As they swung away he received a parting impression +of Max, his pose modelled on the popular conception of Napoleon at +Waterloo: hands clasped behind his back, hair in disorder, chin on his +chest, a puzzled frown shadowing his face as he stared sombrely after +his departing guest.</p> + +<p>Whitaker settled back and, oblivious to the lights of Broadway streaming +past, tried to think—tried with indifferent success to prepare himself +against the unhappy conference he had to anticipate. It suddenly +presented itself to his reason, with shocking force, that his attitude +must be humbly and wholly apologetic. It was a singular case: he had +come home to find his wife on the point of marrying another man—and +<i>she</i> was the one entitled to feel aggrieved! Strange twist of the +eternal triangle!...</p> + +<p>He tried desperately, and with equal futility, to frame some excuse for +his fault.</p> + +<p>Far too soon the machine swerved into Fifty-seventh Street, slipped +halfway down the block, described a wide arc to the northern curb and +pulled up, trembling, before a modest modern residence between Sixth and +Seventh avenues.</p> + +<p>Reluctantly Whitaker got out and, on suspicion, told the chauffeur to +wait. Then, with all the alacrity of a condemned man ascending the +scaffold, he ran up the steps to the front door.</p> + +<p>A man-servant answered his ring without undue delay.</p> + +<p>Was Miss Law at home? He would see.</p> + +<p>This indicated that she was at home. Whitaker tendered a card with his +surname pencilled after that of <i>Mr. Hugh Morten</i> in engraved script. He +was suffered to enter and wait in the hallway.</p> + +<p>He stared round him with pardonable wonder. If this were truly the home +of Mary Ladislas Whitaker—her property—he had builded far better than +he could possibly have foreseen with that investment of five hundred +dollars six years since. But who, remembering the tortured, half-starved +child of the Commercial House, could have prefigured the Sara Law of +to-day—the woman who, before his eyes, within that hour, had burst +through the counterfeit of herself of yesterday like some splendid +creature emerging from its chrysalis?</p> + +<p>Soft, shaded lights, rare furnishings, the rich yet delicate atmosphere +of exquisite taste, the hush and orderly perfection of a home made and +maintained with consummate art: these furnished him with dim, provoking +intimations of an individuality to which he was a stranger—less than a +stranger—nothing....</p> + +<p>The man-servant brought his dignity down-stairs again.</p> + +<p>Would Mr. Whitaker be pleased to wait in the drawing-room?</p> + +<p>Mr. Whitaker surrendered top-coat and hat and was shown into the +designated apartment. Almost immediately he became aware of feminine +footsteps on the staircase—tapping heels, the faint murmuring of +skirts. He faced the doorway, indefinably thrilled, the blood quickening +in throat and temples.</p> + +<p>To his intense disappointment there entered to him a woman impossible to +confuse with her whom he sought: a lady well past middle-age, with the +dignity and poise consistent with her years, her manifest breeding and +her iron-gray hair.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Whitaker?"</p> + +<p>He bowed, conscious that he was being narrowly scrutinized, nicely +weighed in the scales of a judgment prejudiced, if at all, not in his +favor.</p> + +<p>"I am Mrs. Secretan, a friend of Miss Law's. She has asked me to say +that she begs to be excused, at least for to-night. She has suffered a +severe shock and is able to see nobody."</p> + +<p>"I understand—and I'm sorry," said Whitaker, swallowing his chagrin.</p> + +<p>"And I am further instructed to ask if you will be good enough to leave +your address."</p> + +<p>"Certainly: I'm stopping at the Ritz-Carlton; but"—he demurred—"I +should like to leave a note, if I may—?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Secretan nodded an assent. "You will find materials in the desk +there," she added, indicating an escritoire.</p> + +<p>Thanking her, Whitaker sat down, and, after some hesitation, wrote a few +lines:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Please don't think I mean to cause you the slightest inconvenience +or distress. I shall be glad to further your wishes in any way you +may care to designate. Please believe in my sincere regret...."</p></div> + +<p>Signing and folding this, he rose and delivered it to Mrs. Secretan.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said with a ceremonious bow.</p> + +<p>The customary civilities were scrupulously observed.</p> + +<p>He found himself in the street, with his trouble for all reward for his +pains. He wondered what to do, where to go, next. There was in his mind +a nagging thought that he ought to do something or other, somehow or +other, to find Drummond and make him understand that he, Whitaker, had +no desire or inclination to stand in his light; only, let the thing be +consummated decently, as privately as possible, with due deference to +the law....</p> + +<p>The driver of the taxicab was holding the door for him, head bent to +catch the address of the next stop. But his fare lingered still in +doubt.</p> + +<p>Dimly he became aware of the violent bawlings of a brace of news-vendors +who were ramping through the street, one on either sidewalk. Beyond two +words which seemed to be intended for "extra" and "tragedy" their cries +were as inarticulate as they were deafening.</p> + +<p>At the spur of a vague impulse, bred of an incredulous wonder if the +papers were already noising abroad the news of the fiasco at the Theatre +Max, Whitaker stopped one of the men and purchased a paper. It was +delivered into his hands roughly folded so that a section of the front +page which blazed with crimson ink was uppermost—and indicated, +moreover, by a ridiculously dirty thumb.</p> + +<p>"Ther'y'are, sir. 'Orrible moider.... Thanky...."</p> + +<p>The man galloped on, howling. But Whitaker stood with his gaze riveted +in horror. The news item so pointedly offered to his attention was +clearly legible in the light of the cab lamps.</p> + +<h4>LATEST EXTRA</h4> +<h4>TRAGIC SUICIDE IN HARLEM RIVER</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Stopping his automobile in the middle of Washington Bridge at 7.30 +P.M., Carter S. Drummond, the lawyer and fiancé of Sara Law the +actress, threw himself to his death in the Harlem River. The body +has not as yet been recovered.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<h3>A HISTORY</h3> + + +<p>Whitaker returned at once to the Theatre Max, but only to find the front +of the house dark, Forty-sixth Street gradually reassuming its normal +nocturnal aspect.</p> + +<p>At the stage-door he discovered that no one knew what had become of the +manager. He might possibly be at home.... It appeared that Max occupied +exclusive quarters especially designed for him in the theatre building +itself: an amiable idiosyncrasy not wholly lacking in advertising value, +if one chose to consider it in that light.</p> + +<p>His body-servant, a prematurely sour Japanese, suggested grudgingly that +his employer might not improbably be found at Rector's or Louis +Martin's. But he wasn't; not by Whitaker, at least.</p> + +<p>Eventually the latter realized that it wasn't absolutely essential to +his peace of mind or material welfare to find Max that night. He had +been, as a matter of fact, seeking him in thoughtless humour—moved +solely by the gregarious instinct in man, which made him want to discuss +the amazing events of the evening with the one who, next to himself and +Sara Law, was most vitally concerned with them.</p> + +<p>He consulted a telephone book without finding that Drummond had any +private residence connection, and then tried at random one of the clubs +of which they had been members in common in the days when Hugh Whitaker +was a human entity in the knowledge of the town. Here he had better +luck—luck, that is, in as far as it put an end to his wanderings for +the night; he found a clerk who remembered his face without remembering +his name, and who, consequently, was not unwilling to talk. Drummond, it +seemed, had lived at the club; he had dined alone, that evening, in his +room; had ordered his motor car from the adjacent garage for seven +o'clock; and had left at about that hour with a small hand-bag and no +companion. Nothing further was known of his actions save the police +report. The car had been found stationary on Washington Bridge, and +deserted, Drummond's motor coat and cap on the driver's seat. Bystanders +averred that a man had been seen to leave the car and precipitate +himself from the bridge to the stream below. The body was still +unrecovered. The club had notified by telegraph a brother in San +Francisco, the only member of Drummond's family of whom it had any +record. Friends, fellow-members of the club, were looking after +things—doing all that could and properly ought to be done under the +circumstances.</p> + +<p>Whitaker walked back to his hotel. There was no other place to go: no +place, that is, that wooed his humour in that hour. He could call to +mind, of course, names of friends and acquaintances of the old days to +whom there was no reason why he shouldn't turn, now that he had elected +to rediscover himself to the world; but there was none of them all that +he really wanted to see before he had regained complete control of his +emotions.</p> + +<p>He was, indeed, profoundly shocked. He held himself measurably +responsible for Drummond's act of desperation. If he had not wilfully +sought to evade the burden of his duty to Mary Ladislas, when he found +that he was to live rather than die—if he had been honest and generous +instead of allowing himself to drift into cowardly defalcation to her +trust—Drummond, doubtless, would still be alive. Or even if, having +chosen the recreant way, he had had the strength to stick to it, to stay +buried....</p> + +<p>Next to poor Peter Stark, whom his heart mourned without ceasing, he had +cared most for Drummond of all the men he had known and liked in the old +life. Now ... he felt alone and very lonely, sick of heart and forlorn. +There was, of course, Lynch, his partner in the Antipodes; Whitaker was +fond of Lynch, but not with the affection that a generous-spirited youth +had accorded Peter Stark and Drummond—a blind and unreasoning affection +that asked no questions and made nothing of faults. The capacity for +such sentiment was dead in him, as dead as Peter Stark, as dead as +Drummond....</p> + +<p>It was nearly midnight, but the hour found Whitaker in no humour for bed +or the emptiness of his room. He strolled into the lounge, sat down at a +detached table in a corner, and ordered something to drink. There were +not many others in the room, but still enough to mitigate to some extent +his temporary horror of utter loneliness.</p> + +<p>He felt painfully the heaviness of his debt to the woman he had married. +He who had promised her new life and the rich fulfilment thereof had +accomplished only its waste and desolation. He had thrust upon her the +chance to find happiness, and as rudely had snatched it away from her. +Nor could he imagine any way in which he might be able to expiate his +breach of trust—his sins of omission and commission, alike deadly and +unpardonable!</p> + +<p>Unless ... He caught eagerly at the thought: he might "die" again—go +away once more, and forever; bury himself deep beyond the groping +tentacles of civilization; disappear finally, notifying her of his +intention, so that she might seek legal freedom from his name. It only +needed Max's silence, which could unquestionably be secured, to insure +her against the least breath of scandal, the faintest whisper of +gossip.... Not that Max really knew anything; but the name of Whitaker, +as identified with Hugh Morten, might better be permitted to pass +unechoed into oblivion....</p> + +<p>And with this very thought in mind he became aware of the echo of that +name in his hearing.</p> + +<p>A page, bearing something on a salver, ambled through the lounge, now +and again opening his mouth to bleat, dispassionately: "Mista Whitaker, +Mista Whitaker!"</p> + +<p>The owner of that name experienced a flush of exasperation. What right +had the management to cause him to be advertised in every public room of +the establishment?... But the next instant his resentment evaporated, +when he remembered that he remained Mr. Hugh Morten in the managerial +comprehension.</p> + +<p>He lifted a finger; the boy swerved toward him, tendered a blue +envelope, accepted a gratuity and departed.</p> + +<p>It was a cable message: very probably an answer to his to Grace Pettit. +Whitaker tore the envelope and unfolded the enclosure, glancing first at +the signature to verify his surmise. As he did so, he heard his name a +second time.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me; this is Mr. Whitaker?"</p> + +<p>A man stood beside the little table—one whom Whitaker had indifferently +noticed on entering as an equally lonely lounger at another table.</p> + +<p>Though he frowned involuntarily with annoyance, he couldn't well deny +his identity.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said shortly, looking the man up and down with a captious eye.</p> + +<p>Yet it was hard to find much fault with this invader of his +preoccupation. He had the poise and the dress of a gentleman: dignity +without aggressiveness, completeness without ostentation. He had a +spare, not ungraceful body, a plain, dark face, a humorous mouth, steady +eyes: a man easily forgotten or overlooked unless he willed it +otherwise.</p> + +<p>"My name is Ember," he said quietly. "If you'll permit me—my card." He +offered a slip of pasteboard engraved with the name of Martin Ember. +"And I'll sit down, because I want to talk to you for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>Accordingly he sat down. Whitaker glanced at the card, and questioningly +back at Mr. Ember's face.</p> + +<p>"I don't know you, but ... What are we to talk about, please?"</p> + +<p>The man smiled, not unpleasingly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Whitaker," he said.</p> + +<p>Whitaker stared, frowned, and jumped at a conclusion.</p> + +<p>"You represent Mrs. Whitaker?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Ember shook his head. "I'm no lawyer, thank God! But I happen to +know a good deal it would be to your advantage to know; so I've taken +this liberty."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Whitaker didn't send you to me? Then how—? What the deuce—!"</p> + +<p>"I happened to have a seat near your box at the theatre to-night," Mr. +Ember explained coolly. "From—what I saw there, I inferred that you +must be—yourself. Afterwards I got hold of Max, confirmed my suspicion, +and extracted your address from him."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Whitaker, slowly—not comprehending the main issue at all. +"But I'm not known here by the name of Whitaker."</p> + +<p>"So I discovered," said Ember, with his quiet, engaging smile. "If I +hadn't remembered that you sometimes registered as Hugh Morten—as, for +instance, at the Commercial House six years ago—"</p> + +<p>"You were there!"</p> + +<p>"A considerable time after the event—yes." The man nodded, his eyes +glimmering.</p> + +<p>Whitaker shot a quick glance round the room, and was relieved to find +they were not within earshot of any of the other occupied tables.</p> + +<p>"Who the devil are you?" he demanded bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I was," said the other slowly, "once, a private detective. Now—I'm a +person of no particular employment, of independent means, with a +penchant—you're at liberty to assume—for poking my nose into other +people's business."</p> + +<p>"Oh...."</p> + +<p>A word, "blackmail," leapt into Whitaker's consciousness, and served to +harden the hostility in his attitude.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. George Pettit once employed me to find her sister, Miss Mary +Ladislas, who had run away with a chauffeur named Morton," pursued the +man, evenly. "That was about the time—shortly after—the death of +Thurlow Ladislas; say, two months after the so-called elopement."</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," said Whitaker suddenly—"by your leave—"</p> + +<p>Ember bowed gravely. For a thought longer Whitaker's gaze bored into his +eyes in vain effort to fathom what was going on behind them, the animus +undiscovered by his words; then, remembering, he looked down at the +cable message in his hand.</p> + +<p>"<i>Martin Ember</i> (it ran) <i>private agency 1435 Broadway Grace Pettit</i>."</p> + +<p>Whitaker folded the paper and put it away in a pocket.</p> + +<p>"Go on, please," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>"In those days," Mr. Ember resumed, "I did such things indifferently +well. I had little trouble in following the runaways from Southampton to +Greenport. There they parted. The girl crossed to the Connecticut shore, +while the man went back to New York with the automobile. He turned the +machine in at the Ladislas garage, by the way, and promptly fell into +the hands of the police. He was wanted for theft in a former position, +was arrested, convicted and sent to Sing Sing; where he presently died, +I'm glad to say.... I thought this information might interest you."</p> + +<p>Whitaker nodded grimly.</p> + +<p>"Can I order you something to drink?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you—and I'm already smoking." Mr. Ember dropped the ash from +a cigar. "On the Connecticut side (because it was my business to find +out things) I discovered that Miss Ladislas had registered at the +Commercial House as Mrs. Morton. She was there, alone, under that name, +for nearly a week before you registered as Hugh Morten, and in the space +of a few hours married her, under your true name, and shipped her off to +New York."</p> + +<p>"Right," Whitaker agreed steadily. "And then—?"</p> + +<p>"I traced her to the Hotel Belmont, where she stopped overnight, then +lost her completely; and so reported to Mrs. Pettit. I must mention +here, in confidence, in order that you may understand my subsequent +action, that my bill for the investigation was never paid. Mr. Pettit +was not in very comfortable circumstances at the time.... No matter. I +didn't press him, and later was glad of it, for it left me a free +agent—under no obligation to make further report."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"In a moment.... I came into a little money about that time, and gave up +my business: gave it up, that is, as far as placing myself at the +service of the public was concerned. I retained my devouring curiosity +about things that didn't concern me personally, although they were often +matters of extreme interest to the general public. In other words, I +continued to employ my time professionally, but only for my private +amusement or in the interests of my friends.... After some time Mr. +Drummond sought me out and begged me to renew my search for Mrs. +Whitaker; you were dead, he told me; she was due to come into your +estate—a comfortable living for an independent woman."</p> + +<p>"And you found her and told Drummond—?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker leaned over the table, studying the man's face with intense +interest.</p> + +<p>"No—and yes. I found Mrs. Whitaker. I didn't report to Drummond."</p> + +<p>"But why—in Heaven's name?"</p> + +<p>Ember smiled sombrely at the drooping ash of his cigar. "There were +several reasons. In the first place I didn't have to: I had asked no +retainer from Drummond, and I rendered no bill: what I had found out was +mine, to keep or to sell, as I chose. I chose not to sell because—well, +because Mrs. Whitaker begged me not to."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Whitaker breathed, sitting back. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"This was all of a year, I think, after your marriage. Mrs. Whitaker had +tasted the sweets of independence and—got the habit. She had adopted a +profession looked upon with abhorrence by her family; she was succeeding +in it; I may say her work was foreshadowing that extraordinary power +which made her the Sara Law whom you saw to-night. If she came forward +as the widow of Hugh Whitaker, it meant renunciation of the stage; it +meant painful scenes with her family if she refused to abandon her +profession; it meant the loss of liberty, of freedom of action and +development, which was hers in her decent obscurity. She was already +successful in a small way, had little need of the money she would get as +claimant of your estate. She enlisted my sympathy, and—I held my +tongue."</p> + +<p>"That was decent of you."</p> + +<p>The man bowed a quiet acknowledgment. "I thought you'd think so.... +There was a third reason."</p> + +<p>He paused, until Whitaker encouraged him with a "Yes—?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Whitaker"—the query came point-blank—"do you love your wife?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker caught his breath. "What right—!" he began, and checked +abruptly. The blood darkened his lean cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Whitaker gave me to understand that you didn't. It wasn't hard to +perceive, everything considered, that your motive was pure +chivalry—Quixotism. I should like to go to my grave with anything half +as honourable and unselfish to my credit."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," Whitaker muttered thickly.</p> + +<p>"You don't, then?"</p> + +<p>"Love her? No."</p> + +<p>There was a slight pause. Then, "I do," said this extraordinary man, +meeting Whitaker's gaze openly. "I do," he repeated, flushing in his +turn, "but ... hopelessly.... However, that was the third reason," he +pursued in a more level voice—"I thought you ought to know about +it—that induced me to keep Sara Law's secret.... I loved her from the +day I found her. She has never looked twice at me.... But that's why I +never lost interest."</p> + +<p>"You mean," Whitaker took him up diffidently—"you continued to—ah—?"</p> + +<p>"Court her—as we say? No." Ember's shoulders, lifting, emphasized the +disclaimer. "I'm no fool: I mean I'm able to recognize a hopeless case +when it's as intimate to me as mine was—and is. Doubtless Mrs. Whitaker +understands—if she hasn't forgotten me by this time—but, if so, wholly +through intuition. I have had the sense not to invite the thunderbolt. +I've sat quietly in the background, watching her work out her +destiny—feeling a good deal like a god in the machine. She doesn't know +it, unless Max told her against my wish; but it was I who induced him to +take her from the ranks of a provincial stock company and bring her +before the public, four years ago, as <i>Joan Thursday</i>. Since then her +destiny has been rather too big a thing for me to tamper with; but I've +watched and wondered, sensing forces at work about her of which even she +was unsuspicious."</p> + +<p>"What in blazes do you mean?" Whitaker demanded, mystified.</p> + +<p>"Did it strike you to wonder at the extraordinary mob her farewell +performance attracted to-night—the rabble that packed the street, +though quite hopeless of even seeing the inside of the theatre?"</p> + +<p>"Why—yes. It struck me as rather unusual. But then, Max had done +nothing but tell me of her tremendous popularity."</p> + +<p>"That alone, great as it is, wouldn't have brought so many people +together to stare at the outside of a theatre. The magnet was something +stronger—the morbid curiosity of New York. Those people were waiting, +thrilled with expectancy, on tiptoe for—what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I shall think you mad in another moment, if you don't explain +yourself," Whitaker told him candidly.</p> + +<p>Ember's smile flashed and vanished. "They were waiting for the sensation +that presently came to them: the report of Drummond's death."</p> + +<p>"What the devil—!"</p> + +<p>"Patience!... It had been discounted: if something of the sort hadn't +happened, New York would have gone to bed disappointed. The reason? This +is the third time it has happened—the same thing, practically: Sara Law +on the verge of leaving the stage to marry, a fatal accident +intervening. Did Max by any chance mention the nickname New York has +bestowed on Sara Law?"</p> + +<p>"Nickname? No!"</p> + +<p>"They call her 'The Destroying Angel.'"</p> + +<p>"What damnable rot!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but what damnable coincidence. Three men loved her—and one by one +they died. And now the fourth. Do you wonder...?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but—'The Destroying Angel'—!" Whitaker cried indignantly. "How +can they blame her?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't blame—it's superstition. Listen...."</p> + +<p>Ember bent forward, holding Whitaker's gaze with intent, grave eyes. +"The first time," he said in a rapid undertone, "was a year or so after +her triumph as <i>Joan Thursday</i>. There were then two men openly +infatuated with her, a boy named Custer, and a man I believe you +knew—William Hamilton."</p> + +<p>"I knew them both."</p> + +<p>"Custer was making the pace; the announcement of his engagement to Sara +Law was confidently anticipated. He died suddenly; the coroner's jury +decided that he had misjudged the intentions of a loaded revolver. +People whispered of suicide, but it didn't look quite like that to me. +However ... Hamilton stepped into his place. Presently we heard that +Sara Law was to marry him and leave the stage. Hamilton had to go abroad +on business; on the return trip—the wedding was set for the day after +he landed here—he disappeared, no one knew how. Presumably he fell +overboard by accident one night; sane men with everything in the world +to live for do such things, you know—according to the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"I understand you. Please go on."</p> + +<p>"Approximately eighteen months later a man named Thurston—Mitchell +Thurston—was considered a dangerous aspirant for the hand of Sara Law. +He was exceedingly well fixed in a money way—a sort of dilettantish +architect, with offices in the Metropolitan Tower. One day at high noon +he left his desk to go to lunch at Martin's; crossing Madison Square, he +suddenly fell dead, with a bullet in his brain. It was a rifle bullet, +but though the square was crowded, no one had heard the report of the +shot, and no one was seen carrying a rifle. The conclusion was that he +had been shot down by somebody using a gun with a Maxim silencer, from a +window on the south side of the square. There were no clues."</p> + +<p>"And now Drummond!" Whitaker exclaimed in horror. "Poor fellow! Poor +woman!"</p> + +<p>A slightly sardonic expression modified the lines of Ember's mouth. "So +far as Mrs. Whitaker is concerned," he said with the somewhat pedantic +mode of speech which Whitaker was to learn to associate with his moments +of most serious concentration—"I echo the sentiment. But let us suspend +judgment on Drummond's case until we know more. It is not as yet an +established fact that he is dead."</p> + +<p>"You mean there's hope—?"</p> + +<p>"There's doubt," Ember corrected acidly—"doubt, at least, in my mind. +You see, I saw Drummond in the flesh, alive and vigorous, a good half +hour after he is reported to have leaped to his death."</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"Coming up the stairs from the down-town Subway station in front of the +Park Avenue Hotel. He wore a hat pulled down over his eyes and an old +overcoat buttoned tight up to his chin. He was carrying a satchel +bearing the initials C. S. D., but was otherwise pretty thoroughly +disguised, and, I fancied, anxious enough to escape recognition."</p> + +<p>"You're positive about this?"</p> + +<p>"My dear man," said Ember with an air, "I saw his ear distinctly."</p> + +<p>"His ear!"</p> + +<p>"I never forget an ear; I've made a special study of them. They're +the last parts of the human anatomy that criminals ever think +to disguise; and, to the trained eye, as infallible a means of +identification—nearly—as thumb-prints. The man I saw coming up from +the Subway kept as much as possible away from the light; he had +successfully hidden most of his face; but he wore the inches, the +hand-bag, and the ear of Carter S. Drummond. I don't think I can be +mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Did you stop him—speak to him?"</p> + +<p>Ember shook his head. "No. I doubt if he would have remembered me. Our +acquaintance has been of the slightest, limited to a couple of meetings. +Besides, I was in a hurry to get to the theatre, and at that time had +heard nothing of this reputed suicide."</p> + +<p>"Which way did he go?"</p> + +<p>"Toward the Pennsylvania station, I fancy; that is, he turned west +through Thirty-third Street. I didn't follow—I was getting into a taxi +when I caught sight of him."</p> + +<p>"But what did you think to see him disguised? Didn't it strike you as +curious?"</p> + +<p>"Very," said Ember dryly. "At the same time, it was none of my +affair—then. Nor did it present itself to me as a matter worth meddling +with until, later, my suspicions were aroused by the scene in the +theatre—obviously the result of your appearance there—and still later, +when I heard the suicide report."</p> + +<p>"But—good Lord!" Whitaker passed a hand across his dazed eyes. "What +can it mean? Why should he do this thing?"</p> + +<p>"There are several possible explanations.... How long has Drummond known +that you were alive?"</p> + +<p>"Since noon to-day."</p> + +<p>"Not before?"</p> + +<p>"Not to my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Still, it's possible. If he has a sensitive nature—I think he +hasn't—the shame of being found out, caught trying to marry your wife +when he had positive knowledge you still lived, may have driven him to +drop out of sight. Again.... May I ask, what was the extent of your +property in his trust?"</p> + +<p>"A couple of hundred-thousands."</p> + +<p>"And he believed you dead and was unable to find your widow ..."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't think <i>that</i>!" Whitaker expostulated.</p> + +<p>"Nor do I. We're merely considering possible explanations. There's a +third ..."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He may have received a strong hint that he was nominated for the fate +that overtook young Custer, Hamilton and Thurston; and so planned to +give his disappearance the colour of a similar end."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say <i>you</i> think there was any method in that train of +tragedies?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not in the least superstitious, my dear man. I don't for an instant +believe, as some people claim to, that Sara Law is a destroying angel, +hounded by a tragic fate: that her love is equivalent to the death +warrant of the man who wins it."</p> + +<p>"But what do you think, then?"</p> + +<p>"I think," said Ember, slowly, his gaze on the table, "that some one +with a very strong interest in keeping the young woman single—and on +the stage—"</p> + +<p>"Max! Impossible!"</p> + +<p>Ember shrugged. "In human nature, no madness is impossible. There's not +a shred of evidence against Jules Max. And yet—he's a gambler. All +theatrical managers are, of course; but Max is a card-fiend. The tale of +his plunging runs like wild-fire up and down Broadway, day by day. A +dozen times he's been on the verge of ruin, yet always he has had Sara +Law to rely upon; always he's been able to fall back upon that asset, +sure that her popularity would stave off bankruptcy. And he's +superstitious: he believes she is his mascot. I don't accuse him—I +suspect him, knowing him to be capable of many weird extravagances.... +Furthermore, it's a fact that Max was a fellow-passenger with Billy +Hamilton when the latter disappeared in mid-ocean."</p> + +<p>Ember paused and sat up, preparatory to rising. "All of which," he +concluded, "explains why I have trespassed upon your patience and your +privacy. It seemed only right that you should get the straight, +undistorted story from an unprejudiced onlooker. May I venture to add a +word of advice?"</p> + +<p>"By all means."</p> + +<p>"Have you told Max of your relations with Sara Law?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Or anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then keep the truth to yourself—at least until this coil is +straightened out."</p> + +<p>Ember got up. "Good night," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Whitaker took his hand, staring. "Good night," he echoed blankly. +"But—I say—why keep it quiet?"</p> + +<p>Ember, turning to go, paused, his glance quietly quizzical. "You don't +mean to claim your wife?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I expect to offer no defence to her action for +divorce."</p> + +<p>"Grounds of desertion?"</p> + +<p>"I presume so."</p> + +<p>"Just the same, keep it as quiet as possible until the divorce is +granted. If you live till then ... you may possibly continue to live +thereafter."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<h3>ENTR'ACTE</h3> + + +<p>Dawn of Sunday found Whitaker still awake. Alone in his uncheerful hotel +bedchamber, his chair tilted back against the wall, he sat smoking and +thinking, reviewing again and again every consideration growing out of +his matrimonial entanglement.</p> + +<p>He turned in at length to the dreamless slumbers of mental exhaustion.</p> + +<p>The morning introduced him to a world of newspapers gone mad and +garrulous with accounts of the sensation of the preceding night. What +they told him only confirmed the history of his wife's career as +detailed by the gratuitous Mr. Ember. There was, however, no suggestion +in any report that Drummond had not in fact committed suicide—this, +despite the total disappearance of the hypothetical corpse. No doubts +seemed to have arisen from the circumstance that there had been, +apparently, but a single witness of the <i>felo de se</i>. A man, breathless +with excitement, had run up to the nearest policeman with word of what +he claimed to have seen. In the subsequent confusion he had vanished. +And so thoroughly, it seemed, had the mind of New York been prepared for +some fatal accident to this latest lover of Sara Law that no one dreamed +of questioning the authenticity of the report.</p> + +<p>Several sensational sheets ran exhaustive résumés, elaborately +illustrated, of the public life of "The Destroying Angel."</p> + +<p>Some remarked the fact that little or nothing was known of the history +of Sara Law prior to her appearance, under the management of Jules Max, +as <i>Joan Thursday</i>.</p> + +<p>Whitaker learned that she had refused herself to the reporters who +besieged her residence.</p> + +<p>It seemed to be an unanimous assumption that the news of Drummond's +suicide had in some manner been conveyed to the woman while on the +stage.</p> + +<p>No paper mentioned the name of Whitaker....</p> + +<p>In the course of the forenoon a note for Whitaker was delivered at the +hotel.</p> + +<p>The heavy sheet of white paper, stamped with the address in +Fifty-seventh Street, bore this message in a strong but nervous hand:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I rely upon the generosity you promise me. This marriage of ours, +that is no marriage, must be dissolved. Please let my +attorneys—Landers, Grimshaw & Clark, 149 Broadway—know when and +where you will accept service. Forgive me if I seem ungrateful and +unfeeling. I am hardly myself. And please do not try to see me now. +Some day I hope to see and thank you; to-day—it's impossible. I am +going away to forget, if I can.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mary Ladislas Whitaker</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Before nightfall Whitaker had satisfied himself that his wife had, in +truth, left her town house. The servants there informed all who inquired +that they had been told to report and to forward all letters to Messrs. +Landers, Grimshaw & Clark.</p> + +<p>Whitaker promptly notified those attorneys that he was ready to be +served at their convenience. He further desired them to inform their +client that her suit would be uncontested. But beyond their brief and +business-like acknowledgment, he heard nothing more of the action for +divorce.</p> + +<p>He sought Max several times without success. When at length run to +ground in the roulette room of a Forty-fourth Street gambling-house, the +manager was grimly reticent. He professed complete ignorance of his +star's welfare and whereabouts. He advised Whitaker to consult the +newspapers, if his interest was so insatiable.</p> + +<p>Warned by the manager's truculent and suspicious tone that his secret +was, after all, buried no more than skin-deep, Whitaker dissembled +artfully his anxiety, and abandoned Max to his pet vices.</p> + +<p>The newspapers reported Sara Law as being in retirement in several +widely separated sections of the country. She was also said to have gone +abroad, sailing incognito by a second-class steamship from Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>The nine-days' wonder disintegrated naturally. The sobriquet of "The +Destroying Angel" disappeared from the newspaper scare-heads. So also +the name of Drummond. Hugh Morten Whitaker, the dead man come to life, +occupied public interest for a brief half-day. By the time that the +executors of Carter Drummond and the attorneys representing his clients +began to make sense of his estate and interests, their discoveries +failed to command newspaper space.</p> + +<p>This phenomenon was chiefly due to the fact that Whitaker didn't care to +raise an outcry about his loss. Ember, it seemed, had guessed shrewdly: +Drummond had appropriated to his own uses every dollar of the small +fortune left in his care by his erstwhile partner. No other client of +his had suffered, however. His peculations had been confined wholly to +the one quarter whence he had had every reason to anticipate neither +protest nor exposure. In Whitaker's too-magnanimous opinion, the man had +not been so much a thief as one who yielded to the temptation to convert +to his own needs and uses a property against which, it appeared, no +other living being cared to enter a claim.</p> + +<p>Whether or not he had ever learned or guessed that Sara Law was the wife +of Whitaker, remained problematic. Whitaker inclined to believe that +Drummond had known—that he had learned the truth from the lips of his +betrothed wife. But this could not be determined save through her. And +she kept close hidden.</p> + +<p>The monetary loss was an inconsiderable thing to a man with an interest +in mines in the Owen Stanley country. He said nothing. Drummond's name +remained untarnished, save in the knowledge of a few.</p> + +<p>Of these, Martin Ember was one. Whitaker made a point of hunting him up. +The retired detective received confirmation of his surmise without any +amazement.</p> + +<p>"You still believe that he's alive?"</p> + +<p>"Implicitly," Ember asserted with conviction.</p> + +<p>"Could you find him, if necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Within a day, I think. Do you wish me to?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know..."</p> + +<p>Ember permitted Whitaker to consider the matter in silence for some +moments. Then, "Do you want advice?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Hunt him down and put him behind the bars," said Ember instantly.</p> + +<p>"What's the good of that?"</p> + +<p>"Your personal safety."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you suppose he misses all he's been accustomed to?—living as he +does in constant terror of being discovered, the life of a hunted thing, +one of the under-world, an enemy of society! Don't you suppose he'd be +glad to regain all he's lost—business, social position, the esteem of +his friends, the love of a woman who will soon be free to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"With you out of the way, he could come back without fear."</p> + +<p>"Oh—preposterous!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> it?"</p> + +<p>"Drummond's not that sort. He's weak, perhaps, but no criminal."</p> + +<p>"A criminal is the creature of a warped judgment. There'd be no +criminals if every one were able to attain his desires within the law. +Misfortunes breed weird maggots in a man's brain. Drummond's dragging +out a wretched existence in a world of false perspectives; he's not to +be blamed if he presently begins to see things as they are not."</p> + +<p>Ember permitted another pause to lengthen, unbroken by Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"Shall I try to find him for you?" he asked quietly, in the end.</p> + +<p>"No," Whitaker decided. "No. Let him alone—poor devil!"</p> + +<p>Ember disclaimed further responsibility with a movement of his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"But my wife? Could you find her as readily?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly," the detective admitted cautiously. "But I don't mean to."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because you don't want me to. Do you?"</p> + +<p>"No..."</p> + +<p>"But principally because she doesn't want me to. Otherwise she'd let you +know where to look for her."</p> + +<p>"True."</p> + +<p>These fragments of dialogue are from a conversation that took place in +the month of June, nearly seven weeks after the farewell performance at +the Theatre Max. Interim, Whitaker had quietly resumed his place in the +life of the town, regaining old friendships, renewing old associations. +Save for the fact that he pursued no gainful occupation, all with him +was much as it had been: as if the intervening six years of exile had +been blotted out, or had never been. The mild excitement occasioned by +his reappearance had already subsided; he was again an accepted and +substantial factor in the society of his kind.</p> + +<p>He had abandoned all thought of returning to New Guinea, entertained, +indeed, no inclination whatever to do so. The life he now led was more +or less normal to him. Yet he was sensible of a growing restlessness. He +had nothing to busy himself with: this was the unguessed secret of his +unsettled temper. And the approach of hot weather was narrowing the +circle of his acquaintances. People were leaving town daily, for Europe, +for the seashore, for the mountains.</p> + +<p>He began to receive invitations for week-ends and longer visits out of +town. A few of the former he accepted—always, however, returning to New +York with a sense of necessity strong upon his spirit. Something held +him there, some influence elusive of analysis. He was discontented, but +felt that he could not find content elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Gradually he began to know more hours of loneliness than suited his +tastes. His rooms—the old rooms overlooking Bryant Park, regained and +refurnished much as they had been six years before—knew his solitary +presence through many a long evening. July came with blistering breath, +and he took to the Adirondacks, meaning to be gone a month. Within ten +days he was home again, drawn back irresistibly by that strange +insatiable craving of unformulated desire. Town bored him, yet he could +not seem to rest away from it.</p> + +<p>He wandered in and out, up and down, an unquiet, irresolute soul, +tremendously perplexed....</p> + +<p>There came one dark and sultry night, heavy beneath skies overcast, in +August. Whitaker left a roof-garden in the middle of a stupid +performance, and walked the streets till long after midnight, courting +the fatigue that alone could bestow untroubled sleep. On his return, a +sleepy hall-boy with a wilted collar ran the elevator up to his +tenth-floor landing and, leaving him fumbling at the lock of his door, +dropped clankingly out of sight. Whitaker entered and shut himself in +with the pitch-blackness of his private hall.</p> + +<p>He groped along the wall for the electric switch, and found only the +shank of it—the hard-rubber button having disappeared. And then, while +still he was trying to think how this could have happened, he sustained +a murderous assault.</p> + +<p>A miscalculation on the part of the marauder alone saved him. The +black-jack (or whatever the weapon was) missing his head by the +narrowest shave, descended upon his left shoulder with numbing force. +Notwithstanding his pain and surprise, Whitaker rallied and grappled, +thus escaping a second and possibly more deadly blow.</p> + +<p>But his shoulder was almost useless, and the pain of it began to sicken +him, while the man in his grip fought like a devil unchained. He found +himself wedged back into a corner, brutal fingers digging deep into the +flesh round his windpipe. He fought desperately to escape strangulation. +Eventually he struggled out of the corner and gave ground through the +doorway into his sitting-room.</p> + +<p>For some minutes the night in that quiet room, high above the city, was +rendered wild and violent with the crashes of overthrown furniture and +the thud and thump of struggling bodies. Then by some accident little +short of miraculous, Whitaker broke free and plunged across the room in +what he imagined to be the direction of a dresser in which he kept a +revolver. His foot slipped on the hardwood floor, the ankle twisted, and +he fell awkwardly, striking his head against a table-leg with such force +that he lay half-stunned. An instant later his assailant emptied five +chambers of a revolver into the darkness about him, and then, alarmed by +a racket of pounding on the hall door, fled successfully by way of the +fire-escape to adjoining roofs and neighbouring back-yards.</p> + +<p>By the time Whitaker was able to pull himself together and hobble to the +door, a brace of intelligent policemen who had been summoned by the +hall-boy were threatening to break it down. Admitted, they took his +safety into their care and, simultaneously, the revolver which he +incautiously admitted possessing. Later they departed, obviously +disgruntled by the unprofessional conduct of the "crook" who had left no +"clues," with a warning to the house-holder that he might expect to be +summoned to court, as soon as he was able to move, to answer for the +crime of keeping a weapon of defence.</p> + +<p>Whitaker took to his bed in company with a black temper and the aroma of +arnica.</p> + +<p>He entertained, the next day, several persons: reporters; a physician; a +futile, superfluous, unornamental creature misleadingly designated a +plain-clothes man; finally his friend (by now their acquaintance had +warmed to real friendship) Ember.</p> + +<p>The retired investigator found Whitaker getting into his clothes: a +ceremony distinguished by some profanity and numerous grunts.</p> + +<p>"Afternoon," he said, taking a chair and surveying the sufferer with +slightly masked amusement. "Having a good time?"</p> + +<p>"You go to thunder!" said Whitaker in disgust.</p> + +<p>"Glad to see you're not hurt much," pursued the other, unabashed.</p> + +<p>Whitaker withered him with a glare. "I suppose it's nothing to have a +shoulder and arm black-and-blue to the elbow! a bump on the side of my +head as big as a hard-boiled egg! a bruised throat and an ankle next +door to sprained! Oh, no—I'm not much hurt!"</p> + +<p>"You're lucky to be alive," observed Ember, exasperatingly philosophic.</p> + +<p>"A lot you know about it!"</p> + +<p>"I'm a canny little guesser," Ember admitted modestly.</p> + +<p>"Where'd you get your information, then?"</p> + +<p>Ember waved a non-committal hand. "I hear things...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes—you know a lot. I suppose you could lay this thug by the heels +in a brace of shakes?"</p> + +<p>"Just about," Ember admitted placidly. "I wouldn't mind trying."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you?" Whitaker demanded heatedly.</p> + +<p>"I had a notion you wouldn't want me to."</p> + +<p>Whitaker stared aggressively. "You mean ... Drummond?"</p> + +<p>The answer was a nod.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"You'll at all events do me the credit to recall that I warned you two +months ago."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I don't believe it was Drummond."</p> + +<p>"You haven't missed any property, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"So presumably the fellow had some motive other than a desire to thieve. +Besides, if he'd been on the loot he might much more easily have tried +one of the lower floors—and more sensibly."</p> + +<p>"It would seem so," Whitaker admitted sulkily.</p> + +<p>"And that missing switch-button—"</p> + +<p>"What do <i>you</i> know about that?"</p> + +<p>"My sources of information.... It strikes me that a man who took that +much trouble to prevent your turning on the light must have been rather +anxious to avoid recognition. I shed the inference for its intrinsic +worth, merely."</p> + +<p>"Well...." Whitaker temporized.</p> + +<p>"And I'd like to know what you mean to do."</p> + +<p>"About what?"</p> + +<p>"With the understanding that you're content to leave the case of +burglary and assault to the mercies of the police: what do you mean to +do with yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—hadn't thought."</p> + +<p>"Unless you're hell-bent on sticking around here to get your head bashed +in—I venture respectfully to suggest that you consign yourself to my +competent care."</p> + +<p>"Meaning—?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a bungalow down on Long Island—a one-horse sort of a bachelor +affair—and I'm going to run down there this evening and stay awhile. +There's quiet, no society and good swimming. Will you come along and be +my guest until you grow tired of it?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker looked his prospective host over with a calculating, suspicious +eye.</p> + +<p>"I ought to be able to take care of myself," he grumbled childishly.</p> + +<p>"Granted."</p> + +<p>"But I've a great mind to take you up."</p> + +<p>"Sensibly spoken. Can you be ready by three? I'll call with the car +then, if you can."</p> + +<p>"Done with you!" declared Whitaker with a strong sense of relief.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, he was far less incredulous of Ember's theory than +he chose to admit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<h3>THE WINDOW</h3> + + +<p>Though they left New York not long after three in the afternoon, +twilight was fast ebbing into night when the motor-car—the owner +driving, Whitaker invalided to the lonely grandeur of the tonneau—swept +up from a long waste of semi-wooded countryside, sparsely populated, +bumped over railroad tracks, purred softly at sedate pace through the +single street of a drowsy village, and then struck away from the main +country road.</p> + +<p>Once clear of the village bounds, as if assured of an unobstructed way, +Ember gave the motor its head; with a long, keen whine of delight it +took the bit between its teeth and flung away like a thoroughbred +romping down the home-stretch. Its headlights clove a path through +darkness, like a splendid sword; a pale shining ribbon of road seemed to +run to the wheels as if eager to be devoured; on either hand woodlands +and desolate clearings blurred into dark and rushing walls; the wind +buffeted the faces of the travellers like a soft and tender hand, +seeking vainly if with all its strength to withstand their impetus: only +the wonderful wilderness of stars remained imperturbable.</p> + +<p>Whitaker, braced against the jolting, snatched begrudged mouthfuls of +air strong of the sea. From time to time he caught fugitive glimpses of +what seemed to be water, far in the distances to the right. He had no +very definite idea of their whereabouts, having neglected through sheer +indifference to question Ember, but he knew that they were drawing +minute by minute closer to the Atlantic. And the knowledge was soothing +to the unquiet of his soul, who loved the sea. He dreamed vaguely, with +yearning, of wave-swept shores and their sonorous silences.</p> + +<p>After some time the car slowed to a palpitant pause at a spot where the +road was bordered on one hand by a woods, on the other by meadow-lands +running down to an arm of a bay, on whose gently undulant surface the +flame-tipped finger of a distant lighthouse drew an undulant path of +radiance.</p> + +<p>Ember jumped out to open a barred gate, then returning swung the car +into a clear but narrow woodland road. "Mine own domain," he informed +Whitaker with a laugh, as he stopped a second time to go back and close +the gate. "Now we're shut of the world, entirely."</p> + +<p>The car crawled cautiously on, following a path that, in the searching +glare of headlights, showed as two parallel tracks of white set apart by +a strip of livid green and walled in by a dense tangle of scrub-oak and +pine and second growth. Underbrush rasped and rattled against the +guards. Outside the lighted way arose strange sounds audible above even +the purring of the motor—vast mysterious whisperings and rustlings: +stealthy and murmurous protests against this startling trespass.</p> + +<p>Whitaker bent forward, inquiring: "Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"Almost there. Patience."</p> + +<p>Whitaker sat back again, content to await enlightenment at the pleasure +of his host. Really, he didn't much care where they were: the sense of +isolation, strong upon his spirit, numbed all his curiosity.</p> + +<p>He reckoned idly that they must have threaded a good two miles of +woodland, when at length the car emerged upon a clearing and immediately +turned aside to the open doorway of a miniature garage.</p> + +<p>For the first time in five hours he was aware of the hush of Nature; the +motor's song was ended for the night.</p> + +<p>The clearing seemed no more than a fair two acres in extent; the forest +hemmed it in on three sides; on the fourth lay water. Nor was it an +unqualified clearing; a hundred yards distant the lighted windows of a +one-story structure shone pleasantly through a scattering plantation of +pine.</p> + +<p>Linking arms the better to guide his guest, Ember drew him toward the +lights.</p> + +<p>"Bungalow," he explained, sententious, flourishing his free hand: +"hermitage—retreat."</p> + +<p>"Paradise," Whitaker summed up, in the same humour.</p> + +<p>"Still-water swimming at the front door; surf bathing on the beach +across the bay; sailing, if you care for it; fishing, if you don't care +what you say; all sorts of civilized loafing and no society except our +own."</p> + +<p>"No women?"</p> + +<p>"Not a petticoat."</p> + +<p>"No neighbours?"</p> + +<p>"Oh"—Ember motioned to his left as they faced the water—"there's a +married establishment over there somewhere, but we don't bother one +another. Fellow by the name of Fiske. I understand the place is shut +up—Fiske not coming down this year."</p> + +<p>"So much the better. I've been wanting just this all summer, without +realizing it."</p> + +<p>"Welcome, then, to Half-a-loaf Lodge!"</p> + +<p>Skirting the edges of the plantation, they had come round to the front +of the house. An open door, warm with light, welcomed them. They entered +a long and deep living-room with walls of peeled logs and, at one end, a +stone fireplace wherein a wood fire blazed heartily. Two score candles +in sconces furnished an illumination mellow and benign. At a comfortable +distance from the hearth stood a table bright with linen, silver and +crystal—covers for two. The rear wall was broken by three doors, in one +of which a rotund Chinaman beamed oleaginously. Ember hailed him by the +title of Sum Fat, explaining that it wasn't his name, but claiming for +it the virtue of exquisite felicity.</p> + +<p>"My servant in town, here man-of-all-work; I've had him for years; +faithful and indispensable...."</p> + +<p>Toward the end of an excellent dinner, Whitaker caught himself nodding +and blinking with drowsiness. The fatigue of their long ride, added to +the nervous strain and excitement of the previous night, was proving +more than he had strength to struggle against. Ember took laughing +compassion upon him and led him forthwith to a bedroom furnished with +the rigid simplicity of a summer camp. Once abed he lay awake only long +enough to recognize, in the pulsating quiet, the restless thunder of +surf on the beach across the bay. Then he slept round the clock.</p> + +<p>He recovered consciousness to lie luxuriating in the sensation of +delicious and complete repose, and to listen lazily to the drum of +raindrops on the low roof—too lazy, indeed, to turn his head and +consult his watch. Yet he knew it must be late in the morning, for the +light was broad, if gray.</p> + +<p>The shrill, imperative rattle of a telephone bell roused him more +thoroughly. Lifting on his elbow, he eyed his watch, then hastily swung +his legs out of bed; for it was nearly ten o'clock.</p> + +<p>As he dressed he could hear the voice of Ember in the living-room +talking over the telephone. Presently there came a tap at his door, and +his host entered.</p> + +<p>"Up, eh?" he said cheerfully. "I was afraid I'd have to wake you. You're +surely a sincere young sleeper.... I say!" His smile vanished beneath +the clouds of an impatient frown. "This is the devil of a note: I've got +to leave you."</p> + +<p>"What's the trouble?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm called upon to find out. A friend of mine's in a tight +place, and I've got to go and help pull him through. He just called me +up—and I can't refuse. D'you mind being left alone for a day or so?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not—only I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>"No more than I. But I'll try to get back to-morrow. If I don't, the +next day—or as soon as I possibly can. Meanwhile, please consider +yourself lord and master here. Sum Fat will take good care of you. +Anything you want, just ask him. Now I've got to get into waterproofs: +it's raining like all get-out, but I can't wait for a let-up."</p> + +<p>By the time Whitaker was ready for breakfast, his host had splashed off +to his motor car.</p> + +<p>Later, while Sum Fat crooned to himself over the dish-pan in the +kitchen, Whitaker explored his quarters; to begin with, not in the least +disconsolate to be left alone. The place had for his imagination the +zest of novelty and isolation. He rather enjoyed the sensation of +complete dissociation from the rest of the world, of freedom to humour +his idlest whim without reference to the prejudices of any neighbour.</p> + +<p>Within-doors there was every comfort conceivably to be desired by any +other than a sybarite; without—viewed from the shelter of a wide +veranda—a vague world of sweeping mist and driving rain; pine trees +Japanesque against the mist, as if etched in bronze-green on frosted +silver; a breadth of rough, hummocky ground sloping down to the water's +edge, with a private landing-stage and, farther out, a courtesying +cat-boat barely discernible.</p> + +<p>The wind, freshening and driving very respectable if miniature rollers +against the beach, came in heavy gusts, alternating with periods of +steady, strong blowing. At times the shining lances of the rain seemed +to drive almost horizontally. Whitaker shivered a little, not +unpleasantly, and went indoors.</p> + +<p>He poked his head into the kitchen. In that immaculate place, from which +every hint of breakfast had disappeared as if by magic, Sum Fat was +religiously cleaning his teeth—for the third time that morning, to +Whitaker's certain knowledge.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, Whitaker put a question:</p> + +<p>"Sum Fat, which way does the wind blow—do you know?"</p> + +<p>Sum Fat flashed him a dazzling smile.</p> + +<p>"East'ly," he said in a cheerful, clucking voice. "I think very fine +damn three-day blow."</p> + +<p>"At least," said Whitaker, "you're a high-spirited prophet of evil. I +thank you."</p> + +<p>He selected a book from several shelves stocked with a discriminating +taste, and settled himself before the fire.</p> + +<p>The day wore out before his patience did, and with every indication of +fulfilling the prognosis of Sum Fat; by nightfall the wind had developed +into an enthusiastic gale, driving before it sheeted rain and great +ragged wastes of mist. Whitaker absolutely enjoyed the sensation of +renewed intimacy with the weather, from which his life in New York had +of late divorced him so completely. He read, dozed, did full justice to +the admirable cuisine of Sum Fat, and between whiles considered the +state of his soul, the cycle of the suns, his personal marital +entanglement, and the further preservation, intact, of his bruised +mortal body.</p> + +<p>The ceaseless pattering on the shingled roof reminded him very strongly +of that dark hour, long gone, when he had made up his mind to wed a +strange woman. He marvelled at that madness with an inexhaustible wonder +and with an equally vast, desolate, poignant regret.</p> + +<p>He considered faithfully what he had gained by reasserting his identity, +and found it an empty thing. He had been happier when a Wilful Missing, +unmissed, unmourned. It seemed as if it might be best to go away again, +to eliminate Hugh Whitaker from the coil his reappearance had created. +Then his wife could gain her freedom—and incidentally free him—and +marry as she willed. And Drummond would be free to come to life—with +hands unstained, his honour besmirched only in the knowledge of a few +who would not tell.</p> + +<p>Did he remain, Drummond, he feared, would prove a troublesome problem. +Whitaker was, in the light of sober after-thought, more than half +convinced that Ember had guessed cunningly at the identity of his +assailant. The thing was conceivable, at least, of Drummond: the +hedonist and egoist seeking to regain his forfeited world in one +murderous cast. And it was hardly conceivable that he would hesitate to +make a second attempt whenever opportunity offered. New York, Whitaker +saw clearly, was far too small to contain them both while Drummond +remained at liberty. By attempting to stay there he would simply invite +a second attempt upon his life, merely strengthen Drummond's temptation.</p> + +<p>He thought it very curious that he had heard nothing more of the +proposed action for divorce. It might be well to communicate again with +his wife's attorneys.</p> + +<p>He went to bed with a mind unsettled, still curious, speculative, unable +to fix upon any definite course of conduct.</p> + +<p>And the second day was like unto the first: a day of rain and wind and +fog periodically punctuated by black squalls that tore shrieking across +the bay with the blind fury of spirits of destruction gone stark, raving +mad.</p> + +<p>The third day broke full of the spirit of the second; but toward noon +the rain ceased, and by mid-afternoon the violence of the wind had +moderated perceptibly to a stiffish but failing breeze beneath a +breaking cloud-rack. With the disappearance of fog, for the first time +since Whitaker's arrival the neighbourhood discovered perspectives. By +evening, when the wind went down with the sun, leaving absolute calm, +the barrier beach far across the quiet waters of the shallow, landlocked +bay shone like a bar of ruddy gold against a horizon of melting mauve.</p> + +<p>In the evening, too, a telegram from Ember was transmitted by telephone +to the bungalow, advising Whitaker of his host's intention to return by +the following night at the latest.</p> + +<p>This communication worked with the turn of the weather to effect a +change in the temper of Whitaker, who by this time had managed to fret +himself to the verge of incontinent departure for Australia <i>via</i> New +York. He decided, however, to wait and thank Ember for his hospitality, +and thought seriously of consulting him as to the wisest and fairest +course to pursue.</p> + +<p>None the less, the restlessness and impatience bred of nearly three days +of enforced inaction possessed him like a devil. After another of Sum +Fat's admirable dinners, his craving for open air and exercise drove him +out, despite the failing light, to explore the clearing rather +thoroughly, and to some extent the surrounding woodlands. At one time, +indeed, he caught sight, through thinning trees, of a summer home +somewhat more pretentious than Half-a-loaf Lodge—evidently the property +termed by Ember "the Fiske place." But it was then so nearly dark that +he didn't pause to investigate an impression that the place was +tenanted, contradictory to his host's casual statement; and he was back +on the bungalow porch in time to see the moon lift up like a great +shield of brass through the haze beyond the barrier beach.</p> + +<p>Sounds of splashings and of song drew him down to the water's edge, to +find that Sum Fat had rowed out to the anchored cat-boat and, almost as +naked as industrious, was bailing it clear of the three days' +accumulation of rain-water. He came in, presently, and having performed +what was probably at least the eighth cleaning of his teeth since +morning, went to bed.</p> + +<p>Wearying at length of the lunar spectacle, and quite as weary of the +sedulous attentions of a cloud of famished mosquitoes, Whitaker lounged +disconsolately indoors to a pipe and a book by candle-light. But the one +needed cleaning, and the other was out of tune with his temper, and the +flame of the candle excited the amorous interest of a great fluttering +fool of a moth until Whitaker blew it out and sat on in darkness, not +tired enough to go to bed, too tired to bestir himself and seek +distraction from a tormenting train of thought.</p> + +<p>A pool of limpid moonlight lay like milk upon the floor beneath a window +and held his dreaming gaze while memory marshalled for his delectation a +pageant of wasted years, infinitely desolate and dreary in his vision. A +life without profit, as he saw it: an existence rendered meaningless by +a nameless want—a lack he had not wit to name.... The romance of his +life enchanted him, its futility furnished him a vast and profound +perplexity. To what end?—this was the haunting burden of his +complaint....</p> + +<p>How long he sat unstirring, preoccupied with fruitless inquiry, he did +not guess. But later he reckoned it could not have been long after ten +o'clock when he was disturbed. The sound of a footfall, hushed and +stealthy on the veranda, roused him with a start, and almost at the same +instant he became aware of a shadow that troubled the pool of moonlight, +the foreshortened shadow of a man's head and shoulders. He sat up, +tense, rigid with surprise and wonder, and stared at the silhouetted +body at pause just outside the window. The fellow was stooping to peer +in. Whether he could distinguish Whitaker in the shadows was debatable, +but he remained motionless through a long minute, as if fascinated by +the undeviating regard returned by Whitaker. Then the latter broke the +spell with a hasty movement. Through the feeling of surprised resentment +there had filtered a gnawing suspicion that he was acquainted with the +pose of that head and the set of those shoulders. Had Drummond hunted +him down to this isolate hiding-place? On the thought he leaped up, in +two strides slammed out through the door.</p> + +<p>"I say!" he cried loudly. But he cried, apparently, to empty air. The +man was gone—vanished as strangely and as quietly as he had appeared.</p> + +<p>Whitaker shut teeth on an oath and, jumping down from the veranda, cast +wildly about the bungalow without uncovering a single sign of the +trespasser. In transit from his chair to the door, he had lost sight of +the fellow for no more, certainly, than half a second; and yet, in that +absurdly scanty space of time, the trespasser had managed to effect an +absolute disappearance. No conjuring trick was ever turned more neatly. +There one instant, gone the next!—the mystery of it irritated and +perplexed more than did the question of identity. It was all very +plausible to suspect Drummond—but whither could Drummond have juggled +himself in the twinkling of an eyelash? That it was no trick of an idle +imagination, Whitaker was prepared to swear: he was positive he had seen +what he had seen. And yet.... It was, on the other hand, impossible to +say where in the plantation of pines the man might not then be skulking. +Whitaker instituted a narrow search, but fruitless.</p> + +<p>Eventually pausing and glaring round the clearing in complete +bewilderment, he detected or else fancied a slight movement in the +shadows on the edge of the encompassing woodland. Instantly, heedless of +the risk he ran if the man were indeed Drummond and if Drummond were +indeed guilty of the assault now four nights old, Whitaker broke for the +spot. It proved to be the entrance to one of the woodland paths, and +naturally—whether or no his imagination were in fault—there was nobody +waiting there to be caught.</p> + +<p>But if any one had been there, he had unquestionably fled along the +trail. Whitaker in a rage set himself to follow, sticking to the path +partly through instinct, mainly thanks to a spectral twilight +manufactured in the forest by moon-beams filtered thin through +innumerable leaves and branches. Once or twice he paused to listen, then +again plunged on: misled perhaps by the mysterious but inevitable noises +of the nocturnal woodland. Before he realized he could have covered half +the distance, he emerged abruptly into the clearing of the Fiske place.</p> + +<p>Here he pulled up, for the first time alive to the intrinsic idiocy of +his conduct, and diverted besides by the discovery that his impression +of the early evening, that the cottage was tenanted, had been well +founded.</p> + +<p>The ground floor windows shone with a dim but warm illumination. There +was one quite near him, a long window opening upon the railed veranda, +through which he could see distinctly part of a living-room rather +charmingly furnished in a summery way. At its farther end a dark-haired +woman in a plain black dress with a short apron and lace cap sat reading +by lamplight: evidently a maid. Her mistress—judged by appearances—was +outside on the lawn below the veranda, strolling to and fro in company +with a somewhat short and heavy man who wore an automobile duster and +visored cap. By contrast, her white-clad figure, invested with the +illusion of moonlight, seemed unusually tall. Her hair was fair, shining +like a head-dress of palest gold as she bent her head, attentive to her +companion. And Whitaker thought to discern an unusual quality in her +movements, a quality of charm and a graciousness of mien rarely to be +noticed even in the most beautiful of the women he had known.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden the man paused, produced a watch from beneath his duster, +consulted it briefly and shut the case with a snap. He said something in +a brusque tone, and was answered by what sounded like a pleasant +negative. Promptly, as if annoyed, he turned and strode hastily away, +disappearing round the house.</p> + +<p>Alone, the woman watched him as long as he was in sight, her head to one +side with an effect of critical amusement. Then with a low laugh she +crossed the veranda and entered the lighted room. At the same time, +Whitaker, lingering and watching without in the least understanding or +even questioning why he was doing this thing so contrary to his +instincts, heard the heavy rumble of a motor-car on the far side of the +house and saw the machine swing off across the clearing and into the +woods.</p> + +<p>In the living-room the woman was saying: "You may go now, Elise. I'll be +ready for bed before long."</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam." The maid rose and moved briskly out of sight.</p> + +<p>Her mistress, casting aside a scarf of embroidered Chinese brocade, +moved about the room with an air at once languid and distrait. Pausing +beside a table, she took up a book, opened it, shut it smartly, +discarding it as if hopeless of finding therein any sort of diversion. +She stood for a moment in deep thought, her head bowed, the knuckle of a +slender forefinger tapping her chin—charmingly posed. Whitaker abruptly +understood why it was he loitered, peeping: she was absolutely +beautiful, a creature both exquisite and superb, a matchless portrait +for the galleries of his memory.</p> + +<p>With a sigh and a quick movement of impatience, seating herself at a +cottage piano she ran her fingers over the keys. Whitaker recognized the +opening bars of something or other of Beethoven's—he couldn't say +precisely what, at the instant; and even as he tried a thing happened +which drove the music altogether from his mind: in short, he discovered +that he was not the only watcher below the window.</p> + +<p>Something—a movement or perhaps a slight sound—had drawn his attention +from the woman. He saw the other man standing boldly in full moonlight, +all his attention concentrated on the brilliant picture framed by the +window. He was unquestionably without knowledge of the nearness of the +other—of Whitaker in the shadows. And though his back was to the moon +and his face further shadowed by a peaked cap, Whitaker was absolutely +sure of the man: he was certainly Drummond.</p> + +<p>Without pause for thought he sprang toward him, in a guarded voice +uttering his name—"Drummond!" But the fellow proved too alert and quick +for him. Whitaker's hands closed on nothing more substantial than thin +air; at the same time he received a blow upon his bruised shoulder smart +and forcible enough to stagger him and evoke an involuntary grunt of +pain. And before he could regain his balance the fellow was thrashing +noisily away through the woodland underbrush.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily Whitaker glanced through the window to see if the woman +had been alarmed. But apparently a succession of sonorous chords from +the piano had deafened her to all other sounds. She played on with every +sign of total unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>Forthwith he struck off and blundered senselessly through the forest, +misled by its elusive phantasmagoria, until, realizing at length he did +but duplicate an earlier folly, he gave up the chase in disgust and +slowly made his way back to the bungalow.</p> + +<p>And yet (for all the mystery and the wonder of his experience) it was +with a somewhat sheepish feeling that he took the precaution of locking +the doors and windows before turning in. After all, what grounds had he +for his suspicions? Merely a hasty guess at the identity of one who +might turn out to be nothing more than a hapchance tramp—a skulking +vagabond on the watch for a chance to pilfer and fly.</p> + +<p>If he were Drummond and as murderous-minded as Ember claimed, why had he +neglected his dozen opportunities to ambush his prey in the woods?</p> + +<p>A shade of incredulity insensibly began to color Whitaker's +apprehensions. In time, with impatience, he dismissed them altogether +from his mind.</p> + +<p>He dozed off while dwelling upon the vision of a fair-haired woman +idling over a piano, swaying slightly as she played.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<h3>THE SPY</h3> + + +<p>Whitaker slept soundly but lightly: the adventures of the evening had +not been so fatiguing as to render his slumbers profound, after three +days of sheer loafing. And he awoke early, roused by a level beam of +blood-red light thrown full upon his face by the rising sun.</p> + +<p>He lay for a time languid, watching the incarnadined walls and lazily +examining the curious thrill of interest with which he found himself +anticipating the day to come. It seemed a long time since he had looked +forward to the mere routine of existence with so strong an assurance of +emotional diversion. He idled in whimsical humour with an odd conceit to +the effect that the roots of his soul had somehow been mysteriously +watered, so that it was about to burgeon like a green bay tree—whatever +that might mean. And with this he experienced an exhilarating glow of +well-being that had of late been more a stranger to his body than he +liked to admit.</p> + +<p>He wondered why. Was the change in the weather responsible? Or had the +mere act of withdrawing from the world for a little time wrought some +esoteric change in the inscrutable chemistry of his sentiments? Had the +recent innocuous waste of time somehow awakened him to the value of the +mere act of living? Or, again—absurd surmise!—was all this due simply +to the instinct of sex: was it merely the man in him quickening to the +knowledge that a pretty woman existed in his neighbourhood?</p> + +<p>At this last he laughed openly, and jumped out of bed. At all events, no +healthy man had any business dawdling away a single minute of so rare a +morning.</p> + +<p>Already the sun was warm, the faint breeze bland. Standing at the window +and shading his eyes against the glare, he surveyed a world new-washed +and radiant: the sun majestically climbing up and away from the purple +lattice-work of cloud that barred the nitid mauve horizon; the distant +beach, a violet-tinted barrier between the firmament and sea; the +landlocked bay dimpled with vagrant catspaws and smitten with sunlight +as with a scimitar of fire; the earth fresh and fragrant, steaming +faintly in the ardent glow of dawn.</p> + +<p>In another moment he was at the kitchen door, interrupting Sum Fat's +first matutinal attentions to his teeth with a demand for a +bathing-suit. One of Ember's was promptly forthcoming, and by happy +accident fitted him indifferently well; so that three minutes later +found him poised on the end of the small dock, above fifteen feet of +water so limpid bright that he could easily discern the shapes of +pebbles on the bottom.</p> + +<p>He dived neatly, coming to the surface with his flesh tingling with +delight of the cool water; then with the deliberate and powerful +movements of an experienced swimmer, struck away from the land.</p> + +<p>Two hundred yards out he paused, rolled over on his back and, hands +clasped beneath his head, floated serenely, sunlight warming his +upturned face, his body rejoicing in the suave, clean, fluid embrace, an +almost overpowering sense of physical sanity and boundless strength +rioting through him. Quietly, intimately, he smiled at the sound, good +old world, athrill with the wonder and beauty of life.</p> + +<p>Then something disturbed him: a dull fluttering, vibrant upon his +submerged eardrums. Extending his arms and moving his hands gently to +preserve his poise, he lifted his head from the water. The neighbouring +shore-line leaped flashing to his vision like an exquisite disclosure of +jewelled marquetry. His vision ranged quickly from Ember's landing-stage +to that on the water-front of the Fiske place, and verified a surmise +with the discovery of a motor-boat standing out from the latter. The +churning of its propeller had roused him.</p> + +<p>Holding its present course, the boat would clear him by several hundred +yards. He lay quiet, watching. Despite its generous proportions—it was +a fair-sized cabin cruiser, deep-seaworthy in any ordinary weather—he +could see but a single person for all its crew. Seated astern, dividing +her attention between the side steering-wheel and the engine, she was +altogether ignorant of the onlooker. Only her head and shoulders showed +above the coaming: her head with its shining golden crown, her shoulders +cloaked with a light wrap gathered at the throat.</p> + +<p>Whitaker, admiring, wondered....</p> + +<p>Sweeping in a wide arc as it gathered speed, the boat presently shot out +smartly on a straight course for the barrier beach.</p> + +<p>Why? What business had she there? And at an hour so early?</p> + +<p>No affair of his: Whitaker admitted as much, freely. And yet, no reason +existed why he should not likewise take an impersonal interest in the +distant ocean beach. As a matter of fact (he discovered upon +examination) he was vastly concerned in that quarter. Already he was +beginning his fourth day on the Great West Bay without having set foot +upon its Great South Beach! Ridiculous oversight! And one to be remedied +without another hour's delay.</p> + +<p>Grinning with amused toleration of his own perverse sophistry, he turned +over on his side and struck out in the wake of the motor-boat. He had +over a mile to go; but such a distance was nothing dismaying to a +swimmer of Whitaker's quality, who had all his life been on very +friendly terms with the sea.</p> + +<p>No one held a watch on him; but when at length he waded ashore he was +complacent in the knowledge that he had made very good time.</p> + +<p>He found the motor-boat moored in shallow water at the end of a long and +substantial dock. The name displayed in letters of brass on its stern +was, frankly, <i>Trouble</i>. He paused waist-deep to lean over the side and +inspect the cockpit; the survey drew from him an expression of approval. +The boat seemed to be handsomely appointed, and the motor exposed by the +open hatch of the engine pit was of a make synonymous with speed and +reliability. He patted the flanks of the vessel as he waded on.</p> + +<p>"Good little boat!" said he.</p> + +<p>A weather-beaten sign-board on the dock advertised a surf-bathing +station. Ashore a plank walk crossed first a breadth of sedge marsh and +then penetrated a tumbled waste of dunes. Where the summits of the +latter met the sky, there were visible a series of angular and unlovely +wooden edifices.</p> + +<p>Whitaker climbed up on the walk and made seawards. He saw nothing of the +lady of the motor-boat.</p> + +<p>In fact, for some time he saw nothing in human guise; from other +indications he was inclined to conclude that the bathing station was +either closed for the season or else had been permanently abandoned +within a year or so. There was a notable absence of rowboats and sailing +craft about the dock, with, as he drew nearer to the shuttered and +desolate cluster of bath-houses, an equally remarkable lack of garments +and towels hanging out to dry.</p> + +<p>Walking rapidly, he wasn't long in covering the distance from shore to +shore. Very soon he stood at the head of a rude flight of wooden steps +which ran down from the top of a wave-eaten sand bluff, some ten or +twelve feet in height, to the broad and gently shelving ocean beach. +Whipping in from the sea, a brisk breeze, from which the dunes had +heretofore sheltered him, now cooled his dripping bathing-suit not +altogether pleasantly. But he didn't mind. The sight of the surf +compensated.</p> + +<p>He had long since been aware of its resonant diapason, betokening a +heavy sea; but the spectacle of it was one ever beautiful in his sight. +Whitecaps broke the lustrous blue, clear to its serrated horizon. +Inshore the tide was low; the broad and glistening expanse of naked wet +sand mirrored the tender blueness of the skies far out to where the +breakers weltered in confusion of sapphire, emerald and snow. A mile +offshore a fishing smack with a close-reefed, purple patch of sail was +making heavy weather of it; miles beyond it, again, an inward-bound +ocean steamship shouldered along contemptuously; and a little way +eastwards a multitude of gulls with flashing pinions were wheeling and +darting and screaming above something in the sea—presumably a school of +fish.</p> + +<p>Midway between the sand bluff and the breaking waters stood the woman +Whitaker had followed. (There wasn't any use mincing terms: he <i>had</i> +followed her in his confounded, fatuous curiosity!) Her face was to the +sea, her hands clasped behind her. Now the wind modelled her cloak +sweetly to her body, now whipped its skirts away, disclosing legs +straight and slender and graciously modelled. She was dressed, it +seemed, for bathing; she had crossed the bay for a lonely bout with the +surf, and having found it dangerously heavy, now lingered, disappointed +but fascinated by the majestic beauty of its fury.</p> + +<p>Whitaker turned to go, his inquisitiveness appeased; but he was aware of +an annoying sense of shame, which he considered rather low on the part +of his conscience. True, he had followed her; true, he had watched her +at a moment when she had every reason to believe herself alone with the +sky, the sand, the sea and the squabbling gulls. But—the beach was free +to all; there was no harm done; he hadn't really meant to spy upon her, +and he had not the slightest intention of forcing himself upon her +consciousness.</p> + +<p>Intentions, however, are one thing; accidents, another entirely. History +is mainly fashioned of intentions that have met with accidents.</p> + +<p>Whitaker turned to go, and turning let his gaze sweep up from the beach +and along the brow of the bluff. He paused, frowning. Some twenty feet +or so distant the legs of a man, trousered and booted, protruded from a +hollow between two hummocks of sand. And the toes of the boots were +digging into the sand, indicating that the man was lying prone; and that +meant (if he were neither dead nor sleeping) that he was watching the +woman on the beach.</p> + +<p>Indignation, righteous indignation, warmed Whitaker's bosom. It was all +very well for him to catch sight of the woman through her cottage +window, by night, and to swim over to the beach in her wake the next +morning, but what right had anybody else to constitute himself her +shadow?... All this on the mute evidence of the boots and trousers: +Whitaker to his knowledge had never seen them before, but he had so +little doubt they belonged to the other watcher by the window last night +that he readily persuaded himself that this must be so.</p> + +<p>Besides, it was possible that the man was Drummond.</p> + +<p>Anyway, nobody was licensed to skulk among sand-dunes and spy upon +unescorted females!</p> + +<p>Instantly Whitaker resolved himself into a select joint committee for +the Promulgation of the Principles of Modern Chivalry and the +Elucidation of the Truth.</p> + +<p>He strode forward and stood over the man, looking down at his back. It +was true, as he had assumed: the fellow was watching the woman. Chin in +hands, elbows half-buried in sand, he seemed to be following her with an +undeviating regard. And his back was very like Drummond's; at least, in +height and general proportion his figure resembled Drummond's closely +enough to leave Whitaker without any deterring doubt.</p> + +<p>A little quiver of excitement mingled with anticipative satisfaction ran +through him. Now, at last, the mystery was to be cleared up, his future +relations with the pseudo suicide defined and established.</p> + +<p>Deliberately he extended his bare foot and nudged the man's ribs.</p> + +<p>"Drummond...." he said in a clear voice, decided but unaggressive.</p> + +<p>With an oath and what seemed a single, quick motion, the man jumped to +his feet and turned to Whitaker a startled and inflamed countenance.</p> + +<p>"What the devil!" he cried angrily. "Who are you? What do you want? What +d'you mean by coming round here and calling me Drummond?"</p> + +<p>He was no more Drummond than he was Whitaker himself.</p> + +<p>Whitaker retreated a step, nonplussed. "I beg pardon," he stammered +civilly, in his confusion; "I took you for a fr—a man I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, I ain't, see!" For a moment the man glowered at Whitaker, his +features twitching. Apparently the shock of surprise had temporarily +dislocated his sense of proportion. Rage blazed from his bloodshot, +sunken eyes, and rage was eloquent in the set of his rusty, square-hewn +chin and the working of his heavy and begrimed hands.</p> + +<p>"Damn you!" he exploded suddenly. "What d'you mean by butting in—"</p> + +<p>"For that matter"—something clicked in Whitaker's brain and +subconsciously he knew that his temper was about to take the +bridge—"what the devil do <i>you</i> mean by spying on that lady yonder?"</p> + +<p>It being indisputably none of his concern, the unfairness of the +question only lent it offensive force. It was quite evidently more than +the man could or would bear from any officious stranger. He made this +painfully clear through the medium of an intolerable epithet and an +attempt to land his right fist on Whitaker's face.</p> + +<p>The face, however, was elsewhere when the fist reached the point for +which it had been aimed; and Whitaker closed in promptly as the fellow's +body followed his arm, thrown off balance by the momentum of the +unobstructed blow. Thoroughly angered, he had now every intention of +administering a sound and salutary lesson.</p> + +<p>In pursuance with this design, he grappled and put forth his strength to +throw the man.</p> + +<p>What followed had entered into the calculations of neither. Whitaker +felt himself suddenly falling through air thick with a blinding, choking +cloud of dust and sand. The body of the other was simultaneously +wrenched violently from his grasp. Then he brought up against solidity +with a bump that seemed to expel every cubic inch of air from his lungs. +And he heard himself cry out sharply with the pain of his weak ankle +newly twisted....</p> + +<p>He sat up, gasping for breath, brushed the sand from his face and eyes, +and as soon as his whirling wits settled a little, comprehended what had +happened.</p> + +<p>Half buried in the débris of a miniature landslide, he sat at the foot +of the bluff, which reared its convex face behind and over him. +Immediately above his head a ragged break in its profile showed where +the sand, held together solely by beach grass, had given way beneath the +weight of the antagonists.</p> + +<p>A little distance from him the other man was picking himself up, +apparently unhurt but completely surfeited. Without delay, with not even +so much as a glance at Whitaker, he staggered off for a few paces, then +settled into a heavy, lumbering trot westward along the beach.</p> + +<p>This conduct was so inconsistent with his late belligerent humour that +Whitaker felt inclined to rub his eyes a second time. He had +anticipated—as soon as in condition to reason at all—nothing less than +an immediate resumption of hostilities. Yet here was the fellow running +away. Incomprehensible!</p> + +<p>And yet, save at the first blush, not so incomprehensible: the chief of +the man's desire had been unquestionably to see without being seen; his +rage at being detected had led him to a misstep; now he was reverting to +his original plan with all possible expedition. He did not wish the +woman to recognize him; therefore he was putting himself out of her way. +For she was approaching.</p> + +<p>When Whitaker caught sight of her, she was already close at hand. She +had been running. Now as their glances met, hers keenly inquiring of +Whitaker's still bewildered eyes, she pulled up abruptly and stood +astare. He saw, or fancied, something closely akin to fright and +consternation in her look. The flush in her cheeks gave way to a swift +pallor. The hands trembled that drew her beach-cloak close about her. +She seemed to make an ineffectual effort to speak.</p> + +<p>On his part, Whitaker tried to get up. A keen twinge in his ankle, +however, wrung an involuntary grunt from him, and with a wry grimace he +sank back.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried the woman, impulsively. "You're hurt!" She advanced a pace, +solicitous and sympathetic.</p> + +<p>"Oh, not much," Whitaker replied in a tone more of hope than of +assurance. He felt tenderly of the injured member. "Only my +ankle—twisted it a few days ago, and now again. It'll be all right in a +moment or two."</p> + +<p>Her gaze travelled from him to the edge of the bluff.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see—I mean, I heard something, and turned, and saw you trying +to sit up and the other man rising."</p> + +<p>"Sorry we startled you," Whitaker mumbled, wondering how the deuce he +was going to get home. His examination of the ankle hadn't proved +greatly encouraging.</p> + +<p>"But I—ah—how did it happen?"</p> + +<p>"A mere misunderstanding," he said lightly. "I mistook the gentleman for +some one I knew. He resented it, so we started to scrap like a couple of +schoolboys. Then ... I wish to Heaven it had been his leg instead of +mine!"</p> + +<p>"But still I hardly understand...."</p> + +<p>She was now more composed. The colour had returned to her face. She +stood with head inclined a trifle forward, gaze intent beneath delicate +brows; most distractingly pretty, he thought, in spite of the +ankle—which really didn't hurt much unless moved.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I—ah—I'm visiting Ember—the cottage next to yours, I +believe. That is, if I'm not mistaken, you have the Fiske place?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"And so, this morning, it struck me as a fine young idea to swim over +here and have a look at the beach. I—ah—you rather showed me the way, +with your motor-boat. I mean I saw you start out."</p> + +<p>He felt better after that: open confession is a great help when one +feels senselessly guilty. He ventured an engaging smile and noted with +relief that it failed either to terrify or to enrage the young woman.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, she said encouragingly: "I see."</p> + +<p>"And then I found that chap watching you—"</p> + +<p>That startled her. "How do you mean—watching me?"</p> + +<p>"Why—ah—that's what he seemed to be doing. He was lying at full length +up there, half hidden—to all appearances watching you from behind a +screen of beach grass."</p> + +<p>"But—I don't understand—why should he have been watching me?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know, if you don't."</p> + +<p>She shook her head: "You must be mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Daresay. I generally am when I jump at conclusions. Anyway, he didn't +like it much when I called him out of his name. I gathered, in fact, +that he was considerably put out. Silly, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Rather!" she agreed gravely.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two they eyed one another in silence, Whitaker wondering +just how much of a fool she was thinking him and dubiously considering +various expedients to ingratiate himself. She was really quite too +charming to be neglected, after so auspicious an inauguration of their +acquaintance. Momentarily he was becoming more convinced that she was +exceptional. Certain he was he had never met any woman quite like +her—not even the fair but false Miss Carstairs of whom he had once +fancied himself so hopelessly enamoured. Here he divined an uncommon +intelligence conjoined with matchless loveliness. Testimony to the +former quality he acquired from eyes serenely violet and thoughtful. As +for the latter, he reflected that few professional beauties could have +stood, as this woman did, the acid test of that mercilessly brilliant +morning.</p> + +<p>"I don't seem to think of anything useful to say," he ventured. "Can you +help me out? Unless you'd be interested to know that my name's +Whitaker—Hugh Whitaker—?"</p> + +<p>She acknowledged the information merely by a brief nod. "It seems to +me," she said seriously, "that the pressing question is, what are you +going to do about that ankle? Shall you be able to walk?"</p> + +<p>"Hard to say," he grumbled, a trifle dashed. He experimented gingerly, +moving his foot this way and that and shutting his teeth on groans that +the test would surely have evoked had he been alone. "'Fraid not. Still, +one can try."</p> + +<p>"It isn't sprained?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—just badly wrenched. And, as I said, this is the second time +within a week."</p> + +<p>With infinite pains and the aid of both hands and his sound foot, he +lifted himself and contrived to stand erect for an instant, then bore a +little weight on the hurt ankle—and blenched, paling visibly beneath +his ineradicable tan.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose," he said with effort—"they grow—crutches—on this +neck of land?"</p> + +<p>And he was about to collapse again upon the sands when, without warning, +he found the woman had moved to his side and caught his hand, almost +brusquely passing his arm across her shoulders, so that she received no +little of his weight.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say—!" he protested feebly.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything," she replied shortly. "I'm very strong—quite able +to help you to the boat. Please don't consider me at all; just see if we +can't manage this way."</p> + +<p>"But I've no right to impose—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be silly! Please do as I say. Won't you try to walk?"</p> + +<p>He endeavoured to withdraw his arm, an effort rendered futile by her +cool, firm grasp on his fingers.</p> + +<p>"Please!" she said—not altogether patiently.</p> + +<p>He eyed her askance. There was in this incredible situation a certain +piquancy, definitely provocative, transcending the claims his injury +made upon his interest. Last night for the first time he had seen this +woman and from a distance had thought her desirable; now, within twelve +hours, he found himself with an arm round her neck!</p> + +<p>He thought it a tremendously interesting neck, slender, not thin, and +straight and strong, a milk-white column from the frilled collar of her +bathing-cloak to the shimmering tendrils that clustered behind her ears. +Nor was the ear she presented to his inspection an everyday ear, lacking +its individual allure. He considered that it owned its distinctive +personality, not unworthy of any man's studious attention.</p> + +<p>He saw her face, of course, en profile: her head bowed, downcast lashes +long upon her cheeks, her mouth set in a mould of gravity, her brows +seriously contracted—signifying preoccupation with the problem of the +moment.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly she turned her head and intercepted his whole-hearted +stare. For a thought wonder glimmered in the violet eyes; then they +flashed disconcertingly; finally they became utterly cold and +disdainful.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she demanded in a frigid voice.</p> + +<p>He looked away in complete confusion, and felt his face burning to the +temples.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he mumbled unhappily.</p> + +<p>He essayed to walk. Twenty feet and more of treacherous, dry, yielding +sand separated them from the flight of steps that ascended the bluff. It +proved no easy journey; and its difficulty was complicated by his +determination to spare the woman as much as he could. Gritting his +teeth, he grinned and bore without a murmur until, the first stage of +the journey accomplished, he was able to grasp a handrail at the bottom +of the stairs and breathe devout thanks through the medium of a gasp.</p> + +<p>"Shall we rest a bit?" the woman asked, compassionate, ignoring now the +impertinence she had chosen to resent a few moments ago.</p> + +<p>"Think I can manage—thanks," he said, panting a little. "It'll be +easier now—going up. I shan't need help."</p> + +<p>He withdrew his arm, perhaps not without regret, but assuredly with a +comforting sense of decent consideration for her, as well as with some +slight and intrinsically masculine satisfaction in the knowledge that he +was overcoming her will and her resistance.</p> + +<p>"No—honestly!" he insisted. "These handrails make it easy."</p> + +<p>"But please be sure," she begged. "Don't take any chances. <i>I</i> don't +mind...."</p> + +<p>"Let me demonstrate, then."</p> + +<p>The stairway was comfortably narrow; he had only to grasp a rail with +either hand, and half lift himself, half hop up step by step. In this +manner he accomplished the ascent in excellent, if hopelessly +ungraceful, style. At the top he limped to a wooden seat beside one of +the bath-houses and sat down with so much grim decision in his manner +that it was evident to the woman the moment she rejoined him. But he +mustered a smile to meet her look of concern, and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Thus far and no farther."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must not be stubborn!"</p> + +<p>"I mean to be—horrid stubborn. In fact, I don't mind warning you that +there's a famous strain of mule in the Whitaker make-up."</p> + +<p>She was, however, not to be diverted; and her fugitive frown bespoke +impatience, if he were any judge.</p> + +<p>"But seriously, you must—"</p> + +<p>"Believe me," he interrupted, "if I am to retain any vestige of +self-respect, I must no longer make a crutch of you."</p> + +<p>"But, really, I don't see why—!"</p> + +<p>"Need I remind you I am a man?" he argued lightly. "Even as you are a +very charming woman...."</p> + +<p>The frown deepened while she conned this utterance over.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean me to interpret that?" she demanded, straightforward.</p> + +<p>"The intention was not uncomplimentary, perhaps," he said gravely; +"though the clumsiness is incontestable. As for the rest of it—I'm not +trying to flirt with you, if that's what <i>you</i> mean—yet. What I wished +to convey was simply my intention no longer to bear my masculine weight +upon a woman—either you or any other woman."</p> + +<p>A smile contended momentarily with the frown, and triumphed brilliantly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I'm sure. But do you mind telling me what you do +mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, then—?" The smile was deepening very pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"I mean to ask you," he said deliberately, taking heart of this +favourable manifestation: "to whom am I indebted—?"</p> + +<p>To his consternation the smile vanished, as though a cloud had sailed +before the sun. Doubt and something strongly resembling incredulity +informed her glance.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say you don't <i>know</i>?" she demanded after a moment.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, I've no least idea—"</p> + +<p>"But surely Mr. Ember must have told you?"</p> + +<p>"Ember seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that the Fiske +place was without a tenant."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure he was sincere. Otherwise it's certain wild horses +couldn't have dragged him back to New York."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Her tone was thoughtful. "So he has gone back to town?"</p> + +<p>"Business called him. At least such was the plausible excuse he advanced +for depriving himself of my exclusive society."</p> + +<p>"I see," she nodded—"I see...."</p> + +<p>"But aren't you going to tell me? Or ought I to prove my human +intelligence by assuming on logical grounds that you're Miss Fiske?"</p> + +<p>"If you please," she murmured absently, her intent gaze seeking the +distances of the sea.</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," he pursued in accents of satisfaction. "You are +Miss Fiske—Christian name at present unknown to deponent. I am one +Whitaker, as already deposed—baptized Hugh. And we are neighbours. Do +you know, I think this a very decent sort of a world after all?"</p> + +<p>"And still"—she returned to the charge—"you haven't told me what you +mean to do, since you refuse my help."</p> + +<p>"I mean," he asserted cheerfully, "to sit here, aping Patience on a +monument, until some kind-hearted person fetches me a stick or other +suitable piece of wood to serve as emergency staff. Then I shall make +shift to hobble to your motor-boat and thank you very kindly for +ferrying me home."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said with a business-like air. "Now we understand one +another, I'll see what I can find."</p> + +<p>Reviewing their surroundings with a swift and comprehensive glance, she +shook her head in dainty annoyance, stood for an instant plunged in +speculation, then, light-footed, darted from sight round the side of the +bath-house.</p> + +<p>He waited, a tender nurse to his ankle, smiling vaguely at the benign +sky.</p> + +<p>Presently she reappeared, dragging an eight-foot pole, which, from +certain indications, seemed to have been formerly dedicated to the +office of clothes-line prop.</p> + +<p>"Will this do?"</p> + +<p>Whitaker took it from her and weighed it with anxious judgment.</p> + +<p>"A trifle tall, even for me," he allowed. "Still...."</p> + +<p>He rose on one foot and tested the staff with his weight. "'Twill do," +he decided. "And thank you very much."</p> + +<p>But even with its aid, his progress toward the boat necessarily consumed +a tedious time. It was impossible to favour the injured foot to any +great extent. Between occasional halts for rest, Whitaker hobbled with +grim determination, suffering exquisitely but privately. The girl +considerately schooled her pace to his, subjecting him to covert +scrutiny when, as they moved on, his injury interested him exclusively.</p> + +<p>He made little or no attempt to converse while in motion; a spirit of +bravado alone, indeed, would have enabled him to pay attention to +anything aside from the problem of the next step; and bravado was a +stranger to his cosmos then, if ever. So she had plenty of opportunity +to make up her mind about him.</p> + +<p>If her eyes were a reliable index, she found him at least interesting. +At times their expression was enigmatic beyond any rending. Again they +seemed openly perplexed. At all times they were warily regardful.</p> + +<p>Once she sighed quietly with a passing look of sadness of which he was +wholly unaware....</p> + +<p>"Odd—about that fellow," he observed during a halt. "I was sure I knew +him, both times—last night as well as to-day."</p> + +<p>"Last night?" she queried with patent interest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes: I meant to tell you. He was prowling round the +bungalow—Ember's, I mean—when I first saw him. I chased him off, lost +him in the woods, and later picked him up again just at the edge of your +grounds. That's why I thought it funny that he should be over here this +morning, shadowing you—as they say in detective stories."</p> + +<p>"No wonder!" she commented sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"And the oddest thing of all was that I should be so sure he was +Drummond—until I saw—"</p> + +<p>"Drummond!"</p> + +<p>"Friend of mine.... You don't by any chance know Drummond, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard the name."</p> + +<p>"You must have. The papers were full of his case for a while. Man +supposed to have committed suicide—jumped off Washington Bridge a week +before he was to marry Sara Law, the actress?"</p> + +<p>"Why ... yes. Yes, I remember. But.... 'Supposed to have committed +suicide'—did you say?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "He may have got away with it, at that. Only, I've good +reason to believe he didn't.... I may as well tell you: it's no secret, +although only a few people know it: Ember saw Drummond, or thinks he +did, alive, in the flesh, a good half-hour after the time of his +reported suicide."</p> + +<p>"Really!" the girl commented in a stifled voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, for all that, there's no proof Ember wasn't misled by an accidental +resemblance—no real proof—merely circumstantial evidence. Though for +my part, I'm quite convinced Drummond still lives."</p> + +<p>"How very curious!" There was nothing more than civil but perfunctory +interest in the comment. "Are you ready to go on?"</p> + +<p>And another time, when they were near the boat:</p> + +<p>"When do you expect Mr. Ember?" asked the girl.</p> + +<p>"To-night, probably. At least, he wired yesterday to say he'd be down +to-night. But from what little I've seen of him, you can never be sure +of Ember. He seems to lead the sedentary and uneventful life of a flea +on a hot griddle."</p> + +<p>"I shall be glad to see him," said the girl in what Whitaker thought a +curious tone. "Please tell him, will you? Don't forget."</p> + +<p>"If that's the way you feel about him, I shall be tempted to wire him +not to come."</p> + +<p>"Just what do you mean by that?" asked the woman sharply, a glint of +indignation in her level, challenging stare.</p> + +<p>"Merely that your tone sounded a bit vindictive. I thought possibly you +might want to have it out with him, for the sin of permitting me to +infest this neck o' the woods."</p> + +<p>"Absurd!" she laughed, placated.</p> + +<p>When finally they came to the end of the dock, he paused, considering +the three-foot drop to the deck of the motor-boat with a dubious look +that but half expressed his consternation. It would be practically +impossible to lower himself without employing the painful member to an +extent he didn't like to anticipate. He met the girl's inquiring glance +with one wholly rueful.</p> + +<p>"If it weren't low tide...." he explained, crest-fallen.</p> + +<p>She laughed lightly. "But, since it is low tide, you'll have to let me +help you again."</p> + +<p>Cautiously lowering himself to a sitting position on the dock, feet +overhanging the boat, he nodded. "'Fraid so. Sorry to be a nuisance."</p> + +<p>"You're not a nuisance. You're merely masculine," the girl retorted, +jumping lightly but surely to the cockpit.</p> + +<p>She turned and offered him a hand, eyes dancing with gay malice.</p> + +<p>Whitaker delayed, considering her gravely.</p> + +<p>"Meaning—?" he inquired pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Like all men you must turn to a woman in the end—however brave your +strut."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's that way, is it? Thank you, but I fancy I can manage."</p> + +<p>And with the aid of the clothes-prop he did manage to make the descent +without her hand and without disaster.</p> + +<p>"Pure <i>blague</i>!" the girl taunted.</p> + +<p>"That's French for I-think-I'm-smart-don't-I—isn't it?" he inquired +with an innocent stare. "If so, the answer is: I do."</p> + +<p>Her lips and eyes were eloquent of laughter repressed.</p> + +<p>"But now?" she argued, sure of triumph. "You've got to admit you +couldn't do without me now!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can manage a motor, if that's what you mean," he retorted +serenely; "though I confess there are a few new kinks to this one that +might puzzle me a bit at the start. That chain-and-cogwheel affair to +turn the flywheel with, for instance—that's a new one. The last time I +ran a marine motor in this country we had to break our backs and run +chances of breaking our arms as well, turning up by hand."</p> + +<p>The girl had gone forward, over the cabin roof, to cast off. She +returned along the outboard, pushing the boat clear, then, jumping back +into the cockpit, started the engine with a single, almost effortless +turn of the crank which Whitaker had mentioned, and took the wheel as +the boat swung droning away from the dock. Not until she had once or +twice advanced the spark and made other minor adjustments, did she +return attention to her passenger.</p> + +<p>Then, in a casual voice, she inquired: "You've been out of the country +for some time, I think you said?"</p> + +<p>"Almost six years on the other side of the world—got back only last +spring."</p> + +<p>"What," she asked, eyes averted, spying out the channel—"what does one +do on the other side of the world?"</p> + +<p>"This one knocked about, mostly, for his health's sake. That is, I went +away expecting to die before long, was disappointed, got well and strong +and—took to drifting.... I beg your pardon," he broke off hastily; "a +civil answer to a civil question needn't necessarily be the history of +one's life."</p> + +<p>The girl put the wheel down slowly, swinging the boat upon a course +direct to the landing-stage at Half-a-loaf Lodge.</p> + +<p>"But surely you didn't waste six years simply 'drifting'?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I did drift into a sort of business, after a bit—gold mining in +a haphazard, happy-go-lucky fashion—did pretty well at it and came home +to astonish the natives."</p> + +<p>"Was it a success?"</p> + +<p>"Rather," he replied dryly.</p> + +<p>"I meant your plan to astonish the natives."</p> + +<p>"So did I."</p> + +<p>"You find things—New York—disappointing?" she analyzed his tone.</p> + +<p>"I find it overpowering—and lonely. Nobody sent a brass band to greet +me at the dock; and all the people I used to know are either married and +devoted to brats, or divorced and devoted to bridge; and my game has +gone off so badly in six years that I don't belong any more."</p> + +<p>She smiled, shaping her scarlet lips deliciously. The soft, warm wind +whipped stray strands of hair, like cords of gold, about her face. Her +eyelids were half lowered against the intolerable splendour of the day. +The waters of the bay, wind-blurred and dark, seemed a shield of +sapphire fashioned by nature solely to set off in clear relief her +ardent loveliness.</p> + +<p>Whitaker, noting how swiftly the mainland shores were disclosing the +finer details of their beauty, could have wished the bay ten times as +wide.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<h3>THE MOUSE-TRAP</h3> + + +<p>Late in the afternoon of the same day, Ember, appearing suddenly in +front of the bungalow, discovered Whitaker sitting up in state; a +comfortable wicker chair supported his body and a canvas-seated camp +stool one of his feet; which last was discreetly veiled in a dripping +bath-towel. Otherwise he was fastidiously arrayed in white flannels and, +by his seraphic smile and guileless expression, seemed abnormally at +peace with his circumstances.</p> + +<p>Halting, Ember surveyed the spectacle with mocking disfavour, as though +he felt himself slightly at a disadvantage. He was, indeed, in a state +that furnished an admirable contrast to that of the elegant if disabled +idler. His face was scarcely whiter with the impalpable souvenirs of the +road than was his slate-coloured mohair duster. The former, indeed, +suffered by comparison, its personal coat of dust being deep-rutted with +muddy paths of perspiration; beneath all lay the dull flush of flesh +scorched by continuous exposure to sunlight and the swift rush of +superheated air. None the less, his eyes, gleaming bright as through a +mask, were not unamiable.</p> + +<p>"Hel-<i>lo</i>!" he observed, beginning to draw off his gauntlets as he +ascended the veranda steps and dropped into another wicker chair.</p> + +<p>"How <i>do</i> you do?" returned Whitaker agreeably.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right; but what the deuce's the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"Game leg, thanks. Twisted my ankle again, this morning. Sum Fat has +been doctoring it with intense enthusiasm, horse liniment and chopped +ice."</p> + +<p>"That's the only proper treatment for sprains. Bad, is it?"</p> + +<p>"Not very—not half as bad as I thought it would be at first. Coming on +top of the other wrench made it extra painful for a while—that's all. +By to-morrow morning I'll be skipping like the silly old hills in the +Scriptures."</p> + +<p>"Hope so; but you don't want to overdo the imitation, you know. Give +nature a chance to make the cure complete. Otherwise—well, you must've +had a pretty rotten stupid time of it, with that storm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not at all. I really enjoyed it," Whitaker protested.</p> + +<p>"Like this place, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Heavenly!" asserted the invalid with enthusiasm. "I can't thank you +enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you forgive me for leaving you alone so much, we'll call it +square." Ember lifted his voice: "Sum Fat, ahoy!"</p> + +<p>The Chinaman appeared in the doorway, as suddenly and silently as if +magically materialized by the sound of his name. He bore with +circumspection a large tray decorated with glasses, siphons, decanters +and a bowl of cracked ice.</p> + +<p>"I make very remarkable damn fine quick guess what you want first," he +observed suavely, placing the tray on a small table convenient to +Ember's hand. "That all now?"</p> + +<p>"You're a sulphur-coloured wizard with pigeon-toed eyes," replied Ember +severely. "Go away from here instantly and prepare me all the dinner in +the establishment, lest an evil fate overtake you."</p> + +<p>"It is written," returned Sum Fat, "that I die after eight-seven years +of honourable life from heart-failure on receiving long-deferred raise +in wages."</p> + +<p>He shuffled off, chuckling.</p> + +<p>"Scotch or Irish?" demanded Ember, clinking glasses.</p> + +<p>"Irish, please. How's your friend's case?"</p> + +<p>"Coming along. You don't seem surprised to see me."</p> + +<p>"I had your telegram, and besides I heard your car, just now."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" There was a significance in the ejaculation which Whitaker chose +to ignore as he blandly accepted his frosted glass. "You +weren't—ah—lonely?" Ember persisted.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least."</p> + +<p>"I fancied I saw the flutter of a petticoat through the trees, as I came +up to the house."</p> + +<p>"You did."</p> + +<p>"Found a—ah—friend down here?"</p> + +<p>"Acquaintance of yours, I believe: Miss Fiske."</p> + +<p>"Miss Fiske!" There was unfeigned amazement in the echo.</p> + +<p>"Anything wonderful about that?" inquired Whitaker, sharply. "I fancied +from what she said that you two were rather good friends."</p> + +<p>"Just surprised—that's all," said Ember, recovering. "You see, I didn't +think the Fiske place was open this year."</p> + +<p>He stared suspiciously at Whitaker, but the latter was transparently +ingenuous.</p> + +<p>"She expressed an unaccountable desire to see you—told me to tell you."</p> + +<p>"Oh? Such being the case, one would think she might've waited."</p> + +<p>"She had just started home when you drove in," Whitaker explained with +elaborate ease. "She'd merely run over for a moment to inquire after my +ankle, and couldn't wait."</p> + +<p>"Thoughtful of her."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it?" To this Whitaker added with less complacency: "You'll have +to call after dinner, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Sorry," said Ember, hastily, "but shan't be able to. Fact is, I only +ran in to see if you were comfortable—must get back to town immediately +after dinner—friend's case at a critical stage."</p> + +<p>"Everybody loves me and worries about my interesting condition—even +you, wretched host that you are."</p> + +<p>"I apologize."</p> + +<p>"Don't; you needn't. I wouldn't for the world interfere with your +desperate business. I'm really quite happy here—alone."</p> + +<p>"Alone—I think you said?" Ember inquired after a brief pause.</p> + +<p>"Alone," Whitaker reiterated firmly.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like the place."</p> + +<p>"It's most attractive, really.... I say, who are the Fiskes, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Well ... the Fiskes are the people who own the next cottage."</p> + +<p>"I know, but—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I never troubled to inquire; have a hazy notion Fiske does +something in Wall Street." Ember passed smoothly over this flaw in his +professional omniscience. "How did you happen to meet her?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mere accident. Over on the beach this morning. I slipped and hurt +my ankle. She—ah—happened along and brought me home in her +motor-boat."</p> + +<p>On mature reflection, Whitaker had decided that it would be as well to +edit his already sketchy explanation of all reference to the putative +spy who wasn't Drummond; in other words, to let Ember's sleeping +detective instincts lie. And with this private understanding with +himself, he felt a little aggrieved because of the quarter toward which +Ember presently saw fit to swing their talk.</p> + +<p>"You haven't seen Drummond—or any signs of him, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Eh—what?" Whitaker sat up, startled. "No, I ... er ... how should I?"</p> + +<p>"I merely wondered. You see, I.... Well, to tell the truth, I took the +liberty of camping on his trail, while in town, with the idea of serving +him with notice to behave. But he'd anticipated me, apparently; he'd +cleared out of his accustomed haunts—got away clean. I couldn't find +any trace of him."</p> + +<p>"You're a swell sleuth," Whitaker commented critically.</p> + +<p>"You be damn'.... That's the true reason why I ran down to-day, when I +really couldn't spare the time; I was a bit worried—afraid he'd maybe +doped out my little scheme for keeping you out of harm's way."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say!" Whitaker expostulated, touched by this evidence of +disinterested thoughtfulness. "You don't mean—"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I firmly believe him responsible for that attack on +you the other night. The man's a dangerous monomaniac; brooding over his +self-wrought wrongs has made him such."</p> + +<p>"You persuade yourself too much, old man. You set up an inference and +idolize it as an immortal truth. Why, you had me going for a while. Only +last night there was a fellow skulking round here, and I was just dippy +enough, thanks to your influence, to think he resembled Drummond. But +this morning I got a good look at him, and he's no more Drummond than +you are."</p> + +<p>"The hell you say!" Ember sat up, eyes snapping. "Who was he then?"</p> + +<p>"Simply a good-for-nothing vagabond—tramp."</p> + +<p>"What'd he want?"</p> + +<p>"Search me."</p> + +<p>"But why the devil didn't you tell me this before?"</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you attach any importance to the mere fact that +an ordinary tramp—"</p> + +<p>"I attach importance to many things that other people overlook. That's +my artfulness. I don't suppose it has occurred to you that tramps follow +the railroads, and that Long Island is free of the vermin for the simple +reason that the Long Island Railroad doesn't lead anywhere any +self-respecting tramp would care to go?"</p> + +<p>"It's true—I hadn't thought of that. So that makes the appearance of a +tramp in these parts a cir-spicious sus-cumstance?"</p> + +<p>"It does. Now tell me about him—everything."</p> + +<p>So the truth would out, after all. Whitaker resignedly delivered himself +of the tale of the mare's-nest—as he still regarded it. When he had +come to the lame conclusion thereof, Ember yawned and rose.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do about it?" Whitaker inquired with irony.</p> + +<p>"Wash and make myself fit to eat food," was the response. "I may +possibly think a little. It's an exhilarating exercise which I don't +hesitate to recommend to your distinguished consideration."</p> + +<p>He was out of earshot, within the bungalow, before Whitaker could think +up an adequately insolent retort. He could, however, do no less than +smile incredulously at the beautiful world: so much, at least, he owed +his self-respect.</p> + +<p>He lolled comfortably, dreaming, forgetful of his cold-storage foot, +serene in the assurance that Ember was an alarmist, Drummond (if alive) +to a degree hand-bound by his own misconduct, a wretched creature +self-doomed to haunt the under-world, little potent either for good or +for evil; while it was a certainty, Whitaker believed, that to-morrow's +sun would find him able to be up and about—able to hobble, even if with +difficulty, at least as much as the eighth of a mile.</p> + +<p>Long shadows darkened athwart the clearing. The bay was quick with +moving water, its wonderful deep blue shading to violet in the distant +reaches. Beyond the golden arm of the barrier beach drifted the lazy +purple sails of coastwise schooners. Gradually these blushed red, the +golden arm took on a ruddy tinge, the bosom of the waters a translucent +pink, mirroring the vast conflagration in the western skies.</p> + +<p>Somewhere—not far away—a whippoorwill whistled with plaintive +insistence.</p> + +<p>In the deepening twilight a mental shadow came to cloud the brightness +of Whitaker's confident contentment. He sat brooding and mumbling curses +on the ache in his frost-bitten foot, and was more than slightly +relieved when Sum Fat lighted the candles in the living-room and +summoned Ember to help the invalid indoors.</p> + +<p>Neither good food nor good company seemed able to mitigate this sudden +seizure of despondency. He sat glooming over his plate and glass, the +burden of his conversation <i>yea, yea</i> and <i>nay, nay</i>; nor was anything +of Ember's intermittent banter apparently able to educe the spirited +retorts ordinarily to be expected of him.</p> + +<p>His host diagnosed his complaint from beneath shrewd eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"Whitaker," he said at length, "a pessimist has been defined as a dog +that won't scratch."</p> + +<p>"Well?" said the other sourly.</p> + +<p>"Come on. Be a sport. Have a good scratch on me."</p> + +<p>Whitaker grinned reluctantly and briefly.</p> + +<p>"Where's my wife?" he demanded abruptly.</p> + +<p>"How in blazes—!"</p> + +<p>"There you are!" Whitaker complained. "You make great pretensions, and +yet you fall down flat on your foolish face three times in less than as +many hours. You don't know who the Fiskes are, you've lost track of your +pet myth, Drummond, and you don't know where I can find my wife. And yet +I'm expected to stand round with my mouth open, playing Dr. Watson to +your Sherlock Holmes. I could go to that telephone and consult +'Information' to better advantage!"</p> + +<p>"What you need," retorted the other, unmoved, "is a clairvoyant, not a +detective. If you can't keep track of your trial marriages yourself...!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged.</p> + +<p>"Then you don't know—haven't the least idea where she is?"</p> + +<p>"My dear man, I myself am beginning to doubt her existence."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why the dickens she doesn't go ahead with those divorce +proceedings!" Whitaker remarked morosely.</p> + +<p>"I've met few men so eager for full membership in the Alimony Club. +What's your hurry?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know." Which was largely truth unveneered. "I'd like to get +it over and done with."</p> + +<p>"You might advertise—offer a suitable reward for information concerning +the whereabouts of one docile and dormant divorce suit—"</p> + +<p>"I might, but you'd never earn it."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless. I've long since learned never to expect any reward +commensurate with my merits."</p> + +<p>Ember pushed back his chair and, rising, strolled to the door. "Moonrise +and a fine, clear night," he said, staring through the wire mesh of the +screen. "Wish you were well enough to go riding with me. However, you +won't be laid up long, I fancy. And I'll be back day after to-morrow. +Now I must cut along."</p> + +<p>And within ten minutes Whitaker heard the motor-car rumble off on the +woodland road.</p> + +<p>He wasn't altogether sorry to be left to his own society. He was, in +fact, rather sharp-set for the freedom of solitude, that he might pursue +one or two self-appointed tasks without interruption.</p> + +<p>For one of these Sum Fat, not without wonder, furnished him materials: +canvas, stout thread, scissors, a heavy needle, a bit of beeswax: with +which Whitaker purposed manufacturing an emergency ankle-strap. And at +this task he laboured diligently and patiently for the better part of +two hours, with a result less creditable to his workmanship than to a +nature integrally sunny and prone to see the bright side of things. +Whitaker himself, examining the finished product with a prejudiced eye, +was fain to concede its crudity. It was not pretty, but he believed +fatuously in its efficiency.</p> + +<p>His other task was purely one of self-examination. Since afternoon he +had found reason gravely to doubt the stability of his emotional poise. +He had of late been in the habit of regarding himself as one whose mind +retained no illusions; a bit prematurely aged, perhaps, but wise with a +wisdom beyond his years; no misogynist, but comfortably woman-proof; a +settled body and a sedate, contemplating with an indulgent smile the +futile antics of a mad, mad world. But now he was being reminded that no +man is older than his heart, and that the heart is a headstrong member, +apt to mutiny without warning and proclaim a youth quite inconsistent +with the years and the mentality of its possessor. In fine, he could not +be blind to the fact that he was in grave danger of making an ass of +himself if he failed to guide himself with unwonted circumspection.</p> + +<p>And all because he had an eye and a weakness for fair women, a lonely +path to tread through life, and a gregarious tendency, a humorous +faculty and a keen appreciation of a mind responsive to it....</p> + +<p>And all in the face of the fact that he was not at liberty to make +love....</p> + +<p>And all this problem the result of a single day of propinquity!</p> + +<p>He went to bed, finally, far less content with himself than with the +crazy issue of his handicraft. The latter might possibly serve its +purpose; but Hugh Whitaker seemed a hopeless sort of a proposition, not +in the least amenable to the admonitions of common sense. If he were, +indeed, he would have already been planning an abrupt escape to Town. As +matters stood with him, he knew he had not the least intention of doing +anything one-half so sensible.</p> + +<p>But in spite of his half-hearted perturbation and dissatisfaction, the +weariness of a long, full day was so heavy upon him that he went to +sleep almost before Sum Fat had finished making him comfortable.</p> + +<p>Extinguishing the candle, the Chinaman, moving with the silent assurance +of a cat in the dark, closed and latched the shutters, then sat down +just outside the living-room door, to wait and watch, sleeplessly alert.</p> + +<p>An hour passed in silence, and another, and yet another: Sum Fat sat +moveless in the shadow, which blended so perfectly with his dark +blue-silk garments as to render him almost indistinguishable: a figure +as patient and imperturbable as any bland, stout, graven god of his +religion. Slowly the moonlight shifted over the floor, lengthened until +it almost touched the toe of one of his felt-soled shoes, and +imperceptibly withdrew. The wind had fallen, and the night was very +quiet; few sounds disturbed the stillness, and those inconsiderable: the +steady respiration of the sleeping man; such faint, stealthy creakings +as seemingly infest every human habitation through the night; the dull +lisp and murmur of the tide groping its way along the shore; the muted +grumble of the distant surf; hushed whisperings of leaves disturbed by +wandering airs.</p> + +<p>Sum Fat heard all and held impassive. But in time there fell upon his +ears another sound, to which he stirred, if imperceptibly—drawing +himself together, tensing and flexing his tired muscles while his eyes +shifted quickly from one quarter to another of the darkened living-room +and the still more dark bedchamber.</p> + +<p>And yet, apparently all that had aroused him was the drowsy whistle of a +whippoorwill.</p> + +<p>Then, with no other presage, a shadow flitted past one of the side +windows, and in another reappeared more substantially on the veranda. +Sum Fat grew altogether tense, his gaze fixed and exclusively focussed +upon that apparition.</p> + +<p>Cautiously, noiselessly, edging inch by inch across the veranda, the man +approached the door. It was open, hooked back against the wall; only the +wire screen was in his way. Against this he flattened his face; and a +full, long minute elapsed while he carefully surveyed what was visible +of the interior. Even Sum Fat held his breath throughout that +interminable reconnoissance.</p> + +<p>At length, reassured, the man laid hold of the screen and drew it open. +It complained a little, and he started violently and waited another +minute for the alarm which did not ensue. Then abruptly he slipped into +the room and slowly drew the screen shut behind him. Another minute: no +sound detectable more untoward than that of steady respiration in the +bedroom; with a movement as swift and sinister as the swoop of a vulture +the man sprang toward the bedroom door.</p> + +<p>Leaping from a sitting position, with a bound that was little less than +a flight through the air, the Chinaman caught him halfway. There +followed a shriek, a heavy fall that shook the bungalow, the report of a +revolver, sounds of scuffling....</p> + +<p>Whitaker, half dazed, found himself standing in the doorway, regardless +of his injury.</p> + +<p>He saw, as one who dreams and yet is conscious that he does but dream, +Ember lighting candles—calmly applying the flame of a taper to one +after another as he made a round of the sconces. The moonlight paled and +the windows turned black as the mellow radiance brightened.</p> + +<p>Then a slight movement in the shadow of the table drew his attention to +the floor. Sum Fat was kneeling there, on all fours, above something +that breathed heavily and struggled without avail.</p> + +<p>Whitaker's sleep-numbed faculties cleared.</p> + +<p>"Ember!" he cried. "What in the name of all things strange—!"</p> + +<p>Ember threw him a flickering smile. "Oh, there you are?" he said +cheerfully. "I've got something interesting to show you. Sum Fat"—he +stooped and picked up a revolver—"you may let him up, now, if you think +he's safe."</p> + +<p>"Safe enough." Sum Fat rose, grinning. "Had damn plenty."</p> + +<p>He mounted guard beside the door.</p> + +<p>For an instant his captive seemed reluctant to rise; free, he lay +without moving, getting his breath in great heaving sobs; only his gaze +ranged ceaselessly from Ember's face to Whitaker's and back again, and +his hands opened and closed convulsively.</p> + +<p>Ember moved to his side and stood over him, balancing the revolver in +his palm.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said impatiently. "Up with you!"</p> + +<p>The man sat up as if galvanized by fear, got more slowly to his knees, +then, grasping the edge of the table, dragged himself laboriously to a +standing position. He passed a hand uncertainly across his mouth, +brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to steady himself, attempting +to infuse defiance into his air, even though cornered, beaten and +helpless.</p> + +<p>Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity. He +couldn't deny the man, yet he found it hard to believe that this +quivering, shaken creature, with his lean and pasty face and desperate, +glaring eyes, this man in rough, stained, soiled and shapeless garments, +could be identical with the well set-up, prosperous and confident man of +affairs he remembered as Drummond. And yet they were one. Appalling to +contemplate the swift devastating course of moral degeneration, that had +spread like gangrene through all the man's physical and mental fibre....</p> + +<p>"Take a good look," Ember advised grimly. "How about that pet myth +thing, now? What price the astute sleuth—eh? Perhaps you'd like to take +a few more funny cracks at my simple faith in hallucinations."</p> + +<p>"Good God!" said Whitaker in a low voice, unable to remove his gaze from +Drummond.</p> + +<p>"I had a notion he'd be hanging round," Ember went on; "I thought I saw +somebody hiding in the woods this afternoon; and then I was sure I saw +him skulking round the edges of the clearing, after dinner. So I set Sum +Fat to watch, drove back to the village to mislead him, left my car +there and walked back. And sure enough—!"</p> + +<p>Without comment, Whitaker, unable to stand any longer without +discomfort, hobbled to a chair and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Drummond demanded harshly in a quavering snarl. "Now that you've +got me, what're you going to do with me?"</p> + +<p>There was a high, hysterical accent in his voice that struck +unpleasantly on Ember's ear. He cocked his head to one side, studying +the man intently.</p> + +<p>Drummond flung himself a step away from the table, paused, and again +faced his captors with bravado.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he cried again. "Well?"</p> + +<p>Ember nodded toward Whitaker. "Ask him," he said briefly.</p> + +<p>Whitaker shook his head. It was difficult to think how to deal with this +trapped animal, so wildly different from the cultivated gentleman he +always had in mind when he thought of Drummond. The futility of +attempting to deal with him according to any code recognized by men of +honour was wretchedly apparent.</p> + +<p>"Drummond," he said slowly, "I wish to God you hadn't done this thing."</p> + +<p>Drummond laughed discordantly. "Keep your mealy-mouthed compassion for +yourself," he retorted, sneering. "I'm no worse than you, only I got +caught." He added in a low tone, quivering with uncontrollable hatred: +"Damn you!"</p> + +<p>Whitaker gave a gesture of despair. "If you'd only been content to keep +out of the way...! If only you'd let me alone—"</p> + +<p>"Then <i>you</i> let Sara Law alone, d'you hear?"</p> + +<p>Surprised, Whitaker paused before replying. "Please understand," he said +quietly, "that Mrs. Whitaker is seeking a divorce from me. After that, +if she has any use for you, I have no objection to her marrying you. And +as for the money you stole, I have said nothing about that—intend to +say nothing. If you'd had the sense to explain things to me—if I could +count on you to leave me alone and not try again to murder me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go to hell!"</p> + +<p>The interruption was little short of a shriek. Ember motioned to Sum +Fat, who quietly drew nearer.</p> + +<p>"I swear I don't know what to do or say—"</p> + +<p>"Then shut up—"</p> + +<p>"That'll be about all," Ember interposed quietly. At a glance from him, +Sum Fat closed in swiftly and caught and pinioned Drummond's arms from +behind.</p> + +<p>A disgusting change took place in Drummond. In an instant he was +struggling, screaming, slavering: his face congested, eyes starting, +features working wildly as he turned and twisted in his efforts to free +himself.</p> + +<p>Sum Fat held him as he would have held an unruly child. Whitaker looked +away, feeling faint and sick. Ember looked on with shrewd and +penetrating interest, biding the time when a break in Drummond's ravings +would let him be heard. When it came at length, together with a gradual +weakening of the man's struggles, the detective turned to Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"Sorry," he said. "I didn't dare take any further chances. He'd've been +at your throat in another minute. I could see him working himself up to +a frenzy. If Sum Fat hadn't grabbed him in time, there's no telling what +might not have happened."</p> + +<p>Whitaker nodded.</p> + +<p>"It isn't as if we had simply an everyday crook to deal with," Ember +went on, approaching the man. "He's not to be trusted or reasoned with. +He's just short of a raving morphomaniac, or I miss my guess."</p> + +<p>With a quick movement he caught Drummond's left arm, pulled the sleeve +of his coat back to the elbow, unbuttoned and turned back his cuff. +"<i>Hmm</i>—yes," he continued bending over to inspect the exposed forearm, +in spite of Drummond's efforts to twist away. "Deadly work of the busy +little needle. Good Lord, he's fairly riddled with punctures!"</p> + +<p>"That explains...." Whitaker muttered, sickened.</p> + +<p>"It explains a lot." Ember readjusted the sleeve and turned away. "And +it shows us our path of duty, clear," he continued, despite +interruptions from the maddened drug fiend. "I think a nice little +sojourn in a sanatorium—what?"</p> + +<p>"Right," Whitaker agreed, relieved.</p> + +<p>"We'll see what a cure does for him before we indulge in criminal +proceedings—shall we?"</p> + +<p>"By all means."</p> + +<p>"Good." Ember glanced at his watch. "I'll have to hurry along now—must +be in town not later than nine o'clock this morning. I'll take him with +me. No, don't worry—I can handle him easily. It's a bit of a walk to +the village, but that will only help to quiet him down. I'll be back +to-morrow; meanwhile you'll be able to sleep soundly unless—"</p> + +<p>He checked, frowning thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Unless what?"</p> + +<p>Ember jerked his head to indicate the prisoner. "Of course, this isn't +by any chance the fellow you mixed it up with over on the beach—and so +forth?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing like him."</p> + +<p>"Queer. I can't find any trace of him—the other one—nor can I account +for him. He doesn't seem to fit in anywhere. However"—his expression +lightened—"I daresay you were right; he's probably only some idle, +light-fingered prowler. I'd keep my eyes open for him, but I don't +really believe you need worry much."</p> + +<p>Within ten minutes he was off on his lonely tramp through two miles of +woodland and as many more of little travelled country road, at dead of +night, with a madman in handcuffs for sole company.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<h3>OFFSHORE</h3> + + +<p>"You ask me, I think very excellent damn quick cure."</p> + +<p>Sum Fat having for the third time since morning anointed with liniment +and massaged Whitaker's ankle, tenderly adjusted and laced the makeshift +canvas brace, drew a sock over it, and then with infinite care inserted +the foot in a high-cut canvas tennis shoe.</p> + +<p>He stood up, beaming.</p> + +<p>Whitaker extended his leg and cast a critical eye over the heavily +bandaged ankle.</p> + +<p>"Anyway," he observed, "the effect is arresting. I look like a half +Clydesdale."</p> + +<p>Sum Fat's eyes clouded, then again gleamed with benevolent interest. +"You take it easy one day or two—no walk much—just loaf—no go see +pretty ladies—"</p> + +<p>"Go 'way, you heathen—go clean your teeth!" cried Whitaker, +indignantly.</p> + +<p>"—and I think be all well and sound," concluded Sum Fat.</p> + +<p>He waddled away, chuckling.</p> + +<p>Waiting till he was well out of sight, Whitaker got up, and with the aid +of a cane made a number of tentative experiments in the gentle art of +short-distance pedestrianism. The results were highly satisfactory: he +felt little or no pain, thanks to Sum Fat's ice-packs and assiduous +attentions in general; and was hampered in free movement solely by the +stiff brace and high-laced shoe.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, he felt that the advice to which he had just listened +was sound; it would be unwise to attempt a neighbourly call within at +least another twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>He resumed his chair on the veranda, and sighed. It was late afternoon, +and he was lonely. After the interest and excitement of the preceding +day and night, to-day seemed very dull and uneventful; it had been, in +truth, nothing less than stupid—a mere routine of meals and pipes +interrupted by no communication from the outer world more blood-stirring +than the daily calls of the village grocer and butcher. Ember had not +telephoned, as Whitaker had hoped he would; and the chatelaine of the +neighbouring cottage had not manifested any interest whatever in the +well-being of the damaged amateur squire of dames.</p> + +<p>Whitaker felt himself neglected and abused. He inclined to sulks. The +loveliness of a day of unbroken calm offered him no consolation. +Solitude in a lonely lodge is all very well, if one cares for that sort +of thing; but it takes two properly to appreciate the beauties of the +wilderness.</p> + +<p>The trouble with him was (he began to realize) that he had lived too +long a hermit. For six years he had been practically isolated and cut +off from the better half of existence; femininity had formed no factor +in his cosmos. Even since his return to America his associations had +been almost exclusively confined to the wives and daughters of old +friends, the former favouring him only with a calm maternal patronage, +the daughters obviously regarding him as a sort of human curio old +enough to be entitled to a certain amount of respectful consideration, +but not to be taken seriously—"like a mummy," Whitaker told himself, +not without sympathy for the view-point of the younger generation.</p> + +<p>But now, of a sudden, he had been granted a flash of insight into the +true significance of companionship between a man and a woman who had +something in common aside from community in their generation. Not two +hours altogether of such intercourse had been his, but it had been +enough to infuse all his consciousness with a vague but irking +discontent. He wanted more, and wanted it ardently; and what Whitaker +desired he generally set himself to gain with a single-hearted +earnestness of purpose calculated to compass the end in view with the +least possible waste of time.</p> + +<p>In this instance, however, he was handicapped to exasperation by that +confounded ankle!</p> + +<p>Besides, he couldn't in decency pursue the woman; she was entitled to a +certain amount of privacy, of freedom from his attentions.</p> + +<p>Furthermore, he had no right as yet to offer her attentions. It seemed +necessary frequently to remind himself of that fact, in spite of the +vile humour such reminders as a rule aroused.</p> + +<p>He passed into one such now, scowling darkly in the face of an +exquisite, flawless day.</p> + +<p>One thing was settled, he assured himself: as soon as he was able to get +about with comfort, he would lose no time in hunting up his wife's +attorneys and finding out why they were slow about prosecuting her case. +Failing satisfaction in that quarter—well, he would find some way to +make things move. It wasn't fair to him to keep him bound to the vows of +a farcical union. He was not prepared to submit to such injustice. He +would, if needs must, hire detectives to find him his wife, that he +might see and in person urge upon her his equal right to release from an +unnatural bondage!</p> + +<p>He had lashed himself into a very respectable transport of resentful +rage before he realized what way his thoughts were leading him; but he +calmed down as quickly when, chancing to lift his eyes from their +absorbed study of the planks composing the veranda floor, he discovered +a motor-boat drawing in toward the landing-stage.</p> + +<p>At once a smile of childlike serenity displaced the scowl. Instinctively +he gathered himself together to rise, but on reconsideration retained +his seat, gallantry yielding to an intuitive sense of dramatic values; a +chair-bound invalid is a much more sympathetic object than a man +demonstrating a surprisingly quick recovery from an incapacitating +accident.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, there seemed no objection to his returning a cheerful +flourish to the salute of a slender arm, brown and bare to the point +where a turned-back shirtwaist sleeve met a rounded elbow.</p> + +<p>At precisely the proper distance from the dock, the motor ceased its +purring; the boat swept on, white water crisping beneath its stem, +ripples widening fanlike from its flanks and sketching sweeping plumes +of purple on the calm ultra-marine surface—its speed at first not +perceptibly moderated. Gradually, then, it yielded to the passive +resistance of the waters, moving slower and more slow until at length it +nosed the landing-stage with a touch well-nigh as gentle as a caress.</p> + +<p>Poised lightly over the bows, the woman waited, her figure all in white +sharp-cut against the blue of sky and water, with an effect as vital as +it was graceful. Then at the right instant leaping to the dock with the +headwarp, she made the little vessel fast with two deft half-hitches +round the out-most pile, and turning came swinging to dry land and up +the gentle slope to the veranda, ease and strength and joy of living +inherent in every flowing movement, matching well the bright comeliness +of her countenance and the shining splendour of her friendly eyes.</p> + +<p>No imaginable consideration, however selfish, could have kept Whitaker +any longer in his chair.</p> + +<p>"The most amiable person I know!" he cried, elated. "Greetings!"</p> + +<p>She paused by the steps, looking up, a fascinating vision.</p> + +<p>"No—please! I've only stopped for an instant. Do sit down."</p> + +<p>"Shan't—until you do."</p> + +<p>"But I really can't stop."</p> + +<p>She ascended the steps and dropped coolly into a chair, laughing at her +own lack of consistency. Whitaker resumed his seat.</p> + +<p>"You're really able to stand without assistance?"</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed to admit it. Between you and me—a dead secret—there's +nothing really the matter with me any more. Sum Fat's a famous +physician. I could run a race—only it's pleasanter to pretend I +mustn't."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Then I shan't waste any more sympathy on you."</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact, I can move only at the cost of excruciating +agony."</p> + +<p>She considered him with a sober face and smiling eyes. "I don't believe +you. You're a fraud. Besides, I didn't come to see you at all; I came to +find out why Mr. Ember dares so to neglect me. Did you deliver my +invitation?"</p> + +<p>"I did, unwillingly. He was desolated, but he couldn't accept—had to +run back to town immediately after dinner."</p> + +<p>"He's as great a fraud as you. But since he isn't here, I shall go."</p> + +<p>She got up with a very evident intention of being as good as her word. +Whitaker in despair sought wildly for an excuse to detain her.</p> + +<p>"Please—I'm famished for human society. Have pity. Sit down. Tell me +where you've been with the boat."</p> + +<p>"Merely to the head of the bay to have the gasoline tanks filled. A most +boresome errand. They've no proper facilities for taking care of +motor-boats. Imagine having to sit with your hands folded while +garrulous natives fill a sixty-gallon tank by hand."</p> + +<p>"Expressions of profound sympathy. Tell me some more. See, I even +consent not to talk about myself as an extra inducement—if you'll only +stay."</p> + +<p>"No—really—unique though the prospect be! I left Elise and the cook +alone, two poor defenceless women; the gardener is taking his weekly +day-off in the village. We won't see anything of him till morning, +probably—when he'll show up very meek and damp about the head."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you afraid?"</p> + +<p>"I? Nonsense! I'm shamelessly able-bodied—and not afraid to pull a +trigger, besides. Moreover, there aren't any dangerous characters in +this neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"Then I presume it's useless for me to offer my services as watch-dog?"</p> + +<p>"Entirely so. And when I choose a protector, I shall pick out one sound +of limb as well as wind."</p> + +<p>"Snubbed," he said mournfully. "And me that lonesome.... Think of the +long, dull evening I've got to live through somehow."</p> + +<p>"I have already thought of it. And being kind-hearted, it occurred to me +that you might be one of those mean-spirited creatures who can enjoy +double-dummy."</p> + +<p>"It's the only game I really care for with a deathless passion."</p> + +<p>"Then, if I promise to come over this evening and play you a rubber or +two—will you permit me to go home now?"</p> + +<p>"On such terms I'll do anything you can possibly suggest," he declared, +enchanted. "You mean it—honest Injun?"</p> + +<p>"Cross my heart and hope to die—"</p> + +<p>"But ... how will you get here? Not alone, through the woods! I can't +permit that."</p> + +<p>"Elise shall row me down the shore and then go back to keep cook +company. Sum Fat can see me home—if you find it still necessary to keep +up the invalid pose."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," he laughed, "I shall call my own bluff.... Must you really +go so soon?"</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon," she returned demurely; and ran down the steps and off +to her boat.</p> + +<p>Smiling quietly to himself, Whitaker watched her cast the boat off, get +under way, and swing it out of sight behind the trees. Then his smile +wavered and faded and gave place to a look of acute discontent.</p> + +<p>He rose and limped indoors to ransack Ember's wardrobe for evening +clothes—which he failed, perhaps fortunately, to find.</p> + +<p>He regarded with an overwhelming sense of desolation the tremendous arid +waste of time which must intervene before he dared expect her: a good +four hours—no, four and a half, since she would in all likelihood dine +at a sensible hour, say about eight o'clock. By half-past eight, then, +he might begin to look for her; but, since she was indisputably no woman +to cheapen herself, she would probably keep him waiting till nearly +nine.</p> + +<p>Colossal waste of time, impossible to contemplate without +exacerbation...!</p> + +<p>To make matters worse, Sum Fat innocently enough served Whitaker's +dinner promptly at six, under the misapprehension that a decent +consideration for his foot would induce the young man to seek his bed +something earlier than usual.</p> + +<p>Three mortal hours to fritter away in profitless anticipation ...</p> + +<p>At seven Whitaker was merely nervous.</p> + +<p>By eight he was unable to sit still.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the house was too small to contain him. He found his +cane and took to the veranda, but only to be driven from its shelter by +a swarm of mosquitoes attracted by the illuminated windows. Not in the +least resentful, since his ankle was occasioning him no pain whatever, +he strolled down toward the shore: not a bad idea at all—to be there to +welcome her.</p> + +<p>The night was loud and dark. The moon was not to rise for another +half-hour, and since sundown the wind had come in from the southwest to +dissipate the immaculate day-long calm and set the waters and the trees +in motion with its urgent, animating breath. Blowing at first fitfully, +it was settling momentarily down into a steady, league-devouring stride, +strong with the promise of greater strength to come.</p> + +<p>Whitaker reflected: "If she doesn't hurry, she won't come by boat at +all, for fear of a wetting."</p> + +<p>He thought again: "And of course—I might've known—she won't start till +moonrise, on account of the light."</p> + +<p>And again, analyzing the soft, warm rush of air: "We'll have rain before +morning."</p> + +<p>He found himself at the end of the dock, tingling with impatience, but +finding some little consolation in the restless sweep of the wind +against his face and body. He stood peering up along the curve of the +shore toward the other landing-stage. He could see little—a mere +impressionistic suggestion of the shore-line picked out with the dim, +semi-phosphorescent glow of breaking wavelets. The night was musical +with the clash of rushing waters, crisp and lively above the long, +soughing drone of the wind in the trees. Eastward the barrier beach was +looming stark and black against a growing greenish pallor in the sky. A +mile to the westward, down the shore, the landlocked lighthouse reared +its tower, so obscure in gloom that the lamp had an effect of hanging +without support, like a dim yellow Japanese lantern afloat in mid-air.</p> + +<p>Some minutes elapsed. The pallor of the east grew more marked. Whitaker +fancied he could detect a figure moving on the Fiske dock.</p> + +<p>Then, startled, he grew conscious of the thick drone of a +heavily-powered motor boat near inshore. Turning quickly, he discovered +it almost at once: a black, vague shape not twenty yards from where he +stood, showing neither bow nor side-lights: a stealthy and mysterious +apparition creeping toward the dock with something of the effect of an +animal about to spring.</p> + +<p>And immediately he heard a man's voice from the boat, abrupt with anger:</p> + +<p>"Not this place, you ass—the next."</p> + +<p>"Shut up," another voice replied. "There's somebody on that dock."</p> + +<p>At the same time the bows of the boat swung off and the shadow slipped +away to westward—toward the Fiske place.</p> + +<p>A wondering apprehension of some nameless and desperate enterprise, +somehow involving the woman who obsessed his thoughts, crawled in +Whitaker's mind. The boat—running without cruising lights!—was seeking +the next landing-stage. Those in charge of it had certainly some reason +for wishing to escape observation.</p> + +<p>Automatically Whitaker turned back, let himself down to the beach, and +began to pick his way toward the Fiske dock, half running despite his +stiff ankle and following a course at once more direct and more +difficult than the way through the woods. That last would have afforded +him sure footing, but he would have lost much time seeking and sticking +to its meanderings, in the uncertain light. As it was, he had on one +hand a low, concave wall of earth, on the other the wash of crisping +wavelets; and between the two a yard-wide track with a treacherous +surface of wave-smoothed pebbles largely encumbered with heavy +bolster-like rolls of seaweed, springy and slippery, washed up by the +recent gale.</p> + +<p>But in the dark and formless alarm that possessed him, he did not stop +to choose between the ways. He had no time. As it was, if there were +anything evil afoot, no earthly power could help him cover the distance +in time to be of any aid. Indeed, he had not gone half the way before he +pulled up with a thumping heart, startled beyond expression by a cry in +the night—a cry of wild appeal and protest thrown out violently into +the turbulent night, and abruptly arrested in full peal as if a hand had +closed the mouth that uttered it.</p> + +<p>And then ringing clear down the wind, a voice whose timbre was +unmistakably that of a woman: "<i>Aux secours! Aux secours!</i>"</p> + +<p>Twice it cried out, and then was hushed as grimly as the first +incoherent scream. No need now to guess at what was towards: Whitaker +could see it all as clearly as though he were already there; the +power-boat at the dock, two women attacked as they were on the point of +entering their rowboat, the cry of the mistress suddenly cut short by +her assailant, the maid taking up the appeal, in her fright +unconsciously reverting to her native tongue, in her turn being forcibly +silenced....</p> + +<p>All the while he was running, heedless of his injured foot—pitching, +slipping, stumbling, leaping—somehow making progress.</p> + +<p>By now the moon had lifted above the beach high enough to aid him +somewhat with its waxing light; and, looking ahead, he could distinguish +dimly shapes about the dock and upon it that seemed to bear out his most +cruel fears. The power-boat was passably distinct, her white side +showing plainly through the tempered darkness. Midway down the dock he +made out struggling figures—two of them, he judged: a man at close +grips with a frantic woman. And where the structure joined the land, a +second pair, again a man and a woman, strove and swayed....</p> + +<p>And always the night grew brighter with the spectral glow of the moon +and the mirroring waters.</p> + +<p>For all his haste, he was too slow; he was still a fair thirty yards +away when the struggle on the dock ended abruptly with the collapse of +the woman; it was as if, he thought, her strength had failed all in an +instant—as if she had fainted. He saw the man catch her up in his arms, +where she lay limp and unresisting, and with this burden step from the +stage to the boat and disappear from sight beneath the coaming. An +instant later he reappeared, standing at full height in the cockpit. +Without warning his arm straightened out and a tongue of flame jetted +from his hand; there was a report; in the same breath a bullet buried +itself in the low earth bank on Whitaker's right. Heedless, he pelted +on.</p> + +<p>The shot seemed to signal the end of the other struggle at the +landing-stage. Scarcely had it rung out ere Whitaker saw the man lift a +fist and dash it brutally into the woman's face. Without a sound audible +at that distance she reeled and fell away; while the man turned, ran +swiftly out to the end of the dock, cast off the headwarp and jumped +aboard the boat.</p> + +<p>She began to sheer off as Whitaker set foot upon the stage. She was +twenty feet distant when he found himself both at its end and at the end +of his resource. He was too late. Already he could hear the deeper +resonance of the engine as the spark was advanced and the throttle +opened. In another moment she would be heading away at full tilt.</p> + +<p>Frantic with despair, he thrashed the air with impotent arms: a fair +mark, his white garments shining bright against the dark background of +the land. Aboard the moving boat an automatic fluttered, spitting ten +shots in as many seconds. The thud and splash of bullets all round him +brought him to his senses. Choking with rage, he stumbled back to the +land.</p> + +<p>On the narrow beach, near the dock, a small flat-bottomed rowboat lay, +its stern afloat, its bows aground—as it had been left by the women +surprised in the act of launching it. Jumping down, Whitaker put his +shoulder to the stem.</p> + +<p>As he did so, the other woman roused, got unsteadily to her feet, +screamed, then catching sight of him staggered to his side. It was—as +he had assumed—the maid, Elise.</p> + +<p>"<i>M'sieur!</i>" she shrieked, thrusting a tragic face with bruised and +blood-stained mouth close to his. "<i>Ah, m'sieur—madame—ces +canailles-là—!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," he said brusquely. "Get out of the way—don't hinder me!"</p> + +<p>The boat was now all afloat. He jumped in, dropped upon the middle +thwart, and fitted the oars in the rowlocks.</p> + +<p>"But, m'sieur, what mean you to do?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know yet," he panted—"follow—keep them in sight—"</p> + +<p>The blades dipped; he bent his back to them; the rowboat shot away.</p> + +<p>A glance over his shoulder showed him the boat of the marauders already +well away. She now wore running lights; the red lamp swung into view as +he glanced, like an obscene and sardonic eye. They were, then, making +eastwards. He wrought only the more lustily with the oars.</p> + +<p>Happily the Fiske motor-boat swung at a mooring not a great distance +from the shore. Surprisingly soon he had the small boat alongside. +Dropping the oars, he rose, grasped the coaming and lifted himself into +the cockpit. Then scrambling hastily forward to the bows, he disengaged +the mooring hook and let it splash. As soon as this happened, the +liberated <i>Trouble</i> began to drift sluggishly shoreward, swinging +broadside to the wind.</p> + +<p>Jumping back into the cockpit, Whitaker located the switch and closed +the battery circuit. An angry buzzing broke out beneath the engine-pit +hatch, but was almost instantly drowned out by the response of the motor +to a single turn of the new-fangled starting-crank which Whitaker had +approved on the previous morning.</p> + +<p>He went at once to the wheel. Half a mile away the red light was +slipping swiftly eastward over silvered waters. He steadied the bows +toward it, listening to the regular and business-like <i>chug-chug</i> of the +motor with the concentrated intentness of a physician with an ear over +the heart of a patient. But the throbbing he heard was true if slow; +already the boat was responding to the propeller, resisting the action +of wind and water, even beginning to surge heavily forward.</p> + +<p>Hastily kicking the hatch cover out of the way, he bent over the open +engine-pit, quickly solved the puzzle of the controlling levers, +accelerated the ignition and opened the throttle wide. The motor +answered this manipulation with an instantaneous change of tune; the +staccato drumming of the slow speed merged into a long, incessant rumble +like the roll of a dozen muffled snare-drums. The <i>Trouble</i> leaped out +like a live thing, settling to its course with the fleet precision of an +arrow truly loosed.</p> + +<p>With a brief exclamation of satisfaction, Whitaker went back to the +wheel, shifted the ignition from batteries to magneto; and for the first +time since he had appreciated the magnitude of the outrage found himself +with time to think, to take stock of his position, to consider what he +had already accomplished and what he must henceforward hold himself +prepared to attempt. Up to that moment he had acted almost blindly, +swayed by impulse as a tree by the wind, guided by unquestioning +instinct in every action. Now....</p> + +<p>He had got the boat under way with what in retrospect appealed to him as +amazing celerity, bearing in mind his unfamiliarity with its equipment. +The other boat had a lead of little if any more than half a mile; or so +he gauged the distance that separated them, making due allowance for the +illusion of the moon-smitten night. Whether that gap was to diminish or +to widen would develop before many minutes had passed. The <i>Trouble</i> was +making a fair pace: roughly reckoned, between fourteen and sixteen miles +an hour. He suspected the other boat of having more power, but this did +not necessarily imply greater speed. At all events (he concluded) twenty +minutes at the outside would see the end of the chase—however it was to +end: the eastern head of the bay was not over five miles away; they +could not long hold to their present course without running aground.</p> + +<p>He hazarded wild guesses as to their plans: of which the least +implausible was that they were making for some out-of-the-way landing, +intending there to transfer to a motor-car. At least, this would +presumably prove to be the case, if the outrage were what, at first +blush, it gave evidence of being: a kidnapping uncomplicated by any +fouler motive.... And what else could it be?... But who was he to say? +What did he know of the woman, of her antecedents and circumstances? +Nothing more than her name, that she had attracted him—as any handsome +woman might have—that she had been spied upon within his personal +knowledge and had now been set upon and carried off by <i>force majeure</i>.</p> + +<p>And knowing no more than this, he had without an instant's thought of +consequences elected himself her champion! O headlong and infatuate!</p> + +<p>Probably no more severe critic of his own chivalric foolishness ever set +himself to succour a damsel in distress. Withal he entertained not the +shadow of a thought of drawing back. As long as the other boat remained +in sight; as long as the gasoline and his strength held out; as long as +the <i>Trouble</i> held together and he retained the wit to guide her—so +long was Whitaker determined to stick to the wake of the kidnappers.</p> + +<p>A little more than halfway between their starting-point and the head of +the bay, the leading boat swung sharply in toward the shore, then shot +into the mouth of a narrow indentation. Whitaker found that he was +catching up quickly, showing that speed had been slackened for this +man[oe]uvre. But the advantage was merely momentary, soon lost. The boat +slipped out of sight between high banks. And he, imitating faithfully +its course, was himself compelled to throttle down the engine, lest he +run aground.</p> + +<p>For two or three minutes he could see nothing of the other. Then he +emerged from a tortuous and constricted channel into a deep cut, perhaps +fifty feet in width and spanned by a draw-bridge and a railroad trestle. +At the farther end of this tide-gate canal connecting the Great West Bay +with the Great Peconic, the leading power boat was visible, heading out +at full speed. And by the time he had thrown the motor of the <i>Trouble</i> +back into its full stride, the half-mile lead was fully reëstablished, +if not improved upon.</p> + +<p>The tide was setting in through the canal—otherwise the gates had been +closed—with a strength that taxed the <i>Trouble</i> to surpass. It seemed +an interminable time before the banks slipped behind and the boat picked +up her heels anew and swept out over the broad reaches of the Peconic +like a hound on the trail. The starboard light of the leader was slowly +becoming more and more distinct as she swung again to the eastward. That +way, Whitaker figured, with his brows perplexed, lay Shelter Island, +Greenport, Sag Harbor (names only in his understanding) and what else he +could not say. Here he found himself in strange waters, knowing no more +than that the chase seemed about to penetrate a tangled maze of islands +and distorted channels, in whose intricacies it should prove a matter of +facility to lose a pursuer already well distanced.</p> + +<p>Abandoning the forward wheel in favour of that at the side, near the +engine pit, for a time he divided his attention between steering and +tinkering with the motor, with the result that the <i>Trouble</i> began +presently to develop more speed. Slowly she crept up on the leader, +until, with Robins Island abeam (though he knew it not by name) the +distance between them had been abridged by half. But more than that she +seemed unable to accomplish. He surmised shrewdly that the others, +tardily observing his gain, had met it with an equalizing demand upon +their motor—that both boats were now running at the extreme of their +power. The <i>Trouble</i>, at least, could do no better. To this he must be +resigned.</p> + +<p>Empty of all other craft, weird and desolate in moonlight, the Little +Peconic waters widened and then narrowed about the flying vessels. Shore +lights watched them, now dim and far, now bright and near at hand. +Shelter Island Sound received them, slapped their flanks encouragingly +with its racing waves, sped them with an ebbing tide that tore seawards +between constricted shores, carried them past high-wooded bluffs and low +wastes of sedge, past simple cottage and pretentious country home, past +bobbing buoys—nun and can and spar—and moored flotillas of small +pleasure craft, past Sag Harbor and past Cedar Island Light, delivering +them at length into the lonelier wastes of Gardiner's Bay. Their +relative positions were unchanged: still the <i>Trouble</i> retained her +hard-won advantage.</p> + +<p>But it was little comfort that Whitaker derived from contemplation of +this fact. He was beginning to be more definitely perplexed and +distressed. He had no watch with him, no means of ascertaining the time +even roughly; but unquestionably they had been upwards of two hours if +not more at full tilt, and now were braving wilder waters; and still he +saw no sign of anything resembling a termination of the adventure. In +fact, they were leaving behind them every likely landing place.</p> + +<p>"Damn it!" he grumbled. "What are they aiming at—Boston?"</p> + +<p>Near the forward wheel a miniature binnacle housing a compass with +phosphorescent card, advised him from time to time, as he consulted it, +of the lay of their course. They were just then ploughing almost due +northeast over a broad expanse, beckoned on by the distant flicker of a +gas-buoy. But the information was less than worthless, and every +reasonable guess he might have made as to their next move would have +proved even more futile than merely idle; for when they had rounded the +buoy, instead of standing, as any reasonable beings might have been +expected to, on to Fisher's Island or at a tangent north toward the +Connecticut littoral, they swung off something south of east—a course +that could lead them nowhere but to the immensities of the sea itself.</p> + +<p>Whitaker's breath caught in his throat as he examined this startling +prospect. The Atlantic was something a trifle bigger than he had +bargained for. To dare its temper, with a southwester brewing (by every +weather sign he knew) in what was to all intents an open boat, since he +would never be able to leave the cockpit for an instant's shelter in the +cabin in any sort of a seaway—!</p> + +<p>He shook a dubious, vastly troubled head. But he held on grimly in the +face of dire forebodings.</p> + +<p>Once out from under the lee of Gardiner's Island, a heavier run of waves +beset them, catching the boats almost squarely on the beam: fortunately +a sea of long, smooth, slow shouldering rollers, as yet not angry. Now +and again, for all that, one would favour the <i>Trouble</i> with a +quartering slap that sent a shower of spray aboard her to drench +Whitaker and swash noisily round the cockpit ere the self-bailing +channels could carry it off. He was quickly wet to the skin and +shivering. The hour was past midnight, and the strong air whipping in +from the open sea had a bitter edge. His only consolation inhered in the +reflection that he had companions in his misery: those who drove the +leading boat could hardly escape what he must suffer; though he hoped +and believed that the woman was shut below, warm and dry in the cabin.</p> + +<p>Out over the dark waste to starboard a white light lifted, flashing. For +a while a red eye showed beneath it, staring unwinkingly with a +steadfast and sardonic glare, then disappeared completely, leaving only +the blinking white. Far ahead another light, fixed white, hung steadily +over the port counter, and so remained for over an hour.</p> + +<p>Then most gradually the latter wore round upon the beam and dropped +astern. Whitaker guessed at random, but none the less rightly, that they +were weathering Block Island to the south with a leeway of several +miles. Indisputably the Atlantic held them in the hollow of its +tremendous hand. The slow, eternal deep-sea swell was most perceptible: +a ceaseless impulse of infinite power running through the pettier, if +more threatening, drive of waves kicked up by the wind. Fortunately the +course, shifting to northeast by east, presently took them out of the +swinging trough of the sea. The rollers now led them on, an endless +herd, one after another falling sullenly behind as the two boats shot +down into their shallow intervals and began to creep slowly up over the +long gray backs of those that ran before.</p> + +<p>It was after three in the morning, and, though Whitaker had no means of +knowing it, they were on the last and longest leg of the cruise. They +still had moonlight, but it was more wan and ghastly and threatened +presently to fail them altogether, blotted out by the thickening +weather. The wind was blowing with an insistent, unintermittent force it +had not before developed. A haze, vaguely opalescent, encircled the +horizon like a ghost of absinthe. The cold, formless, wavering dusk of +dawn in time lent it a sickly hue of gray together with a seeming more +substantial. Swathed in its smothering folds, the moon faded to the +semblance of a plaque of dull silver, then vanished altogether. By +four-thirty, when the twilight was moderately bright, Whitaker was +barely able to distinguish the leading boat. The two seemed as if +suspended, struggling like impaled insects, the one in the midst, the +other near the edge, of a watery pit walled in by vapours.</p> + +<p>He recognized in this phenomenon of the weather an exceptionally +striking variation of what his sea-going experience had taught him to +term a smoky sou'wester.</p> + +<p>That hour found him on the verge of the admission that he was, as he +would have said, about all in: the limit of endurance nearly approached. +He was half-dazed with fatigue; his wet skin crawled with goose-flesh; +his flesh itself was cold as stone. In the pit of his stomach lurked an +indefinite, sickening sensation of chilled emptiness. His throat was +sore and parched, his limbs stiff and aching, his face crusted with +stinging particles of salt, his eyes red, sore and smarting. If his +ankle troubled him, he was not aware of it; it would need sharp agony to +penetrate the aura of dull, interminable misery that benumbed his +consciousness.</p> + +<p>With all this, he tormented himself with worry lest the tanks run dry. +Though they had been filled only the day before, he had no clear notion +of the horse-power of the motor or its hourly consumption of gasoline; +and the drain upon the supply could not have been anything but +extraordinary. If it were to run out before they made a landing or safe +anchorage, he would find himself in ticklish straits; but this troubled +him less than the fear that he might be obliged to give up the chase to +which he had stuck so long and with a pertinacity which somewhat +surprised even his own wonder.</p> + +<p>And to give up now, when he had fought so far ... it was an intolerable +thought. He protested against it with a vain, bitter violence void of +any personal feeling or any pride of purpose and endurance. It was his +solicitude for the woman alone that racked him. Whatever the enigmatic +animus responsible for this outrage, it seemed most undeniable that none +but men of the most desperate calibre would have undertaken it—men in +whose sight no crime would be abominable, however hideous. To +contemplate her fate, if abandoned to their mercies...!</p> + +<p>The end came just before dawn, with a swiftness that stunned the +faculties—as though one saw the naked wrath of God leap like lightning +from the sky.</p> + +<p>They were precisely as they had been, within a certain distance of one +another, toiling on and ever on like strange misshapen spirits doomed to +run an endless race. The harsh, shapeless light of imminent day alone +manufactured a colour of difference: Whitaker now was able to see as two +dark shapes the men in the body of the leading boat. The woman was not +visible, but the doors to the cabin were closed, confirming his surmise +that she at least had been sheltered through the night. One of the men +was standing by the wheel, forward, staring ahead. The other occupied a +seat in the cockpit, head and shoulders alone visible above the coaming. +For the most part he seemed sunk in lethargy, head fallen forward, chin +on chest; but now and then he looked up and back at the pursuing boat, +his face a featureless patch of bleached pink.</p> + +<p>Now suddenly the man at the wheel cried out something in a terrible +voice of fright, so high and vehement that it even carried back against +the booming gale for Whitaker to hear. Simultaneously he put the wheel +over, with all his might. The other jumped from his seat, only to be +thrown back as the little vessel swung broadside to the sea, heeling +until she lay almost on her beam ends. The next instant she ceased, +incredibly, to move—hung motionless in that resistless surge, an +amazing, stupefying spectacle. It seemed minutes before Whitaker could +force his wits to comprehend that she had struck and lay transfixed upon +some submerged rock or reef.</p> + +<p>A long, gray roller swept upon and over her, brimming her cockpit with +foaming water. As it passed he saw the half-drowned men release the +coamings, to which they had clung on involuntary impulse to escape being +swept away, scramble upon the cabin roof, and with one accord abandon +themselves to the will of the next wave to follow. As it broke over the +boat and passed, he caught an instantaneous glimpse of their heads and +arms bobbing and beating frantically as they whirled off through the +yeasty welter.</p> + +<p>But he saw this without pity or compassion. If he had been able to have +his will with them, he would have sunk both ten fathoms deep without an +instant's respite. His throat was choked with curses that welled up from +a heart wrenched and raging at this discovery of cowardice unparalleled.</p> + +<p>They had done what they could for themselves without even hesitating to +release the woman imprisoned in the cabin.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<h3>DÉBÂCLE</h3> + + +<p>The <i>Trouble</i>, meantime, was closing in upon the scene of tragedy with +little less than locomotive speed. Yet, however suddenly disaster had +overtaken the other vessel, Whitaker saw what he saw and had time to +take measures to avoid collision, if what he did was accomplished wholly +without conscious thought or premeditation. He had applied the reversing +gear to the motor before he knew it. Then, while the engine choked, +coughing angrily, and reversed with a heavy and resentful pounding in +the cylinder-heads, he began to strip off his coat. He was within ten +yards of the wreck when a wave overtook the <i>Trouble</i> and sent a sheet +of water sprawling over her stern to fill the cockpit ankle-deep. The +next instant he swung the wheel over; the boat, moving forward despite +the resistance of the propeller, drove heavily against the wreck, +broadside to its stern. As this happened Whitaker leaped from one to the +other, went to his knees in the cockpit of the wreck, and rose just in +time to grasp the coaming and hold on against the onslaught of a +hurtling comber.</p> + +<p>It came down, an avalanche, crashing and bellowing, burying him deep in +green. Thunderings benumbed him, and he began to strangle before it +passed....</p> + +<p>He found himself filling his lungs with free air and fighting his way +toward the cabin doors through water waist-deep. Then he had won to +them, had found and was tearing frantically at the solid brass bolt that +held them shut. In another breath he had torn them open, wide, +discovering the woman, her head and shoulders showing above the flood as +she stood upon a transom, near the doorway, grasping a stanchion for +support. Her eyes met his, black and blank with terror. He snatched +through sheer instinct at a circular life-preserver that floated out +toward him, and simultaneously managed to crook an arm round her neck.</p> + +<p>Again the sea buried them beneath tons of raging dark water. Green +lightnings flashed before his eyes, and in his ears there was a crashing +like the crack of doom. His head was splitting, his heart on the point +of breaking. The wave passed on, roaring. He could breathe. Now if +ever....</p> + +<p>As if stupefied beyond sensibility, the woman was passive to his +handling. If she had struggled, if she had caught at and clung to him, +or even if she had tried to help herself, he would in all likelihood +have failed to cheat destruction. But she did none of these things, and +he managed somehow to drag her from the cabin to the cockpit and to jam +the life ring over her head and under one arm before the next wave bore +down upon them.</p> + +<p>As the wall of living green water drew near, he twisted one hand into +the life-line of the cork ring and lifted the woman to the seat of the +cockpit.</p> + +<p>They were borne down, brutally buffeted, smothered and swept away. They +came to the surface in the hollow of a deep, gray swale, fully fifty +feet from the wreck. Whitaker retained his grasp of the life-preserver +line. The woman floated easily in the support. He fancied a gleam of +livelier consciousness in her staring eyes, and noticed with a curiously +keen feeling of satisfaction that she was not only keeping her mouth +closed, but had done so, apparently, while under water.</p> + +<p>Relieved from danger of further submersion, at all events for the time +being, he took occasion to rally his wits and look about him as well as +he was able. It was easy, now, to understand how the kidnappers had come +to their disaster; at this distance he could see plainly, despite the +scudding haze, the profile of a high bluff of wave-channelled and bitten +earth rising from a boulder-strewn beach, upon which the surf broke with +a roar deafening and affrighting. Even a hardy swimmer might be pardoned +for looking askance at such a landing. And Whitaker had a woman to think +of and care for. Difficult to imagine how he was to drag her, and +himself, through that vicious, pounding surf, without being beaten to +jelly against the boulders....</p> + +<p>As the next billow swung them high on its racing crest, he, gaining a +broader field of vision, caught an instantaneous impression of a stark +shoulder of the land bulking out through the mists several hundred yards +to the left; suggesting that the shore curved inward at that spot. The +thought came to him that if he could but weather that point, he might +possibly find on the other side a better landing-place, out of the more +forcible, direct drive of surf. It would be next to an impossibility to +make it by swimming, with but one arm free, and further handicapped by +the dead weight of the woman. And yet that way lay his only hope.</p> + +<p>In that same survey he saw the <i>Trouble</i>, riding so low, with only bow +and coamings awash, that he knew she must be waterlogged, rolling +beam-on in to the beach. Of the two men from the other boat he saw +nothing whatever. And when again he had a similar chance to look, the +hapless power-boat was being battered to pieces between the boulders. +Even such would be their fate unless....</p> + +<p>He put forth every ounce of strength and summoned to his aid all his +water wisdom and skill. But he fought against terrible odds, and there +was no hope in him as he fought.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly, to his utter amazement, the lift of a wave discovered to +him a different contour of the shore; not that the shore had changed, +but his position with regard to it had shifted materially and in +precisely the way that he had wished for and struggled to bring about. +Instead of being carried in to the rock-strewn beach, they were in the +grip of a backwash which was bearing them not only out of immediate +danger, but at the same time alongshore toward the point under whose lee +he hoped to find less turbulent conditions.</p> + +<p>It was quite half the battle—more than half; he had now merely to see +that the set of this backward flow did not drag them too far from shore. +Renewed faith in his star, a sense of possible salvation, lent strength +to his flagging efforts. Slowly, methodically, he worked with his charge +toward the landward limits of the current, cunningly biding the time to +abandon it. And very soon that time came; they were abreast the point; +he could see something of a broad, shelving beach, backed by lesser +bluffs, to leeward of it. He worked free of the set with a mighty +expenditure of force, nervous and physical, and then for a time, rested, +limiting his exertion strictly to the degree requisite to keep him +afloat, while the waves rocked him landwards with the woman. He found +leisure even to give her a glance to see whether she still lived, was +conscious or comatose.</p> + +<p>He found her not only fully aware of her position, but actually swimming +a little—striking out with more freedom than might have been expected, +considering how her arms and shoulders were hampered by the life-ring. A +suspicion crossed his mind that most probably she had been doing as much +for a considerable time, that to her as much as to himself their escape +from the offshore drift had been due. Certainly he could not doubt that +her energies had been subjected to a drain no less severe than he had +suffered. Her face was bloodless to the lips, pale with the pallor of +snow; deep bluish shadows ringed eyes that had darkened strangely, so +that they seemed black rather than violet; her features were so drawn +and pinched that he almost wondered how he could have thought her +beautiful beyond all living women. And her wondrous hair, broken from +its fastenings, undulated about her like a tangled web of sodden +sunbeams.</p> + +<p>Three times he essayed to speak before he could wring articulate sounds +from his cracked lips and burning throat.</p> + +<p>"You ... all right?"</p> + +<p>She replied with as much difficulty:</p> + +<p>"Yes ... you may ... let go...."</p> + +<p>To relax the swollen fingers that grasped the life-line was pure +torture.</p> + +<p>He attempted no further communication. None, indeed, was needed. It was +plain that she understood their situation.</p> + +<p>Some minutes passed before he became aware that they were closing in +quickly to the shelving beach—so swiftly, indeed, that there was reason +to believe the onward urge of the waves measurably reënforced by a +shoreward set of current. But if they had managed to escape the greater +fury on the weather side of the point, they had still a strong and angry +surf to reckon with. Only a little way ahead, breakers were flaunting +their white manes, while the thunder of their breaking was as the +thundering of ten thousand hoofs.</p> + +<p>Whitaker looked fearfully again at the woman. But she was unquestionably +competent to care for herself. Proof of this he had in the fact that she +had contrived to slip the life-preserver up over her head and discard it +altogether. Thus disencumbered, she had more freedom for the impending +struggle.</p> + +<p>He glanced over his shoulder. They were on the line of breakers. Behind +them a heavy comber was surging in, crested with snow, its concave belly +resembling a vast sheet of emerald. In another moment it would be upon +them. It was the moment a seasoned swimmer would seize.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>Whitaker felt land beneath his feet</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>His eye sought the girl's. In hers he read understanding and assent. Of +one mind, they struck out with all their strength. The comber overtook +them, clasped them to its bosom, tossed them high upon its great glassy +shoulder. They fought madly to retain that place, and to such purpose +that they rode it over a dozen yards before it crashed upon the beach, +annihilating itself in a furious welter of creaming waters. Whitaker +felt land beneath his feet....</p> + +<p>The rest was like the crisis of a nightmare drawn out to the limit of +human endurance. Conscious thought ceased: terror and panic and the +blind instinct of self-preservation—these alone remained. The undertow +tore at Whitaker's legs as with a hundred murderous hands. He fought his +way forward a few paces—or yard or two—only to be overwhelmed, ground +down into the gravel. He rose through some superhuman effort and lunged +on, like a blind, hunted thing.... He came out of it eventually to find +himself well up on the beach, out of the reach of the waves. But the +very earth seemed to billow about him, and he could hardly keep his +feet. A numbing faintness with a painful retching at once assailed him. +He was but vaguely aware of the woman reeling not far from him, but +saved....</p> + +<p>Later he found that something of the worst effects had worn away. His +scattered wits were reëstablishing intercommunication. The earth was +once more passably firm beneath him. He was leaning against the careened +hulk of a dismantled cat-boat with a gaping rent in its side. At a +little distance the woman was sitting in the sands, bosom and shoulders +heaving convulsively, damp, matted hair veiling her like a curtain of +sunlit seaweed.</p> + +<p>He moved with painful effort toward her. She turned up to him her +pitiful, writhen face, white as parchment.</p> + +<p>"Are you—hurt?" he managed to ask. "I mean—injured?"</p> + +<p>She moved her head from side to side, as if she could not speak for +panting.</p> + +<p>"I'm—glad," he said dully. "You stay—here.... I'll go get help."</p> + +<p>He raised his eyes, peering inland.</p> + +<p>Back of the beach the land rose in long, sweeping hillocks, treeless but +green. His curiously befogged vision made out a number of shapes that +resembled dwellings.</p> + +<p>"Go ... get ... help ..." he repeated thickly.</p> + +<p>He started off with a brave, staggering rush that carried him a dozen +feet inland. Then his knees turned to water, and the blackness of night +shut down upon his senses.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<h3>DISCLOSURES</h3> + + +<p>Sleep is a potent medicine for the mind; but sometimes the potion is +compounded with somewhat too heavy a proportion of dreams and nonsense; +when it's apt to play curious tricks with returning consciousness. When +Whitaker awoke he was on the sands of Narragansett, and the afternoon +was cloudy-warm and bright, so that his eyes were grateful for the shade +of a white parasol that a girl he knew was holding over him; and his age +was eighteen and his cares they were none; and the girl was saying in a +lazy, laughing voice: "I love my love with a P because he's Perfectly +Pulchritudinous and Possesses the Power of Pleasing, and because he +Prattles Prettily and his socks are Peculiarly Purple—"</p> + +<p>"And," the man who'd regained his youth put in, "his name is Peter and +he's Positively a Pest...."</p> + +<p>But the voice in which he said this was quite out of the picture—less a +voice than a croak out of a throat kiln-dry and burning. So he grew +suspicious of his senses; and when the parasol was transformed into the +shape of a woman wearing a clumsy jacket of soiled covert-cloth over a +non-descript garment of weirdly printed calico—then he was sure that +something was wrong with him.</p> + +<p>Besides, the woman who wasn't a parasol suddenly turned and bent over +him an anxious face, exclaiming in accents of consternation: "O dear! If +he's delirious—!"</p> + +<p>His voice, when he strove to answer, rustled and rattled rather than +enunciated, surprising him so that he barely managed to say: "What +nonsense! I'm just thirsty!" Then the circuit of returning consciousness +closed and his lost youth slipped forever from his grasp.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be," said the woman, calmly; "so I brought water. +Here...."</p> + +<p>She offered a tin vessel to his lips, as he lay supine, spilling a +quantity of its contents on his face and neck and a very little into his +mouth, if enough to make him choke and splutter. He sat up suddenly, +seized the vessel—a two-quart milk-pail—and buried his face in it, +gradually tilting it, while its cool, delicious sweetness irrigated his +arid tissues, until every blessed drop was drained. Then, and not till +then, he lowered the pail and with sane vision began to renew +acquaintance with the world.</p> + +<p>He was sitting a trifle out of the shallow imprint of his body in the +sands, in the lee of the beached cat-boat he now recalled as one might +the features of an incubus. The woman he had rescued sat quite near him. +The gale was still booming overhead, but now with less force (or so he +fancied); and the surf still crashed in thunders on the beach a hundred +feet or more away; but the haze was lighter, and the blue of the sky was +visible, if tarnished.</p> + +<p>Looking straight ahead from where he sat, the sands curved off in a wide +crescent, ending in a long, sandy spit. Beyond this lay a broad expanse +of maddened water, blue and white, backed by the empurpled loom of a +lofty headland, dim in the smoky distance.</p> + +<p>On his right lay the green landscape, reminiscent even as the boat was +reminiscent in whose shadow he found himself: both fragments of the +fugitive impressions gathered in that nightmare time of landing. There +was a low, ragged earth-bank rising from the sands to a clutter of +ramshackle, unpainted, hideous wooden buildings—some hardly more than +sheds; back of these and stretching away on either hand, a spreading +vista of treeless uplands, gently undulant and richly carpeted with +grass and under-growth in a melting scheme of tender browns and greens +and yellows, with here and there a trace of dusky red. Midway between +the beach and where the hazy uplands lifted their blurred profile +against the faded sky, set some distance apart from the community of +dilapidated structures, stood a commonplace farm-house, in good repair, +strongly constructed and neatly painted; with a brood of out buildings. +Low stone fences lined the uplands with wandering streaks of gray. Here +and there, in scattered groups and singly, sheep foraged. But they were +lonely evidences of life. No human being was visible in any quarter.</p> + +<p>With puzzled eyes Whitaker sought counsel and enlightenment of the +woman, and found in her appearance quite as much to confound +anticipation and deepen perplexity. She was hardly to be identified with +the delightfully normal, essentially well-groomed creature he +remembered. What she had worn when setting forth to call on him, +accompanied by her maid, the night before, he could not say; but it +certainly could have had nothing in common with her present dress—the +worn, stained, misshapen jacket covering her shoulders, beneath it the +calico wrapper scant and crude beyond belief, upon her feet the rusty +wrecks that once had been shoes.</p> + +<p>As for himself, a casual examination proved that the rags and tatters +adorning him were at least to be recognized as the remains of his own +clothing. His coat was lost, of course, and his collar he had torn away, +together with a portion of his shirt, while in the water after the +disaster; but his once white flannel trousers were precious souvenirs, +even if one leg was ripped open to the knee, and even though the cloth +as a whole had contracted to an alarming extent—uncomfortable as well; +while his tennis shoes remained tolerably intact, and the canvas brace +had shrunk upon his ankle until it gripped it like a vise.</p> + +<p>But all these details he absorbed rather than studied, in the first few +moments subsequent to his awakening. His chiefest and most direct +interest centred upon the woman; and he showed it clearly in the +downright, straightforward sincerity of his solicitous scrutiny. And, +for all the handicap of her outlandish dress, she bore inspection +wonderfully well.</p> + +<p>Marvellously recuperative, as many women are, she had regained all her +ardent loveliness; or, if any trace remained of the wear and tear of her +fearful experience, he was in no condition to know it, much less to +carp. There was warm color in the cheeks that he had last seen livid, +there was the wonted play of light and shadow in her fascinating eyes; +there were gracious rounded curves where had been sunken surfaces, +hollowed out by fatigue and strain; and there remained the ineluctable +allurement of her tremendous vitality....</p> + +<p>"You are not hurt?" he demanded. "You are—all right?"</p> + +<p>"Quite," she told him with a smile significant of her appreciation of +his generous feeling. "I wasn't hurt, and I've recovered from my shock +and fright—only I'm still a little tired. But you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I ... never better. That is, I'm rested; and there was nothing else +for me to get over."</p> + +<p>"But your ankle—?"</p> + +<p>"I've forgotten it ever bothered me.... Haven't you slept at all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely—a great deal. But I've been awake for some time—a few +hours."</p> + +<p>"A few hours!" His stare widened with wonder. "How long have I—?"</p> + +<p>"All day—like a log."</p> + +<p>"But I—! What time is it?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't a watch, but late afternoon, I should think—going by the +sun. It's nearly down."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!" he muttered, dashed. "I <i>have</i> slept!"</p> + +<p>"You earned your right to.... You needed it far more than I." Her eyes +shone, warm with kindness.</p> + +<p>She swayed almost imperceptibly toward him. Her voice was low pitched +and a trifle broken with emotion:</p> + +<p>"You saved my life—"</p> + +<p>"I—? Oh, that was only what any other man—"</p> + +<p>"None other did!"</p> + +<p>"Please don't speak of it—I mean, consider it that way," he stammered. +"What I want to know is, where are we?"</p> + +<p>Her reply was more distant. "On an island, somewhere. It's uninhabited, +I think."</p> + +<p>He could only echo in bewilderment: "An island...! Uninhabited...!" +Dismay assailed him. He got up, after a little struggle overcoming the +resistance of stiff and sore limbs, and stood with a hand on the coaming +of the dismantled cat-boat, raking the island with an incredulous stare.</p> + +<p>"But those houses—?"</p> + +<p>"There's no one in any of them, that I could find." She stirred from her +place and offered him a hand. "Please help me up."</p> + +<p>He turned eagerly, with a feeling of chagrin that she had needed to ask +him. For an instant he had both her hands, warm and womanly, in his +grasp, while she rose by his aid, and for an instant longer—possibly by +way of reward. Then she disengaged them with gentle firmness.</p> + +<p>She stood beside him so tall and fair, so serenely invested with the +flawless dignity of her womanhood that he no longer thought of the +incongruity of her grotesque garb.</p> + +<p>"You've been up there?" he asked, far too keenly interested to scorn the +self-evident.</p> + +<p>She gave a comprehensive gesture, embracing the visible prospect. "All +over.... When I woke, I thought surely ... I went to see, found nothing +living except the sheep and some chickens and turkeys in the farmyard. +Those nearer buildings—nothing there except desolation, ruin, and the +smell of last year's fish. I think fishermen camp out here at times. And +the farm-house—apparently it's ordinarily inhabited. Evidently the +people have gone away for a visit somewhere. It gives the impression of +being a home the year round. There isn't any boat—"</p> + +<p>"No boat!"</p> + +<p>"Not a sign of one, that I can find—except this wreck." She indicated +the cat-boat.</p> + +<p>"But we can't do anything with this," he expostulated.</p> + +<p>The deep, wide break in its side placed it beyond consideration, even if +it should prove possible to remedy its many other lacks.</p> + +<p>"No. The people who live here must have a boat—I saw a mooring-buoy out +there"—with a gesture toward the water. "Of course. How else could they +get away?"</p> + +<p>"The question is, how we are to get away," he grumbled, morose.</p> + +<p>"You'll find the way," she told him with quiet confidence.</p> + +<p>"I! I'll find the way? How?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—only you must. There must be some way of signalling the +mainland, some means of communication. Surely people wouldn't live here, +cut off from all the World.... Perhaps we'll find something in the +farm-house to tell us what to do. I didn't have much time to look round. +I wanted clothing, mostly—and found these awful things hanging behind +the kitchen door. And then I wanted something to eat, and I found +that—some bread, not too stale, and plenty of eggs in the hen-house.... +And you—you must be famished!"</p> + +<p>The reminder had an effect singularly distressing. Till then he had been +much too thunderstruck by comprehension of their anomalous plight to +think of himself. Now suddenly he was stabbed through and through with +pangs of desperate hunger. He turned a little faint, was seized with a +slight sensation of giddiness, at the thought of food, so that he was +glad of the cat-boat for support.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are!" Compassion thrilled her tone. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me +for not thinking of it at once. Come—if you can walk." She caught his +hand as if to help him onward. "It's not far, and I can fix you +something quickly. Do come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, surely," he assented, recovering. "I am half starving—and then +some. Only I didn't know it until you mentioned the fact."</p> + +<p>The girl relinquished his hand, but they were almost shoulder to +shoulder as they plodded through the dry, yielding sand toward firmer +ground.</p> + +<p>"We can build a fire and have something hot," she said; "there's plenty +of fuel."</p> + +<p>"But—what did you do?"</p> + +<p>"I—oh, I took my eggs <i>au naturel</i>—barring some salt and pepper. I was +in too much of a hurry to bother with a stove—"</p> + +<p>"Why in a hurry?"</p> + +<p>She made no answer for an instant. He turned to look at her, wondering. +To his unutterable astonishment she not only failed to meet his glance, +but tried to seem unconscious of it.</p> + +<p>The admirable ease and gracious self-possession which he had learned to +associate with her personality as inalienable traits were altogether +gone, just then—obliterated by a singular, exotic attitude of +constraint and diffidence, of self-consciousness. She seemed almost to +shrink from his regard, and held her face a little averted from him, the +full lips tense, lashes low and trembling upon her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"I was ... afraid to leave you," she said in a faltering voice, under +the spell of this extraordinary mood. "I was afraid something might +happen to you, if I were long away."</p> + +<p>"But what <i>could</i> happen to me, here—on this uninhabited island?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know.... It was silly of me, of course." With an evident +exertion of will power she threw off this perplexing mood of shyness, +and became more like herself, as he knew her. "Really, I presume, it was +mostly that I was afraid for myself—frightened of the loneliness, +fearful lest it be made more lonely for me by some accident—"</p> + +<p>"Of course," he assented, puzzled beyond expression, cudgelling his wits +for some solution of a riddle sealed to his masculine obtuseness.</p> + +<p>What could have happened to influence her so strangely? Could he have +said or done—anything—?</p> + +<p>The problem held him in abstraction throughout the greater part of their +walk to the farm-house, though he heard and with ostensible intelligence +responded to her running accompaniment of comment and suggestion....</p> + +<p>They threaded the cluster of buildings that, their usefulness outlived, +still encumbered the bluff bordering upon the beach. The most careless +and superficial glance bore out the impression conveyed by the girl's +description of the spot. Doorless doorways and windows with shattered +sashes disclosed glimpses of interiors fallen into a state of ruin +defying renovation. What remained intact of walls and roofs were mere +shells half filled with an agglomeration of worthlessness—mounds of +crumbled, mouldering plaster, shards, rust-eaten tins, broken bottles, +shreds of what had once been garments: the whole perhaps threatened by +the overhanging skeleton of a crazy staircase.... An evil, disturbing +spot, exhaling an atmosphere more melancholy and disheartening than that +of a rain-sodden November woodland: a haunted place, where the hand of +Time had wrought devastation with the wanton efficacy of a destructive +child: a good place to pass through quickly and ever thereafter to +avoid.</p> + +<p>In relief against it the uplands seemed the brighter, stretching away in +the soft golden light of the descending sun. The wind sang over them a +boisterous song of strength and the sweep of open spaces. The air was +damp and soft and sweet with the scent of heather. Straggling sheep +suspended for a moment their meditative cropping and lifted their heads +to watch the strangers with timorous, stupid eyes. A flock of young +turkeys fled in discordant agitation from their path.</p> + +<p>Halfway up to the farm-house a memory shot through Whitaker's mind as +startling as lightning streaking athwart a peaceful evening sky. He +stopped with an exclamation that brought the girl beside him to a +standstill with questioning eyes.</p> + +<p>"But the others—!" he stammered.</p> + +<p>"The others?" she repeated blankly.</p> + +<p>"They—the men who brought you here—?"</p> + +<p>Her lips tightened. She moved her head in slow negation.</p> + +<p>"I have seen nothing of either of them."</p> + +<p>Horror and pity filled him, conjuring up a vision of wild, raving +waters, mad with blood-lust, and in their jaws, arms and heads +helplessly whirling and tossing.</p> + +<p>"Poor devils!" he muttered.</p> + +<p>She said nothing. When he looked for sympathy in her face, he found it +set and inscrutable.</p> + +<p>He delayed another moment, thinking that soon she must speak, offer him +some sort of explanation. But she remained uncommunicative. And he could +not bring himself to seem anxious to pry into her affairs.</p> + +<p>He took a tentative step onward. She responded instantly to the +suggestion, but in silence.</p> + +<p>The farm-house stood on high ground, commanding an uninterrupted sweep +of the horizon. As they drew near it, Whitaker paused and turned, +narrowing his eyes as he attempted to read the riddle of the enigmatic, +amber-tinted distances.</p> + +<p>To north and east the island fell away in irregular terraces to wide, +crescent beaches whose horns, joining in the northeast, formed the sandy +spit. To west and south the moorlands billowed up to the brink of a +precipitous bluff. In the west, Whitaker noted absently, a great +congregation of gulls were milling amid a cacophony of screams, just +beyond the declivity. Far over the northern water the dark promontory +was blending into violet shadows which, in turn, blended imperceptibly +with the more sombre shade of the sea. Beyond it nothing was +discernable. Southeast from it the coast, backed by dusky highlands, ran +on for several miles to another, but less impressive, headland; its +line, at an angle to that of the deserted island, forming a funnel-like +tideway for the intervening waters fully six miles at its broadest in +the north, narrowing in the east to something over three miles.</p> + +<p>There was not a sail visible in all the blue cup of the sea.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Whitaker slowly, as much to himself as to his +companion. "It's odd ... it passes me...."</p> + +<p>"Can't you tell where we are?" she inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Not definitely. I know, of course, we must be somewhere off the south +coast of New England: somewhere between Cape Cod and Block Island. But +I've never sailed up this way—never east of Orient Point; my boating +has been altogether confined to Long Island Sound.... And my +geographical memory is as hazy as the day. There <i>are</i> islands off the +south coast of Massachusetts—a number of them: Nantucket, you know, and +Martha's Vineyard. This might be either—only it isn't, because they're +summer resorts. That"—he swept his hand toward the land in the +northeast—"might be either, and probably is one of 'em. At the same +time, it may be the mainland. I don't know."</p> + +<p>"Then ... then what are we to do?"</p> + +<p>"I should say, possess our souls in patience, since we have no boat. At +least, until we can signal some passing vessel. There aren't any in +sight just now, but there must be some—many—in decent weather."</p> + +<p>"How—signal?"</p> + +<p>He looked round, shaking a dubious head. "Of course there's nothing like +a flagpole here—but me, and I'm not quite long enough. Perhaps I can +find something to serve as well. We might nail a plank to the corner of +the roof and a table-cloth to that, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And build fires, by night?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Best suggestion yet. I'll do that very thing to-night—after +I've had a bite to eat."</p> + +<p>She started impatiently away. "Oh, come, come! What am I thinking of, to +let you stand there, starving by inches?"</p> + +<p>They entered the house by the back door, finding themselves in the +kitchen—that mean and commonplace assembly-room of narrow and pinched +lives. The immaculate cleanliness of decent, close poverty lay over it +all like a blight. And despite the warmth of the air outside, within it +was chill—bleak with an aura of discontent bred of the incessant +struggle against crushing odds which went on within those walls from +year's end to year's end....</p> + +<p>Whitaker busied himself immediately with the stove. There was a full +wood-box near by; and within a very few minutes he had a brisk fire +going. The woman had disappeared in the direction of the barn. She +returned in good time with half a dozen eggs. Foraging in the pantry and +cupboards, she brought to light a quantity of supplies: a side of bacon, +flour, potatoes, sugar, tea, small stores of edibles in tins.</p> + +<p>"I'm hungry again, myself," she declared, attacking the problem of +simple cookery with a will and a confident air that promised much.</p> + +<p>The aroma of frying bacon, the steam of brewing tea, were all but +intolerable to an empty stomach. Whitaker left the kitchen hurriedly +and, in an endeavour to control himself, made a round of the other +rooms. There were two others on the ground floor: a "parlour," a +bedroom; in the upper story, four small bedchambers; above them an +attic, gloomy and echoing. Nowhere did he discover anything to moderate +the impression made by the kitchen: it was all impeccably neat, +desperately bare.</p> + +<p>Depressed, he turned toward the head of the stairs. Below a door whined +on its hinges, and the woman called him, her voice ringing through the +hallway with an effect of richness, deep-toned and bell-true, that +somehow made him think of sunlight flinging an arm of gold athwart the +dusk of a darkened room. He felt his being thrill responsive to it, as +fine glass sings its answer to the note truly pitched. More than all +this, he was staggered by something in the quality of that full-throated +cry, something that smote his memory until it was quick and vibrant, +like a harp swept by an old familiar hand.</p> + +<p>"Hugh?" she called; and again: "Hugh! Where are you?"</p> + +<p>He paused, grasping the balustrade, and with some difficulty managed to +articulate:</p> + +<p>"Here ... coming...."</p> + +<p>"Hurry. Everything's ready."</p> + +<p>Waiting an instant to steady his nerves, he descended and reëntered the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>The meal was waiting—on the table. The woman, too, faced him as he +entered, waiting in the chair nearest the stove. But, once within the +room, he paused so long beside the door, his hand upon the knob, and +stared so strangely at her, that she moved uneasily, grew restless and +disturbed. A gleam of apprehension flickered in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" she asked with forced lightness. "Why don't +you come in and sit down?"</p> + +<p>He said abruptly: "You called me Hugh!"</p> + +<p>She inclined her head, smiling mischievously. "I admit it. Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"Mind? No!" He shut the door, advanced and dropped into his chair, still +searching her face with his troubled gaze. "Only," he said—"you +startled me. I didn't think—expect—hope—"</p> + +<p>"On so short an acquaintance?" she suggested archly. "Perhaps you're +right. I didn't think.... And yet—I do think—with the man who risked +his life for me—I'm a little justified in forgetting even that we've +never met through the medium of a conventional introduction."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that, but...." He hesitated, trying to formulate phrases to +explain the singular sensation that had assailed him when she called +him: a sensation the precise nature of which he himself did not as yet +understand.</p> + +<p>She interrupted brusquely: "Don't let's waste time talking. I can't wait +another instant."</p> + +<p>Silently submissive, he took up his knife and fork and fell to.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + +<h3>THE BEACON</h3> + + +<p>Through the meal, neither spoke; and if there were any serious thinking +in process, Whitaker was not only ignorant of it, but innocent of +participation therein. With the first taste of food, he passed into a +state of abject surrender to sheer brutish hunger. It was not easily +that he restrained himself, schooled his desires to decent expression. +The smell, the taste, the sight of food: he fairly quivered like a +ravenous animal under the influence of their sensual promise. He was +sensible of a dull, carking shame, and yet was shameless.</p> + +<p>The girl was the first to finish. She had eaten little in comparison; +chiefly, perhaps, because she required less than he. Putting aside her +knife and fork, she rested her elbows easily on the table, cradled her +chin between her half-closed hands. Her eyes grew dark with speculation, +and oddly lambent. He ate on, unconscious of her attitude. When he had +finished, it was as if a swarm of locusts had passed that way. Of the +more than plentiful meal she had prepared, there remained but a beggarly +array of empty dishes to testify to his appreciation.</p> + +<p>He leaned back a little in his chair, surprised her intent gaze, laughed +sheepishly, and laughing, sighed with repletion.</p> + +<p>A smile of sympathetic understanding darkened the corners of her lips.</p> + +<p>"Milord is satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"Milord," he said with an apologetic laugh, "is on the point of passing +into a state of torpor. He begins to understand the inclination of the +boa-constrictor—or whatever beast it is that feeds once every six +months—to torp a little, gently, after its semi-annual gorge."</p> + +<p>"Then there's nothing else...?"</p> + +<p>"For a pipe and tobacco I would give you half my kingdom!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm <i>so</i> sorry!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be. It won't harm me to do without nicotine for a day or two." +But his sigh belied the statement. "Anyway, I'll forget all about it +presently. I'll be too busy."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"It's coming on night. You haven't forgotten our signal fires?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—and we must not forget!"</p> + +<p>"Then I've got my work cut out for me, to forage for fuel. I must get +right at it."</p> + +<p>The girl rose quickly. "Do you mind waiting a little? I mustn't neglect +my dishes, and—if you don't mind—I'd rather not be left alone any +longer than necessary. You know...."</p> + +<p>She ended with a nervous laugh, depreciatory.</p> + +<p>"Why, surely. And I'll help with the dish-cloth."</p> + +<p>"You'll do nothing of the sort. I'd rather do it all myself. Please." +She waved him back to his chair with a commanding gesture. "I mean +it—really."</p> + +<p>"Well," he consented, doubtful, "if you insist...."</p> + +<p>She worked rapidly above the steaming dish-pan, heedless of the effects +upon her hands and bared arms: busy and intent upon her business, the +fair head bowed, the cheeks faintly flushed.</p> + +<p>Whitaker lounged, profoundly intrigued, watching her with sober and +studious eyes, asking himself questions he found for the present +unanswerable. What did she mean to him? Was what he had been at first +disposed to consider a mere, light-hearted, fugitive infatuation, +developing into something else, something stronger and more enduring? +And what did it mean, this impression that had come to him so suddenly, +within the hour, and that persisted with so much force in the face of +its manifest impossibility, that he had known her, or some one strangely +like her, at some forgotten time—as in some previous existence?</p> + +<p>It was her voice that had made him think that, her voice of marvellous +allure, crystal-pure, as flexible as tempered steel, strong, tender, +rich, compassionate, compelling.... Where had he heard it before, and +when?</p> + +<p>And who was she, this Miss Fiske? This self-reliant and self-sufficient +woman who chose to spend her summer in seclusion, with none but servants +for companions; who had comprehension of machinery and ran her +motor-boat alone; who went for lonely swims in the surf at dawn; who +treated men as her peers—neither more nor less; who was spied upon, +shadowed, attacked, kidnapped by men of unparalleled desperation and +daring; who had retained her self-possession under stress of +circumstance that would have driven strong men into pseudo-hysteria; who +now found herself in a position to the last degree ambiguous and +anomalous, cooped up, for God only knew how long, upon a lonely +hand's-breadth of land in company with a man of whom she knew little +more than nothing; and who accepted it all without protest, with a +serene and flawless courage, uncomplaining, displaying an implicit and +unquestioning faith in her companion: what manner of woman was this?</p> + +<p>At least one to marvel over and admire without reserve; to rejoice in +and, if it could not be otherwise, to desire in silence and in pride +that it should be given to one so unworthy the privileges of desiring +and of service and mute adoration....</p> + +<p>"It's almost dark," her pleasant accents broke in upon his revery. +"Would you mind lighting the lamp? My hands are all wet and sticky."</p> + +<p>"Assuredly."</p> + +<p>Whitaker got up, found matches, and lighted a tin kerosene lamp in a +bracket on the wall. The windows darkened and the walls took on a sombre +yellow as the flame grew strong and steady.</p> + +<p>"I'm quite finished." The girl scrubbed her arms and hands briskly with +a dry towel and turned down her sleeves, facing him with her fine, +frank, friendly smile. "If you're ready...."</p> + +<p>"Whenever you are," he said with an oddly ceremonious bow.</p> + +<p>To his surprise she drew back, her brows and lips contracting to level +lines, her eyes informed with the light of wonder shot through with the +flashings of a resentful temper.</p> + +<p>"Why do you look at me so?" she demanded sharply. "What are you +thinking...?" She checked, her frown relaxed, her smile flickered +softly. "Am I such a fright—?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I was merely thinking, +wondering...."</p> + +<p>She seemed about to speak, but said nothing. He did not round out his +apology. A little distance apart, they stood staring at one another in +that weird, unnatural light, wherein the glow from the lamp contended +garishly with the ebbing flush of day. And again he was mute in +bewildered inquiry before that puzzling phenomenon of inscrutable +emotion which once before, since his awakening, had been disclosed to +him in her mantling colour, in the quickening of her breath, and the +agitation of her bosom, in the timid, dumb questioning of eyes grown +strangely shy and frightened.</p> + +<p>And then, in a twinkling, an impatient gesture exorcised the +inexplicable mood that had possessed her, and she regained her normal, +self-reliant poise as if by witchcraft.</p> + +<p>"What a quaint creature you are, Hugh," she cried, her smile whimsical. +"You've a way of looking at one that gives me the creeps. I see +things—things that aren't so, and never were. If you don't stop it, I +swear I shall think you're the devil! Stop it—do you hear me, sir? And +come build our bonfire."</p> + +<p>She swung lithely away and was out of the house before he could regain +his wits and follow.</p> + +<p>"I noticed a lot of old lumber around the barn," she announced, when he +joined her in the dooryard—"old boxes and barrels and rubbish. And a +wheelbarrow. So you won't have far to go for fuel. Now where do you +purpose building the beacon?"</p> + +<p>He cast round, peering through the thickening shades of dusk, and +eventually settled upon a little knoll a moderate distance to leeward of +the farm-house. Such a location would be safest, even though the wind +was falling steadily with the flight of the hours; and the fire would be +conspicuously placed for observation from any point in the north and +east.</p> + +<p>Off in the north, where Whitaker had marked down the empurpled headland +during the afternoon, a white light lanced the gloom thrice with a +sweeping blade, vanished, and was replaced by a glare of angry red, +which in its turn winked out.</p> + +<p>Whitaker watched it briefly with the finger-tips of his right hand +resting lightly on the pulse in his left wrist. Then turning away, he +announced:</p> + +<p>"Three white flashes followed by a red at intervals of about ten +seconds. Wonder what <i>that</i> stands for!"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" the girl asked. "A ship signalling?"</p> + +<p>"No; a lighthouse—probably a first-order light—with its characteristic +flash, not duplicated anywhere along this section of the Atlantic coast. +If I knew anything of such matters, it would be easy enough to tell from +that just about where we are. <i>If</i> that information would help us."</p> + +<p>"But, if we can see their light, they'll see ours,—won't they?—and +send to find out what's the matter."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. At least—let's hope so. They're pretty sure to see it, but as +to their attaching sufficient importance to it to investigate—that's a +question. They may not know that the people who live here are away. They +may think the natives here are merely celebrating their silver wedding, +or Roosevelt's refusal of a third term, or the accession of Edward the +Seventh—or anything."</p> + +<p>"Please don't be silly—and discouraging. Do get to work and build the +fire."</p> + +<p>He obeyed with humility and expedition.</p> + +<p>As she had said, there was no lack of fodder for the flames. By dint of +several wheelbarrow trips between the knoll and the farmyard, he had +presently constructed a pyre of impressive proportions; and by that time +it was quite dark—so dark, indeed, that he had been forced to hunt up a +yard lantern, carrying the which the girl had accompanied him on his two +final trips.</p> + +<p>"Here," he said clumsily, when all was ready, offering her matches. "You +light it, please—for luck."</p> + +<p>Their fingers touched as she took the matches. Something thumped in his +breast, and a door opened in the chambers of his understanding, letting +in light.</p> + +<p>Kneeling at the base of the pyre, she struck a match and applied it to a +quantity of tinder-dry excelsior. The stuff caught instantly, puffing +into a brilliant patch of blaze; she rose and stood back, <i>en +silhouette</i>, delicately poised at attention, waiting to see that her +work was well done. He could not take his gaze from her.</p> + +<p>So what he had trifled and toyed with, fought with and prayed against, +doubted and questioned, laughed at and cried down, was sober, painful +fact. Truth, heart-rending to behold in her stark, shining beauty, had +been revealed to him in that moment of brushing finger-tips, and he had +looked in her face and known his unworthiness; and he trembled and was +afraid and ashamed....</p> + +<p>Spreading swiftly near the ground, the flames mounted as quickly, with +snappings and cracklings, excavating in the darkness an arena of reddish +radiance.</p> + +<p>The girl retreated to his side, returning the matches.</p> + +<p>A tongue of flame shot up from the peak of the pyre, and a column of +smoke surpassed it, swinging off to leeward in great, red-bosomed +volutes and whorls picked out with flying regiments of sparks.</p> + +<p>"You'd think they couldn't help understanding that it's a signal of +distress."</p> + +<p>"You would think so. I hope so. God knows I hope so!"</p> + +<p>There was a passion in his tones to make her lift wondering eyes to his.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say that—that way? We should be thankful to be safe—alive. +And we're certain to get away before long."</p> + +<p>"I know—yes, I know."</p> + +<p>"But you spoke so strangely!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. I'd been thinking clearly; for the first time, I believe, +since I woke up."</p> + +<p>"About what? Us? Or merely me?"</p> + +<p>"You. I was considering you alone. It isn't right that you should be in +this fix. I'd give my right hand to remedy it!"</p> + +<p>"But I'm not distressed. It isn't altogether pleasant, but it can't be +helped and might easily have been worse."</p> + +<p>"And still I can't help feeling, somehow, the wretched injustice of it +to you. I want to protest—to do something to mend matters."</p> + +<p>"But since you can't"—she laughed in light mockery, innocent of +malice—"since we're doing our best, let's be philosophical and sit down +over there and watch to see if there's any answer to our signal."</p> + +<p>"There won't be."</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> a difficult body. Never mind. Come along!" she insisted with +pretty imperiousness.</p> + +<p>They seated themselves with their backs to the fire and at a respectful +distance from it, where they could watch the jetting blades of light +that ringed the far-off headland. Whitaker reclined on an elbow, +relapsing into moody contemplation. The girl drew up her knees, clasped +her arms about them, and stared thoughtfully into the night.</p> + +<p>Behind them the fire flamed and roared, volcanic. All round it in a +radius of many yards the earth glowed red, while, to one side, the grim, +homely façade of the farm-house edged blushing out of the ambient night, +all its staring windows bloodshot and sinister.</p> + +<p>The girl stirred uneasily, turning her head to look at Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"You know," she said with a confused attempt to laugh: "this is really +no canny, this place. Or else I'm balmy. I'm seeing things—shapes that +stir against the blackness, off there beyond the light, moving, halting, +staring, hating us for butchering their age-old peace and quiet. Maybe +I'll forget to see them, if you'll talk to me a little."</p> + +<p>"I can't talk to you," he said, ungracious in his distress.</p> + +<p>"You can't? It's the first time it's been noticeable, then. What's +responsible for this all-of-a-sudden change of heart?"</p> + +<p>"That's what's responsible." The words spoke themselves almost against +his will.</p> + +<p>"What—change of heart?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said sullenly.</p> + +<p>"You're very obscure. Am I to understand that you've taken a sudden +dislike to me, so that you can't treat me with decent civility?"</p> + +<p>"You know that isn't so."</p> + +<p>"Surely"—she caught her breath sharply, paused for an instant, then +went on—"surely you don't mean the converse!"</p> + +<p>"I've always understood women knew what men meant before the men did, +themselves." His voice broke a little. "Oh, can't you see how it is with +me? Can't you see?" he cried. "God forgive me! I never meant to inflict +this on you, at such a time! I don't know why I have...."</p> + +<p>"You mean," she stammered in a voice of amaze—"you mean—love?"</p> + +<p>"Can you doubt it?"</p> + +<p>"No ... not after what's happened, I presume. You wouldn't have +followed—you wouldn't have fought so to save me from drowning—I +<i>suppose</i>—if you hadn't—cared.... But I didn't know."</p> + +<p>She sighed, a sigh plaintive and perturbed, then resumed: "A woman never +knows, really. She may suspect; in fact, she almost always does; she is +obliged to be so continually on guard that suspicion is ingrained in her +nature; but...."</p> + +<p>"Then you're not—offended?" he asked, sitting up.</p> + +<p>"Why should I be?" The firelight momentarily outlined the smiling, half +wistful countenance she turned to him.</p> + +<p>"But"—he exploded with righteous wrath, self-centred—"only a scoundrel +would force his attentions upon a woman, in such circumstances! You +can't get away from me—I may be utterly hateful to you—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're not." She laughed quietly. "You're not; nor am I +distressed—because of the circumstances that distress you, at least. +What woman would be who received as great and honourable a +compliment—from you, Hugh? Only"—again the whimsical little laugh that +merged into a smothered sigh—"I wish I knew!"</p> + +<p>"Wish you knew what?"</p> + +<p>"What's going on inside that extraordinary head of yours: what's in the +mind behind the eyes that I so often find staring at me so curiously."</p> + +<p>He bowed that head between hands that compressed cruelly his temples. +"I wish <i>I</i> knew!" he groaned in protest. "It's a mystery to me, +the spell you've laid upon my thoughts. Ever since we met you've +haunted me with a weird suggestion of some elusive relationship, some +entanglement—intimacy—gone, perished, forgotten.... But since you +called me to supper, a while ago, by name—I don't know why—your voice, +as you used it then, has run through my head and through, teasing my +memory like a strain of music from some half-remembered song. It +half-maddens me; I feel so strongly that everything would be so straight +and plain and clear between us, if I could only fasten upon that +fugitive, indefinable something that's always fluttering just beyond my +grasp!"</p> + +<p>"You mean all that—honestly?" she demanded in an oddly startled voice.</p> + +<p>"Most honestly." He looked up in excitement. "You don't mean <i>you</i>'ve +felt anything of the sort?"</p> + +<p>"No, I"—her voice broke as if with weariness—"I don't mean that, +precisely. I mean.... Probably I don't know what I do mean. I'm really +very tired, too tired to go on, just now—to sit here with you, +badgering our poor wits with esoteric subtleties. I think—do you +mind?—I'd better go in."</p> + +<p>She rose quickly, without waiting for his hand. Whitaker straightened +out his long body with more deliberation, standing finally at full +height, his grave and moody countenance strongly relieved in the ruddy +glow, while her face was all in shadow.</p> + +<p>"One moment," he begged humbly—"before we go in. I ... I've something +else to say to you, if I may."</p> + +<p>She waited, seriously attentive.</p> + +<p>"I haven't played fair, I'm afraid," he said, lowering his head to +escape her steadfast gaze. "I've just told you that I love you, but...."</p> + +<p>"Well?" she demanded in an odd, ringing voice. "Isn't it true?"</p> + +<p>"True?" He laughed unnaturally. "It's so true I—wish I had died before +I told you!"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because ... because you didn't resent my telling you...."</p> + +<p>It seemed impossible for him to speak connectedly or at any length, +impossible to overcome his distaste for the hateful confession he must +make. And she was intolerably patient with him; he resented her quiet, +contained patience; while he feared, yet he was relieved when she at +length insisted: "Well?"</p> + +<p>"Since you didn't resent that confession, I am led to believe you +don't—exactly—dislike me. That makes it just so much the harder to +forfeit your regard."</p> + +<p>"But must you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Please explain," she urged, a trace wearily.</p> + +<p>"I who love you with all my heart and mind and soul—I am not free to +love you."</p> + +<p>"You aren't free—!"</p> + +<p>"I.... No."</p> + +<p>After several moments, during which he fought vainly with his inability +to go on, she resumed her examination with a manner aloof and yet +determined:</p> + +<p>"You've told me so much, I think you can hardly refuse to tell more."</p> + +<p>"I," he stammered—"I am already married."</p> + +<p>She gave a little, stifled cry—whether of pain or horror or of +indignation he could not tell.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry—I—" he began.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think you might have thought of this before?"</p> + +<p>"I ... you don't understand—"</p> + +<p>"Are you in the habit of declaring yourself first and confessing +later?... Don't answer, if you don't want to. I've no real right to +know. I asked out of simple curiosity."</p> + +<p>"If you'd only listen to me!" he broke out suddenly. "The thing's so +strange, so far off—dreamlike—that I forget it easily."</p> + +<p>"So it would seem," she put in cruelly.</p> + +<p>"Please hear me!"</p> + +<p>"Surely you must see I am listening, Mr. Whitaker."</p> + +<p>"It was several years ago—nearly seven. I was on the point of +death—had been told to expect death within a few months.... In a moment +of sentimental sympathy—I wasn't at all myself—I married a girl I'd +never seen before, to help her out of a desperate scrape she'd got +into—meaning simply to give her the protection of my name. She was in +bad trouble.... We never lived together, never even saw one another +after that hour. She had every reason to think me dead—as I should have +been, by rights. But now she knows that I'm alive—is about to sue for a +divorce.... Now you know just what sort of a contemptible hound I am, +and why it was so hard to tell you."</p> + +<p>After a long pause, during which neither stirred, she told him, in a +faint voice: "Thank you."</p> + +<p>She moved toward the house.</p> + +<p>"I throw myself upon your mercy—"</p> + +<p>"Do you?" she said coolly, pausing.</p> + +<p>"If you will forgive me—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgive you, Mr. Whitaker. My heart is really not quite so +fragile as all this implies."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that—you know I didn't. I'm only trying to assure you +that I won't bother you—with this trouble of mine—again. I don't want +you to be afraid of me."</p> + +<p>"I am not."</p> + +<p>The words were terse and brusque enough; the accompanying swift gesture, +in which her hand rested momentarily on his arm as if in confidence +approaching affection, he found oddly contradictory.</p> + +<p>"You don't see—anything?" she said with an abrupt change of manner, +swinging to the north.</p> + +<p>He shaded his eyes, peering intently through the night, closely sweeping +its encompassing obscurity from northwest to southeast.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he said, dropping his hand. "If there were a boat heading +this way, we couldn't help seeing her lights."</p> + +<p>"Then there's no use waiting?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not. They'd hardly come to-night, anyway; more likely by +daylight, if they should happen to grow suspicious of our beacon."</p> + +<p>"Then I think I'll go to bed. I'm very, very tired, in spite of my sleep +on the sands. That didn't rest me, really."</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"And you—?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm all right."</p> + +<p>"But what are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Why—keep the fire going, I presume."</p> + +<p>"Is it necessary, do you think? Or even worth while?"</p> + +<p>He made a doubtful gesture.</p> + +<p>"I wish," she continued—"I wish you'd stay in the house. I—I'm really +a bit timid: unnerved, I presume. It's been, you know, rather a +harrowing experience. Anything might happen in a place like this...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," he agreed, something constrained. "I'd feel more +content, myself, to know I was within call if anything should alarm +you."</p> + +<p>They returned to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>In silence, while Whitaker fidgeted about the room, awkward and unhappy, +the girl removed a glass lamp from the shelf above the sink, assured +herself that it was filled, and lighted it. Then, over her shoulder:</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't mean to stay up all night."</p> + +<p>"I—well, I'm really not sleepy."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are," she contradicted calmly.</p> + +<p>"Honestly; I slept so long down there on the beach—"</p> + +<p>"Please don't try to deceive me. I know that slumbers like those—of +exhaustion—don't rest one as they should. Besides, you show how tired +you are in every gesture, in the way you carry yourself, in your very +eyes."</p> + +<p>"You're mistaken," he contended, looking away for fear lest his eyes +were indeed betraying him. "Besides, I mean merely to sit up here, to +see that everything is all right."</p> + +<p>"How should it be otherwise?" She laughed the thought away, yet not +unkindly. "This island is as empty as a last-year's bird's-nest. What +could happen to harm, or even alarm us—or me?"</p> + +<p>"You never can tell—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! I'm not in the least frightened. And furthermore I shan't +sleep a wink—shan't even try to sleep unless you promise me not to be +silly. There's a comfortable room right at the foot of the stairs. If +you sleep there, I shall feel more than secure. Will you promise?"</p> + +<p>He gave in at discretion: "Yes; I promise."</p> + +<p>"As soon as you feel the least need of sleep, you'll go to bed?"</p> + +<p>"I promise."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then."</p> + +<p>The insistent note faded from her tones. She moved toward the table, put +the lamp down, and hesitated in one of her strange, unpresaged moods of +diffidence, looking down at the finger-tips with which she traced a +meaningless pattern on the oil-cloth.</p> + +<p>"You are kind," she said abruptly, her head bowed, her face hidden from +him.</p> + +<p>"Kind!" he echoed, dumfounded.</p> + +<p>"You are kind and sweet and generous to me," she insisted in a level +voice. "You have shown me your heart—the heart of a gentleman—without +reserve; but of me you have asked nothing."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand—"</p> + +<p>"I mean, you haven't once referred to what happened last night. You've +been content to let me preserve my confidence, to remain secretive and +mysterious in your sight.... That is how I seem to you—isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Secretive and mysterious? But I have no right to your confidence; your +affairs are yours, inviolable, unless you choose to discuss them."</p> + +<p>"You would think that way—of course!" Suddenly she showed him her face +illumined with its frank, shadowy smile, her sweet eyes, kind and as +fearless as the eyes of a child. "Other men would not, I know. And you +have every right to know."</p> + +<p>"I—!"</p> + +<p>"You; and I shall tell you.... But not now; there's too much to tell, to +explain and make understandable; and I'm too terribly tired. To-morrow, +perhaps—or when we escape from this weird place, when I've had time to +think things out—"</p> + +<p>"At your pleasure," he assented gently. "Only—don't let anything worry +you."</p> + +<p>Impulsively she caught both his hands in a clasp at once soft and +strong, wholly straightforward and friendly.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said in a laughing voice, her head thrown back, soft +shadows darkening her mystical eyes, the lamplight caressing her hair +until it was as if her head were framed in a halo of pure gold, bright +against the sombre background of that mean, bare room—"Do you know, +dear man, that you are quite, quite blind?"</p> + +<p>"I think," he said with his twisted smile, "it would be well for me if I +were physically blind at this instant!"</p> + +<p>She shook her head in light reproof.</p> + +<p>"Blind, quite blind!" she repeated. "And yet—I'm glad it's so with you. +I wouldn't have you otherwise for worlds."</p> + +<p>She withdrew her hand, took up the lamp, moved a little away from him, +and paused, holding his eyes.</p> + +<p>"For Love, too, is blind," she said softly, with a quaint little nod of +affirmation. "Good night."</p> + +<p>He started forward, eyes aflame; took a single pace after her; paused as +if against an unseen barrier. His hands dropped by his sides; his chin +to his chest; the light died out of his face and left it gray and deeply +lined.</p> + +<p>In the hallway the lamp's glow receded, hesitated, began to ascend, +throwing upon the unpapered walls a distorted silhouette of the rude +balustrade; then disappeared, leaving the hall cold with empty darkness.</p> + +<p>An inexplicable fit of trembling seized Whitaker. Dropping into a chair, +he pillowed his head on his folded arms. Presently the seizure passed, +but he remained moveless. With the drift of minutes, insensibly his taut +muscles relaxed. Odd visions painted the dark tapestries of his closed +eyes: a fragment of swinging seas shining in moonlight; white swords of +light slashing the dark night round their unseen eyrie; the throat of a +woman swelling firm and strong as a tower of ivory, tense from the +collar of her cheap gown to the point of her tilted chin; a shrieking, +swirling rabble of gulls seen against the fading sky, over the edge of a +cliff....</p> + +<p>He slept.</p> + +<p>Through the open doorway behind him and through the windows on either +hand drifted the sonorous song of the surf, a muted burden for the +stealthy disturbances of the night in being.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII</h2> + +<h3>DISCOVERY</h3> + + +<p>In time the discomfort of his posture wore through the wrappings of +slumber. He stirred drowsily, shifted, and discovered a cramp in his +legs, the pain of which more effectually aroused him. He rose, yawned, +stretched, grimaced with the ache in his stiffened limbs, and went to +the kitchen door.</p> + +<p>There was no way to tell how long he had slept. The night held +black—the moon not yet up. The bonfire had burned down to a great +glowing heap of embers. The wind was faint, a mere whisper in the void. +There was a famous show of stars, clear, bright, cold and distant.</p> + +<p>Closing and locking the door, he found another lamp, lighted it, and +took it with him to the corner bedchamber, where he lay down without +undressing. He had, indeed, nothing to change to.</p> + +<p>A heavy lethargy weighed upon his faculties. No longer desperately +sleepy, he was yet far from rested. His body continued to demand repose, +but his mind was ill at ease.</p> + +<p>He napped uneasily throughout the night, sleeping and waking by fits and +starts, his brain insatiably occupied with an interminable succession of +wretched dreams. The mad, distorted face of Drummond, bleached and +degraded by his slavery to morphine, haunted Whitaker's consciousness +like some frightful and hideous Chinese mask. He saw it in a dozen +guises, each more pitiful and terrible than the last. It pursued him +through eons of endless night, forever at his shoulder, blind and +weeping. Thrice he started from his bed, wide awake and glaring, +positive that Drummond had been in the room but the moment gone.... And +each time that he lay back and sleep stole in numbing waves through his +brain, he passed into subconsciousness with the picture before his eyes +of a seething cloud of gulls seen against the sky, over the edge of a +cliff.</p> + +<p>He was up and out in the cool of dawn, before sunrise, delaying to +listen for some minutes at the foot of the stairway. But he heard no +sound in that still house, and there was no longer the night to affright +the woman with hinted threats of nameless horrors lurking beneath its +impenetrable cloak. He felt no longer bound to stand sentinel on the +threshold of her apprehensions. He went out.</p> + +<p>The day would be clear: he drew promise of this from the gray bowl of +the sky, cloudless, touched with spreading scarlet only on its eastern +rim. There was no wind; from the cooling ashes of yesternight's +beacon-fire a slim stalk of smoke grew straight and tall before it +wavered and broke. The voice of the sea had fallen to a muffled +throbbing.</p> + +<p>In the white magic of air like crystal translucent and motionless, the +world seemed more close-knitted and sane. What yesterday's veiling of +haze had concealed was now bold and near. In the north the lighthouse +stood like a horn on the brow of the headland, the lamp continuing to +flash even though its light was darkened, its beams out-stripped by the +radiant forerunners of the sun. Beyond it, over a breadth of water +populated by an ocean-going tug with three barges in tow and a becalmed +lumber schooner, a low-lying point of land (perhaps an island) thrust +out into the west. On the nearer land human life was quickening: here +and there pale streamers of smoke swung up from hidden chimneys on its +wooded rises.</p> + +<p>Whitaker eyed them with longing. But they were distant from attainment +by at the least three miles of tideway through which strong waters +raced—as he could plainly see from his elevation, in the pale, streaked +and wrinkled surface of the channel.</p> + +<p>He wagged a doubtful head, and scowled: no sign in any quarter of a boat +heading for the island, no telling when they'd be taken off the cursed +place!</p> + +<p>In his mutinous irritation, the screaming of the gulls, over in the +west, seemed to add the final touch of annoyance, a superfluous addition +to the sum of his trials. Why need they have selected that island for +their insane parliament? Why must his nerves be racked forever by their +incessant bickering? He had dreamed of them all night; must he endure a +day made similarly distressing?</p> + +<p>What <i>was</i> the matter with the addle-pated things, anyway?</p> + +<p>There was nothing to hinder him from investigating for himself. The girl +would probably sleep another hour or two.</p> + +<p>He went forthwith, dulling the keen edge of his exasperation with a +rapid tramp of half a mile or so over the uneven uplands.</p> + +<p>The screaming was well-nigh deafening by the time he stood upon the +verge of the bluff; beneath him gulls clouded the air like bees +swarming. And yet he experienced no difficulty in locating the cause of +their excitement.</p> + +<p>Below, a slow tide crawled, slavering, up over the boulder-strewn sands. +In a wave-scooped depression between two of the larger boulders, the +receding waters had left a little, limpid pool. In the pool lay the body +of a man, face downward, limbs frightfully sprawling. Gulls fought for +place upon his back.</p> + +<p>The discovery brought with it no shock of surprise to the man on the +bluff: horror alone. He seemed to have known all along that such would +be the cause. Yet he had never consciously acknowledged the thought. It +had lain sluggish in the deeps beneath surfaces agitated by emotions +more poignant and immediate. Still, it had been there—that +understanding. That, and that only, had so poisoned his rest....</p> + +<p>But he shrank shuddering from the thought of the work that lay to his +hand—work that must be accomplished at once and completely; for she +must know nothing of it. She had suffered enough, as it was.</p> + +<p>Hastening back to the farmstead, he secured a spade from the barn and +made his way quickly down to the beach by way of the road through the +cluster of deserted fishermen's huts.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes' walk brought him to the pool. Ten minutes' hard work +with the spade sufficed to excavate a shallow trench in the sands above +high-water mark. He required as much time again to nerve himself to the +point of driving off the gulls and moving the body. There were likewise +crabs to be dealt with....</p> + +<p>When it was accomplished, and he had lifted the last heavy stone into +place above the grave, he dragged himself back along the beach and round +a shoulder of the bluff to a spot warmed by the rays of the rising sun. +There, stripping off his rags, he waded out into the sea and cleansed +himself as best he might, scrubbing sand into his flesh until it was +scored and angry; then crawled back, resumed his garments, and lay down +for a time in the strength-giving light, feeling giddy and faint with +the after-effects of the insuppressible nausea which had prolonged +intolerably his loathsome task.</p> + +<p>Very gradually the bluish shadows faded from about his mouth and eyes, +and natural colour replaced his pallor. And presently he rose and went +slowly up to the house, all his being in a state of violent rebellion +against the terror and mystery of life.</p> + +<p>What the gulls and the crabs and the shattering surf had left had been +little, but enough for indisputable identification.</p> + +<p>Whitaker had buried Drummond.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII</h2> + +<h3>BLIGHT</h3> + + +<p>By the time he got back to the farm-house, the woman was up, dressed in +the rent and stained but dry remnants of her own clothing (for all their +defects, infinitely more becoming than the garments to which she had +been obliged to resort the previous day) and busy preparing breakfast.</p> + +<p>There was no question but that her rest had been sound and undisturbed. +If her recuperative powers had won his envy before, now she was wholly +marvellous in his eyes. Her radiant freshness dazzled, her elusive but +absolute quality of charm bewitched—and her high spirits dismayed him. +He entered her presence reluctantly, yielding alone to the spur of +necessity. To keep out of her way was not only an impossibility, but +would have served to rouse her suspicions; and she must not know: +however difficult the task, he must dissemble, keep her in ignorance of +his discovery. On that point he was resolved.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir!" she called heartily over her shoulder. "And where, pray, +have you been all this long time?"</p> + +<p>"I went for a swim," he said evasively—"thought it might do me good."</p> + +<p>"You're not feeling well?" She turned to look him over.</p> + +<p>He avoided her eye. "I had a bad night—probably because I had too much +sleep during the day. I got up feeling pretty rusty—the weight of my +years. Cold water's ordinarily a specific for that sort of thing, but it +didn't seem to work this time."</p> + +<p>"Still got the hump, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Still got the hump," he assented, glad thus to mask his unhappiness.</p> + +<p>"Breakfast and a strong cup of tea or two will fix that," she announced +with confidence. "It's too bad there's no coffee."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said—"sorry!"</p> + +<p>"No signs of a response to our C. Q. D.?"</p> + +<p>"None as yet. Of course, it's early."</p> + +<p>He lounged out of the kitchen with a tin bowl, a towel and a bar of +yellow soap, and splashed conscientiously at the pump in the dooryard, +taking more time for the job than was really necessary.</p> + +<p>From her place by the stove, she watched him through a window, her eyes +like a sunlit sea dappled with shadows of clouds speeding before the +wind.</p> + +<p>He lingered outside until she called him to breakfast.</p> + +<p>His stout attempts to match her cheerfulness during the meal fell +dismally short of conviction. After two or three false starts he gave it +up and took refuge in his plea of indisposition. She humoured him with a +covert understanding that surmised more in a second than he could have +compressed into a ten-minute confession.</p> + +<p>The meal over, he rose and sidled awkwardly toward the door.</p> + +<p>"You'll be busy for a while with the dishes and things, won't you?" he +asked with an air meant to seem guileless.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; for some time," she replied quickly.</p> + +<p>"I—I think I'll take a stroll round the island. There might be +something like a boat hidden away somewhere along the beach."</p> + +<p>"You prefer to go alone?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I've plenty to occupy my idle hands. If I can find +needle and thread, for instance...." She indicated her clothing with a +humorously rueful gesture.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," he agreed, far too visibly relieved. Then his wits +stumbled. "I want to think out some things," he added most +superfluously.</p> + +<p>"You won't go out of sight?" she pleaded through the window.</p> + +<p>"It can't be done," he called back, strolling out of the dooryard with +much show of idle indecision.</p> + +<p>His real purpose was, in fact, definite. There was another body to be +accounted for. It was quite possible that the sea might have given it up +at some other point along the island coast. True: there was no second +gathering of gulls to lend colour to this grisly theory; yet the danger +was one to be provided against, since she was not to know.</p> + +<p>Starting from its northwestern extreme, he made a complete circuit of +the island, spending the greater part of the time along the edges of the +western and southern bluffs, where he had not seldom to pause and +scrutinize carefully the beach below, to make sure he had been deceived +by some half-buried rock or curiously shaped boulder.</p> + +<p>To his intense relief, he made no further discovery other than a +scattering drift of wreckage from the motor-boats.</p> + +<p>By the time he had finished, the morning was well advanced. He turned at +length and trudged wearily up from the northern beach, through the +community of desolation, back toward the farm-house.</p> + +<p>Since breakfast he had seen nothing of the girl; none of the elaborately +casual glances which he had from time to time cast inland had discovered +any sign of her. But now she appeared in the doorway, and after a slight +pause, as of indecision, moved down the path to meet him.</p> + +<p>He was conscious that, at sight of her, his pulses quickened. Something +swelled in his breast, something tightened the muscles of his throat. +The way of her body in action, the way of the sun with her hair...!</p> + +<p>Dismay shook him like an ague; he felt his heart divided against itself; +he was so glad of her, and so afraid.... He could not keep his eyes from +her, nor could he make his desire be still; and yet ... and yet....</p> + +<p>Walking the faster of the two, she met him midway between the house and +the beach.</p> + +<p>"You've taken your time, Mr. Whitaker," said she.</p> + +<p>"It was a bit of a walk," he contended, endeavouring to imitate her +lightness of manner.</p> + +<p>They paused beside one of the low stone walls that meandered in a +meaningless fashion this way and that over the uplands. With a satisfied +manner that suggested she had been seeking just that very spot, the girl +sat down upon the lichened stones, then looked up to him with a smile +and a slight movement of the head that plainly invited him to a place +beside her.</p> + +<p>He towered above her, darkly reluctant.</p> + +<p>"Do sit down. You must be tired."</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>Dubiously he seated himself at a little distance.</p> + +<p>"And only your pains for your trouble?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"I watched you, off and on, from the windows. You might have been +looking for a pin, from your painstaking air, off there along the +cliffs."</p> + +<p>He nodded again, gloomily. Her comment seemed to admit of no more +compromising method of reply.</p> + +<p>"Then you've nothing to tell me?"</p> + +<p>He pursed his lips, depreciatory, lifted his shoulders not quite +happily, and swung one lanky leg across the other as he slouched, +morosely eyeing the sheets of sapphire that made their prison walls.</p> + +<p>"No. There's no good news yet."</p> + +<p>"And you've no inclination to talk to me, either?"</p> + +<p>"I've told you I don't feel—well—exactly light-hearted this morning."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence. She watched him askance with her fugitive, +shadowy, sympathetic and shrewd smile.</p> + +<p>"Must I make talk, then?" she demanded at length.</p> + +<p>"If we must, I suppose—you'll have to show the way. My mind's hardly +equal to trail-breaking to-day."</p> + +<p>"So I shall, then. Hugh...." She leaned toward him, dropping her hand +over his own with an effect of infinite comprehension. "Hugh," she +repeated, meeting his gaze squarely as he looked up, startled—"what's +the good of keeping up the make-believe? You <i>know</i>!"</p> + +<p>The breath clicked in his throat, and his glance wavered uneasily, then +steadied again to hers. And through a long moment neither stirred, but +sat so, eye to eye, searching each the other's mind and heart.</p> + +<p>At length he confessed it with an uncertain, shamefaced nod.</p> + +<p>"That's right," he said: "I do know—now."</p> + +<p>She removed her hand and sat back without lessening the fixity of her +regard.</p> + +<p>"When did you find it out?"</p> + +<p>"This morning. That is, it came to me all of a sudden—" His gaze fell; +he stammered and felt his face burning.</p> + +<p>"Hugh, that's not quite honest. I know you hadn't guessed, last night—I +<i>know</i> it. How did you come to find it out this morning? Tell me!"</p> + +<p>He persisted, as unconvincing as an unimaginative child trying to +explain away a mischief:</p> + +<p>"It was just a little while ago. I was thinking things over—"</p> + +<p>"Hugh!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged sulkily.</p> + +<p>"Hugh, look at me!"</p> + +<p>Unwillingly he met her eyes.</p> + +<p>"How did you find out?"</p> + +<p>He was an inexpert liar. Under the witchery of her eyes, his resource +failed him absolutely. He started to repeat, stammered, fell still, and +then in a breath capitulated.</p> + +<p>"Before you were up—I meant to keep this from you—down there on the +beach—I found Drummond."</p> + +<p>"Drummond!"</p> + +<p>It was a cry of terror. She started back from him, eyes wide, cheeks +whitening.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry.... But I presume you ought to know.... His body ... I buried +it...."</p> + +<p>She gave a little smothered cry, and seemed to shrink in upon herself, +burying her face in her hands—an incongruous, huddled shape of grief, +there upon the gray stone wall, set against all the radiant beauty of +the exquisite, sun-gladdened world.</p> + +<p>He was patient with her, though the slow-dragging minutes during which +she neither moved nor made any sound brought him inexpressible distress, +and he seemed to age visibly, his face, settling in iron lines, gray +with suffering.</p> + +<p>At length a moan—rather, a wail—came from the stricken figure beside +him:</p> + +<p>"Ah, the pity of it! the pity of it!... What have I done that this +should come to me!"</p> + +<p>He ventured to touch her hand in gentle sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he said, and hesitated with a little wonder, remembering that +this was the first time he had ever called her by that name—"Mary, did +you care for him so much?"</p> + +<p>She sat, mute, her face averted and hidden.</p> + +<p>"I'd give everything if I could have mended matters. I was fond of +Drummond—poor soul! If he'd only been frank with me from the start, all +this could have been avoided. As soon as I knew—that night when I +recognized you on the stage—I went at once to you to say I would clear +out—not stand in the way of your happiness. I would have said as much +to him, but he gave me no chance."</p> + +<p>"Don't blame him," she said softly. "He wasn't responsible."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"How long have you known?" She swung suddenly to face him.</p> + +<p>"For some time—definitely, for two or three days. He tried twice to +murder me. The first time he must have thought he'd done it.... Then he +tried again, the night before you were carried off. Ember suspected, +watched for him, and caught him. He took him away, meaning to put him in +a sanitarium. I don't understand how he got away—from Ember. It worries +me—on Ember's account. I hope nothing has happened to him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not!"</p> + +<p>"You knew—I mean about the cause—the morphine?"</p> + +<p>"I never guessed until that night. Then, as soon as I got over +the first awful shock, I realized he was a madman. He talked +incoherently—raved—shouted—threatened me with horrible things. I +can't speak of them. Later, he quieted down a little, but that was after +he had come down into the cabin to—to drug himself.... It was very +terrible—that tiny, pitching cabin, with the swinging, smoking lamp, +and the madman sitting there, muttering to himself over the glass in +which the morphine was dissolving.... It happened three times before the +wreck; I thought I should go out of my own mind."</p> + +<p>She shuddered, her face tragic and pitiful.</p> + +<p>"Poor girl!" he murmured inadequately.</p> + +<p>"And that—that was why you were searching the beach so closely!"</p> + +<p>"Yes—for the other fellow. I—didn't find him."</p> + +<p>A moment later she said thoughtfully: "It was the man you saw watching +me on the beach, I think."</p> + +<p>"I assumed as much. Drummond had a lot of money, I fancy—enough to hire +a desperate man to do almost anything.... The wages of sin—"</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she begged. "Don't make me think of that!"</p> + +<p>"Forgive me," he said.</p> + +<p>For a little she sat, head bowed, brooding.</p> + +<p>"Hugh!" she cried, looking up to search his face narrowly—"Hugh, you've +not been pretending—?"</p> + +<p>"Pretending?" he repeated, thick-witted.</p> + +<p>"Hugh, I could never forgive you if you'd been pretending. It would be +too cruel.... Ah, but you haven't been! Tell me you haven't!"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand.... Pretending what?"</p> + +<p>"Pretending you didn't know who I was—pretending to fall in love with +me just because you were sorry for me, to make me think it was <i>me</i> you +loved and not the woman you felt bound to take care of, because +you'd—you had—"</p> + +<p>"Mary, listen to me," he interrupted. "I swear I didn't know you. +Perhaps you don't understand how wonderfully you've changed. It's hard +for me to believe you can be one with the timid and distracted little +girl I married that rainy night. You're nothing like.... Only, that +night on the stage, as <i>Joan Thursday</i>, you <i>were</i> that girl again. Max +told me it was make-up; I wouldn't believe him; to me you hadn't changed +at all; you hadn't aged a day.... But that morning when I saw you first +on the Great South Beach—I never dreamed of associating you with my +wife. Do you realize I had never seen you in full light—never knew the +colour of your hair?... Dear, I didn't know, believe me. It was you who +bewitched me—not the wife for whose sake I fought against what I +thought infatuation for you. I loved—I love you only, you as you +are—not the poor little girl of the Commercial House."</p> + +<p>"Is it true?" she questioned sadly, incredulous.</p> + +<p>"It is true, Mary. I love you."</p> + +<p>"I have loved you always," she said softly between barely parted +lips—"always, Hugh. Even when I thought you dead.... I did believe that +you were drowned out there, Hugh! You know that, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I have never for an instant questioned it."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be like you to, my dear; it wouldn't be you, my Hugh.... +But even then I loved the memory of you.... You don't know what you have +meant in my life, Hugh. Always, always you have stood for all that was +fine and strong and good and generous—my gentlest man, my knight <i>sans +peur et sans reproche</i>.... No other man I ever knew—no, let me say +it!—ever measured up to the standard you had set for me to worship. +But, Hugh—you'll understand, won't you?—about the others—?"</p> + +<p>"Please," he begged—"please don't harrow yourself so, Mary!"</p> + +<p>"No; I must tell you.... The world seemed so empty and so lonely, Hugh: +my Galahad gone, never to return to me.... I tried to lose myself in my +work, but it wasn't enough. And those others came, beseeching me, +and—and I liked them. There was none like you, but they were all good +men of their kind, and I liked them. They made love to me and—I was +starving for affection, Hugh. I was made to love and to be loved. Each +time I thought to myself: 'Surely this time it is true; now at last am I +come into my kingdom. It can't fulfil my dreams, for I have known the +bravest man, but'—"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke and fell. Her eyes grew dull and vacant; her vision +passed through and beyond him, as if he had not been there; the bitter +desolation of all the widowed generations clouded her golden face. Her +lips barely moved, almost inaudibly enunciating the words that were +shaken from her as if by some occult force, ruthless and inexorable:</p> + +<p>"Each time, Hugh, it was the same. One by one they were taken from me, +strangely, terribly.... Poor Tom Custer, first; he was a dear boy, but I +didn't love him and couldn't marry him. I had to tell him so. He killed +himself.... Then Billy Hamilton; I became engaged to him; but he was +taken mysteriously from a crowded ship in mid-ocean.... A man named +Mitchell Thurston loved me. I liked him; perhaps I might have consented +to marry him. He was assassinated—shot down like a mad dog in broad +daylight—no one ever knew by whom, or why. He hadn't an enemy in the +world we knew of.... And now Drummond...!"</p> + +<p>"Mary, Mary!" he pleaded. "Don't—don't—those things were all +accidents—"</p> + +<p>She paid him no heed. She didn't seem to hear. He tried to take her +hand, with a man's dull, witless notion of the way to comfort a +distraught woman; but she snatched it from his touch.</p> + +<p>"And now"—her voice pealed out like a great bell tolling over the +magnificent solitude of the forsaken island—"and now I have it to live +through once again: the wonder and terror and beauty of love, the agony +and passion of having you torn from me!... Hugh!... I don't believe I +can endure it again. I can't <i>bear</i> this exquisite torture. I'm afraid I +shall go mad!... Unless ... unless"—her voice shuddered—"I have the +strength, the strength to—"</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he cried in desperation. "You must not go on like this! +Mary! Listen to me!"</p> + +<p>This time he succeeded in imprisoning her hand. "Mary," he said gently, +drawing closer to her, "listen to me; understand what I say. I love you; +I am your husband; nothing can possibly come between us. All these other +things can be explained. Don't let yourself think for another instant—"</p> + +<p>Her eyes, fixed upon the two hands in which he clasped her own, had +grown wide and staring with dread. Momentarily she seemed stunned. Then +she wrenched it from him, at the same time jumping up and away.</p> + +<p>"No!" she cried, fending him from her with shaking arms. "No! Don't +touch me! Don't come near me, Hugh! It's ... it's death! My touch is +death! I know it now—I had begun to suspect, now I <i>know</i>! I am +accursed—doomed to go through life like pestilence, leaving sorrow and +death in my wake.... Hugh!" She controlled herself a trifle: "Hugh, I +love you more than life; I love you more than love itself. But you must +not come near me. Love me if you must, but, O my dear one! keep away +from me; avoid me, forget me if you can, but at all cost shun me as you +would the plague! I will not give myself to you to be your death!"</p> + +<p>Before he could utter a syllable in reply, she turned and fled from him, +wildly, blindly stumbling, like a hunted thing back up the ascent to the +farm-house. He followed, vainly calling on her to stop and listen to +him. But she outdistanced him, and by the time he had entered the house +was in her room, behind a locked door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX</h2> + +<h3>CAPITULATION</h3> + + +<p>Grimly Whitaker sat himself down in the kitchen and prepared to wait the +reappearance of his wife—prepared to wait as long as life was in him, +so that he were there to welcome her when, her paroxysm over, she would +come to him to be comforted, soothed and reasoned out of her distorted +conception of her destiny.</p> + +<p>Not that he had the heart to blame or to pity her for that terrified +vision of life. Her history was her excuse. Nor was his altogether a +blameless figure in that history. At least it was not so in his sight. +Though unwittingly, he had blundered cruelly in all his relations with +the life of that sad little child of the Commercial House.</p> + +<p>Like sunlight penetrating storm wrack, all the dark disarray of his +revery was shot through and through by the golden splendour of the +knowledge that she loved him....</p> + +<p>As for this black, deadly shadow that had darkened her life—already he +could see her emerging from it, radiant and wonderful. But it was not to +be disregarded or as yet ignored, its baleful record considered closed +and relegated to the pages of the past. Its movement had been too +rhythmic altogether to lack a reason. His very present task was to read +its riddle and exorcise it altogether.</p> + +<p>For hours he pondered it there in the sunlit kitchen of the silent +house—waiting, wondering, deep in thought. Time stole away without his +knowledge. Not until late in the afternoon did the shifted position of +the sun catch his attention and arouse him in alarm. Not a sound from +above...!</p> + +<p>He rose, ascended the stairs, tapped gently on the locked door.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he called, with his heart in his mouth—"Mary!"</p> + +<p>Her answer was instant, in accents sweet, calm and clear:</p> + +<p>"I am all right. I'm resting, dear, and thinking. Don't fret about me. +When I feel able, I will come down to you."</p> + +<p>"As you will," he assented, unspeakably relieved; and returned to the +kitchen.</p> + +<p>The diversion of thought reminded him of their helpless and forlorn +condition. He went out and swept the horizon with an eager and hopeful +gaze that soon drooped in disappointment. The day had worn on in +unbroken calm: not a sail stirred within the immense radius of the +waters. Ships he saw in plenty—a number of them moving under power east +and west beyond the headland with its crowning lighthouse; others—a +few—left shining wakes upon the burnished expanse beyond the farthest +land visible in the north. Unquestionably main-travelled roads of the +sea, these, so clear to the sight, so heartbreakingly unattainable....</p> + +<p>And then his conscience turned upon him, reminding him of the promise +(completely driven out of his mind by his grim adventure before dawn, +together with the emotional crisis of mid-morning) to display some sort +of a day-signal of distress.</p> + +<p>For something like half an hour he was busy with the task of nailing a +turkey-red table-cloth to a pole, and the pole in turn (with the +assistance of a ladder) to the peak of the gabled barn. But when this +was accomplished, and he stood aside and contemplated the drooping, +shapeless flag, realizing that without a wind it was quite meaningless, +the thought came to him that the very elements seemed leagued together +in a conspiracy to keep them prisoners, and he began to nurse a +superstitious notion that, if anything were ever to be done toward +winning their freedom, it would be only through his own endeavour, +unassisted.</p> + +<p>Thereafter for a considerable time he loitered up and down the dooryard, +with all his interest focussed upon the tidal strait, measuring its +greatest and its narrowest breadth with his eye, making shrewd guesses +at the strength and the occasions of the tides.</p> + +<p>If the calm held on and the sky remained unobscured by cloud, by eleven +there would be clear moonlight and, if he guessed aright, the beginning +of a period of slack water.</p> + +<p>Sunset interrupted his calculations—sunset and his wife. Sounds of some +one moving quietly round the kitchen, a soft clash of dishes, the +rattling of the grate, drew him back to the door.</p> + +<p>She showed him a face of calm restraint and implacable resolve, if +scored and flushed with weeping. And her habit matched it: she had +overcome her passion; her eyes were glorious with peace.</p> + +<p>"Hugh"—her voice had found a new, sweet level of gentleness and +strength—"I was wondering where you were."</p> + +<p>"Can I do anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am."</p> + +<p>"For what, in Heaven's name?"</p> + +<p>She smiled.... "For neglecting you so long. I really didn't think of it +until the sunlight began to redden. I've let you go without your lunch."</p> + +<p>"It didn't matter—"</p> + +<p>"I don't agree. Man must be fed—and so must woman. I'm famished!"</p> + +<p>"Well," he admitted with a short laugh—"so am I."</p> + +<p>She paused, regarding him with her whimsical, indulgent smile. "You +strange creature!" she said softly. "Are you angry with +me—impatient—for this too facile descent from heroics to the +commonplace? But, Hugh"—she touched his arm with a gentle and +persuasive hand—"it <i>must</i> be commonplace. We're just mortals, after +all, you know, no matter how imperishable our egos make us feel: and the +air of the heights is too fine and rare for mortals to breathe long at a +time. Life is, after all, an everyday affair. We've just got to blunder +through it from day to day—mostly on the low levels. Be patient with +me, dear."</p> + +<p>But, alarmed by his expression, her words stumbled and ran out. She +stepped back a pace, a little flushed and tremulous.</p> + +<p>"Hugh! No, Hugh, no!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid of me," he said, turning away. "I don't mean to bother. +Only—at times—"</p> + +<p>"I know, dear; but it must <i>not</i> be." She had recovered; there was cool +decision in her accents. She began to move briskly round the kitchen, +setting the table, preparing the meal.</p> + +<p>He made no attempt to reason with her, but sat quietly waiting. His rôle +was patience, tolerance, strength restrained in waiting....</p> + +<p>"Shall you make a fire again to-night?" she asked, when they had +concluded the meal.</p> + +<p>"In three places," he said. "We'll not stay another day for want of +letting people know we're here."</p> + +<p>She looked down, shyly. Coquetry with her was instinctive, +irrepressible. Her vague, provoking smile edged her lips:</p> + +<p>"You—you want to be rid of me again, so soon, Hugh?"</p> + +<p>He bent over the table with a set face, silent until his undeviating +gaze caught and held her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mary," he said slowly, "I want <i>you</i>. I mean to have you. Only by +getting away from this place will that be possible. You must come to me +of your own will."</p> + +<p>She made the faintest negative motion of her head, her eyes fixed to his +in fascination.</p> + +<p>"You will," he insisted, in the same level tone. "If you love me, as you +say, you must.... No—that's nonsense I won't listen to! Renunciation is +a magnificent and noble thing, but it must have a sane excuse.... You +said a while ago, this was a commonplace world, life an everyday affair. +It is. The only thing that lifts it out of the deadly, intolerable rut +is this wonderful thing man has invented and named Love. Without it we +are as Nature made us—brute things crawling and squabbling in blind +squalor. But love lifts us a little above that: love <i>is</i> supernatural, +the only thing in all creation that rises superior to nature. There's no +such thing as a life accursed; no such thing as a life that blights; +there are no malign and vicious forces operating outside the realm of +natural forces: love alone is supreme, subject to no known laws. I mean +to prove it to you; I mean to show you how little responsible you have +been in any way for the misfortunes that have overtaken men who loved +you; I shall show you that I am far more blameworthy than you.... And +when I have done that, you will come to me."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," she whispered breathlessly—"I am afraid I shall."</p> + +<p>He rose. "Till then, my dearest girl, don't, please don't ever shrink +from me again. I may not be able to dissemble my love, but until your +fears are done away with, your mind at rest, no act of mine, within my +control, shall ever cause you even so much as an instant's annoyance or +distress."</p> + +<p>His tone changed. "I'll go now and build my fires. When you are +ready—?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't be long," she said.</p> + +<p>But for long after he had left her, she lingered moveless by a window, +her gaze following him as he moved to and fro: her face now wistful, now +torn by distress, now bright with longing. Strong passions contended +within her—love and fear, joy and regret; at times crushing +apprehensions of evil darkened her musings, until she could have cried +out with the torment of her fears; and again intimations possessed her +of exquisite beauty, warming and ennobling her heart, all but persuading +her.</p> + +<p>At length, sighing, she lighted the lamp and went about her tasks, with +a bended head, wondering and frightened, fearfully questioning her own +inscrutable heart. Was it for this only that she had fought herself all +through that day: that she should attain an outward semblance of calm so +complete as to deceive even herself, so frail as to be rent away and +banished completely by the mere tones of his mastering voice? Was she to +know no rest? Was it to be her fate to live out her days in yearning, +eating her heart alone, feeding with sighs the passing winds? Or was she +too weary to hold by her vows? Was she to yield and, winning happiness, +in that same instant encompass its destruction?...</p> + +<p>When it was quite dark, Whitaker brought a lantern to the door and +called her, and they went forth together.</p> + +<p>As he had promised, he had built up three towering pyres, widely apart. +When all three were in full roaring flame, their illumination was hot +and glowing over all the upland. It seemed impossible that the world +should not now become cognizant of their distress.</p> + +<p>At some distance to the north of the greatest fire—that nearest the +farm-house—they sat as on the previous night, looking out over the +black and unresponsive waters, communing together in undertones.</p> + +<p>In that hour they learned much of one another: much that had seemed +strange and questionable assumed, in the understanding of each, the +complexion of the normal and right. Whitaker spoke at length and in much +detail of his Wilful Missing years without seeking to excuse the +wrong-minded reasoning which had won him his own consent to live under +the mask of death. He told of the motives that had prompted his return, +of all that had happened since in which she had had no part—with a +single reservation. One thing he kept back: the time for that was not +yet.</p> + +<p>A listener in his turn, he heard the history of the little girl of the +Commercial House breaking her heart against the hardness of life in what +at first seemed utterly futile endeavour to live by her own efforts, +asking nothing more of the man who had given her his name. To make +herself worthy of that name, so that, living or dead, he might have no +cause to be ashamed of her or to regret the burden he had assumed: this +was the explanation of her fierce striving, her undaunted renewal of the +struggle in the face of each successive defeat, her renunciation of the +competence his forethought had provided for her. So also—since she +would take nothing from her husband—pride withheld her from asking +anything of her family or her friends. She cut herself off utterly from +them all, fought her fight alone.</p> + +<p>He learned of the lean years of drifting from one theatrical +organization to another, forced to leave them one by one by conditions +impossible and intolerable, until Ember found her playing ingenue parts +in a mean provincial stock company; of the coming of Max, his interest +in her, the indefatigable pains he had expended coaching her to bring +out the latent ability his own genius divined; of the initial +performance of "Joan Thursday" before a meagre and indifferent audience, +her instant triumph and subsequent conquest of the country in half a +dozen widely dissimilar rôles; finally of her decision to leave the +stage when she married, for reasons comprehensible, demanding neither +exposition nor defence.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter any longer," she commented, concluding: "I loved and +I hated it. It was deadly and it was glorious. But it no longer matters. +It is finished: Sara Law is no more."</p> + +<p>"You mean never to go back to the stage?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"And yet—" he mused craftily.</p> + +<p>"Never!" She fell blindly into his trap. "I promised myself long ago +that if ever I became a wife—"</p> + +<p>"But you are no wife," he countered.</p> + +<p>"Hugh!"</p> + +<p>"You are Mrs. Whitaker—yes; but—"</p> + +<p>"Dear, you are cruel to me!"</p> + +<p>"I think it's you who would be cruel to yourself, dear heart."</p> + +<p>She found no ready answer; was quiet for a space; then stirred, +shivering. Behind them the fires were dying; by contrast a touch of +chill seemed to pervade in the motionless air.</p> + +<p>"I think," she announced, "we'd better go in."</p> + +<p>She rose without assistance, moved away toward the house, paused and +returned.</p> + +<p>"Hugh," she said gently, with a quaver in her voice that wounded his +conceit in himself; for he was sure it spelled laughter at his expense +and well-merited—"Hugh, you big sulky boy! get up this instant and come +back to the house with me. You know I'm timid. Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," he grumbled, rising. "I presume it's childish to want +the moon—and sulk when you find you can't have it."</p> + +<p>"Or a star?"</p> + +<p>He made no reply; but his very silence was eloquent. She attempted a +shrug of indifference to his disapproval, but didn't convince even +herself; and when he paused before entering the house for one final look +into the north, she waited on the steps above him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Hugh?" she asked in a softened voice.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he affirmed dully.</p> + +<p>"It's strange," she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Lights enough off beyond the lighthouse yonder," he complained: "red +lights and green, bound east and west. But you'd think this place was +invisible, from the way we're ignored. However...."</p> + +<p>They entered the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"Well—however?" she prompted, studying his lowering face by lamplight.</p> + +<p>"Something'll have to be done; if they won't help us, we'll have to help +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Hugh!" There was alarm in her tone. He looked up quickly. "Hugh, what +are you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"Oh—nothing. But I've got to think of something."</p> + +<p>She came nearer, intuitively alarmed and pleading. "Hugh, you wouldn't +leave me here alone?"</p> + +<p>"What nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"Promise me you won't."</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid," he said evasively. "I'll be here—as always—when you +wake up."</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath, stepped back without removing her gaze from his +face, then with a gesture of helplessness took up her lamp.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Hugh."</p> + +<p>"Good night," he replied, casting about for his own lamp.</p> + +<p>But when he turned back, she was still hesitating in the doorway. He +lifted inquiring brows.</p> + +<p>"Hugh...."</p> + +<p>"Yes?"</p> + +<p>"I trust you. Be faithful, dear."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he returned, not without flavour of bitterness. "I'll try +to be. Good night."</p> + +<p>She disappeared; the light of her lamp faded, flickering in the draught +of the hall, stencilled the wall with its evanescent caricature of the +balustrade, and was no longer visible.</p> + +<p>"Hugh!" her voice rang from the upper floor.</p> + +<p>He started violently out of deep abstraction, and replied inquiringly.</p> + +<p>"You won't forget to lock the door?"</p> + +<p>He swore violently beneath his breath; controlled his temper and +responded pleasantly: "Certainly not."</p> + +<p>Then he shut the outside door with a convincing bang.</p> + +<p>"If this be marriage...!" He smiled his twisted smile, laughed a little +quietly, and became again his normal, good-natured self, if a little +unusually preoccupied.</p> + +<p>Leaving the kitchen light turned low, he went to his own room and, as on +the previous night, threw himself upon the bed without undressing; but +this time with no thought of sleep. Indeed, he had no expectation of +closing his eyes in slumber before the next night, at the earliest; he +had no intention other than to attempt to swim to the nearest land. In +the illusion of night, his judgment worked upon by his emotions, that +plan which had during the afternoon suggested itself, been thoroughly +considered, rejected as too desperately dangerous, and then reconsidered +in the guise of their only possible chance of escape at any reasonably +early date, began to assume a deceptive semblance of feasibility.</p> + +<p>He did not try to depreciate its perils: the tides that swept through +that funnel-shaped channel were unquestionably heavy: heavier than even +so strong a swimmer as he should be called upon to engage; the chances +of being swept out to sea were appallingly heavy. The slightest error in +judgment, the least miscalculation of the turn of the tide, and he was +as good as lost.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, with a little good luck, by leaving the house shortly +after moonrise, he should be able to catch the tide just as it was +nearing high water. Allowing it to swing him northwest until it fulled, +he ought to be a third of the way across by the time it slackened, and +two-thirds of the distance before it turned seawards again. And the +distance was only three miles or so.</p> + +<p>And the situation on the island had grown unendurable. He doubted his +strength to stand the torment and the provocation of another day.</p> + +<p>Allow an hour and a half for the swim—say, two; another hour in which +to find a boat; and another to row or sail back: four hours. He should +be back upon the island long before dawn, even if delayed. Surely no +harm could come to her in that time; surely he ought to be able to +reckon on her sleeping through his absence—worn down by the stress of +the day's emotions as she must certainly be. True, he had given her to +understand he would not leave her; but she need not know until his +return; and then his success would have earned him forgiveness.</p> + +<p>An hour dragged out its weary length, and the half of another while he +reasoned with himself, drugging his conscience and his judgment alike +with trust in his lucky star. In all that time he heard no sound from +the room above him; and for his part he lay quite unstirring, his whole +body relaxed, resting against the trial of strength to come.</p> + +<p>Insensibly the windows of his room, that looked eastward, filled with +the pale spectral promise of the waning moon. He rose, with infinite +precaution against making any noise, and looked out. The night was no +less placid than the day had been. The ruins of his three beacons shone +like red winking eyes in the black face of night. Beyond them the sky +was like a dome of crystal, silvery green. And as he looked, an edge of +silver shone on the distant rim of the waters; and then the moon, +misshapen, wizened and darkling, heaved sluggishly up from the deeps.</p> + +<p>Slowly, on tiptoes, Whitaker stole toward the door, out into the hall; +at the foot of the stairs he paused, listening with every nerve tense +and straining; he fancied he could just barely detect the slow, regular +respiration of the sleeping woman. And he could see that the upper +hallway was faintly aglow. She had left her lamp burning, the door open. +Last night, though the lamp had burned till dawn, that door had been +closed....</p> + +<p>He gathered himself together again, took a single step on toward the +kitchen; and then, piercing suddenly the absolute stillness within the +house, a board squealed like an animal beneath his tread.</p> + +<p>In an instant he heard the thud and patter of her footsteps above, her +loud, quickened breathing as she leaned over the balustrade, looking +down, and her cry of dismay: "Hugh! Hugh!"</p> + +<p>He halted, saying in an even voice: "Yes; it is I." She had already seen +him; there was no use trying to get away without her knowledge now; +besides, he was no sneak-thief to fly from a cry. He burned with +resentment, impatience and indignation, but he waited stolidly enough +while the woman flew down the stairs to his side.</p> + +<p>"Hugh," she demanded, white-faced and trembling, "what is the matter? +Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>He moved his shoulders uneasily, forcing a short laugh. "I daresay +you've guessed it. Undoubtedly you have. Else why—" He didn't finish +save by a gesture of resignation.</p> + +<p>"You mean you were going—going to try to swim to the mainland?"</p> + +<p>"I meant to try it," he confessed.</p> + +<p>"But, Hugh—your promise?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, Mary; I didn't want to promise. But you see ... this state +of things cannot go on. Something has got to be done. It's the only way +I know of. I—I can't trust myself—"</p> + +<p>"You'd leave me here while you went to seek death—!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it isn't as dangerous as all that. If you'd only been asleep, as I +thought you were, I'd've been back before you knew anything about it."</p> + +<p>"I should have known!" she declared passionately. "I <i>was</i> asleep, but I +knew the instant you stirred. Tell me; how long did you stand listening +here, to learn if I was awake or not?"</p> + +<p>"Several minutes."</p> + +<p>"I knew it, though I was asleep, and didn't waken till the board +squeaked. I knew you would try it—knew it from the time when you +quibbled and evaded and wouldn't give me a straight promise. Oh, Hugh, +my Hugh, if you had gone and left me...!"</p> + +<p>Her voice shook and broke. She swayed imperceptibly toward him, then +away, resting a shoulder against the wall and quivering as though she +would have fallen but for that support. He found himself unable to +endure the reproach of those dark and luminous eyes set in the mask of +pallor that was her face in the half-light of the hallway. He looked +away, humbled, miserable, pained.</p> + +<p>"It's too bad," he mumbled. "I'm sorry you had to know anything about +it. But ... it can't be helped, Mary. You've got to brace up. I won't be +gone four hours at the longest."</p> + +<p>"Four hours!" She stood away from the wall, trembling in every limb. +"Hugh, you—you don't mean—you're not going—<i>now</i>?"</p> + +<p>He nodded a wretched, makeshift affirmation.</p> + +<p>"It must be done," he muttered. "Please—"</p> + +<p>"But it must not be done! Hugh!" Her voice ascended "I—I can't let you. +I won't let you! You ... It'll be your death—you'll drown. I shall have +let you go to your death—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, now, really—" he protested.</p> + +<p>"But, Hugh, I <i>know</i> it! I feel it here." A hand strayed to rest, +fluttering, above her heart. "If I should let you go ... Oh, my dear +one, don't, don't go!"</p> + +<p>"Mary," he began hoarsely, "I tell you—"</p> + +<p>"You're only going, Hugh, because ... because I love you so I ... I am +afraid to let you love me. That's true, isn't it? Hugh—it's true?"</p> + +<p>"I can't stay ..." he muttered with a hang-dog air.</p> + +<p>She sought support of the wall again, her body shaken by dry sobbing +that it tore his heart to hear. "You—you're really going—?"</p> + +<p>He mumbled an almost inaudible avowal of his intention.</p> + +<p>"Hugh, you're killing me! If you leave me—"</p> + +<p>He gave a gesture of despair and capitulation.</p> + +<p>"I've done my best, Mary. I meant to do the right thing. I—"</p> + +<p>"Hugh, you mean you won't go?" Joy from a surcharged heart rang vibrant +in every syllable uttered in that marvellous voice.</p> + +<p>But now he dared meet her eyes. "Yes," he said, "I won't go"—nodding, +with an apologetic shadow of his twisted smile. "I can't if ... if it +distresses you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear, my dear!"</p> + +<p>Whitaker started, staggered with amaze, and the burden of his wife in +his arms. Her own arms clipped him close. Her fragrant tear-gemmed face +brushed his. He knew at last the warmth of her sweet mouth, the dear +madness of that first caress.</p> + +<p>The breathless seconds spun their golden web of minutes. They did not +move. Round them the silence sang like the choiring seraphim....</p> + +<p>Then through the magical hush of that time when the world stood still, +the thin, clear vibrations of a distant hail:</p> + +<p>"<i>Aho-oy!</i>"</p> + +<p>In his embrace his wife stiffened and lifted her head to listen like a +startled fawn. As one their hearts checked, paused, then hammered +wildly. With a common impulse they started apart.</p> + +<p>"You heard—?"</p> + +<p>"Listen!" He held up a hand.</p> + +<p>This time it rang out more near and most unmistakable:</p> + +<p>"Ahoy! The house, ahoy!"</p> + +<p>With the frenzied leap of a madman, Whitaker gained the kitchen door, +shook it, controlled himself long enough to draw the bolt, and flung out +into the dim silvery witchery of the night. He stood staring, while the +girl stole to his side and caught his arm. He passed it round her, +lifted the other hand, dumbly pointed toward the northern beach. For the +moment he could not trust himself to speak.</p> + +<p>In the sweep of the anchorage a small white yacht hovered ghostlike, +broadside to the island, her glowing ports and green starboard lamp +painting the polished ebony of the still waters with the images of many +burning candles.</p> + +<p>On the beach itself a small boat was drawn up. A figure in white waited +near it. Issuing from the deserted fishing settlement, rising over the +brow of the uplands, moved two other figures in white and one in darker +clothing, the latter leading the way at a rapid pace.</p> + +<p>With one accord Whitaker and his wife moved down to meet them. As they +drew together, the leader of the landing party checked his pace and +called:</p> + +<p>"Hello there! Who are you? What's the meaning of your fires—?"</p> + +<p>Mechanically Whitaker's lips uttered the beginning of the response: +"Shipwrecked—signalling for help—"</p> + +<p>"Whitaker!" the voice of the other interrupted with a jubilant shout. +"Thank God we've found you!"</p> + +<p>It was Ember.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX</h2> + +<h3>TEMPERAMENTAL</h3> + + +<p>Seldom, perhaps, has an habitation been so unceremoniously vacated as +was the solitary farm-house on that isolated island. Whitaker delayed +only long enough to place a bill, borrowed from Ember, on the kitchen +table, in payment for what provisions they had consumed, and to +extinguish the lamps and shut the door.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he occupied a chair beneath an awning on the after +deck of the yacht, and, with an empty glass waiting to be refilled +between his fingers and a blessed cigar fuming in the grip of his teeth, +stared back to where their rock of refuge rested, brooding over its +desolation, losing bulk and conformation and swiftly blending into a +small dark blur upon the face of the waters.</p> + +<p>"Ember," he demanded querulously, "what the devil is that place?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't know?" Ember asked, amused.</p> + +<p>"Not the smell of a suspicion. This is the first pleasure, in a manner +of speaking, cruise I've taken up along this coast. I'm a bit weak on +its hydrography."</p> + +<p>"Well, if that's the case, I don't mind admitting that it is No Man's +Land."</p> + +<p>"I'm strong for its sponsors in baptism. They were equipped with a +strong sense of the everlasting fitness of things. And the other—?"</p> + +<p>"Martha's Vineyard. That's Gay Head—the headland with the lighthouse. +Off to the north of it, the Elizabeth Islands. Beyond them, Buzzards +Bay. This neat little vessel is now standing about west-no'th-west to +pick up Point Judith light—if you'll stand for the nautical patois. +After that, barring a mutiny on the part of the passengers, she'll swing +on to Long Island Sound. If we're lucky, we'll be at anchor off East +Twenty-fourth Street by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Any kick +coming?"</p> + +<p>"Not from me. You might better consult—my wife," said Whitaker with an +embarrassed laugh.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, no: if it's all the same to you. Besides, I've turned her over +to the stewardess, and I daresay she won't care to be interrupted. She's +had a pretty tough time of it: I judge from your rather disreputable +appearance. Really, you're cutting a most romantical, shocking figger."</p> + +<p>"Glad of that," Whitaker remarked serenely. "Give me another drink.... I +like to be consistent—wouldn't care to emerge from a personally +conducted tour of all hell looking like a George Cohan chorus-boy.... +Lord! how good tobacco does taste after you've gone without it a few +days!... Look here: I've told you how things were with us, in brief; but +I'm hanged if you've disgorged a single word of explanation as to how +you came to let Drummond slip through your fingers, to say nothing of +how you managed to find us."</p> + +<p>"He didn't slip through my fingers," Ember retorted. "He launched a +young earthquake at my devoted head and disappeared before the dust +settled. More explicitly: I had got him to the edge of the woods, that +night, when something hit me from behind and my light went out in a +blaze of red fire. I came to some time later with a tasty little gag in +my mouth and the latest thing in handcuffs on my wrists, behind my +back—the same handcuffs that I'd decorated Drummond with—and several +fathoms of rope wound round my legs. I lay there—it was a sort of open +work barn—until nearly midnight the following night. Then the owner +happened along, looking for something he'd missed—another ass, I +believe—and let me loose. By the time I'd pulled myself together, from +what you tell me, you were piling up on the rocks back there."</p> + +<p>"Just before dawn, yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Precisely. Finding you'd vacated the bungalow, I interviewed Sum Fat +and Elise, and pieced together a working hypothesis. It was easy enough +to surmise Drummond had some pal or other working with him: <i>I</i> was +slung-shotted from behind, while Drummond was walking ahead. And two men +had worked in the kidnapping of Mrs. Whitaker. So I went sleuthing; +traced you through the canal to Peconic; found eye-witnesses of your +race as far as Sag Harbor. There I lost you—and there I borrowed this +outfit from a friend, an old-time client of mine. Meanwhile I'd had a +general alarm sent out to the police authorities all along the +coast—clear to Boston. No one had seen anything of you anywhere. It was +heavy odds-on, that you'd gone to the bottom in that blow, all of you; +but I couldn't give up. We kept cruising, looking up unlikely places. +And, at that, we were on the point of throwing up the sponge when I +picked up a schooner that reported signal fires on No Man's Land.... I +think that clears everything up."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Whitaker, sleepily. "And now, without ingratitude, may I ask +you to lead me to a bath and my bunk. I have just about fifteen minutes +of semi-consciousness to go on."</p> + +<p>Nor was this exaggeration; it was hard upon midnight, and he had been +awake since before dawn of a day whose course had been marked by a +succession of increasingly exhaustive emotional crises, following a +night of interrupted and abbreviated rest; add to this the inevitable +reaction from high nervous tension. His reserve vitality seemed barely +sufficient to enable him to keep his eyes open through the rite of the +hot salt-water bath. After that he gave himself blindly into Ember's +guidance, and with a mumbled, vague good night, tumbled into the berth +assigned him. And so strong was his need of sleep that it was not until +ten o'clock the following morning, when the yacht lay at her mooring in +the East River, that Ember succeeded in rousing him by main strength and +good-will.</p> + +<p>This having been accomplished, he was left to dress and digest the fact +that his wife had gone ashore an hour ago, after refusing to listen to a +suggestion that Whitaker be disturbed. The note Ember handed him +purported to explain what at first blush seemed a singularly ungrateful +and ungracious freak. It was brief, but in Whitaker's sight eminently +adequate and compensating.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dearest Boy</span>: I won't let them wake you, but I must run away. It's +early and I <i>must</i> do some shopping before people are about. My +house here is closed; Mrs. Secretan is in Maine with the only keys +aside from those at Great West Bay; and I'm a <i>positive fright</i> in +a coat and skirt borrowed from the stewardess. I don't want even +you to see me until I'm decently dressed. I shall put up at the +Waldorf; come there to-night, and we will dine together. Every +fibre of my being loves you.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mary</span>."</p></div> + +<p>Obviously not a note to be cavilled at. Whitaker took a serene and +shining face to breakfast in the saloon, under the eyes of Ember.</p> + +<p>Veins of optimism and of gratulation like threads of gold ran through +the texture of their talk. There seemed to exist a tacit understanding +that, with the death of Drummond, the cloud that had shadowed the career +of Sara Law had lifted, while her renunciation of her public career had +left her with a future of glorified serenity and assured happiness. By +common consent, with an almost superstitious awe, they begged the +question of the shadowed and inexplicable past—left the dead past to +bury itself, bestowing all their fatuous concern with the to-day of +rejoicing and the to-morrow of splendid promise.</p> + +<p>Toward noon they parted ashore, each taking a taxicab to his lodgings. +The understanding was that they were to dine together—all three, +Whitaker promising for his wife—upon the morrow.</p> + +<p>At six that evening, returning to his rooms to dress, Whitaker found +another note awaiting him, in a handwriting that his heart recognized +with a sensation of wretched apprehension.</p> + +<p>He dared not trust himself to read it in the public hall. It was agony +to wait through the maddeningly deliberate upward flight of the +elevator. When he at length attained to the privacy of his own +apartment, he was sweating like a panic-stricken horse. He could hardly +control his fingers to open the envelope. He comprehended its contents +with difficulty, half blinded by a swimming mist of foreboding.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear</span>: I find my strength unequal to the strain of seeing you +to-night. Indeed, I am so worn out and nerve-racked that I have had +to consult my physician. He orders me immediately to a sanatorium, +to rest for a week or two. Don't worry about me. I shan't fail to +let you know as soon as I feel strong enough to see you. Forgive +me. I love you dearly.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mary.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>The paper slipped from Whitaker's trembling hand and fluttered unheeded +to the floor. He sprang to the telephone and presently had the Waldorf +on the wire; it was true, he learned: Mrs. Whitaker had registered at +the hotel in the morning, and had left at four in the afternoon. He was +refused information as to whether she had left a forwarding address for +her mail.</p> + +<p>He wrote her immediately, and perhaps not altogether wisely, under +stress of distraction, sending the letter by special delivery in care of +the hotel. It was returned him in due course of time, embellished with a +pencilled memorandum to the effect that Mrs. Whitaker had left no +address.</p> + +<p>He communicated at once with Ember, promptly enlisting his willing +services. But after several days of earnest investigation the detective +confessed himself baffled.</p> + +<p>"If you ask me," he commented at the conclusion of his report, "the +answer is: she means to be let alone until she's quite ready to see you +again. I don't pin any medals on myself for this demonstration of +extraordinary penetration; I merely point out the obvious for your own +good. Contain yourself, my dear man—and stop gnawing your knuckles like +the heavy man in a Third Avenue melodrama. It won't do any good; your +wife promised to communicate with you as soon as her health was +restored. And not only is she a woman who keeps her promise, but it is +quite comprehensible that she should have been shaken up by her +extraordinary experience to an extent we can hardly appreciate who +haven't the highly sensitive organization of a woman to contend with. +Give her time."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it!" Whitaker raged. "She—she loved me there on the +island. She couldn't change so quickly, bring herself to treat me so +cruelly, unless some infernal influence had been brought to bear upon +her."</p> + +<p>"It's possible, but I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean that foolishness about her love being a man's +death-warrant. That may have something to do with it, but—but, damn +it!—I conquered that once. She promised ... was in my arms ... I'd won +her.... She loved me; there wasn't any make-believe about it. If there +were any foundation for that poppycock, I'd be a dead man now—instead +of a man damnably ill-used!... No: somebody has got hold of her, worked +on her sympathies, maligned me...."</p> + +<p>"Do you object to telling me whom you have in mind?"</p> + +<p>"The man you suspect as well as I—the one man to whom her allegiance +means everything: the man you named to me the night we met for the first +time, as the one who'd profit the most by keeping her from leaving the +stage!"</p> + +<p>"Well, if it's Max, you'll know in time. It won't profit him to hide the +light of his star under a bushel; he can only make money by displaying +it."</p> + +<p>"I'll know before long. As soon as he gets back in town—"</p> + +<p>"So you've been after him?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? But he's out on the Pacific coast; or so they tell me at the +theatre."</p> + +<p>"And expected back—when?"</p> + +<p>"Soon."</p> + +<p>"Do you know when he left?"</p> + +<p>"About the middle of July—they say in his office."</p> + +<p>"Then that lets him out."</p> + +<p>"But it's a lie."</p> + +<p>"Well—?"</p> + +<p>"I've just remembered: Max was at the Fiske place, urging her to return, +the night before you caught Drummond at the bungalow. I saw them, +walking up and down in front of the cottage, arguing earnestly: I could +tell by her bearing she was refusing whatever he proposed. But I didn't +know her then, and naturally I never connected Max with the fellow I +saw, disguised in a motoring coat and cap. Neither of 'em had any place +in my thoughts that night."</p> + +<p>Ember uttered a thoughtful "Oh?" adding: "Did you find out at all +definitely when Max is expected back?"</p> + +<p>"Two or three weeks now, they say. He's got his winter productions to +get under way. As a matter of fact, it looks to me as if he must be +neglecting 'em strangely; it's my impression that the late summer is a +producing manager's busiest time."</p> + +<p>"Max runs himself by his own original code, I'm afraid. The chances are +he's trying to raise money out on the Coast. No money, no +productions—in other words."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder."</p> + +<p>"But there may be something in what you say—suspect, that is. If I +agree to keep an eye on him, will you promise to give me a free hand?"</p> + +<p>"Meaning—?"</p> + +<p>"Keep out of Max's way: don't risk a wrangle with him."</p> + +<p>"Why the devil should I be afraid of Max?"</p> + +<p>"I know of no reason—as yet. But I prefer to work unhampered by the +indiscretions of my principals."</p> + +<p>"Oh—go ahead—to blazes—as far as you like."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Ember dryly wound up the conference; "but these passing +flirtations with your present-day temper leave me with no hankering for +greater warmth...."</p> + +<p>Days ran stolidly on into weeks, and these into a month. Nothing +happened. Max did not return; the whispered rumour played wild-fire in +theatrical circles that the eccentric manager had encountered financial +difficulties insuperable. The billboards flanking the entrance to the +Theatre Max continued to display posters announcing the reopening early +in September with a musical comedy by Tynan Dodd; but the comedy was not +even in rehearsal by September fifteenth.</p> + +<p>Ember went darkly about his various businesses, taciturn—even a trace +more than ever reserved in his communication with Whitaker—preoccupied, +but constant in his endeavour to enhearten the desponding husband. He +refused to hazard any surmises whatever until the return of Max or the +reappearance of Mary Whitaker.</p> + +<p>She made no sign. Now and then Whitaker would lose patience and write to +her: desperate letters, fond and endearing, passionate and insistent, +wistful and pleading, strung upon a single theme. Despatched under the +address of her town house, they vanished from his ken as mysteriously +and completely as she herself had vanished. He received not a line of +acknowledgment.</p> + +<p>Day by day he made up his mind finally and definitely to give it up, to +make an end of waiting, to accept the harsh cruelty of her treatment of +him as an absolute definition of her wishes—to sever his renewed life +in New York and return once and for all to the Antipodes. And day by day +he paltered, doubted, put off going to the steamship office to engage +passage. The memory of that last day on the lonely island would not +down. Surely she dared not deny the self she had then revealed to him! +Surely she must be desperately ill and unable to write, rather than +ignoring him so heartlessly and intentionally. Surely the morrow would +bring word of her!</p> + +<p>Sometimes, fretted to a frenzy, he sought out Ember and made wild and +unreasonable demands upon him. These failing of any effect other than +the resigned retort, "I am a detective, not a miracle-monger," he would +fly into desperate, gnawing, black rages that made Ember fear for his +sanity and self-control and caused him to be haunted by that gentleman +for hours—once or twice for days—until he resumed his normal poise of +a sober and civilized man. He was, however, not often aware of this +sedulous espionage.</p> + +<p>September waned and October dawned in grateful coolness: an exquisite +month of crisp nights and enlivening days, of mellowing sunlight and +early gloamings tenderly coloured. Country houses were closed and +theatres reopened. Fifth Avenue after four in the afternoon became +thronged with an ever thickening army—horse, foot and motor-car. +Several main-travelled thoroughfares were promptly torn to pieces and +set up on end by municipal authorities with a keen eye for the +discomfort of the public. A fresh electric sign blazed on Broadway every +evening, and from Thirty-fourth Street to Columbus Circle the first +nights crackled, detonated, sputtered and fizzled like a string of cheap +Chinese firecrackers. One after another the most exorbitant restaurants +advanced their prices and decreased their portions to the prompt and +extraordinary multiplication of their clientèle: restaurant French for a +species of citizen whose birth-rate is said to be steadfast to the ratio +of sixty to the hour. Wall Street wailed loudly of its poverty and +hurled bitter anathemas at the President, the business interest of the +country continued to suffer excruciating agonies, and the proprietors of +leading hotels continued to add odd thousands of acres to their game +preserves.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly the town blossomed overnight with huge eight-sheet posters +on every available hoarding, blazoning the news:</p> + +<h4>JULES MAX<br /> +begs to announce the return of<br /> +SARA LAW<br /> +in a new Comedy entitled <span class="smcap">Faith</span><br /> +by JULES MAX<br /> +Theatre MAX—Friday October 15th</h4> + +<p>But Whitaker had the information before he saw the broad-sides in the +streets. The morning paper propped up on his breakfast table contained +the illuminating note under the caption, "News of Plays and Players":</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Jules Max has sprung another and perhaps his greatest surprise on +the theatre-going public of this city. In the face of the rumor +that he was in dire financial straits and would make no productions +whatever this year, the astute manager has been out of town for two +months secretly rehearsing the new comedy entitled 'Faith' of which +he is the author and in which Sara Law will return finally to the +stage.</p> + +<p>"Additional interest attaches to this announcement in view of the +fact that Miss Law has authorized the publication of her intention +never again to retire from the stage. Miss Law is said to have +expressed herself as follows: 'It is my dearest wish to die in +harness. I have come to realize that a great artiste has no duty +greater than her duty to her art. I dedicate my life and artistry +to the American Public.'</p> + +<p>"The opening performance of 'Faith' will take place at the Theatre +Max to-morrow evening, Friday, October 15. The sale of seats opens +at the box-office this morning. Despite the short notice, a bumper +house is confidently expected to welcome back this justly popular +and most charming American actress in the first play of which Mr. +Max has confessed being the author."</p></div> + +<p>Whitaker glanced up incredulously at the date-line of the sheet. Short +notice, indeed: the date was Thursday, October fourteenth. Max had +planned his game and had played his cards cunningly, in withholding this +announcement until the last moment. So much was very clear to him whose +eyes had wit to read between those lines of trite press-agent +phraseology.</p> + +<p>After a pause Whitaker rose and began to walk the length of the room, +hands in his pockets, head bowed in thought. He was telling himself that +he was not greatly surprised, after all; he was wondering at his +coolness; and he was conning over, with a grim, sardonic kink in his +twisted smile, the needless precautions taken by the dapper little +manager in his fear of Whitaker's righteous wrath. For Whitaker had no +intention of interfering in any way. He conceived it a possibility that +his congé might have been more kindly given him, but ... he had received +it, and he was not slow to recognize it as absolute and without appeal. +The thing was finished. The play was over, so far as concerned his part +therein. He had no doubt played it poorly; but at least his exit would +not lack a certain quality of dignity. Whitaker promised himself that.</p> + +<p>He thought it really astonishing, his coolness. He analyzed his +psychological processes with a growing wonder and with as much, if less +definite, resentment. He would not have thought it credible of himself. +Search as he would, he could discover no rankling indignation, no +smouldering rage threatening to flame at the least breath of +provocation, not even what he might have most confidently looked forward +to—the sickening writhings of self-love mortally wounded and impotent +to avenge itself: nothing but some self-contempt, that he had allowed +himself to be so carried away by infatuation for an ignoble woman, and a +cynic humour that made it possible for him to derive a certain +satisfaction from contemplating the completeness of this final +revelation of herself.</p> + +<p>However, he had more important things to claim his attention than the +spectacle of a degraded soul making public show of its dishonour.</p> + +<p>He halted by the window to look out. Over the withered tree-tops of +Bryant Square, set against the rich turquoise of that late autumnal sky, +a gigantic sign-board heralded the news of perfidy to an unperceptive +world that bustled on, heedless of Jules Max, ignorant (largely) of the +existence of Hugh Whitaker, unconcerned with Sara Law save as she +employed herself for its amusement.</p> + +<p>After all, the truth was secret and like to stay so, jealously husbanded +in four bosoms at most. Max would guard it as he would a system for +winning at roulette; Mary Whitaker might well be trusted never to +declare herself; Ember was as secret as the grave....</p> + +<p>Returning to the breakfast table, he took up the paper, turned to the +shipping news and ran his eye down the list of scheduled sailings: +nothing for Friday; his pick of half a dozen boats listed to sail +Saturday.</p> + +<p>The telephone enabled him to make a hasty reservation on the biggest and +fastest of them all.</p> + +<p>He had just concluded that business and was waiting with his hand on the +receiver to call up Ember and announce his departure, when the door-bell +interrupted. Expecting the waiter to remove the breakfast things, he +went to the door, threw it open, and turned back instantly to the +telephone. As his fingers closed round the receiver a second time, he +looked round and saw his wife....</p> + +<p>His hand fell to his side. Otherwise he did not move. But his glance was +that of one incuriously comprehending the existence of a stranger.</p> + +<p>The woman met it fairly and fearlessly, with her head high and her lips +touched with a trace of her shadowy, illegible smile. She was dressed +for walking, very prettily and perfectly. There were roses in her +cheeks: a healthful glow distinguishable even in the tempered light of +the hallway. Her self-possession was faultless.</p> + +<p>After a moment she inclined her head slightly. "The hall-boys said you +were busy on the telephone. I insisted on coming directly up. I wish +very much to see you for a few moments. Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"By no means," he said, a little stiffly but quite calmly. "If you will +be good enough to come in—"</p> + +<p>He stood against the wall to let her pass. For a breath she was too +close to him: he felt his pulses quicken faintly to the delicate and +indefinite perfume of her person. But it was over in an instant: she had +passed into the living-room. He followed, grave, collected, aloof.</p> + +<p>"I had to come this morning," she explained, turning. "This afternoon we +have a rehearsal...."</p> + +<p>He bowed an acknowledgment. "Won't you sit down?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you." Seated, she subjected him to a quick, open appraisal, +disarming in its naïve honesty.</p> + +<p>"Hugh ... aren't you a bit thinner?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so." He had a match for that impertinence: "But you, I see, +have come off without a blemish."</p> + +<p>"I am very well," she admitted, unperturbed. Her glance embraced the +room. "You're very comfortable here."</p> + +<p>"I have been."</p> + +<p>"I hope that doesn't mean I'm in the way."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary; but I sail day after to-morrow for Australia."</p> + +<p>"Oh? That's very sudden, isn't it? You don't seem to have done any +packing. Or perhaps you mean to come back before a great while?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't come back, ever."</p> + +<p>"Must I believe you made up your mind this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I have only just read the announcement of your opening to-morrow +night."</p> + +<p>"Then ... I am driving you out of the country?"</p> + +<p>Her look was impersonal and curious. He prided himself that he was +managing his temper admirably—at least until he discovered that he had, +inexplicably, no temper to speak of; that he, in fact, suffered mostly +from what seemed to be nothing more than annoyance at being hindered in +making the necessary arrangements against his departure.</p> + +<p>His shoulders moved negligently. "Not to rant about it," he replied: "I +find I am not needed here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" Her lips formed a fugitive, petulant moue: "And it's my +fault?"</p> + +<p>"There's no use mincing matters, is there? I am not heartbroken, and if +I am bitterly disappointed I don't care to—in fact, I lack the +ability—to dramatize it."</p> + +<p>"You are taking it well, Hugh," said she, critical.</p> + +<p>Expressionless, he waited an instant before inquiring pointedly: +"Well...?"</p> + +<p>Deliberately laying aside her light muff, her scarf and hand-bag, she +rose: equality of poise was impossible if he would persist in standing. +She moved a little nearer, examining his face closely, shook her head, +smiled almost diffidently, and gave a helpless gesture.</p> + +<p>"Hugh," she said in a voice of sincerity, "I'm awfully sorry—truly I +am!"</p> + +<p>He made no reply; waited.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm wrong," she went on, "but I think most women would have +spared themselves this meeting—"</p> + +<p>"Themselves and the man," he interjected dryly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be cross, Hugh.... I had to come. I had to explain myself. I +wanted you to understand. Hugh, I—" She was twisting her hands together +with a manner denoting great mental strain. Of a sudden she checked and +dropped them, limp and open by her sides. "You see," she said with the +apologetic smile, "I'm <i>trying</i> not to act."</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said in a tone of dawning comprehension—"so that's it!"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid so, Hugh.... I'm dreadfully sorry for you—poor boy!—but +I'm afraid that's the trouble with me, and it can never be helped. +I was born with a talent for acting; life has made me an actress. +Hugh ... I've found out something." Her eyes appealed wistfully. "I'm +not genuine."</p> + +<p>He nodded interestedly.</p> + +<p>"I'm just an actress, an instrument for the music of emotions. I've been +trained to respond, until now I respond without knowing it, when there's +no true response here." She touched the bosom of her frock.</p> + +<p>He said nothing.</p> + +<p>With a half sigh she moved away to the window, and before she spoke +again posed herself very effectively there, looking out over the park +while she cleared her mind.</p> + +<p>"Of course, you despise me. I despise myself—I mean, the self that was +me before I turned from a woman into an actress. But it's the truth: I +have no longer any real capacity for emotion, merely an infinite +capacity for appreciation of the artistic delineation of emotion, true +or feigned. That ... that is why, when you showed me you had grown to +love me so, I responded so quickly. You <i>were</i> in love—more honestly +than I had ever seen love revealed. It touched me. I was proud to have +inspired such a love. I wanted, for the time being, to have you with me +always, that I might always study the wonderful, the beautiful +manifestations of your love. Why, Hugh, you even managed to make me +believe I was worth it—that my response was sufficient repayment for +your adoration...."</p> + +<p>He said nothing. She glanced furtively at him and continued:</p> + +<p>"I meant to be sweet and faithful when I left that note for you on the +yacht, Hugh; I was grateful, and I meant to be generous.... But when I +went to the Waldorf, the first person I met was Max. Of course I had to +tell him what had happened. And then he threw himself upon my +compassion. It seems that losing me had put him in the most terrible +trouble about money. He was short, and he couldn't get the backing he +needed without me, his call upon my services, by way of assurance to his +backers. And I began to think. I knew I didn't love you honestly, Hugh, +and that life with you would be a living lie. What right had I to +deceive you that way, just to gratify my love of being loved? And +especially if by doing that I ruined Max, the man to whom, next to you, +I owed everything? I couldn't do it. But I took time to think it +over—truly I did. I really did go to a sanatorium, and rested there +while I turned the whole matter over carefully in my mind, and at length +reached my decision to stick by Max and let you go, free to win the +heart of a woman worthy of you."</p> + +<p>She paused again, but still he was mute and immobile.</p> + +<p>"So now you know me—what I am. No other man has ever known or ever +will. But I had to tell you the truth. It seems that the only thing my +career had left uncalloused was my fundamental sense of honesty. So I +had to come and tell you."</p> + +<p>And still he held silence, attentive, but with a set face that betrayed +nothing of the tenor of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>Almost timidly, with nervously fumbling fingers, she extracted from her +pocket-book a small ticket envelope.</p> + +<p>"Max was afraid you might upset the performance again, as you did on my +last appearance, Hugh," she said; "but I assured him it was just the +shock of recognizing you that bowled me over. So I've bought you a box +for to-morrow night. I want you to use it—you and Mr. Ember."</p> + +<p>He broke in with a curt monosyllable: "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Why—why because—because I want you—I suppose it's simply my +vanity—to see me act. Perhaps you'll feel a little less hardly toward +me if you see that I am really a great actress, that I give you up for +something bigger than just love—"</p> + +<p>"What rot!" he said with an odd, short laugh. "Besides, I harbour no +resentment."</p> + +<p>She stared, losing a little colour, eyes darkening with apprehension.</p> + +<p>"I did hope you'd come," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll come," he said with spirit. "Wild horses couldn't keep me +away."</p> + +<p>"Really, Hugh? And you don't mind? Oh, I'm <i>glad</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I really don't mind," he assured her with a strange smile. +"But ... would you mind excusing me one moment? I've forgotten +something very important."</p> + +<p>"Why, certainly...."</p> + +<p>He was already at the telephone in the hallway, just beyond the +living-room door. It was impossible to escape overhearing his words. The +woman listened perforce with, in the beginning, a little visible wonder, +then with astonishment, ultimately with a consternation that shook her +with violent tremblings.</p> + +<p>"Hello," said Whitaker; "get me Rector two-two-hundred....</p> + +<p>"Hello? Rector two-two-hundred? North German Lloyd?... This is Mr. H. M. +Whitaker. I telephoned you fifteen minutes ago about a reservation on +the <i>George Washington</i>, sailing Saturday ... Yes.... Yes.... Yes, I +promised to call for the ticket before noon, but I now find I shan't be +able to go. Will you be kind enough to cancel it, if you please.... +Thank you.... Good-by."</p> + +<p>But when he turned back into the living-room he found awaiting him a +quiet and collected woman, perhaps a thought more pale than when she had +entered and with eyes that seemed a trifle darker; but on the whole +positively the mistress of herself.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do that?" she asked evenly.</p> + +<p>"Because," said Whitaker, "I've had my eyes opened. I've been watching +the finest living actress play a carefully rehearsed rôle, one that she +had given long study and all her heart to—but her interpretation didn't +ring true. Mary, I admit, at first you got me: I believed you meant what +you said. But only my mind believed it; my heart knew better, just as it +has always known better, all through this wretched time of doubt and +misery and separation you've subjected us both to. And that was why I +couldn't trust myself to answer you; for if I had, I should have laughed +for joy. O Mary, Mary!" he cried, his voice softening, "my dear, dear +woman, you can't lie to love! You betray yourself in every dear word +that would be heartless, in every adorable gesture that would seem +final! And love knows better always.... Of course I shall be in that box +to-morrow night; of course I shall be there to witness your triumph! And +after you've won it, dear, I shall carry you off with me...."</p> + +<p>He opened his arms wide, but with a smothered cry she backed away, +placing the table between them.</p> + +<p>"No!" she protested; and the words were almost sobs—"No!"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he exclaimed exultantly. "Yes! A thousand times yes! It must be +so!"</p> + +<p>With a swift movement she seized her muff and scarf from the chair and +fled to the door. There pausing, she turned, her face white and blazing.</p> + +<p>"It is not true!" she cried. "You are mistaken. Do you hear me? You are +utterly mistaken. I do not love you. You are mad to think it. I have +just told you I don't love you. I am afraid of you; I daren't stay with +you for fear of you. I—I despise you!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3>"I do not love you. You are mad to think it"</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>"I don't believe it!" he cried, advancing.</p> + +<p>But she was gone. The hall door slammed before he could reach it.</p> + +<p>He halted, turned back, his whole long body shaking, his face wrung with +fear and uncertainty.</p> + +<p>"Good God!" he cried—"which of us is right—she or I?"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI</h2> + +<h3>BLACK OUT</h3> + + +<p>Toward eight in the evening, after a day-long search through all his +accustomed haunts, Ember ran Whitaker to earth in the dining-room of the +Primordial. The young man, alone at table, was in the act of topping off +an excellent dinner with a still more excellent cordial and a +super-excellent cigar. His person seemed to diffuse a generous +atmosphere of contentment and satisfaction, no less mental than physical +and singularly at variance with his appearance, which, moreover, was +singularly out of keeping not only with his surroundings but also with +his normal aspect.</p> + +<p>He wore rough tweeds, and they were damp and baggy; his boots were +muddy; his hair was a trifle disorderly. The ensemble made a figure +wildly incongruous to the soberly splendid and stately dining-hall of +the Primordial Club, with its sparse patronage of members in +evening-dress.</p> + +<p>Ember, himself as severely beautiful in black and white as the +ceremonious livery of to-day permits a man to be, was wonder-struck at +sight of Whitaker in such unconventional guise, at such a time, in such +a place. With neither invitation nor salutation, he slipped into a chair +on the other side of the table, and stared.</p> + +<p>Whitaker smiled benignantly upon him, and called a waiter.</p> + +<p>Ember, always abstemious, lifted his hand and smiled a negative smile.</p> + +<p>Whitaker dismissed the waiter.</p> + +<p>"Well...?" he inquired cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"What right have you got to look like that?" Ember demanded.</p> + +<p>"The right of every free-born American citizen to make an ass of himself +according to the dictates of his conscience. I've been exploring the +dark backwards and abysm of the Bronx—afoot. Got caught in the rain on +the way home. Was late getting back, and dropped in here to celebrate."</p> + +<p>"I've been looking for you everywhere, since morning."</p> + +<p>"I suspected you would be. That's why I went walking—to be lonesome and +thoughtful for once in a way."</p> + +<p>Ember stroked his chin with thoughtful fingers.</p> + +<p>"You've heard the news, then?"</p> + +<p>"In three ways," Whitaker returned, with calm.</p> + +<p>"How's that—three ways?"</p> + +<p>"Through the newspapers, the billboards, and—from the lips of my wife."</p> + +<p>Ember opened his eyes wide.</p> + +<p>"You've been to see her?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary."</p> + +<p>"The devil you say!"</p> + +<p>"She called this morning—"</p> + +<p>But Ember interrupted, thrusting a ready and generous hand across the +table:</p> + +<p>"My dear man, I <i>am</i> glad!"</p> + +<p>Whitaker took the proffered hand readily and firmly. "Thank you.... I +was saying: she called this morning to inform me that, though wedded +once, we must be strangers now—and evermore!"</p> + +<p>"But you—of course—you argued that nonsense out of her head."</p> + +<p>"To the contrary—again."</p> + +<p>"But—my dear man!—you said you were celebrating; you permitted me to +congratulate you just now—"</p> + +<p>"The point is," said Whitaker, with a bland and confident grin; "I've +succeeded in arguing that nonsense out of my head—not hers—<i>mine</i>."</p> + +<p>Ember gave a helpless gesture. "I'm afraid this is one of my stupid +nights...."</p> + +<p>"I mean that, though Mary ran away from me, wouldn't listen to reason, I +have, in the course of an afternoon's hard tramping, come to the +conclusion that there is nothing under the sun which binds me to sit +back and accept whatever treatment she purposes according me by courtesy +of Jules Max."</p> + +<p>Whitaker bent forward, his countenance discovering a phase of +seriousness hitherto masked by his twisted smile. He emphasized his +points with a stiff, tapping forefinger on the cloth.</p> + +<p>"I mean, I'm tired of all this poppycock. Unless I'm an infatuated ass, +Mary loves me with all her heart. She has made up her mind to renounce +me partly because Max has worked upon her feelings by painting some +lurid picture of his imminent artistic and financial damnation if she +leaves him, partly because she believes, or has been led to believe, in +this 'destroying angel' moonshine. Now she's got to listen to reason. +So, likewise, Max."</p> + +<p>"You're becoming more human word by word," commented Ember with open +approval. "Continue; elucidate; I can understand how a fairly resolute +lover with the gift of gab can talk a weak-minded, fond female into +denying her pet superstition; but how you're going to get round Max +passes my comprehension. The man unquestionably has her under +contract—"</p> + +<p>"But you forgot his god is Mammon," Whitaker put in. "Max will do +anything in the world for money. Therein resides the kernel of my plan. +It's simplicity itself: I'm going to buy him."</p> + +<p>"Buy Max!"</p> + +<p>"Body—artistic soul—and breeches," Whitaker affirmed confidently.</p> + +<p>"Impossible!"</p> + +<p>"You forget how well fixed I am. What's the use of my owning half the +gold in New Guinea if it won't buy me what I already own by every moral +and legal right?"</p> + +<p>"He won't listen to you; you don't know Max."</p> + +<p>"I'm willing to lay you a small bet that there will be no first +performance at the Theatre Max to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"You'll never persuade him—"</p> + +<p>"I'll buy the show outright and my wife's freedom to boot—or else Max +will begin to accumulate the local colour of a hospital ward."</p> + +<p>Ember smiled grimly. "You're beginning to convince even me. When, may I +ask, do you propose to pull off this sporting proposition?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Max can be found to-night?"</p> + +<p>"At the theatre—"</p> + +<p>"Then the matter will be arranged at the theatre between this hour and +midnight."</p> + +<p>"I doubt if you succeed in getting the ear of the great man before +midnight; however, I'm not disposed to quibble about a few hours."</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Because Max is going to be the busiest young person in town to-night. +And that is why I've been looking for you.... Conforming to his custom, +he's giving an advance glimpse of the production to the critics and a +few friends in the form of a final grand dress-rehearsal to-night. +Again, in conformance with his custom, he has honoured me with a bid. +I've been chasing you all day to find out if you'd care to go—"</p> + +<p>"Eight o'clock and a bit after," Whitaker interrupted briskly, +consulting his watch. "Here, boy," he hailed a passing page; "call a +taxicab for me." And then, rising alertly: "Come along; I've got to +hustle home and make myself look respectable enough for the occasion; +but at that, with luck, I fancy we'll be there before the first +curtain."</p> + +<p>This mood of faith, of self-reliance and assured optimism held unruffled +throughout the dash homewards, his hurried change of clothing and the +ride to the theatre. Nothing that Ember, purposely pessimistic, could +say or do availed to diminish the high buoyancy of his humour. He +maintained a serene faith in his star, a spirited temper that refused to +recognize obstacles in the way of his desire.</p> + +<p>In the taxicab, en route to the Theatre Max, he contrived even to distil +a good omen from the driving autumnal downpour itself.... The rain-swept +pavements, their polished blackness shot with a thousand strands of +golden brilliance; the painted bosom of the lowering, heavy sky; the +tear-drenched window-panes; even the incessant crepitation on the roof +of the scurrying, skidding cab seemed to lend a colour of assurance to +his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"On such a day as this," he told his doubting friend, "I won her first; +on such a day I shall win her anew, finally and for all time!..."</p> + +<p>From Broadway to Sixth Avenue, Forty-sixth Street was bright with the +yellow glare of the huge sign in front of the Theatre Max. But this +night, unlike that other night when he had approached the stage of his +wife's triumphs, there was no crawling rank of cabs, no eager and +curious press of people in the street; but few vehicles disputed their +way; otherwise the rain and the hurrying, rain-coated wayfarers had the +thoroughfare to themselves.... And even this he chose to consider a +favourable omen: there was not now a public to come between him and his +love—only Max and her frightened fancies.</p> + +<p>The man at the door recognized Ember with a cheerful nod; Whitaker he +did not know.</p> + +<p>"Just in time, Mr. Ember; curtain's been up about ten minutes...."</p> + +<p>The auditorium was in almost total darkness. A single voice was audible +from the stage that confronted it like some tremendous, moonlight canvas +in a huge frame of tarnished gold. They stole silently round the +orchestra seats to the stage-box—the same box that Whitaker had on the +former occasion occupied in company with Max.</p> + +<p>They succeeded in taking possession without attracting attention, either +from the owners of that scanty scattering of shirt-bosoms in the +orchestra—the critical fraternity and those intimates bidden by the +manager to the first glimpse of his new revelation in stage-craft—or +from those occupying the stage.</p> + +<p>The latter were but two. Evidently, though the curtain had been up for +some minutes, the action of the piece had not yet been permitted to +begin to unfold. Whitaker inferred that Max had been dissatisfied with +something about the lighting of the scene. The manager was standing in +mid-stage, staring up at the borders: a stout and pompous figure, +tenacious to every detail of that public self which he had striven so +successfully to make unforgettably individual; a figure quaintly +incongruous in his impeccable morning-coat and striped trousers and +flat-brimmed silk hat, perched well back on his head, with his malacca +stick and lemon-coloured gloves and small and excessively glossy +patent-leather shoes, posed against the counterfeit of a moonlit formal +garden.</p> + +<p>Aside from him, the only other occupant of the stage was Sara Law. She +sat on a stone bench with her profile to the audience, her back to the +right of the proscenium arch; so that she could not, without turning, +have noticed the entrance of Ember and her husband. A shy, slight, +deathlessly youthful figure in pale and flowing garments that moulded +themselves fluently to her sweet and girlish body, in a posture of +pensive meditation: she was nothing less than adorable. Whitaker could +not take his eyes from her, for sheer wonder and delight.</p> + +<p>He was only vaguely conscious that Max, at length satisfied, barked a +word to that effect to an unseen electrician off to the left, and waving +his hand with a gesture indelibly associated with his personality, +dragged a light cane-seated chair to the left of the proscenium and sat +himself down.</p> + +<p>"All ready?" he demanded in a sharp and irritable voice.</p> + +<p>The woman on the marble seat nodded imperceptibly.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," snapped the manager....</p> + +<p>An actor advanced from the wings, paused and addressed the seated woman. +His lines were brief. She lifted her head with a startled air, +listening. He ceased to speak, and her voice of golden velvet filled the +house with the flowing beauty of its unforgettably sweet modulations. +Beyond the footlights a handful of sophisticated and sceptical habitués +of the theatre forgot for the moment their ingrained incredulity and +thrilled in sympathy with the wonderful rapture of that voice of eternal +Youth. Whitaker himself for the time forgot that he was the husband of +this woman and her lover; she moved before his vision in the guise of +some divine creature, divinely unattainable, a dream woman divorced +utterly from any semblance of reality.</p> + +<p>That opening scene was one perhaps unique in the history of the stage. +Composed by Max in some mad, poetical moment of inspired plagiarism, it +not only owned a poignant and enthralling beauty of imagery, but it +moved with an almost Grecian certitude, with a significance +extraordinarily direct and devoid of circumlocution, seeming to lay bare +the living tissue of immortal drama.</p> + +<p>But with the appearance of other characters, there came a change: the +rare atmosphere of the opening began to dissipate perceptibly. The +action clouded and grew vague. The auditors began to feel the +flutterings of uncertainty in the air. Something was failing to cross +the footlights. The sweeping and assured gesture of the accomplished +playwright faltered: a clumsy bit of construction was damningly exposed; +faults of characterization multiplied depressingly. Sara Law herself +lost an indefinable proportion of her rare and provoking charm; the +strangeness of failing to hold her audience in an ineluctable grasp +seemed at once to nettle and distress her. Max himself seemed suddenly +to wake to the amazing fact that there was something enormously and +irremediably wrong; he began with exasperating frequency to halt the +action, to interrupt scenes with advice and demands for repetition. He +found it impossible to be still, to keep his seat or control his +rasping, irritable voice. Subordinate characters on the stage lost their +heads and either forgot to act or overacted. And then—intolerable +climax!—of a sudden somebody in the orchestra chairs laughed in +outright derision in the middle of a passage meant to be tenderly +emotional.</p> + +<p>The voice of Sara Law broke and fell. She stood trembling and unstrung. +Max without a word turned on his heel and swung out of sight into the +wings. Four other actors on the stage, aside from Sara Law, hesitated +and drew together in doubt and bewilderment. And then abruptly, with no +warning whatever, the illusion of gloom in the auditorium and moonlight +in the postscenium was rent away by the glare of the full complement of +electric lights installed in the house.</p> + +<p>A thought later, while still all were blinking and gasping with +surprise, Max strode into view just behind the footlights. Halting, he +swept the array of auditors with an ominous and truculent stare.</p> + +<p>So quickly was this startling change consummated that Whitaker had no +more than time to realize the reappearance of the manager before he +caught his wrathful and venomous glance fixed to his own bewildered +face. And something in the light that flickered wildly behind Max's eyes +reminded him so strongly of a similar expression he had remarked in the +eyes of Drummond, the night the latter had been captured by Ember and +Sum Fat, that in alarm he half rose from his seat.</p> + +<p>Simultaneously he saw Max spring toward the box, with a distorted and +snarling countenance. He was tugging at something in his pocket. It +appeared in the shape of a heavy pistol.</p> + +<p>Instantly Whitaker was caught and tripped by Ember and sent sprawling on +the floor of the box. As this happened, he heard the voice of the +firearm, sharp and vicious—a single report.</p> + +<p>Unhurt, he picked himself up in time to catch a glimpse of Max, on the +stage, momentarily helpless in the embrace of a desperate and frantic +woman who had caught his arms from behind and, presumably, had so +deflected his arm. In the same breath Ember, who had leaped to the +railing round the box, threw himself across the footlights with the +lithe certainty of a beast of prey and, seemingly in as many deft +motions, knocked the pistol from the manager's hand, wrested him from +the arms of the actress, laid him flat and knelt upon him.</p> + +<p>With a single bound Whitaker followed him to the stage; in another he +had his wife in his arms and was soothing her first transports of +semi-hysterical terror....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was possibly a quarter of an hour later when Ember paused before a +door in the ground floor dressing-room gangway of the Theatre Max—a +door distinguished by the initials "S L" in the centre of a golden star. +With some hesitation, with even a little diffidence, he lifted a hand +and knocked.</p> + +<p>At once the door was opened by the maid, Elise. Recognizing Ember, she +smiled and stood aside, making way for him to enter the small, curtained +lobby.</p> + +<p>"Madam—and Monsieur," she said with smiling significance, "told me to +show you in at once, Monsieur Ember."</p> + +<p>From beyond the curtains, Whitaker's voice lifted up impatiently: "That +you, old man? Come right in!"</p> + +<p>Nodding to the maid, Ember thrust aside the portières and stepped into +the brightly-lighted dressing-room, then paused, bowing and smiling his +self-contained, tolerant smile: in appearance as imperturbable and +well-groomed as though he had just escaped from the attentions of a +valet, rather than from a furious hand-to-hand tussle with a vicious +monomaniac.</p> + +<p>Mary Whitaker, as yet a little pale and distrait and still in costume, +was reclining on a chaise-longue. Whitaker was standing close beside his +wife; his face the theatre of conflicting emotions; Ember, at least, +thought with a shrewd glance to recognize a pulsating light of joy +beneath a mask of interest and distress and a flush of embarrassment.</p> + +<p>"I am intruding?" he suggested gravely, with a slight turn as if +offering to withdraw.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>The word faltering on the lips of Mary Whitaker was lost in an emphatic +iteration by Whitaker.</p> + +<p>"Sit down!" he insisted. "As if we'd let you escape, now, after you'd +kept us here in suspense!"</p> + +<p>He offered a chair, but Ember first advanced to take the hand held out +to him by the woman on the chaise-longue.</p> + +<p>"You are feeling—more composed?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>Her gaze met his bravely. "I am—troubled, perhaps—but happy," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Then I am very glad," he said, smiling at the delicate colour that +enhanced her exquisite beauty as she made the confession. "I had hoped +as much." He looked from the one to the other. "You ... have made up +your minds?"</p> + +<p>The wife answered for both: "It is settled, dear friend: I can struggle +no longer. I thought myself a strong woman; I have tried to believe +myself a genius bound upon the wheel of an ill-starred destiny; but I +find I am"—the glorious voice trembled slightly—"only a woman in love +and no stronger than her love."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," Ember repeated, "for both your sakes. It's a happy +consummation of my dearest wishes."</p> + +<p>"We owe you everything," Whitaker said with feeling, dropping an awkward +hand on the other's shoulder. "It was you who threw us together, down +there on the Great West Bay, so that we learned to know one another...."</p> + +<p>"I plead guilty to that little plot—yes," Ember laughed. "But, best of +all, this comes at just the right time—the rightest time, when there +can no longer be any doubts or questions or misunderstandings, no ground +for further fears and apprehensions, when 'the destroying angel' of your +'ill-starred destiny,' my dear"—he turned to the woman—"is +exorcised—banished—proscribed—"</p> + +<p>"Max—!" Whitaker struck in explosively.</p> + +<p>"—is on his way to the police-station, well guarded," Ember affirmed +with a nod and a grim smile. "I have his confession, roughly jotted down +but signed, and attested by several witnesses.... I'm glad you were out +of the way; it was rather a painful scene, and disorderly; it wouldn't +have been pleasant for Mrs. Whitaker.... We had the deuce of a time +clearing the theatre: human curiosity is a tremendously persistent and +resistant force. And then I had some trouble dealing with the misplaced +loyalty of the staff of the house.... However, eventually I got Max to +myself—alone, that is, with several men I could depend on. And then I +heartlessly put him through the third degree—forestalling my friends, +the police. By dint of asserting as truths and personal discoveries what +I merely suspected, I broke down his denials. He owned up, doggedly +enough, and yet with that singular pride which I have learned to +associate with some phases of homicidal mania.... I won't distress you +with details: the truth is that Max was quite mad on the subject of his +luck; he considered it, as I suspected, indissolubly associated with +Sara Law. When poor Custer committed suicide, he saved Max from ruin and +innocently showed him the way to save himself thereafter, when he felt +in peril, by assassinating Hamilton and, later, Thurston. Drummond only +cheated a like fate, and you"—turning to Whitaker—"escaped by the +narrowest shave. Max hadn't meant to run the risk of putting you out of +the way unless he thought it absolutely necessary, but the failure of +his silly play in rehearsal to-night, coupled with the discovery that +you were in the theatre, drove him temporarily insane with hate, chagrin +and jealousy."</p> + +<p>Concluding, Ember rose. "I must follow him now to the police-station.... +I shall see you both soon again—?"</p> + +<p>The woman gave him both her hands. "There's no way to thank you," she +said—"our dear, dear friend!"</p> + +<p>"No way," Whitaker echoed regretfully.</p> + +<p>"No way?" Ember laughed quietly, holding her hands tightly clasped. "But +I see you together—happy—Oh, believe me, I am fully thanked!"</p> + +<p>Bowing, he touched his lips gently to both hands, released them with a +little sigh that ended in a contented chuckle, exchanged a short, firm +grasp with Whitaker, and left them....</p> + +<p>Whitaker, following almost immediately to the gangway, found that Ember +had already left the theatre.</p> + +<p>For some minutes he wandered to and fro in the gangway, pausing now and +again on the borders of the deserted stage. There were but few of the +house staff visible, and those few were methodically busy with +preparations to close up. Beyond the dismal gutter of the footlights the +auditorium yawned cavernous and shadowy, peopled only by low rows of +chairs ghostly in their dust-cloths. The street entrances were already +closed, locked and dark. On the stage a single cluster-stand of electric +bulbs made visible the vast, gloomy dome of the flies and the +whitewashed walls against which sections of scenery were stacked like +cards. An electrician in his street clothes lounged beside the +door-keeper's cubicle, at the stage entrance, smoking a cigarette and +conferring with the doorman while subjecting Whitaker to a curious and +antagonistic stare. The muffled rumble of their voices were the only +sounds audible, aside from an occasional racket of boot-heels in the +gangways as one actor after another left his dressing-room and hastened +to the street, keen-set for the clash of gossiping tongues in theatrical +clubs and restaurants.</p> + +<p>Gradually the building grew more and more empty and silent, until at +length Whitaker was left alone with the shadows and the two employees. +These last betrayed signs of impatience. He himself felt a little +sympathy for their temper. Women certainly did take an unconscionable +time to dress!...</p> + +<p>At length he heard them hurrying along the lower gangway, and turned to +join his wife at the stage-entrance. Elise passed on, burdened with two +heavy hand-bags, and disappeared into the rain-washed alleyway. The +electrician detached his shoulders from the wall, ground his cigarette +under heel and lounged over to the switchboard.</p> + +<p>Mary Whitaker turned her face, shadowy and mystical, touched with her +faint and inscrutable smile, up to her husband's.</p> + +<p>"Wait," she begged in a whisper. "I want to see"—her breath +checked—"the end of it all."</p> + +<p>They heard hissings and clickings at the switchboard. The gangway lights +vanished in a breath. The single cluster-stand on the stage +disappeared—and the house disappeared utterly with its extinguishment. +There remained alight only the single dull bulb in the doorman's +cubicle.</p> + +<p>Whitaker slipped an arm round his wife. She trembled within his embrace.</p> + +<p>"Black out," she said in a gentle and regretful voice: "the last exit: +Curtain—End of the Play!"</p> + +<p>"No," he said in a voice of sublime confidence—"no; it's only +the prologue curtain. Now for the play, dear heart ... the real +play ... life ... love...."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 32302-h.txt or 32302-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/3/0/32302">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/0/32302</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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Keller + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. 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: The Destroying Angel + + +Author: Louis Joseph Vance + + + +Release Date: May 8, 2010 [eBook #32302] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page +images generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 32302-h.htm or 32302-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32302/32302-h/32302-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/32302/32302-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/destroyingangel00vanciala + + + + + +THE DESTROYING ANGEL + +by + +LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE + +Author of "The Brass Bowl," "The Bronze Bell," "The Bandbox," "Cynthia +of the Minute," Etc. + +With Four Illustrations by Arthur I. Keller + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers New York + +Copyright, 1912, +By Louis Joseph Vance. + +All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian. + +Published, October, 1912. + + + + +TO + +ROBERT HOBART DAVIS + + + + +[Illustration: Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder +and pity] + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. DOOM + + II. THE LAST STRAW + + III. "MRS. MORTEN" + + IV. MRS. WHITAKER + + V. WILFUL MISSING + + VI. CURTAIN + + VII. THE LATE EXTRA + + VIII. A HISTORY + + IX. ENTR'ACTE + + X. THE WINDOW + + XI. THE SPY + + XII. THE MOUSE-TRAP + + XIII. OFFSHORE + + XIV. DEBACLE + + XV. DISCLOSURES + + XVI. THE BEACON + + XVII. DISCOVERY + + XVIII. BLIGHT + + XIX. CAPITULATION + + XX. TEMPERAMENTAL + + XXI. BLACK OUT + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity + +Her eyes fastened dilating, upon his. The scene faltered perceptibly + +Whitaker felt land beneath his feet + +"I do not love you. You are mad to think it" + + + + +THE DESTROYING ANGEL + + + + +I + +DOOM + + +"Then I'm to understand there's no hope for me?" + +"I'm afraid not...." Greyerson said reluctantly, sympathy in his eyes. + +"None whatever." The verdict was thus brusquely emphasized by Hartt, one +of the two consulting specialists. + +Having spoken, he glanced at his watch, then at the face of his +colleague, Bushnell, who contented himself with a tolerant waggle of his +head, apparently meant to imply that the subject of their deliberations +really must be reasonable: anybody who wilfully insists on footing the +measures of life with a defective constitution for a partner has no +logical excuse for being reluctant to pay the Piper. + +Whitaker looked quickly from one to the other of his three judges, +acutely sensitive to the dread significance to be detected in the +expression of each. He found only one kind and pitiful: no more than +might have been expected of Greyerson, who was his friend. Of the +others, Hartt had assumed a stony glare to mask the nervousness so +plainly betrayed by his staccato accents; it hurt him to inflict pain, +and he was horribly afraid lest the patient break down and "make a +scene." Bushnell, on the other hand, was imperturbable by nature: a man +to whom all men were simply "cases"; he sat stroking his long chin and +hoping that Whitaker would have the decency soon to go and leave them +free to talk shop--his pet dissipation. + +Failing to extract the least glimmering of hope from the attitude of any +one of them, Whitaker drew a long breath, unconsciously bracing himself +in his chair. + +"It's funny," he said with his nervous smile--"hard to realize, I mean. +You see, I _feel_ so fit--" + +"Between attacks," Hartt interjected quickly. + +"Yes," Whitaker had to admit, dashed. + +"Attacks," said Bushnell, heavily, "recurrent at intervals constantly +more brief, each a trifle more severe than its predecessor." + +He shut his thin lips tight, as one who has consciously pronounced the +last word. + +Greyerson sighed. + +"But I don't understand," argued the prisoner at the bar, plaintively +bewildered. "Why, I rowed with the Crew three years hand-running--not a +sign of anything wrong with me!" + +"If you had then had proper professional advice, you would have spared +yourself such strains. But it's too late now; the mischief can't be +undone." + +Evidently Bushnell considered the last word his prerogative. Whitaker +turned from him impatiently. + +"What about an operation?" he demanded of Greyerson. + +The latter looked away, making only a slight negative motion with his +head. + +"The knife?" observed Hartt. "That would merely hasten matters." + +"Yes," Bushnell affirmed.... + +There was a brief uneasy silence in the gloomy consulting room. Then +Whitaker rose. + +"Well, how long will you give me?" he asked in a strained voice. + +"Six months," said Greyerson, miserably avoiding his eye. + +"Three," Hartt corrected jerkily. + +"Perhaps...." The proprietor of the last word stroked his chin with a +contemplative air. + +"Thanks," said Whitaker, without irony. He stood for an instant with his +head bowed in thought. "What a damned outrage," he observed +thoughtfully. And suddenly he turned and flung out of the room. + +Greyerson jumped to follow him, but paused as he heard the crash of the +street door. He turned back with a twitching, apologetic smile. + +"Poor devil!" he said, sitting down at his desk and fishing a box of +cigars from one of the drawers. + +"Takes it hard," commented Hartt. + +"You would, too, at his age; he's barely twenty-five." + +"Must feel more or less like a fellow whose wife has run off with his +best friend." + +"No comparison," said Bushnell bluntly. "Go out, get yourself arrested +for a brutal murder you didn't commit, get tried and sentenced to death +within six months, the precise date being left to the discretion of the +executioner--_then_ you'll know how he feels." + +"If you ask me"--Greyerson handed round the box--"he feels pretty shaky +and abused, and he wants a drink badly--the same as me." + +He unlocked a cellaret. + +"Married?" Hartt inquired. + +"No. That's the only mitigating circumstance," said Greyerson, +distributing glasses. "He's quite alone in the world, as far as I +know--no near relatives, at least." + +"Well off?" + +"Tolerably. Comes of good people. Believe his family had a lot of money +at one time. Don't know how much of it there was left for Whitaker. He's +junior partner in a young law firm down-town--senior a friend or +classmate of his, I understand: Drummond & Whitaker. Moves with the +right sort of people. Young Stark--Peter Stark--is his closest +friend.... Well.... Say when." + + + + +II + +THE LAST STRAW + + +Greyerson was right in his surmise as to Hugh Whitaker's emotions. His +soul still numb with shock, his mind was altogether preoccupied with +petulant resentment of the unfairness of it all; on the surface of the +stunning knowledge that he might count on no more than six months of +life, floated this thin film of sensation of personal grievance. He had +done nothing to deserve this. The sheer brutality of it.... + +He felt very shaky indeed. + +He stood for a long time--how long he never knew--bareheaded on a +corner, just as he had left Greyerson's office: scowling at nothing, +considering the enormity of the wrong that had been put upon him. Later, +realizing that people were staring, he clapped on his hat to satisfy +them and strode aimlessly down Sixth Avenue. It was five o'clock in the +afternoon of a day late in April--a raw, chilly, dark, unseasonable +brute of a day. He found himself walking fast, instinctively, to keep +his blood in warm circulation, and this struck him as so inconsistent +that presently he stopped short and snarled at himself: + +"You blithering fool, what difference does it make whether you're warm +or cold? Don't you understand you're going to die within half a year?" + +He strove manfully to grapple with this hideous fact. He felt so well, +so strong and efficient; and yet he walked in the black shadow of death, +a shadow from which there was for him no escape. + +He thought it the damnedest sensation imaginable! + +On top of this reflection came the third clause of Greyerson's analysis: +he made the discovery that he wanted a drink--a lot of drinks: in point +of fact, more than he had ever had before, enough to make him forget. + +He turned across-town toward Fifth Avenue, came to his club, and went +in. Passing through the office, force of habit swung his gaze to the +letter-rack. There was a square white envelope in the W pigeonhole, and +it proved to be addressed to him. He knew the handwriting very well--too +well; his heart gave a great jump as he recognized it, and then sank +like a stone; for not only must he die, but he must give up the girl he +loved and had planned to marry. The first thing he meant to do (after +getting that drink) was to write to her and explain and release her from +her promise. The next thing.... + +He refused to let the idea of the next step form in his mind. But he +knew very well what it would be. In the backwards of his understanding +it lurked--a gray, grisly, shameful shadow. + +"Anyhow," he muttered, "I'm not going to stick round here, dying by +inches, wearing the sympathy of my friends to tatters." + +But as yet he dared not name the alternative. + +He stuffed the letter into his pocket, and passed on to the elevator +gates, meaning to go up to the library and there have his drink and read +his letter and write the answer, in peace and quiet. The problem of that +answer obsessed his thoughts. It would be hard--hard to write--that +letter that meant the breaking of a woman's faithful heart. + +The elevator kept him waiting a moment or two, just round the corner +from the grill-room door, whence came a sound of voices talking and +laughing. One was Billy Hamilton's unmistakable semi-jocular drawl. +Whitaker knew it without thinking of it, even as he heard what was being +said without, at first, comprehending--heard and afterwards remembered +in vivid detail. + +"Seems to be the open season for runaways," Hamilton was saying. "It's +only a few days since Thurlow Ladislas's daughter--what's her +name?--Mary--took the bit between her teeth and bolted with the old +man's chauffeur." + +Somebody asked: "How far did they get before old Ladislas caught up?" + +"He didn't give chase. He's not that kind. If he was put to it, old +Thurlow could play the unforgiving parent in a melodrama without any +make-up whatever." + +"That's right," little Fiske's voice put in. "Chap I know on the +_Herald_--reporter--was sent to interview him, but old Ladislas told him +quite civilly that he'd been misinformed--he hadn't any daughter named +Mary. Meaning, of course, that the girl had defied him, and that his +doors were thenceforth barred to her." + +"He's just like that," said Hamilton. "Remember his other daughter, +Grace, eloping with young Pettit a few years ago? Old Ladislas had a +down on Pettit--who's a decent enough kid, notwithstanding--so Grace was +promptly disowned and cast into the outer darkness, where there's +weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, because Pettit's only +something-on-a-small-salary in the diplomatic service, and they've no +hope of ever touching a penny of the Ladislas coin." + +"But what became of them--Mary and the stoker-person?" + +"Nobody knows, except possibly themselves. They're laying low +and--probably--getting first-hand information as to the quantity of +cheese and kisses they can afford on chauffeur's pay." + +"What's she like, this Mary-quite-contrary?" inquired George Brenton's +voice. "Anybody ever see her?" + +"Oh, nothing but a kid," said little Fiske. "I used to see her often, +last summer, kiting round Southampton on a bike. The old man's so mean +he wouldn't let her use the car alone.... Weedy little beggar, all legs +and eyes--skirts to her shoe-tops and hair to her waist." + +"Not over eighteen, I gather?" + +"Oh, not a day," little Fiske affirmed. + +The elevator was waiting by this time, but Whitaker paused an instant +before taking it, chiefly because the sound of his own name, uttered by +Hamilton, had roused him out of the abstraction in which he had +overheard the preceding conversation. + +"Anyhow, I'm sorry for Hugh Whitaker. He's going to take this hard, +mighty hard." + +George Brenton asked, as if surprised: "What? I didn't know he was +interested in that quarter." + +"You must be blind. Alice Carstairs has had him going for a year. +Everybody thought she was only waiting for him to make some big +money--he as much as anybody, I fancy." + +Brenton added the last straw. "That's tough," he said soberly. +"Whitaker's a white man, and Alice Carstairs didn't deserve him. But I +wouldn't blame any man for feeling cut-up to be thrown over for an +out-and-out rotter like Percy Grimshaw...." + +Whitaker heard no more. At the first mention of the name of Alice +Carstairs he had snatched her letter from his pocket and thrust his +thumb beneath the flap. Now he had withdrawn the enclosure and was +reading. + +When a mean-spirited, selfish woman starts in to justify herself +(especially, on paper) for doing something thoroughly contemptible, the +result is apt to be bitterly unfair to everybody involved--except +herself. Nobody will ever know just what Alice Carstairs saw fit to +write to Hugh Whitaker when she made up her mind to run away with +another man; but there can be little doubt that they were venomous words +he read, standing there under the curious eyes of the elevator boy and +the pages. The blood ebbed from his face and left it ghastly, and when +he had torn the paper to shreds and let them flutter about his feet, he +swayed perceptibly--so much so that one of the pages took alarm and +jumped to his side. + +"Beg pardon, Mr. Whitaker--did you call me?" + +Whitaker steadied himself and stared until he recognized the boy. "No," +he said thickly, "but I want you. Give me a bar order." + +The boy produced the printed form and Whitaker hastily scribbled his +order on it. "Bring that up to the library," he said, "and be quick +about it." + +He stumbled into the elevator, and presently found himself in the +library. There was no one else about, and Whitaker was as glad of that +as it was in him to be glad of anything just then. He dropped heavily +into a big arm-chair and waited, his brain whirling and seething, his +nerves on edge and screeching. In this state Peter Stark found him. + +Peter sauntered into the room with a manner elaborately careless. +Beneath that mask he was anything but indifferent, just as his +appearance was anything but fortuitous. It happened that the page who +had taken Whitaker's order, knowing that Peter and Hugh were close +friends, and suspecting that something was wrong with the latter, had +sought out Peter before going to get the order filled. Moreover, Peter +had already heard about Alice Carstairs and Percy Grimshaw. + +"Hel-_lo_!" he said, contriving by mere accident to catch sight of +Whitaker, who was almost invisible in the big chair with its back to the +body of the room. "What you doing up here, Hugh? What's up?" + +"It's all up," said Whitaker, trying to pull himself together. +"Everything's up!" + +"Don't believe it," said Stark, coolly. "My feet are on the ground; but +you look as if you'd seen a ghost." + +"I have--my own," said Whitaker. The page now stood beside him with a +tray. "Open it," he told the boy, indicating a half-bottle of champagne; +and then to Peter: "I'm having a bath. Won't you jump in?" + +Peter whistled, watching the wine cream over the brandy in the long +glass. "King's peg, eh?" he said, with a lift of disapproving eyebrows. +"Here, boy, bring me some Scotch and plain water for common people." + +The boy disappeared as Whitaker lifted his glass. + +"I'm not waiting," he said bluntly. "I need this now." + +"That's a question, in my mind, at least. Don't you think you've had +about enough for one day?" + +"I leave it to your superior knowledge of my capacity," said Whitaker, +putting aside the empty glass. "That's my first to-day." + +Peter saw that he was telling the truth, but the edge of his disapproval +remained keen. + +"I hope," he said thoughtfully, "that the man who started that lie about +drink making a fellow forget died the death of a dog. He deserved to, +anyway, because it's one of the cruellest practical jokes ever +perpetrated on the human race. I know, because I've tried it on, +hard--and waked up sick to my marrow to remember what a disgusting ass +I'd made of myself for all to behold." He stopped at Whitaker's side and +dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Hugh," he said, "you're one of the +best. Don't...." + +Whatever he had meant to say, he left unfinished because of the return +of the page with his Scotch; but he had said enough to let Whitaker +understand that he knew about the Carstairs affair. + +"That's all right," said Whitaker; "I'm not going to make a damn' fool +of myself, but I am in a pretty bad way. Boy--" + +"Hold on!" Peter interrupted. "You're not going to order another? What +you've had is enough to galvanize a corpse." + +"Barring the negligible difference of a few minutes or months, that's +me," returned Whitaker. "But never mind, boy--run along." + +"I'd like to know what you mean by that," Peter remarked, obviously +worried. + +"I mean that I'm practically a dead man--so near it that it makes no +difference." + +"The devil you say! What's the matter with you?" + +"Ask Greyerson. I can't remember the name--it's too long--and I couldn't +pronounce it if I did." + +Peter's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness has Greyerson been putting into +your head?" he demanded. "I've a good mind to go punch his--" + +"It isn't his fault," Whitaker asserted. "It's my own--or rather, it's +something in the nature of a posthumous gift from my progenitors; +several of 'em died of it, and now it seems I must. Greyerson says so, +at least, and when I didn't believe him he called in Hartt and Bushnell +to hold my ante-mortem. They made it unanimous. If I'm uncommonly lucky +I may live to see next Thanksgiving." + +"Oh, shut up!" Peter exploded viciously. "You make me tired--you and +your bone-headed M.D.'s!" + +He worked himself into a comforting rage, damning the medical fraternity +liberally for a gang of bloodthirsty assassins and threatening to commit +assault and battery upon the person of Greyerson, though Whitaker did +his best to make him understand that matters were what they +were--irremediable. + +"You won't find any higher authorities than Hartt and Bushnell," he +said. "They are the court of last resort in such cases. When they hand +down a decision, there's no come-back." + +"You can't make me believe that," Peter insisted. "It just can't be so. +A man like you, who's always lived clean.... Why, look at your athletic +record! Do you mean to tell me a fellow could hold a job as undisputed +best all-round man in his class for four years, and all the time +handicapped by a constitutional...? Oh, get out! Don't talk to me. I'm +far more likely to be doing my bit beneath the daisies six months from +now.... I won't believe it!" + +His big, red, generous fist described a large and inconclusive gesture +of violence. + +"Well," he growled finally, "grant all this--which I don't, not for one +little minute--what do you mean to do?" + +"I don't mind telling you," said Whitaker: "I don't know. Wish I did. Up +to within the last few minutes I fully intended to cut the knot with my +own knife. It's not reasonable to ask a man to sit still and watch +himself go slowly to pieces...." + +"No," said Stark, sitting down. "No," he admitted grudgingly; "but I'm +glad you've given that up, because I'm right and all these fool doctors +are wrong. You'll see. But...." He couldn't help being curious. "But +why?" + +"Well," Whitaker considered slowly--"it's Alice Carstairs. You know what +she's done." + +"You don't mean to say you're going--that you think there's any +consideration due her?" + +"Don't you?" Whitaker smiled wearily. "Perhaps you're right. I don't +know. We won't discuss the ethics of the situation; right or wrong, I +don't mean to shadow whatever happiness she has in store for her by +ostentatiously snuffing myself out just now." + +Peter gulped and succeeded in saying nothing. But he stared. + +"At the same time," Whitaker resumed, "I don't think I can stand this +sort of thing. I can't go round with my flesh creeping to hear the +whisperings behind my back. I've got to do something--get away +somewhere." + +Abrupt inspiration sparked the imagination of Peter Stark, and he began +to sputter with enthusiasm. + +"I've got it!" he cried, jumping to his feet. "A sea trip's just the +thing. Chances are, it'll turn the trick--bring you round all right-O, +and prove what asses doctors are. What d'you say? Are you game for a +sail? The _Adventuress_ is laid up at New Bedford now, but I can have +her put in commission within three days. We'll do it--we'll just light +out, old man! We'll try that South Seas thing we've talked about so +long. What d'you say?" + +A warm light glowed in Whitaker's sunken eyes. He nodded slowly. + + + + +III + +"MRS. MORTEN" + + +It was three in the morning before Peter Stark, having to the best of +his endurance and judgment tired Whitaker out with talking, took his hat +and his departure from Whitaker's bachelor rooms. He went with little +misgiving; Whitaker was so weary that he would have to sleep before he +could think and again realize his terror; and everything was arranged. +Peter had telegraphed to have the _Adventuress_ rushed into commission; +they were to go aboard her the third day following. In the meantime, +Whitaker would have little leisure in which to brood, the winding up of +his affairs being counted upon to occupy him. Peter had his own affairs +to look to, for that matter, but he was prepared to slight them if +necessary, in order that Whitaker might not be left too much to +himself.... + +Whitaker shut the hall door, when the elevator had taken Peter away, and +turned back wearily into his living-room. It was three in the morning; +his body ached with fatigue, his eyes were hot and aching in their +sockets, and his mouth hot and parched with excess of smoking; yet he +made no move toward his bedchamber. Insomnia was a diagnostic of his +malady: a fact he hadn't mentioned to his friend. He had little wish to +surrender his mind to the devils that haunt a wakeful pillow, especially +now when he could feel the reaction setting in from the anodynous +excitement of the last few hours. Peter Stark's whirlwind enthusiasm had +temporarily swept him off his feet, and he had yielded to it, +unresisting, selfish enough to want to be carried away against the wiser +counsels of his intuition. + +But now, alone, doubts beset him. + +Picking his way across a floor littered with atlases, charts, maps and +guide-books, he resumed his chair and pipe and with the aid of a copy of +"The Wrecker" and a nightcap, strove to drug himself again with the +fascination of the projected voyage. But the savour had gone out of it +all. An hour before he had been able to distil a potent magic, thought +obliterating, by sheer force of repetition of the names, Apia, Hawaii, +Tahiti, Samoa.... Now all their promise was an emptiness and a mockery. +The book slipped unheeded from his grasp; his pipe grew cold between his +teeth; his eyes burned like lamps in their deep hollows, with their +steady and undeviating glare.... + +Dawn-dusk filled the high windows with violet light before he moved. + +He rose, went to the bath-room and took a bottle of chloral from the +medicine-closet. He wondered at the steadiness of the hand that measured +out the prescribed dose--no more, no less. He wondered at the strength +of will which enabled him to take no more. There was enough in the +bottle to purchase him eternity. + +What he took bought him three hours of oblivion. He rose at eight, +ordered his breakfast up by telephone, bathed and dressed. When the tray +came up, his mail came with it. Among others there was one letter in a +woman's hand which he left till the last, amusing himself by trying to +guess the identity of the writer, the writing being not altogether +strange to him. When at length he gave over this profitless employment, +he read: + + "DEAR HUGH: I can call you that, now, because you're Peter's + dearest friend and therefore mine, and the proof of that is that + I'm telling you first of all of our great happiness. Peter and I + found out that we loved one another only yesterday, so we're going + to be married the first of June and...." + +Whitaker read no more. He could guess the rest, and for the moment he +felt too sick a man to go through to the end. Indeed, the words were +blurring and running together beneath his gaze. + +After a long time he put the letter aside, absent-mindedly swallowed a +cup of lukewarm coffee and rose from an otherwise untasted meal. + +"That settles that, of course," he said quietly. "And it means I've got +to hustle to get ahead of Peter." + +He set busily about his preparations, thinking quickly while he packed. +It occurred to him that he had, after all, several hours in which to +catch together the loose ends of things and make an exit without leaving +the businesses of his clients in a hopeless snarl; Peter Stark would +sleep till eleven, at least, and it would be late in the afternoon +before the young man could see his fiancee and find out from her that +Whitaker knew of the sacrifice Peter contemplated for friendship's sake. + +Whitaker packed a hand-bag with a few essentials, not forgetting the +bottle of chloral. He was not yet quite sure what he meant to do after +he had definitely put himself out of Peter Stark's sphere of influence, +but he hadn't much doubt that the drug was destined to play a most +important part in the ultimate solution, and would as readily have +thought of leaving it behind as of going without a toothbrush or railway +fare. + +Leaving the bag in the parcels-room at the Grand Central Station, he +went down-town to his office and put in a busy morning. Happily his +partner, Drummond, was out of town for the day; so he was able to put +his desk in order unhindered by awkward questionings. He worked +expeditiously, having no callers until just before he was ready to +leave. Then he was obliged to admit one who desired to make a settlement +in an action brought against him by Messrs. Drummond & Whitaker. He took +Whitaker's receipt for the payment in cash, leaving behind him fifteen +one-hundred-dollar notes. Whitaker regarded this circumstance as a +special dispensation of Providence to save him the bother of stopping at +the bank on his way up-town; drew his personal check for the right +amount and left it with a memorandum under the paper-weight on +Drummond's desk; put a match to a shredded pile of personal +correspondence in the fireplace; and caught a train at the Grand Central +at one-three. + +Not until the cars were in motion did he experience any sense of +security from Peter Stark. He had been apprehensive until that moment of +some unforeseen move on the part of his friend; Peter was capable of +wide but sure casts of intuition on occasion, especially where his +affections were touched. But now Whitaker felt free, free to abandon +himself to meditative despair; and he did it, as he did most things, +thoroughly. He plunged headlong into an everlasting black pit of terror. +He considered the world through the eyes of a man sick unto death, and +found it without health. Behind him lay his home, a city without a +heart, a place of pointing fingers and poisoned tongues; before him the +brief path of Fear that he must tread: his broken, sword-wide span +leaping out over the Abyss.... + +He was anything but a patient man at all times, and anything but sane in +that dark hour. Cold horror crawled in his brain like a delirium--horror +of himself, of his morbid flesh, of that moribund body unfit to sheathe +the clean fire of life. The thought of struggling to keep animate that +corrupt Self, tainted by the breath of Death, was invincibly terrible to +him. All sense of human obligation disappeared from his cosmos; remained +only the biting hunger for eternal peace, rest, freedom from the bondage +of existence.... + +At about four o'clock the train stopped to drop the dining-car. Wholly +swayed by blind impulse, Whitaker got up, took his hand-bag and left the +car. + +On the station platform he found himself pelted by a pouring rain. He +had left Town in a sodden drizzle, dull and dismal enough in all +conscience; here was a downpour out of a sky three shades lighter than +India ink--a steadfast, grim rain that sluiced the streets like a +gigantic fire-hose, brimming the gutters with boiling, muddy torrents. + +The last to leave the train, he found himself without a choice of +conveyances; but one remained at the edge of the platform, an aged and +decrepit four-wheeler whose patriarchal driver upon the box might have +been Death himself masquerading in dripping black oilskins. To +Whitaker's inquiry he recommended the C'mercial House. Whitaker agreed +and imprisoned himself in the body of the vehicle, sitting on stained +and faded, threadbare cushions, in company with two distinct odours, of +dank and musty upholstery and of stale tuberoses. As they rocked and +crawled away, the blind windows wept unceasingly, and unceasingly the +rain drummed the long roll on the roof. + +In time they stopped before a rambling structure whose weather-boarded +facade, white with flaking paint, bore the legend: COMMERCIAL HOUSE. +Whitaker paid his fare and, unassisted, carried his hand-bag up the +steps and across the rain-swept veranda into a dim, cavernous hall whose +walls were lined with cane-seated arm-chairs punctuated at every second +chair by a commodious brown-fibre cuspidor. A cubicle fenced off in one +corner formed the office proper--for the time being untenanted. There +was, indeed, no one in sight but a dejected hall-boy, innocent of any +sort of livery. On demand he accommodatingly disentangled himself from a +chair, a cigarette and a paper-backed novel, and wandered off down a +corridor, ostensibly to unearth the boss. + +Whitaker waited by the desk, a gaunt, weary man, hag-ridden by fear. +There was in his mind a desolate picture of the room up-stairs when +he--his soul: the imperishable essence of himself--should have finished +with it.... + +At his elbow lay the hotel register, open at a page neatly headed with a +date in red ink. An absence of entries beneath the date-line seemed to +indicate that he was the first guest of the day. Near the book was a +small wooden corral neatly partitioned into stalls wherein were herded +an ink-well, toothpicks, matches, some stationery, and--severely by +itself--a grim-looking raw potato of uncertain age, splotched with ink +and wearing like horns two impaled penholders. + +Laboriously prying loose one of the latter, Whitaker registered; but +two-thirds of his name was all he entered; when it came to "Whitaker," +his pen paused and passed on to write "Philadelphia" in the residence +column. + +The thought came to him that he must be careful to obliterate all +laundry marks on his clothing. + +In his own good time the clerk appeared: a surly, heavy-eyed, loutish +creature in clothing that suggested he had been grievously misled by +pictures in the advertising pages of magazines. Whitaker noted, with +insensate irritation, that he wore his hair long over one eye, his mouth +ajar, his trousers high enough to disclose bony purple ankles. His +welcome to the incoming guest was comprised in an indifferent nod as +their eyes met, and a subsequent glance at the register which seemed +unaccountably to moderate his apathy. + +"Mr. Morton--uh?" he inquired. + +Whitaker nodded without words. + +The youth shrugged and scrawled an hieroglyph after the name. "Here, +Sammy," he said to the boy--"Forty-three." To Whitaker he addressed the +further remark: "Trunks?" + +"No." + +The youth seemed about to expostulate, but checked when Whitaker placed +one of his hundred-dollar notes on the counter. + +"I think that'll cover my liability," he said with a significance +misinterpreted by the other. + +"I ain't got enough change--" + +"That's all right; I'm in no hurry." + +The eyes of the lout followed him as he ascended the stairs in the path +of Sammy, who had already disappeared. Annoyed, Whitaker quickened his +pace to escape the stare. On the second floor he discovered the bell-boy +waiting some distance down a long, darksome corridor, indifferently +lighted by a single window at its far end. As Whitaker came into view, +the boy thrust open the door, disappeared for an instant, and came out +minus the bag. Whitaker gave him a coin in passing--an attention which +he acknowledged by pulling the door to with a bang the moment the guest +had entered the room. At the same time Whitaker became aware of a +contretemps. + +The room was of fair size, lighted by two windows overlooking the tin +roof of the front veranda. It was furnished with a large double bed in +the corner nearest the door a wash-stand, two or three chairs, a +bandy-legged table with a marble top; and it was tenanted by a woman in +street dress. + +She stood by the wash-stand, with her back to the light, her attitude +one of tense expectancy: hardly more than a silhouette of a figure +moderately tall and very slight, almost angular in its slenderness. She +had been holding a tumbler in one hand, but as Whitaker appeared this +slipped from her fingers; there followed a thud and a sound of spilt +liquid at her feet. Simultaneously she cried out inarticulately in a +voice at once harsh and tremulous; the cry might have been "_You!_" or +"_Hugh!_" Whitaker took it for the latter, and momentarily imagined that +he had stumbled into the presence of an acquaintance. He was pulling off +his hat and peering at her shadowed face in an effort to distinguish +features possibly familiar to him, when she moved forward a pace or two, +her hands fluttering out toward him, then stopped as though halted by a +force implacable and overpowering. + +"I thought," she quavered in a stricken voice--"I thought ... you ... my +husband ... Mr. Morton ... the boy said...." + +Then her knees buckled under her, and she plunged forward and fell with +a thump that shook the walls. + +"I'm sorry--I beg pardon," Whitaker stammered stupidly to ears that +couldn't hear. He swore softly with exasperation, threw his hat to a +chair and dropped to his knees beside the woman. It seemed as if the +high gods were hardly playing fair, to throw a fainting woman on his +hands just then, at a time when he was all preoccupied with his own +absorbing tragedy. + +She lay with her head naturally pillowed on the arm she had +instinctively thrown out to protect her face. He could see now that her +slenderness was that of youth, of a figure undeveloped and immature. Her +profile, too, was young, though it stood out against the dark background +of the carpet as set and white as a death-mask. Indeed, her pallor was +so intense that a fear touched his heart, of an accident more serious +than a simple fainting spell. Her respiration seemed entirely suspended, +and it might have been merely his fancy that detected the least +conceivable syncopated pulsation in the icy wrist beneath his fingers. + +He weighed quickly half a dozen suggestions. His fundamental impulse, to +call in feminine aid from the staff of the hotel, was promptly relegated +to the status of a last resort, as involving explanations which might +not seem adequate to the singular circumstances; besides, he entertained +a dim, searching, intuitive suspicion that possibly the girl herself +would more cheerfully dispense with explanations--though he hardly knew +why.... He remembered that people burned feathers in such emergencies, +or else loosened the lady's stays (corsets plus a fainting fit equal +stays, invariably, it seems). But there weren't any feathers handy, +and--well, anyway, neither expedient made any real appeal to his +intelligence. Besides, there were sensible things he could do to make +her more comfortable--chafe her hands and administer stimulants: things +like that. + +Even while these thoughts were running through his mind, he was +gathering the slight young body into his arms; and he found it really +astonishingly easy to rise and bear her to the bed, where he put her +down flat on her back, without a pillow. Then turning to his hand-bag, +he opened it and produced a small, leather-bound flask of brandy; a +little of which would go far toward shattering her syncope, he fancied. + +It did, in fact; a few drops between her half-parted lips, and she came +to with disconcerting rapidity, opening dazed eyes in the middle of a +spasm of coughing. He stepped back, stoppering the flask. + +"That's better," he said pleasantly. "Now lie still while I fetch you a +drink of water." + +As he turned to the wash-stand his foot struck the tumbler she had +dropped. He stopped short, frowning down at the great, staring, wet, +yellow stain on the dingy and threadbare carpet. Together with this +discovery he got a whiff of an acrid-sweet effluvium that spelled +"_Oxalic Acid--Poison_" as unmistakably as did the druggist's label on +the empty packet on the wash-stand.... + +In another moment he was back at the bedside with a clean glass of +water, which he offered to the girl's lips, passing his arm beneath her +shoulders and lifting her head so that she might drink. + +She emptied the glass thirstily. + +"Look here," he said almost roughly under the lash of this new +fear--"you didn't really drink any of that stuff, did you?" + +Her eyes met his with a look of negation clouded by fear and +bewilderment. Then she turned her head away. Dragging a pillow beneath +it, he let her down again. + +"Good," he said in accents meant to be enheartening; "you'll be all +right in a moment or two." + +Her colourless lips moved in a whisper he had to bend close to +distinguish. + +"Please...." + +"Yes?" + +"Please don't ... call anybody...." + +"I won't. Don't worry." + +The lids quivered down over her eyes, and her mouth was wrung with +anguish. He stared, perplexed. He wanted to go away quickly, but +couldn't gain his own consent to do so. She was in no condition to be +left alone, this delicate and fragile child, defenceless and beset. It +wasn't hard to conjecture the hell of suffering she must have endured +before coming to a pass of such desperation. There were dull blue +shadows beneath eyes red with weeping, a forlorn twist to her thin, +bloodless lips, a pinched look of wretchedness like a glaze over her +unhappy face, that told too plain a story. A strange girl, to find in a +plight like hers, he thought: not pretty, but quite unusual: delicate, +sensitive, high-strung, bred to the finer things of life--this last was +self-evident in the fine simplicity of her severely plain attire. Over +her hair, drawn tight down round her head, she wore one of those knitted +motor caps which were the fashion of that day. Her shoes were still wet +and a trifle muddy, her coat and skirt more than a trifle damp, +indicating that she had returned from a dash to the drug store not long +before Whitaker arrived. + +A variety of impressions, these with others less significant, crowded +upon his perceptions in little more than a glance. For suddenly Nature +took her in hand; she twisted upon her side, as if to escape his regard, +and covered her face, her palms muffling deep tearing sobs while waves +of pent-up misery racked her slender little body. + +Whitaker moved softly away.... + +Difficult, he found it, to guess what to do; more difficult still to do +nothing. His nerves were badly jangled; light-footed, he wandered +restlessly to and fro, half distracted between the storm of weeping that +beat gustily within the room and the deadly blind drum of the downpour +on the tin roof beyond the windows. Since that twilight hour in that +tawdry hotel chamber, no one has ever been able to counterfeit sorrow +and remorse to Whitaker; he listened then to the very voice of utter +Woe. + +Once, pausing by the centre-table, he happened to look down. He saw a +little heap of the hotel writing-paper, together with envelopes, a pen, +a bottle of ink. Three of the envelopes were sealed and superscribed, +and two were stamped. The unstamped letter was addressed to the +Proprietor of the Commercial House. + +Of the others, one was directed to a Mr. C. W. Morton in care of another +person at a number on lower Sixth Avenue, New York; and from this +Whitaker began to understand the singular manner of his introduction to +the wrong room; there's no great difference between _Morton_ and +_Morten_, especially when written carelessly. + +But the third letter caused his eyes to widen considerably. It bore the +name of Thurlow Ladislas, Esq., and a Wall Street address. + +Whitaker's mouth shaped a still-born whistle. He was recalling with +surprising distinctness the fragment of dialogue he had overheard at his +club the previous afternoon. + + + + +IV + +MRS. WHITAKER + + +He lived through a long, bad quarter hour, his own tensed nerves +twanging in sympathy with the girl's sobbing--like telegraph wires +singing in a gale--his mind busy with many thoughts, thoughts strangely +new and compelling, wearing a fresh complexion that lacked altogether +the colouring of self-interest. + +He mixed a weak draught of brandy and water and returned to the bedside. +The storm was passing in convulsive gasps ever more widely spaced, but +still the girl lay with her back to him. + +"If you'll sit up and try to drink this," he suggested quietly, "I think +you'll feel a good deal better." + +Her shoulders moved spasmodically; otherwise he saw no sign that she +heard. + +"Come--please," he begged gently. + +She made an effort to rise, sat up on the bed, dabbed at her eyes with a +sodden wisp of handkerchief, and groped blindly for the glass. He +offered it to her lips. + +"What is it?" she whispered hoarsely. + +He spoke of the mixture in disparaging terms as to its potency, until at +length she consented to swallow it--teeth chattering on the rim of the +tumbler. The effect was quickly apparent in the colour that came into +her cheeks, faint but warm. He avoided looking directly at her, however, +and cast round for the bell-push, which he presently found near the head +of the bed. + +She moved quickly with alarm. + +"What are you going to do?" she demanded in a stronger voice. + +"Order you something to eat," he said. "No--please don't object. You +need food, and I mean to see you get it before I leave." + +If she thought of protesting, the measured determination in his manner +deterred her. After a moment she asked: + +"Please--who are you?" + +"My name is Whitaker," he said--"Hugh Morten Whitaker." + +She repeated the name aloud. "Haven't I heard of you? Aren't you engaged +to Alice Carstairs?" + +"I'm the man you mean," he said quietly; "but I'm not engaged to Alice +Carstairs." + +"Oh...." Perplexity clouded the eyes that followed closely his every +movement. "How did you happen to--to find me here?" + +"Quite by accident," he replied. "I didn't want to be known, so +registered as Hugh Morten. They mistook me for your husband. Do you mind +telling me how long it is since you've had anything to eat?" + +She told him: "Last night." + +He suffered a sense of shame only second to her own, to see the dull +flush that accompanied her reply. His fingers itched for the throat of +Mr. C. W. Morton, chauffeur. Happily a knock at the door distracted him. +Opening it no wider than necessary to communicate with the bell-boy, he +gave him an order for the kitchen, together with an incentive to speed +the service. + +Closing the door, he swung round to find that the girl had got to her +feet. + +"He won't be long--" Whitaker began vaguely. + +"I want to tell you something." She faced him bravely, though he refused +the challenge of her tormented eyes. "I ... I have no husband." + +He bowed gravely. + +"You're so good to me--" she faltered. + +"O--nothing! Let's not talk about that now." + +"I must talk--you must let me. You're so kind, I've got to tell you. +Won't you listen?" + +He had crossed to a window, where he stood staring out. "I'd rather +not," he said softly, "but if you prefer--" + +"I do prefer," said the voice behind him. "I--I'm Mary Ladislas." + +"Yes," said Whitaker. + +"I ... I ran away from home last week--five days ago--to get married to +our chauffeur, Charles Morton...." + +She stammered. + +"Please don't go on, if it hurts," he begged without looking round. + +"I've got to--I've got to get it over with.... We were at Southampton, +at my father's summer home--I mean, that's where I ran away from. +He--Charley--drove me over to Greenport and I took the ferry there and +came here to wait for him. He went back to New York in the car, +promising to join me here as soon as possible...." + +"And he didn't come," Whitaker wound up for her, when she faltered. + +"No." + +"And you wrote and telegraphed, and he didn't answer." + +"Yes--" + +"How much money of yours did he take with him?" Whitaker pursued. + +There was a brief pause of astonishment. "What do you know about that?" +she demanded. + +"I know a good deal about that type of man," he said grimly. + +"I didn't have any money to speak of, but I had some jewellery--my +mother's--and he was to take that and pawn it for money to get married +with." + +"I see." + +To his infinite relief the waiter interrupted them. The girl in her turn +went to one of the windows, standing with her back to the room, while +Whitaker admitted the man with his tray. When they were alone once more, +he fixed the place and drew a chair for her. + +"Everything's ready," he said--and had the sense not to try to make his +tone too cheerful. + +"I hadn't finished what I wanted to tell you," said the girl, coming +back to him. + +"Will you do me the favour to wait," he pleaded. "I think things will +seem--well, otherwise--when you've had some food." + +"But I--" + +"Oh, please!" he begged with his odd, twisted smile. + +She submitted, head drooping and eyes downcast. He returned to his +window, rather wishing that he had thought to order for himself as well +as for the girl; for it was suddenly borne strongly in upon him that he +himself had had little enough to eat since dinner with Peter Stark. He +lighted a cigarette, by way of dulling his appetite, and then let it +smoulder to ashes between his fingers, while he lost himself in profound +speculations, in painstaking analysis of the girl's position. + +Subconsciously he grew aware that the storm was moderating perceptibly, +the sky breaking.... + +"I've finished," the girl announced at length. + +"You're feeling better?" + +"Stronger, I think." + +"Is there anything more--?" + +"If you wouldn't mind sitting down--" + +She had twisted her arm-chair away from the table. Whitaker took a seat +a little distance from her, with a keen glance appraising the change in +her condition and finding it not so marked as he had hoped. Still, she +seemed measurably more composed and mistress of her emotions, though he +had to judge mostly by her voice and manner, so dark was the room. +Through the shadows he could see little more than masses of light and +shade blocking in the slender figure huddled in a big, dilapidated +chair--the pallid oval of her face, and the darkness of her wide, +intent, young eyes. + +"Don't!" she cried sharply. "Please don't look at me so--" + +"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to--" + +"It's only--only that you make me think of what you must be thinking +about me--" + +"I think you're rather fortunate," he said slowly. + +"Fortunate!" + +He shivered a little with the chill bitterness of that cry. + +"You've had a narrow but a wonderfully lucky escape." + +"Oh! ... But I'm not glad ... I was desperate--" + +"I mean," he interrupted coolly, "from Mr. Morton. The silver lining is, +you're not married to a blackguard." + +"Oh, yes, yes!" she agreed passionately. + +"And you have youth, health, years of life before you!" + +He sighed inaudibly.... + +"You wouldn't say that, if you understood." + +"There are worse things to put up with than youth and health and the +right to live." + +"But--how can I live? What am I to do?" + +"Have you thought of going home?" + +"It isn't possible." + +"Have you made sure of that? Have you written to your +father--explained?" + +"I sent him a special delivery three days ago, and--and yesterday a +telegram. I knew it wouldn't do any good, but I ... I told him +everything. He didn't answer. He won't, ever." + +From what Whitaker knew of Thurlow Ladislas, he felt this to be too +cruelly true to admit of further argument. At a loss, he fell silent, +knitting his hands together as he strove to find other words wherewith +to comfort and reassure the girl. + +She bent forward, elbows on knees, head and shoulders cringing. + +"It hurts so!" she wailed ... "what people will think ... the shame, the +bitter, bitter shame of this! And yet I haven't any right to complain. I +deserve it all; I've earned my punishment." + +"Oh, I say--!" + +"But I have, because--because I didn't love him. I didn't love him at +all, and I knew it, even though I meant to marry him...." + +"But, why--in Heaven's name?" + +"Because I was so lonely and ... misunderstood and unhappy at home. +You don't know how desperately unhappy.... No mother, never daring +to see my sister (she ran away, too) ... my friendships at school +discouraged ... nothing in life but a great, empty, lonesome house +and my father to bully me and make cruel fun of me because I'm not +pretty.... That's why I ran away with a man I didn't love--because +I wanted freedom and a little happiness." + +"Good Lord!" he murmured beneath his breath, awed by the pitiful, +childish simplicity of her confession and the deep damnation that had +waited upon her. + +"So it's over!" she cried--"over, and I've learned my lesson, and I'm +disgraced forever, and friendless and--" + +"Stop right there!" he checked her roughly. "You're not friendless yet, +and that nullifies all the rest. Be glad you've had your romance and +learned your lesson--" + +"Please don't think I'm not grateful for your kindness," she +interrupted. "But the disgrace--that can't be blotted out!" + +"Oh, yes, it can," he insisted bluntly. "There's a way I know--" + +A glimmering of that way had only that instant let a little light in +upon the darkness of his solicitous distress for her. He rose and began +to walk and think, hands clasped behind him, trying to make what he had +in mind seem right and reasonable. + +"You mean beg my father to take me back. I'll die first!" + +"There mustn't be any more talk, or even any thought, of anything like +that. I understand too well to ask the impossible of you. But there is +one way out--a perfectly right way--if you're willing and brave enough +to take a chance--a long chance." + +Somehow she seemed to gain hope of his tone. She sat up, following him +with eyes that sought incredulously to believe. + +"Have I any choice?" she asked. "I'm desperate enough...." + +"God knows," he said, "you'll have to be!" + +"Try me." + +He paused, standing over her. + +"Desperate enough to marry a man who's bound to die within six months +and leave you free? I'm that man: the doctors give me six months more of +life. I'm alone in the world, with no one dependent upon me, nothing to +look forward to but a death that will benefit nobody--a useless end to a +useless life.... Will you take my name to free yourself? Heaven my +witness, you're welcome to it." + +"Oh," she breathed, aghast, "what are you saying?" + +"I'm proposing marriage," he said, with his quaint, one-sided smile. +"Please listen: I came to this place to make a quick end to my +troubles--but I've changed my mind about that, now. What's happened in +this room has made me see that nobody has any right to--hasten things. +But I mean to leave the country--immediately--and let death find me +where it will. I shall leave behind me a name and a little money, +neither of any conceivable use to me. Will you take them, employ them to +make your life what it was meant to be? It's a little thing, but it will +make me feel a lot more fit to go out of this world--to know I've left +at least one decent act to mark my memory. There's only this far-fetched +chance--I _may_ live. It's a million-to-one shot, but you've got to bear +it in mind. But really you can't lose--" + +"Oh, stop, stop!" she implored him, half hysterical. "To think of +marrying to benefit by the death of a man like you--!" + +"You've no right to look at it that way." He had a wry, secret smile for +his specious sophistry. "You're being asked to confer, not to accept, a +favour. It's just an act of kindness to a hopeless man. I'd go mad if I +didn't know you were safe from a recurrence of the folly of this +afternoon." + +"Don't!" she cried--"don't tempt me. You've no right.... You don't know +how frantic I am...." + +"I do," he countered frankly. "I'm depending on just that to swing you +to my point of view. You've got to come to it. I mean you shall marry +me." + +She stared up at him, spell-bound, insensibly yielding to the domination +of his will. It was inevitable. He was scarcely less desperate than +she--and no less overwrought and unstrung; and he was the stronger; in +the natural course of things his will could not but prevail. She was +little more than a child, accustomed to yield and go where others led or +pointed out the path. What resistance could she offer to the domineering +importunity of a man of full stature, arrogant in his strength +and--hounded by devils? And he in the fatuity of his soul believed that +he was right, that he was fighting for the girl's best interests, +fighting--and not ungenerously--to save her from the ravening +consequences of her indiscretion! + +The bald truth is, he was hardly a responsible agent: distracted by the +ravings of an ego mutinous in the shadow of annihilation, as well as by +contemplation of the girl's wretched plight, he saw all things in +distorted perspective. He had his being in a nightmare world of +frightful, insane realities. He could have conceived of nothing too +terrible and preposterous to seem reasonable and right.... + +The last trace of evening light had faded out of the world before they +were agreed. Darkness wrapped them in its folds; they were but as voices +warring in a black and boundless void. + +Whitaker struck a match and applied it to the solitary gas-jet. A thin, +blue, sputtering tongue of flame revealed them to one another. The girl +still crouched in her arm-chair, weary and spent, her powers of +contention all vitiated by the losing struggle. Whitaker was trembling +with nervous fatigue. + +"Well?" he demanded. + +"Oh, have your own way," she said drearily. "If it must be...." + +"It's for the best," he insisted obstinately. "You'll never regret it." + +"One of us will--either you or I," she said quietly. "It's too +one-sided. You want to give all and ask nothing in return. It's a fool's +bargain." + +He hesitated, stammering with surprise. She had a habit of saying the +unexpected. "A fool's bargain"--the wisdom of the sage from the lips of +a child.... + +"Then it's settled," he said, business-like, offering his hand. "Fool's +bargain or not--it's a bargain." + +She rose unassisted, then trusted her slender fingers to his palm. She +said nothing. The steady gaze of her extraordinary eyes abashed him. + +"Come along and let's get it over," he muttered clumsily. "It's late, +and there's a train to New York at half-past ten, you might as well +catch." + +She withdrew her hand, but continued to regard him steadfastly with her +enigmatic, strange stare. "So," she said coolly, "that's settled too, I +presume." + +"I'm afraid you couldn't catch an earlier one," he evaded. "Have you any +baggage?" + +"Only my suit-case. It won't take a minute to pack that." + +"No hurry," he mumbled.... + +They left the hotel together. Whitaker got his change of a hundred +dollars at the desk--"Mrs. Morten's" bill, of course, included with +his--and bribed the bell-boy to take the suit-case to the railway +station and leave it there, together with his own hand-bag. Since he had +unaccountably conceived a determination to continue living for a time, +he meant to seek out more pleasant accommodations for the night. + +The rain had ceased, leaving a ragged sky of clouds and stars in +patches. The air was warm and heavy with wetness. Sidewalks glistened +like black watered silk; street lights mirrored themselves in fugitive +puddles in the roadways; limbs of trees overhanging the sidewalks +shivered now and again in a half-hearted breeze, pelting the wayfarers +with miniature showers of lukewarm, scented drops. + +Turning away from the centre of the town, they traversed slowly long +streets of residences set well back behind decent lawns. Warm lamplight +mocked them from a hundred homely windows. They passed few people--a +pair of lovers; three bareheaded giggling girls in short, light frocks +strolling with their arms round one another; a scattering of men +hurrying home to belated suppers. + +The girl lagged with weariness. Awakening to this fact, Whitaker +slackened his impatient stride and quietly slipped her arm through his. + +"Is it much farther?" she asked. + +"No--not now," he assured her with a confidence he by no means felt. + +He was beginning to realize the tremendous difficulties to be overcome. +It bothered him to scheme a way to bring about the marriage without +attracting an appalling amount of gratuitous publicity, in a community +as staid and sober as this. He who would marry secretly should not +select a half-grown New England city for his enterprise.... + +However, one rarely finds any really insuperable obstacles in the way of +an especially wrong-headed project. + +Whitaker, taking his heart and his fate in his hands, accosted a +venerable gentleman whom they encountered as he was on the point of +turning off the sidewalk to private grounds. + +"I beg your pardon," he began. + +The man paused and turned upon them a saintly countenance framed in hair +like snow. + +"There is something I can do for you?" he inquired with punctilious +courtesy. + +"If you will be kind enough to direct me to a minister...." + +"I am one." + +"I thought so," said Whitaker. "We wish to get married." + +The gentleman looked from his face to the girl's, then moved aside from +the gate. "This is my home," he explained. "Will you be good enough to +come in?" + +Conducting them to his private study, he subjected them to a kindly +catechism. The girl said little, Whitaker taking upon himself the brunt +of the examination. Absolutely straightforward and intensely sincere, he +came through the ordeal well, without being obliged to disclose what he +preferred to keep secret. The minister, satisfied, at length called in +the town clerk by telephone; who issued the license, pocketed his fee, +and, in company with the minister's wife, acted as witness.... + +Whitaker found himself on his feet beside Mary Ladislas. They were being +married. He was shaken by a profound amazement. The incredible was +happening--with his assistance. He heard his voice uttering responses; +it seemed something as foreign to him as the voice of the girl at his +side. He wondered stupidly at her calm--and later, at his own. It was +all preposterously matter-of-fact and, at the same time, stupidly +romantic. He divined obscurely that this thing was happening in +obedience to forces nameless and unknown to them, strange and terrific +forces that worked mysteriously beyond their mortal ken. He seemed to +hear the droning of the loom of the Fates.... + +And they were man and wife. The door had closed, the gate-latch clicked +behind them. They were walking quietly side by side through the scented +night, they whom God had joined together. + +Man and wife! Bride and groom, already started on the strangest, +shortest of wedding journeys--from the parsonage to the railroad +station! + +Neither found anything to say. They walked on, heels in unison pounding +the wet flagstones. The night was sweet with the scent of wet grass and +shrubbery. The sidewalks were boldly patterned with a stencilling of +black leaves and a milky dappling of electric light. At every corner +high-swung arcs shot vivid slants of silver-blue radiance through the +black and green of trees. + +These things all printed themselves indelibly upon the tablets of his +memory.... + +They arrived at the station. Whitaker bought his wife a ticket to New +York and secured for her solitary use a drawing-room in the sleeper. +When that was accomplished, they had still a good part of an hour to +wait. They found a bench on the station platform, and sat down. Whitaker +possessed himself of his wife's hand-bag long enough to furnish it with +a sum of money and an old envelope bearing the name and address of his +law partner. He explained that he would write to Drummond, who would see +to her welfare as far as she would permit--issue her an adequate monthly +allowance and advise her when she should have become her own mistress +once more: in a word, a widow. + +She thanked him briefly, quietly, with a constraint he understood too +well to resent. + +People began to gather upon the platform, to loiter about and pass up +and down. Further conversation would have been difficult, even if they +had found much to say to one another. Curiously or not, they didn't. +They sat on in thoughtful silence. + +Both, perhaps, were sensible of some relief when at length the train +thundered in from the East, breathing smoke and flame. Whitaker helped +his wife aboard and interviewed the porter in her behalf. Then they had +a moment or two alone in the drawing-room, in which to consummate what +was meant to be their first and last parting. + +"You'll get in about two," said Whitaker. "Better just slip across the +street to the Belmont for to-night. To-morrow--or the day +after--whenever you feel rested--you can find yourself more quiet +quarters." + +"Yes," she said.... + +He comprehended something of the struggle she was having with herself, +and respected it. If he had consulted his own inclinations, he would +have turned and marched off without another word. But for her sake he +lingered. Let her have the satisfaction (he bade himself) of knowing +that she had done her duty at their leave-taking. + +She caught him suddenly by the shoulders with both her hands. Her eyes +sought his with a wistful courage he could not but admire. + +"You know I'm grateful...." + +"Don't think of it that way--though I'm glad you are." + +"You're a good man," she said brokenly. + +He knew himself too well to be able to reply. + +"You mustn't worry about me, now. You've made things easy for me. I can +take care of myself, and ... I shan't forget whose name I bear." + +He muttered something to the effect that he was sure of that. + +She released his shoulders and stood back, searching his face with +tormented eyes. Abruptly she offered him her hand. + +"Good-by," she said, her lips quivering--"Good-by, good friend!" + +He caught the hand, wrung it clumsily and painfully and ... realized +that the train was in motion. He had barely time to get away.... + +He found himself on the station platform, stupidly watching the rear +lights dwindle down the tracks and wondering whether or not +hallucinations were a phase of his malady. A sick man often dreams +strange dreams.... + +A voice behind him, cool with a trace of irony, observed: + +"I'd give a good deal to know just what particular brand of damn' +foolishness you've been indulging in, this time." + +He whirled around to face Peter Stark--Peter quietly amused and very +much the master of the situation. + +"You needn't think," said he, "that you have any chance on earth of +escaping my fond attentions, Hugh. I'll go to the ends of the earth +after you, if you won't let me go with you. I've fixed it up with Nelly +to wait until I bring you home, a well man, before we get married; and +if you refuse to be my best man--well, there won't be any party. You can +make up your mind to that." + + + + +V + +WILFUL MISSING + + +It was one o'clock in the morning before Whitaker allowed himself to be +persuaded; fatigue reenforced every stubborn argument of Peter Stark's +to overcome his resistance. It was a repetition of the episode of Mary +Ladislas recast and rewritten: the stronger will overcame the +admonitions of a saner judgment. Whitaker gave in. "Oh, have your own +way," he said at length, unconsciously iterating the words that had won +him a bride. "If it must be...." + +Peter put him to bed, watched over him through the night, and the next +morning carried him on to New Bedford, where they superintended the +outfitting of Peter's yacht, the _Adventuress_. Beyond drawing heavily +on his bank and sending Drummond a brief note, Whitaker failed to renew +communication with his home. He sank into a state of semi-apathetic +content; he thought little of anything beyond the business of the +moment; the preparations for what he was pleased to term his funeral +cruise absorbed him to the exclusion of vain repinings or anxiety for +the welfare of his adventitious wife. Apparently his sudden +disappearance had not caused the least ripple on the surface of life in +New York; the newspapers, at all events, slighted the circumstance +unanimously: to his complete satisfaction. + +Within the week the _Adventuress_ sailed. + +She was five months out of port before Whitaker began to be conscious +that he was truly accursed. There came a gradual thickening of the +shadows that threatened to eclipse his existence. And then, one day as +they dined with the lonely trader of an isolated station in the +D'Entrecasteaux Islands, he fell from his chair as if poleaxed. He +regained consciousness only to shiver with the chill of the wind that's +fanned by the wings of death. It was impossible to move him. The agonies +of the damned were his when, with exquisite gentleness, they lifted him +to a bed.... + +Stark sailed in the _Adventuress_ before sundown of the same day, +purposing to fetch a surgeon from Port Moresby. Whitaker said a last +farewell to his friend, knowing in his soul that they would never meet +again. Then he composed himself to die quietly. But the following +morning brought a hapchance trading schooner to the island, and with it, +in the estate of supercargo, a crapulous Scotch gentleman who had been a +famous specialist of London before drink laid him by the heels. He +performed an heroic operation upon Whitaker within an hour, announced by +nightfall that the patient would recover, and the next day sailed with +his ship to end his days in some abandoned Australian boozing-ken--as +Whitaker learned in Sydney several months later. + +In the same place, and at the same time, he received his first authentic +news of the fate of the _Adventuress_. The yacht had struck on an +uncharted reef, in heavy weather, and had foundered almost immediately. +Of her entire company, a solitary sailor managed to cling to a life-raft +until picked up, a week after the wreck, by a tramp steamship on whose +decks he gasped out his news and his life in the same breaths. + +Whitaker hunted up an account of the disaster in the files of a local +newspaper. He read that the owner, Peter Stark, Esq., and his guest, H. +M. Whitaker, Esq., both of New York, had gone down with the vessel. +There was also a cable despatch from New York detailing Peter Stark's +social and financial prominence--evidence that the news had been cabled +Home. To all who knew him Whitaker was as dead as Peter Stark. + +Sardonic irony of circumstance, that had robbed the sound man of life +and bestowed life upon the moribund! Contemplation wrought like a toxic +drug upon Whitaker's temper, until he was raving drunk with the black +draught of mutiny against the dictates of an Omnipotence capable of such +hideous mockeries of justice. The iron bit deep into his soul and left +corrosion there.... + + "There is a world outside the one you know + To which for curiousness 'Ell can't compare; + It is the place where wilful missings go, + As we can testify, for we are there." + +Kipling's lines buzzed through his head more than once in the course of +the next few years; for he was "there." They were years of such +vagabondage as only the South Seas countenance: neither unhappy nor very +strenuous, not yet scarred by the tooth of poverty. Whitaker had between +four and five thousand dollars in traveller's checks which he converted +into cash while in Sydney. Memory of the wreck of the _Adventuress_ was +already fading from the Australian mind; no one dreamed of challenging +the signature of a man seven months dead. And as certainly and as +quietly as the memory, Whitaker faded away; Hugh Morten took his place, +and Sydney knew him no more, nor did any other parts wherein he had +answered to his rightful name. + +The money stayed by him handsomely. Thanks to a strong constitution in a +tough body (now that its malignant demon was exorcised) he found it easy +to pick up a living by one means or another. Indeed, he played many +parts in as many fields before joining hands with a young Englishman he +had grown to like and entering upon what seemed a forlorn bid for +fortune. Thereafter he prospered amazingly. + +In those days his anomalous position in the world troubled him very +little. He was a Wilful Missing and a willing. The new life intrigued +him amazingly; he lived in open air, in virgin country, wresting a +fortune by main strength from the reluctant grasp of Nature. He was one +of the first two men to find and mine gold in paying quantities in the +Owen Stanley country.... Now that Peter Stark was dead, the ties of +interest and affection binding him to America were both few and slender. +His wife was too abstract a concept, a shadow too vague in his memory, +to obtrude often upon his reveries. Indeed, as time went on, he found it +anything but easy to recall much about the physical appearance of the +woman he had married; he remembered chiefly her eyes; she moved mistily +across the stage of a single scene in his history, an awkward, +self-conscious, unhappy, childish phantasm. + +Even the consideration that, fortified by the report of his death, she +might have married again, failed to disturb either his slumbers or his +digestion. If that had happened, he had no objection; the tie that bound +them was the emptiest of forms--in his understanding as meaningless and +as powerless to make them one as the printed license form they had been +forced to procure of the State of Connecticut. There had been neither +love nor true union--merely pity on one side, apathy of despair on the +other. Two souls had met in the valley of the great shadow, had paused a +moment to touch hands, had passed onward, forever out of one another's +ken; and that was all. His "death" should have put her in command of a +fair competence. If she had since sought and found happiness with +another man, was there any logical reason, or even excuse, for Whitaker +to abandon his new and pleasant ways of life in order to return and +shatter hers? + +He was self-persuaded of his generosity toward the girl. + +Casuistry of the Wilful Missing!... + +It's to be feared he had always a hard-headed way of considering matters +in the light of equity as distinguished from the light of ethical or +legal morality. This is not to be taken as an attempt to defend the man, +but rather as a statement of fact: even as the context is to be read as +an account of some things that happened rather than as a morality.... + +When at length he did make up his mind to go Home, it wasn't because he +felt that duty called him; plain, everyday, human curiosity had +something to do with his determination--a desire to see how New York was +managing to get along without him--together with a dawning apprehension +that there was an uncomfortable amount of truth in the antiquated +bromidiom about the surprising littleness of the world. + +He was in Melbourne at that time, with Lynch, his partner. Having +prospered and laid by a lump of money, they had planned to finance their +holdings in the traditional fashion--that is, to let in other people's +money to do the work, while they rested and possessed their souls and +drew dividends on a controlling interest. Capital in Melbourne had +proved eager and approachable; the arrangement they desired was quickly +consummated; the day the papers were signed, Whitaker passed old friends +in the street. They were George Presbury and his wife--Anne Forsythe +that was--self-evident tourists, looking the town over between steamers. +Presbury, with no thought in his bumptious head of meeting Hugh Whitaker +before the Day of Judgment, looked at and through him without a hint of +recognition; but his wife was another person altogether. Whitaker could +not be blind to the surprise and perplexity that shone in her eyes, even +though he pretended to be blind to her uncertain nod; long after his +back alone was visible to her he could feel her inquiring stare boring +into it. + +The incident made him think; and he remembered that he was now a man of +independent fortune and of newly idle hands as well. After prolonged +consideration he suddenly decided, told Lynch to look out for his +interests and expect him back when he should see him, and booked for +London by a Royal Mail boat--all in half a day. From London Mr. Hugh +Morten crossed immediately to New York on the _Olympic_, landing in the +month of April--nearly six years to a day from the time he had left his +native land. + +He discovered a New York almost wholly new--an experience almost +inevitable, if one insists on absenting one's self even for as little as +half a decade. Intimations of immense changes were borne in upon +Whitaker while the steamer worked up the Bay. The Singer Building was an +unfamiliar sky-mark, but not more so than the Metropolitan Tower and the +Woolworth. The _Olympic_ docked at an impressive steel-and-concrete +structure, new since his day; and Whitaker narrowly escaped a row with a +taxicab chauffeur because the fellow smiled impertinently when directed +to drive to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. + +A very few hours added amazingly to the catalogue of things that were +not as they had been: a list so extensive and impressive that he made up +his mind to maintain his incognito for a few days, until familiar with +the ways of his home. He was quick to perceive that he would even have +to forget most of the slang that had been current in his time, in +addition to unlearning all he had picked up abroad, and set himself with +attentive ears pricked forward and an open mind to master the new, +strange tongue his countrymen were speaking, if he were to make himself +intelligible to them--and them to him, for that matter. + +So he put up at the Ritz-Carlton, precisely as any foreigner might be +expected to do, and remained Hugh Morten while he prowled around the +city and found himself. Now and again in the course of his wanderings he +encountered well-remembered faces, but always without eliciting the +slightest gleam of recognition: circumstances that only went to prove +how thoroughly dead and buried he was in the estimation of his day and +generation. + +Nothing, indeed, seemed as he remembered it except the offerings in the +theatres. He sat through plays on three successive nights that sent him +back to his hotel saddened by the conviction that the tastes of his +fellow-countrymen in the matter of amusements were as enduring as +adamant--as long-enduring. Some day (he prophesied) New York would be +finished and complete; then would come the final change--its +name--because it wouldn't be New York unless ever changing; and when +that was settled, the city would know ease and, for want of something +less material to occupy it, begin to develop a soul of its own--together +with an inclination for something different in the way of theatrical +entertainment. + +But his ultimate and utter awakening to the truth that his home had +outgrown him fell upon the fourth afternoon following his return, when a +total but most affable gentleman presented himself to Whitaker's +consideration with a bogus name and a genuine offer to purchase him a +drink, and promptly attempted to enmesh him in a confidence game that +had degenerated into a vaudeville joke in the days when both of them had +worn knickerbockers. Gently but firmly entrusting the stranger to the +care of a convenient policeman, Whitaker privately admitted that he was +outclassed, that it was time for him to seek the protection of his +friends. + +He began with Drummond. The latter, of course, had moved his offices; no +doubt he had moved them several times; however that may be, Whitaker had +left him in quiet and contracted quarters in Pine Street; he found him +independently established in an imposing suite in the Woolworth +Building. + +Whitaker gave one of Mr. Hugh Morten's cards to a subdued office-boy. +"Tell him," he requested, "that I want to see him about a matter +relating to the estate of Mr. Whitaker." + +The boy dived through one partition-door and reappeared by way of +another with the deft certainty of a trained pantomime. + +"Says t' come in." + +Whitaker found himself in the presence of an ashen-faced man of +thirty-five, who clutched the side of his roll-top desk as if to save +himself from falling. + +"Whitaker!" he gasped. "My God!" + +"Flattered," said Whitaker, "I'm sure." + +He derived considerable mischievous amusement from Drummond's patent +stupefaction. It was all so right and proper--as it should have been. He +considered his an highly satisfactory resurrection, the sensation it +created as complete, considered in the relation of anticipation to +fulfilment, as anything he had ever experienced. Seldom does a scene +pass off as one plans it; the other parties thereto are apt to spoil +things by spouting spontaneously their own original lines, thus cheating +one out of a crushing retort or cherished epigram. But Drummond played +up his part in a most public-spirited fashion--gratifying, to say the +least. + +It took him some minutes to recover, Whitaker standing by and beaming. + +He remarked changes, changes as striking as the improvement in +Drummond's fortunes. Physically his ex-partner had gone off a bit; the +sedentary life led by the average successful man of business in New York +had marked his person unmistakably. Much heavier than the man Whitaker +remembered, he wore a thick and solid air of good-natured prosperity. +The hair had receded an inch or so from his forehead. Only his face +seemed as it had always been--sharply handsome and strong. Whitaker +remembered that he had always somewhat meanly envied Drummond his good +looks; he himself had been fashioned after the new order of +architecture--with a steel frame; but for some reason Nature, the master +builder, had neglected sufficiently to wall in and conceal the skeleton. +Admitting the economy of the method, Whitaker was inclined to believe +that the effect must be surprising, especially if encountered without +warning.... + +He discovered that they were both talking at once--furiously--and, not +without surprise, that he had a great deal more enlightenment to impart +to Drummond than he had foreseen. + +"You've got an economical streak in you when it comes to +correspondence," Drummond commented, offering Whitaker a sheet of paper +he had just taken from a tin document-box. "That's Exhibit A." + +Whitaker read aloud: + + "'DEAR D., I'm not feeling well, so off for a vacation. Burke has + just been in and paid $1500 in settlement of our claim. I'm + enclosing herewith my check for your share. Yours, H. M. W.'" + +"Far be it from me to cast up," said Drummond; "but I'd like to know why +the deuce you couldn't let a fellow know how ill you were." + +Whitaker frowned over his dereliction. "Don't remember," he confessed. +"I was hardly right, you know--and I presume I must have counted on +Greyerson telling." + +"But I don't know Greyerson...." + +"That's so. And you never heard--?" + +"Merely a rumour ran round. Some one--I forget who--told me that you and +Stark had gone sailing in Stark's boat--to cruise in the West Indies, +according to my informant. And somebody else mentioned that he'd heard +you were seriously ill. More than that nothing--until we heard that the +_Adventuress_ had been lost, half a year later." + +"I'm sorry," said Whitaker contritely. "It was thoughtless...." + +"But that isn't all," Drummond objected, flourishing another paper. "See +here--Exhibit B--came in a day or so later." + +"Yes." Whitaker recognized the document. "I remember insisting on +writing to you before we turned in that night." + +He ran through the following communication: + + "DEAR DRUMMOND: I married here, to-night, Mary Ladislas. Please + look out for her while I'm away. Make her an allowance out of my + money--five hundred a month ought to be enough. I shall die + intestate, and she'll get everything then, of course. She has your + address and will communicate with you as soon as she gets settled + down in Town. + + "Faithfully-- + + "HUGH MORTEN WHITAKER." + +"If it hadn't been so much in character," commented Drummond, "I'd've +thought the thing a forgery--or a poor joke. Knowing you as well as I +did, however ... I just sat back to wait for word from Mrs. Whitaker." + +"And you never heard, except that once!" said Whitaker thoughtfully. + +"Here's the sole and only evidence I ever got to prove that you had told +the truth." + +Drummond handed Whitaker a single, folded sheet of note-paper stamped +with the name of the Waldorf-Astoria. + + "CARTER S. DRUMMOND, Esq., 27 Pine Street, City. + + "DEAR SIR: I inclose herewith a bank-note for $500, which you will + be kind enough to credit to the estate of your late partner and my + late husband, Mr. Hugh Morten Whitaker. + + "Very truly yours, + + "MARY LADISLAS WHITAKER." + +"Dated, you see, the day after the report of your death was published +here." + +"But why?" demanded Whitaker, dumfounded. "_Why?_" + +"I infer she felt herself somehow honour-bound by the monetary +obligation," said the lawyer. "In her understanding your marriage of +convenience was nothing more--a one-sided bargain, I think you said she +called it. She couldn't consider herself wholly free, even though you +were dead, until she had repaid this loan which you, a stranger, had +practically forced upon her--if not to you, to your estate." + +"But death cancels everything--" + +"Not," Drummond reminded him with a slow smile, "the obligation of a +period of decent mourning that devolves upon a widow. Mrs. Whitaker may +have desired to marry again immediately. If I'm any judge of human +nature, she argued that repayment of the loan wiped out every +obligation. Feminine logic, perhaps, but--" + +"Good Lord!" Whitaker breathed, appalled in the face of this contingency +which had seemed so remote and immaterial when he was merely Hugh +Morten, bachelor-nomad, to all who knew him on the far side of the +world. + +Drummond dropped his head upon his hand and regarded his friend with +inquisitive eyes. + +"Looks as though you may have gummed things up neatly--doesn't it?" + +Whitaker nodded in sombre abstraction. + +"You may not," continued Drummond with light malice, "have been so +generous, so considerate and chivalric, after all." + +"Oh, cut that!" growled Whitaker, unhappily. "I never meant to come +back." + +"Then why did you?" + +"Oh ... I don't know. Chiefly because I caught Anne Presbury's sharp +eyes on me in Melbourne--as I said a while ago. I knew she'd talk--as +she surely will the minute she gets back--and I thought I might as well +get ahead of her, come home and face the music before anybody got a +chance to expose me. At the worst--if what you suggest has really +happened--it's an open-and-shut case; no one's going to blame the woman; +and it ought to be easy enough to secure a separation or divorce--" + +"You'd consent to that?" inquired Drummond intently. + +"I'm ready to do anything she wishes, within the law." + +"You leave it to her, then?" + +"If I ever find her--yes. It's the only decent thing I can do." + +"How do you figure that?" + +"I went away a sick man and a poor one; I come back as sound as a bell, +and if not exactly a plutocrat, at least better off than I ever expected +to be in this life.... To all intents and purposes I _made_ her a +partner to a bargain she disliked; well, I'll be hanged if I'm going to +hedge now, when I look a better matrimonial risk, perhaps: if she still +wants my name, she can have it." + +Drummond laughed quietly. "If that's how you feel," he said, "I can only +give you one piece of professional advice." + +"What's that?" + +"Find your wife." + +After a moment of puzzled thought, Whitaker admitted ruefully: "You're +right. There's the rub." + +"I'm afraid you won't find it an easy job. I did my best without +uncovering a trace of her." + +"You followed up that letter, of course?" + +"I did my best; but, my dear fellow, almost anybody with a decent +appearance can manage to write a note on Waldorf stationery. I made sure +of one thing--the management knew nothing of the writer under either her +maiden name or yours." + +"Did you try old Thurlow?" + +"Her father died within eight weeks from the time you ran away. He left +everything to charity, by the way. Unforgiving blighter." + +"Well, there's her sister, Mrs. Pettit." + +"She heard of the marriage first through me," asserted Drummond. "Your +wife had never come near her--nor even sent her a line. She could give +me no information whatever." + +"You don't think she purposely misled you--?" + +"Frankly I don't. She seemed sincerely worried, when we talked the +matter over, and spoke in a most convincing way of her fruitless +attempts to trace the young woman through a private detective agency." + +"Still, she may know now," Whitaker said doubtfully. "She may have heard +something since. I'll have a word with her myself." + +"Address," observed Drummond, dryly: "the American Embassy, Berlin.... +Pettit's got some sort of a minor diplomatic berth over there." + +"O the devil!... But, anyway, I can write." + +"Think it over," Drummond advised. "Maybe it might be kinder not to." + +"Oh, I don't know--" + +"You've given me to understand you were pretty comfy on the other side +of the globe. Why not let sleeping dogs lie?" + +"It's the lie that bothers me--the living lie. It isn't fair to her." + +"Rather sudden, this solicitude--what?" Drummond asked with open +sarcasm. + +"I daresay it does look that way. But I can't see that it's the decent +thing for me to let things slide any longer. I've got to try to find +her. She may be ill--destitute--in desperate trouble again--" + +Drummond's eyebrows went up whimsically. "You surely don't mean me to +infer that your affections are involved?" + +This brought Whitaker up standing. "Good heavens--no!" he cried. He +moved to a window and stared rudely at the Post Office Building for a +time. "I'm going to find her just the same--if she still lives," he +announced, turning back. + +"Would you know her if you saw her?" + +"I don't know." Whitaker frowned with annoyance. "She's six years +older--" + +"A woman often develops and changes amazingly between the ages of +eighteen and twenty-four." + +"I know," Whitaker acknowledged with dejection. + +"Well, but what _was_ she like?" Drummond pursued curiously. + +Whitaker shook his head. "It's not easy to remember. Matter of fact, I +don't believe I ever got one good square look at her. It was twilight in +the hotel, when I found her; we sat talking in absolute darkness, toward +the end; even in the minister's study there was only a green-shaded lamp +on the table; and on the train--well, we were both too much worked up, I +fancy, to pay much attention to details." + +"Then you really haven't any idea--?" + +"Oh, hardly." Whitaker's thin brown hand gesticulated vaguely. "She was +tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age...." + +"Blonde or brune?" + +"I swear I don't know. She wore one of those funny knitted caps, tight +down over her hair, all the time." + +Drummond laughed quietly. "Rather an inconclusive description, +especially if you advertise. 'Wanted: the wife I married six years ago +and haven't seen since; tall, slender, pale, at the awkward age; wore +one of those funny knit--'" + +"I don't feel in a joking humour," Whitaker interrupted roughly. "It's a +serious matter and wants serious treatment.... What else have we got to +mull over?" + +Drummond shrugged suavely. "There's enough to keep us busy for several +hours," he said. "For instance, there's my stewardship." + +"Your which?" + +"My care of your property. You left a good deal of money and securities +lying round loose, you know; naturally I felt obliged to look after 'em. +There was no telling when Widow Whitaker might walk in and demand an +accounting. I presume we might as well run over the account--though it +is getting late." + +"Half-past four," Whitaker informed him, consulting his watch. "Take too +long for to-day. Some other time." + +"To-morrow suit you?" + +"To-morrow's Sunday," Whitaker objected. "But there's no hurry at all." + +Drummond's reply was postponed by the office boy, who popped in on the +heels of a light knock. + +"Mr. Max's outside," he announced. + +"O the deuce!" The exclamation seemed to escape Drummond's lips +involuntarily. He tightened them angrily, as though regretting the lapse +of self-control, and glanced hurriedly askance to see if Whitaker had +noticed. "I'm busy," he added, a trace sullenly. "Tell him I've gone +out." + +"But he's got 'nappointment," the boy protested. "And besides, I told +him you was in." + +"You needn't fob him off on my account," Whitaker interposed. "We can +finish our confab later--Monday--any time. It's time for me to be +getting up-town, anyway." + +"It isn't that," Drummond explained doggedly. "Only--the man's a bore, +and--" + +"It isn't Jules Max?" Whitaker demanded excitedly. "Not little Jules +Max, who used to stage manage our amateur shows?" + +"That's the man," Drummond admitted with plain reluctance. + +"Then have him in, by all means. I want to say howdy to him, if nothing +more. And then I'll clear out and leave you to his troubles." + +Drummond hesitated; whereupon the office boy, interpreting assent, +precipitately vanished to usher in the client. His employer laughed a +trifle sourly. + +"Ben's a little too keen about pleasing Max," he said. "I think he looks +on him as the fountainhead of free seats. Max has developed into a +heavy-weight entrepreneur, you know." + +"Meaning theatrical manager? Then why not say so? But I might've guessed +he'd drift into something of the sort." + +A moment later Whitaker was vigorously pumping the unresisting--indeed +the apparently boneless--hand of a visibly flabbergasted gentleman, who +suffered him for the moment solely upon suspicion, if his expression +were a reliable index of his emotion. + +In the heyday of his career as a cunning and successful promoter of +plays and players, Jules Max indulged a hankering for the picturesquely +eccentric that sat oddly upon his commonplace personality. The hat that +had made Hammerstein famous Max had appropriated--straight crown, flat +brim and immaculate gloss--bodily. Beneath it his face was small of +feature, and fat. Its trim little mustache lent it an air of +conventionality curiously at war with a pince-nez which sheltered his +near-sighted eyes, its enormous, round, horn-rimmed lenses sagging to +one side with the weight of a wide black ribbon. His nose was +insignificant, his mouth small and pursy. His short, round little body +was invariably by day dressed in a dark gray morning-coat, white-edged +waistcoat, assertively-striped trousers, and patent-leather shoes with +white spats. He had a passion for lemon-coloured gloves of thinnest kid +and slender malacca walking-sticks. His dignity was an awful thing, as +ingrained as his strut. + +He reasserted the dignity now with a jerk of his maltreated hand, as +well as with an appreciable effort betrayed by his resentful glare. + +"Do I know you?" he demanded haughtily. "If not, what the devil do you +mean by such conduct, sir?" + +With a laugh, Whitaker took him by the shoulders and spun him round +smartly into a convenient chair. + +"Sit still and let me get a _good_ look," he implored. "Think of it! +Juley Max daring to put on side with me! The impudence of you, Juley! +I've a great mind to play horse with you. How dare you go round the +streets looking like that, anyway?" + +Max recovered his breath, readjusted his glasses, and resumed his stare. + +"Either," he observed, "you're Hugh Whitaker come to life or a damned +outrage." + +"Both, if you like." + +"You sound like both," complained the little man. "Anyway, you were +drowned in the Philippines or somewhere long ago, and I never waste time +on a dead one.... Drummond--" He turned to the lawyer with a vastly +business-like air. + +"No, you don't!" Whitaker insisted, putting himself between the two men. +"I admit that you're a great man; you might at least admit that I'm a +live one." + +A mollified smile moderated the small man's manner. "That's a bargain," +he said, extending a pale yellow paw; "I'm glad to see you again, Hugh. +When did you recrudesce?" + +"An hour ago," Drummond answered for him; "blew in here as large as life +and twice as important. He's been running a gold farm out in New Guinea. +What do you know about that?" + +"It's very interesting," Max conceded. "I shall have to cultivate him; I +never neglect a man with money. If you'll stick around a few minutes, +Hugh, I'll take you up-town in my car." He turned to Drummond, +completely ignoring Whitaker while he went into the details of some +action he desired the lawyer to undertake on his behalf. Then, having +talked steadily for upwards of ten minutes, he rose and prepared to go. + +"You've asked him, of course?" he demanded of Drummond, nodding toward +Whitaker. + +Drummond flushed slightly. "No chance," he said. "I was on the point of +doing it when you butted in." + +"What's this?" inquired Whitaker. + +Max delivered himself of a startling bit of information: "He's going to +get married." + +Whitaker stared. "Drummond? Not really?" + +Drummond acknowledged his guilt brazenly: "Next week, in fact." + +"But why didn't you say anything about it?" + +"You didn't give me an opening. Besides, to welcome a deserter from the +Great Beyond is enough to drive all other thoughts from a man's mind." + +"There's to be a supper in honour of the circumstances, at the Beaux +Arts to-night," supplemented Max. "You'll come, of course." + +"Do you think you could keep me away with a dog?" + +"Wouldn't risk spoiling the dog," said Drummond. He added with a +tentative, questioning air: "There'll be a lot of old-time acquaintances +of yours there, you know." + +"So much the better," Whitaker declared with spirit. "I've played dead +long enough." + +"As you think best," the lawyer acceded. "Midnight, then--the Beaux +Arts." + +"I'll be there--and furthermore, I'll be waiting at the church a week +hence--or whenever it's to come off. And now I want to congratulate +you." Whitaker held Drummond's hand in one of those long, hard grips +that mean much between men. "But mostly I want to congratulate her. Who +is she?" + +"Sara Law," said Drummond, with pride in his quick color and the lift of +his chin. + +"Sara Law?" The name had a familiar ring, yet Whitaker failed to +recognize it promptly. + +"The greatest living actress on the English-speaking stage," Max +announced, preening himself importantly. "My own discovery." + +"You don't mean to say you haven't heard of her. Is New Guinea, then, so +utterly abandoned to the march of civilization?" + +"Of course I've heard--but I have been out of touch with such things," +Whitaker apologized. "When shall I see her?" + +"At supper, to-night," said the man of law. "It's really in her +honour--" + +"In honour of her retirement," Max interrupted, fussing with a gardenia +on his lapel. "She retires from the stage finally, and forever--she +says--when the curtain falls to-night." + +"Then I've got to be in the theatre to-night--if that's the case," said +Whitaker. "It isn't my notion of an occasion to miss." + +"You're right there," Max told him bluntly. "It's no small matter to +me--losing such a star; but the world's loss of its greatest +artist--_ah!_" He kissed his finger-tips and ecstatically flirted the +caress afar. + +"'Fraid you won't get in, though," Drummond doubted darkly. "Everything +in the house for this final week was sold out a month ago. Even the +speculators are cleaned out." + +"_Tut!_" the manager reproved him loftily. "Hugh is going to see Sara +Law act for the last time from my personal box--aren't you, Hugh?" + +"You bet I am!" Whitaker asserted with conviction. + +"Then come along." Max caught him by the arm and started for the door. +"So long, Drummond...." + + + + +VI + +CURTAIN + + +Nothing would satisfy Max but that Whitaker should dine with him. He +consented to drop him at the Ritz-Carlton, in order that he might dress, +only on the condition that Whitaker would meet him at seven, in the +white room at the Knickerbocker. + +"Just mention my name to the head waiter," he said with magnificence; +"or if I'm there first, you can't help seeing me. Everybody knows my +table--the little one in the southeast corner." + +Whitaker promised, suppressing a smile; evidently the hat was not the +only peculiarity of Mr. Hammerstein's that Max had boldly made his own. + +Max surprised him by a shrewd divination of his thoughts. "I know what +you're thinking," he volunteered with an intensely serious expression +shadowing his pudgy countenance; "but really, my dear fellow, it's good +business. You get people into the habit of saying, 'There's Max's +table,' and you likewise get them into the habit of thinking of Max's +theatre and Max's stars. As a matter of fact, I'm merely running an +immense advertising plant with a dramatic annex." + +"You are an immense advertisement all by your lonesome," Whitaker agreed +with a tolerant laugh, rising as the car paused at the entrance of the +Ritz. + +"Seven o'clock--you won't fail me?" Max persisted. "Really, you know, +I'm doing you an immense favour--dinner--a seat in my private box at +Sara Law's farewell performance--" + +"Oh, I'm thoroughly impressed," Whitaker assured him, stepping out of +the car. "But tell me--on the level, now--why this staggering +condescension?" + +Max looked him over as he paused on the sidewalk, a tall, loosely built +figure attired impeccably yet with an elusive sense of carelessness, his +head on one side and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The twinkle was +momentarily reflected in the managerial gaze as he replied with an air +of impulsive candour: "One never can tell when the most unlikely-looking +material may prove useful. I may want to borrow money from you before +long. If I put you under sufficient obligation to me, you can't well +refuse.... Shoot, James!" + +The latter phrase was Max's way of ordering the driver to move on. The +car snorted resentfully, then pulled smoothly and swiftly away. Max +waved a jaunty farewell with a lemon-coloured hand, over the back of the +tonneau. + +Whitaker went up to his room in a reflective mood in which the +theatrical man had little place, and began leisurely to prepare his +person for ceremonious clothing--preparations which, at first, consisted +in nothing more strenuous than finding a pipe and sitting down to stare +out of the window. He was in no hurry--he had still an hour and a half +before he was due at the Knickerbocker--and the afternoon's employment +had furnished him with a great deal of material to stimulate his +thoughts. + +Since his arrival in New York he had fallen into the habit of seeking +the view from his window when in meditative humour. The vast sweep of +gullied roofs exerted an almost hypnotic attraction for his eyes. They +ranged southward to the point where vision failed against the false +horizon of dull amber haze. Late sunlight threw level rays athwart the +town, gilding towering westerly walls and striking fire from all their +windows. Between them like deep blue crevasses ran the gridironed +streets. The air was moveless, yet sonorously thrilled with the measured +movement of the city's symphonic roar. Above the golden haze a drift of +light cloud was burning an ever deeper pink against the vault of +robin's-egg blue. + +A view of ten thousand roofs, inexpressibly enchaining.... +Somewhere--perhaps--in that welter of steel and stone, as eternal and as +restless as the sea, was the woman Whitaker had married, working out her +lonely destiny. A haphazard biscuit tossed from his window might fall +upon the very roof that sheltered her: he might search for a hundred +years and never cross her path. + +He wondered.... + +More practically he reminded himself not to forget to write to Mrs. +Pettit. He must try to get the name of the firm of private detectives +she had employed, and her permission to pump them; it might help him, to +learn the quarters wherein they had failed. + +And he must make an early opportunity to question Drummond more closely; +not that he anticipated that Drummond knew anything more than he had +already disclosed--anything really helpful at all events. + +His thoughts shifted to dwell temporarily on the two personalities newly +introduced into his cosmos, strikingly new, in spite of the fact that +they had been so well known to him of old. He wondered if it were +possible that he seemed to them as singularly metamorphosed as they +seemed to him--superficially if not integrally. He had lost altogether +the trick of thinking in their grooves, and yet they seemed very human +to him. He thought they supplemented one another somewhat weirdly: each +was at bottom what the other seemed to be. Beneath his assumption, for +purposes of revenue only, of outrageous eccentricities, Jules Max was as +bourgeois as Cesar Birotteau; beneath his assumption of the +steady-going, keen, alert and conservative man of affairs, Drummond was +as romantic as D'Artagnan. But Max had this advantage of Drummond: he +was not his own dupe; whereas Drummond would go to his grave believing +himself bored to extinction by the commonplaceness of his fantastical +self.... + +Irresponsibly, his reverie reembraced the memory he had of the woman who +alone held the key to his matrimonial entanglement. The business bound +his imagination with an ineluctable fascination. No matter how far his +thoughts wandered, they were sure to return to beat themselves to +weariness against that hard-faced mystery, like moths bewitched by the +light behind a clouded window-glass. It was very curious (he thought) +that he could be so indifferent and so interested at one and the same +time. The possibility that she might have married a second time did not +disturb his pulse by the least fraction of a beat. He even contemplated +the chance that she might be dead with normal equanimity. Fortunate, +that he didn't love her. More fortunate still, that he loved no one +else. + +It occurred to him suddenly that it would take a long time for a letter +to elicit information from Berlin. + +Incontinently he wrote and despatched a long, extravagant cablegram to +Mrs. Pettit in care of the American Embassy, little doubting that she +would immediately answer. + +Then he set whole-heartedly about the business of making himself +presentable for the evening. + +When eventually he strode into the white room, Max was already +established at the famous little table in the southeast corner. Whitaker +was conscious of turning heads and guarded comment as he took his place +opposite the little fat man. + +"Make you famous in a night," Max assured him importantly. "Don't happen +to need any notoriety, do you?" + +"No, thanks." + +"Dine with me here three nights hand-running and they'll let you into +the Syndicate by the back door without even asking your name. P.T.A.'s +one grand little motto, my boy." + +"P.T.A.?" + +"Pays to advertise. Paste that in your hat, keep your head small enough +to wear it, and don't givadam if folks do think you're an addle-pated +village cut-up, and you'll have this town at heel like a good dog as +long as--well," Max wound up with a short laugh, "as long as your luck +lasts." + +"Yours seems to be pretty healthy--no signs of going into a premature +decline." + +"Ah!" said Max gloomily. "Seems!" + +With a morose manner he devoted himself to his soup. + +"Look me over," he requested abruptly, leaning back. "I guess I'm some +giddy young buck, what?" + +Whitaker reviewed the striking effect Max had created by encasing his +brief neck and double chin in an old-fashioned high collar and black +silk stock, beneath which his important chest was protected by an +elaborately frilled shirt decorated with black pearl studs. His waist +was strapped in by a pique waistcoat edged with black, and there was a +distinctly perceptible "invisible" stripe in the material of his evening +coat and trousers. + +"Dressed up like a fool," Max summed up the ensemble before his guest +could speak. "Would you believe that despair could gnaw at the vitals of +any one as wonderfully arrayed?" + +"I would not," Whitaker asserted. + +"Nobody would," said Max mournfully. "And yet, 'tis true." + +"Meaning--?" + +"Oh, I'm just down in the mouth because this is Sara's last appearance." +Max motioned the waiter to remove the debris of a course. "I'm as +superstitious as any trouper in the profession. I've got it in my knob +that she's my mascot. If she leaves me, my luck goes with her. I never +had any luck until she came under my management, and I don't expect to +have any after she retires. I made her, all right, but she made me, too; +and it sprains my sense of good business to break up a paying +combination like that." + +"Nonsense," Whitaker contended warmly. "If I'm not mistaken, you were +telling me this afternoon that you stand next to Belasco as a producing +manager. The loss of one star isn't going to rob you of that prestige, +is it?" + +"You never can tell," the little man contended darkly; "I wouldn't bet +thirty cents my next production would turn out a hit." + +"What will it cost--your next production?" + +"The show I have in mind--" Max considered a moment then announced +positively: "between eighteen and twenty thousand." + +"I call that big gambling." + +"Gambling? Oh, that's just part of the game. I meant a side bet. If the +production flivvers, I'll need that thirty cents for coffee and sinkers +at Dennett's. So I won't bet.... But," he volunteered brightly, "I'll +sell you a half interest in the show for twelve thousand." + +"Is that a threat or a promise?" + +"I mean it," Max insisted seriously; "though I'll admit I'm not crazy +about your accepting--yet. I've had several close calls with Sara--she's +threatened to chuck the stage often before this; but every time +something happened to make her change her mind. I've got a hunch maybe +something will happen this time, too. If it does, I won't want any +partners." + +Whitaker laughed quietly and turned the conversation, accepting the +manager's pseudo-confidences at their face value--that is, as pure +bluff, quite consistent with the managerial pose. + +They rose presently and made their way out into the crowded, blatant +night of Broadway. + +"We'll walk, if you don't mind," Max suggested. "It isn't far, and I'd +like to get a line on the house as it goes in." He sighed affectedly. +"Heaven knows when I'll see another swell audience mobbing one of my +attractions!" + +His companion raised no objection. This phase of the life of New York +exerted an attraction for his imagination of unfailing potency. He was +more willing to view it afoot than from the windows of a cab. + +They pushed forward slowly through the eddying tides, elbowed by a +matchless motley of humanity, deafened by its thousand tongues, dazzled +to blindness by walls of living light. Whitaker experienced a sensation +of participating in a royal progress: Max was plainly a man of mark; he +left a wake of rippling interest. At every third step somebody hailed +him, as a rule by his first name; generally he responded by a curt nod +and a tightening of his teeth upon his cigar. + +They turned east through Forty-sixth Street, shouldered by a denser +rabble whose faces, all turned in one direction, shone livid with the +glare of a gigantic electric sign, midway down the block: + + THEATRE MAX + + SARA LAW'S + FAREWELL + +It was nearly half-past eight; the house had been open since seven; and +still a queue ran from the gallery doors to Broadway, while still an +apparently interminable string of vehicles writhed from one corner to +the lobby entrance, paused to deposit its perishable freight, and +streaked away to Sixth Avenue. The lobby itself was crowded to +suffocation with an Occidental durbar of barbaric magnificence, the +city's supreme manifestation of its religion, the ultimate rite in the +worship of the pomps of the flesh. + +"Look at that," Max grumbled through his cigar. "Ain't it a shame?" + +"What?" Whitaker had to lift his voice to make it carry above the +buzzing of the throng. + +"The money I'm losing," returned the manager, vividly disgusted. "I +could've filled the Metropolitan Opera House three times over!" + +He swung on his heel and began to push his way out of the lobby. "Come +along--no use trying to get in this way." + +Whitaker followed, to be led down a blind alley between the theatre and +the adjoining hotel. An illuminated sign advertised the stage door, +through which, _via_ a brief hallway, they entered the postscenium--a +vast, cavernous, cluttered, shadowy and draughty place, made visible for +the most part by an unnatural glow filtering from the footlights through +the canvas walls of an interior set. Whitaker caught hasty glimpses of +stage-hands idling about; heard a woman's voice declaiming loudly from +within the set; saw a middle-aged actor waiting for his cue beside a +substantial wooden door in the canvas walls; and--Max dragging him by +the arm--passed through a small door into the gangway behind the boxes. + +"Curtain's just up," Max told him; "Sara doesn't come on till near the +middle of the act. Make yourself comfortable; I'll be back before long." + +He drew aside a curtain and ushered his guest into the right-hand +stage-box, then vanished. Whitaker, finding himself the sole occupant of +the box, established himself in desolate grandeur as far out of sight as +he could arrange his chair, without losing command of the stage. A +single glance over the body of the house showed him tier upon tier of +dead-white shirt-bosoms framed in black, alternating with bare gleaming +shoulders and dazzling, exquisite gowns. The few empty stalls were +rapidly filling up. There was a fluent movement through the aisles. A +subdued hum and rustle rose from that portion of the audience which was +already seated. The business going on upon the stage was receiving +little attention--from Whitaker as little as from any one. He was +vaguely conscious only of a scene suggesting with cruel cleverness the +interior of a shabby-genteel New York flat and of a few figures peopling +it, all dominated by a heavy-limbed, harsh-voiced termagant. That to +which he was most sensitive was a purely psychological feeling of +suspense and excitement, a semi-hysterical, high-strung, emotional state +which he knew he shared with the audience, its source in fact. The +opening scene in the development of the drama interested the gathering +little or not at all; it was hanging in suspense upon the unfolding of +some extraordinary development, something unprecedented and extraneous, +foreign to the play. + +Was it due simply to the fact that all these people were present at the +last public appearance--as advertised--of a star of unusual popularity? +Whitaker wondered. Or was there something else in their minds, something +deeper and more profoundly significant? + +Max slipped quietly into the box and handed his guest a programme. +"Better get over here," he suggested in a hoarse whisper, indicating a +chair near the rail. "You may never have another chance to see the +greatest living actress." + +Whitaker thanked him and adopted the suggestion, albeit with reluctance. +The manager remained standing for a moment, quick eyes ranging over the +house. By this time the aisles were all clear, the rows of seats +presenting an almost unbroken array of upturned faces. + +Max combined a nod denoting satisfaction with a slight frown. + +"Wonderful house," he whispered, sitting down behind Whitaker. "Drummond +hasn't shown up yet, though." + +"That so?" Whitaker returned over his shoulder. + +"Yes; it's funny; never knew him to be so late. He always has the aisle +seat, fourth row, centre. But he'll be along presently." + +Whitaker noted that the designated stall was vacant, then tried to fix +his attention upon the stage; but without much success; after a few +moments he became aware that he had missed something important; the +scene was meaningless to him, lacking what had gone before. + +He glanced idly at his programme, indifferently absorbing the +information that "Jules Max has the honour to present Miss Sara Law in +her first and greatest success entitled JOAN THURSDAY--a play in three +acts--" + +The audience stirred expectantly; a movement ran through it like the +movement of waters, murmurous, upon a shore. Whitaker's gaze was drawn +to the stage as if by an implacable force. Max shifted on the chair +behind him and said something indistinguishable, in an unnatural tone. + +A woman had come upon the stage, suddenly and tempestuously, banging a +door behind her. The audience got the barest glimpse of her profile as, +pausing momentarily, she eyed the other actors. Then, without speaking, +she turned and walked up-stage, her back to the footlights. + +Applause broke out like a thunderclap, pealing heavily through the big +auditorium, but the actress showed no consciousness of it. She was +standing before a cheap mirror, removing her hat, arranging her hair +with the typical, unconscious gestures of a weary shop-girl; she was +acting--living the scene, with no time to waste in pandering to her +popularity by bows and set smiles; she remained before the glass, +prolonging the business, until the applause subsided. + +Whitaker received an impression as of a tremendous force at work across +the footlights. The woman diffused an effect as of a terrible and +boundless energy under positive control. She was not merely an actress, +not even merely a great actress; she was the very soul of the drama of +to-day. + +Beyond this he knew in his heart that she was his wife. Sara Law was the +woman he had married in that sleepy Connecticut town, six years before +that night. He had not yet seen her face clearly, but he _knew_. To find +himself mistaken would have shaken the foundations of his understanding. + +Under cover of the applause, he turned to Max. + +"Who is that? What is her name?" + +"The divine Sara," Max answered, his eyes shining. + +"I mean, what is her name off the stage, in private life?" + +"The same," Max nodded with conviction; "Sara Law's the only name she's +ever worn in my acquaintance with her." + +At that moment, the applause having subsided to such an extent that it +was possible for her to make herself heard, the actress swung round from +the mirror and addressed one of the other players. Her voice was clear, +strong and vibrant, yet sweet; but Whitaker paid no heed to the lines +she spoke. He was staring, fascinated, at her face. + +Sight of it set the seal of certainty upon conviction: she was one with +Mary Ladislas. He had forgotten her so completely in the lapse of years +as to have been unable to recall her features and colouring, yet he had +needed only to see to recognize her beyond any possibility of doubt. +Those big, intensely burning eyes, that drawn and pallid face, the +quick, nervous movements of her thin white hands, the slenderness of her +tall, awkward, immature figure--in every line and contour, in every +gesture and inflection, she reproduced the Mary Ladislas whom he had +married. + +And yet ... Max was whispering over his shoulder: + +"Wonderful make-up--what?" + +"Make-up!" Whitaker retorted. "She's not made up--she's herself to the +last detail." + +Amusement glimmered in the manager's round little eyes: "You don't know +her. Wait till you get a pipe at her off the stage." Then he checked the +reply that was shaping on Whitaker's lips, with a warning lift of his +hand and brows: "Ssh! Catch this, now. She's a wonder in this scene." + +The superb actress behind the counterfeit of the hunted and hungry +shop-girl was holding spell-bound with her inevitable witchery the most +sophisticated audience in the world; like wheat in a windstorm it swayed +to the modulations of her marvellous voice as it ran through a +passage-at-arms with the termagant. Suddenly ceasing to speak, she +turned down to a chair near the footlights, followed by a torrent of +shrill vituperation under the lash of which she quivered like a whipped +thoroughbred. + +Abruptly, pausing with her hands on the back of the chair, there came a +change. The actress had glanced across the footlights; Whitaker could +not but follow the direction of her gaze; the eyes of both focussed for +a brief instant on the empty aisle-seat in the fourth row. A shade of +additional pallor showed on the woman's face. She looked quickly, +questioningly, toward the box of her manager. + +Seated as he was so near the stage, Whitaker's face stood out in rugged +relief, illumined by the glow reflected from the footlights. It was +inevitable that she should see him. Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon +his. The scene faltered perceptibly. She stood transfixed.... + +[Illustration: Her eyes fastened, dilating, upon his. The scene faltered +perceptibly] + +In the hush Max cried impatiently: "What the devil!" The words broke the +spell of amazement upon the actress. In a twinkling the pitiful +counterfeit of the shop-girl was rent and torn away; it hung only in +shreds and tatters upon an individuality wholly strange to Whitaker: a +larger, stronger woman seemed to have started out of the mask. + +She turned, calling imperatively into the wings: "_Ring down!_" + +Followed a pause of dumb amazement. In all the house, during the space +of thirty pulse-beats, no one moved. Then Max rapped out an oath and +slipped like quicksilver from the box. + +Simultaneously the woman's foot stamped an echo from the boards. + +"Ring down!" she cried. "Do you hear? Ring down!" + +With a rush the curtain descended as pandemonium broke out on both sides +of it. + + + + +VII + +THE LATE EXTRA + + +Impulsively Whitaker got up to follow Max, then hesitated and sank back +in doubt, his head awhirl. He was for the time being shocked out of all +capacity for clear reasoning or right thinking. Uppermost in his +consciousness he had a half-formed notion that it wouldn't help matters +if he were to force himself in upon the crisis behind the scenes. + +Beyond all question his wife had recognized in him the man whom she had +been given every reason to believe dead: a discovery so unnerving as to +render her temporarily unable to continue. But if theatrical precedent +were a reliable guide, she would presently pull herself together and go +on; people of the stage seldom forget that their first duty is to the +audience. If he sat tight and waited, all might yet be well--as well as +any such hideous coil could be hoped ever to be.... + +As has been indicated, he arrived at his conclusion through no such +detailed argument; his mind leaped to it, and he rested upon it while +still beset by a half-score of tormenting considerations. + +This, then, explained Drummond's reluctance to have him bidden to the +supper party; whatever ultimate course of action he planned to pursue, +Drummond had been unwilling, perhaps pardonably so, to have his romance +overthrown and altogether shattered in a single day. + +And Drummond, too, must have known who Sara Law was, even while denying +knowledge of the existence of Mary Ladislas Whitaker. He had lied, lied +desperately, doubtless meaning to encompass a marriage before Whitaker +could find his wife, and so furnish him with every reason that could +influence an honourable man to disappear a second time. + +Herein, moreover, lay the reason for the lawyer's failure to occupy his +stall on that farewell night. It was just possible that Whitaker would +not recognize his wife; and _vice versa_; but it was a chance that +Drummond hadn't the courage to face. Even so, he might have hidden +himself somewhere in the house, waiting and watching to see what would +happen. + +On the other hand, Max to a certainty was ignorant of the relationship +between his star and his old-time friend, just as he must have been +ignorant of her identity with the one-time Mary Ladislas. For that +matter, Whitaker had to admit that, damning as was the evidence to +controvert the theory, Drummond might be just as much in the dark as Max +was. There was always the chance that the girl had kept her secret to +herself, inviolate, informing neither her manager nor the man she had +covenanted to wed. Drummond's absence from the house might be due to any +one of a hundred reasons other than that to which Whitaker inclined to +assign it. It was only fair to suspend judgment. In the meantime.... + +The audience was getting beyond control. The clamour of comment and +questioning which had broken loose when the curtain fell was waxing and +gaining a high querulous note of impatience. In the gallery the gods +were beginning to testify to their normal intolerance with shrill +whistles, cat-calls, sporadic bursts of hand-clapping and a steady, +sinister rumble of stamping feet. In the orchestra and dress-circle +people were moving about restlessly and talking at the top of their +voices in order to make themselves heard above the growing din. Had +there been music to fill the interval, they might have been more calm; +but Max had fallen in with the theatrical _dernier cri_ and had +eliminated orchestras from his houses, employing only a peal of gongs to +insure silence and attention before each curtain. + +Abruptly Max himself appeared at one side of the proscenium arch. It was +plain to those nearest the stage that he was seriously disturbed. There +was a noticeable hesitancy in his manner, a pathetic frenzy in his +habitually mild and lustrous eyes. Advancing halfway to the middle of +the apron, he paused, begging attention with a pudgy hand. It was a full +minute before the gallery would let him be heard. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced plaintively, "I much regret to +inform you that Miss Law has suffered a severe nervous shock"--his gaze +wandered in perplexed inquiry toward the right-hand stage-box, then was +hastily averted--"and will not be able to continue for a few moments. If +you will kindly grant us your patience for a very few minutes...." He +backed precipitately from view, hounded by mocking applause. + +A lull fell, but only temporarily. As the minutes lengthened, the +gallery grew more and more obstreperous and turbulent. Wave upon wave of +sound swept through the auditorium to break, roaring, against the +obdurate curtain. When eventually a second figure appeared before the +footlights, the audience seemed to understand that Max dared not show +himself again, and why. It was with difficulty that the man--evidently +the stage-manager--contrived to make himself disconnectedly audible. + +"Ladies and ..." he shouted, sweat beading his perturbed forehead ... +"regret ... impossible to continue ... money ... box-office...." + +An angry howl drowned him out. He retreated at accelerated discretion. + +Whitaker, slipping through the stage-door behind the boxes, ran into the +last speaker standing beside the first entrance, heatedly explaining to +any one who would listen the utter futility of offering box-office +prices in return for seat checks which in the majority of instances had +cost their holders top-notch speculator prices. + +"They'll wreck the theatre," he shouted excitedly, mopping his brow with +his coat sleeve, "and damned if I blame 'em! What t'ell'd she wana pull +a raw one like this for?" + +Whitaker caught his arm in a grasp compelling attention. + +"Where's Miss Law?" he asked. + +"You tell me and I'll make you a handsome present," retorted the man. + +"What's happened to her? Can't you find her?" + +"I dunno--go ask Max." + +"Where is _he_?" + +"You can search me; last I saw of him he was tearing the star +dressin'-room up by the roots." + +Whitaker hurried on just in time to see Max disappearing in the +direction of the stage-door, at which point he caught up with him, and +from the manager's disjointed catechism of the doorkeeper garnered the +information that the star had hurried out of the building while Max was +making his announcement before the curtain. + +Max swung angrily upon Whitaker. + +"Oh, it's you, is it? Perhaps you can explain what this means? She was +looking straight at you when she dried up! I saw her--" + +"Perhaps you'd better find Miss Law and ask her," Whitaker interrupted. +"Have you any idea where she's gone?" + +"Home, probably," Max snapped in return. + +"Where's that?" + +"Fifty-seventh Street--house of her own--just bought it." + +"Come on, then." Passing his arm through the manager's, Whitaker drew +him out into the alley. "We'll get a taxi before this mob--" + +"But, look here--what business've _you_ got mixing in?" + +"Ask Miss Law," said Whitaker, shortly. It had been on the tip of his +tongue to tell the man flatly: "I'm her husband." But he retained wit +enough to deny himself the satisfaction of this shattering rejoinder. "I +know her," he added; "that's enough for the present." + +"If you knew her all the time, why didn't you say so?" Max expostulated +with passion. + +"I didn't know I knew her--by that name," said Whitaker lamely. + +At the entrance to the alley Max paused to listen to the uproar within +his well-beloved theatre. + +"I'd give five thousand gold dollars if I hadn't met you this +afternoon!" he groaned. + +"It's too late, now," Whitaker mentioned the obvious. "But if I'd +understood, I promise you I wouldn't have come--at least to sit where +she could see me." + +He began gently to urge Max toward Broadway, but the manager hung back +like a sulky child. + +"Hell!" he grumbled. "I always knew that woman was a Jonah!" + +"You were calling her your mascot two hours ago." + +"She'll be the death of me, yet," the little man insisted gloomily. He +stopped short, jerking his arm free. "Look here, I'm not going. What's +the use? We'd only row. And I've got my work cut out for me back +there"--with a jerk of his head toward the theatre. + +Whitaker hesitated, then without regret decided to lose him. It would be +as well to get over the impending interview without a third factor. + +"Very well," he said, beckoning a taxicab in to the curb. "What's the +address?" + +Max gave it sullenly. + +"So long," he added morosely as Whitaker opened the cab door; "sorry I +ever laid eyes on you." + +Whitaker hesitated. "How about that supper?" he inquired. "Is it still +on?" + +"How in blazes do I know? Come round to the Beaux Arts and find out for +yourself--same's I'll have to." + +"All right," said Whitaker doubtfully. He nodded to the chauffeur, and +jumped into the cab. As they swung away he received a parting impression +of Max, his pose modelled on the popular conception of Napoleon at +Waterloo: hands clasped behind his back, hair in disorder, chin on his +chest, a puzzled frown shadowing his face as he stared sombrely after +his departing guest. + +Whitaker settled back and, oblivious to the lights of Broadway streaming +past, tried to think--tried with indifferent success to prepare himself +against the unhappy conference he had to anticipate. It suddenly +presented itself to his reason, with shocking force, that his attitude +must be humbly and wholly apologetic. It was a singular case: he had +come home to find his wife on the point of marrying another man--and +_she_ was the one entitled to feel aggrieved! Strange twist of the +eternal triangle!... + +He tried desperately, and with equal futility, to frame some excuse for +his fault. + +Far too soon the machine swerved into Fifty-seventh Street, slipped +halfway down the block, described a wide arc to the northern curb and +pulled up, trembling, before a modest modern residence between Sixth and +Seventh avenues. + +Reluctantly Whitaker got out and, on suspicion, told the chauffeur to +wait. Then, with all the alacrity of a condemned man ascending the +scaffold, he ran up the steps to the front door. + +A man-servant answered his ring without undue delay. + +Was Miss Law at home? He would see. + +This indicated that she was at home. Whitaker tendered a card with his +surname pencilled after that of _Mr. Hugh Morten_ in engraved script. He +was suffered to enter and wait in the hallway. + +He stared round him with pardonable wonder. If this were truly the home +of Mary Ladislas Whitaker--her property--he had builded far better than +he could possibly have foreseen with that investment of five hundred +dollars six years since. But who, remembering the tortured, half-starved +child of the Commercial House, could have prefigured the Sara Law of +to-day--the woman who, before his eyes, within that hour, had burst +through the counterfeit of herself of yesterday like some splendid +creature emerging from its chrysalis? + +Soft, shaded lights, rare furnishings, the rich yet delicate atmosphere +of exquisite taste, the hush and orderly perfection of a home made and +maintained with consummate art: these furnished him with dim, provoking +intimations of an individuality to which he was a stranger--less than a +stranger--nothing.... + +The man-servant brought his dignity down-stairs again. + +Would Mr. Whitaker be pleased to wait in the drawing-room? + +Mr. Whitaker surrendered top-coat and hat and was shown into the +designated apartment. Almost immediately he became aware of feminine +footsteps on the staircase--tapping heels, the faint murmuring of +skirts. He faced the doorway, indefinably thrilled, the blood quickening +in throat and temples. + +To his intense disappointment there entered to him a woman impossible to +confuse with her whom he sought: a lady well past middle-age, with the +dignity and poise consistent with her years, her manifest breeding and +her iron-gray hair. + +"Mr. Whitaker?" + +He bowed, conscious that he was being narrowly scrutinized, nicely +weighed in the scales of a judgment prejudiced, if at all, not in his +favor. + +"I am Mrs. Secretan, a friend of Miss Law's. She has asked me to say +that she begs to be excused, at least for to-night. She has suffered a +severe shock and is able to see nobody." + +"I understand--and I'm sorry," said Whitaker, swallowing his chagrin. + +"And I am further instructed to ask if you will be good enough to leave +your address." + +"Certainly: I'm stopping at the Ritz-Carlton; but"--he demurred--"I +should like to leave a note, if I may--?" + +Mrs. Secretan nodded an assent. "You will find materials in the desk +there," she added, indicating an escritoire. + +Thanking her, Whitaker sat down, and, after some hesitation, wrote a few +lines: + + "Please don't think I mean to cause you the slightest inconvenience + or distress. I shall be glad to further your wishes in any way you + may care to designate. Please believe in my sincere regret...." + +Signing and folding this, he rose and delivered it to Mrs. Secretan. + +"Thank you," he said with a ceremonious bow. + +The customary civilities were scrupulously observed. + +He found himself in the street, with his trouble for all reward for his +pains. He wondered what to do, where to go, next. There was in his mind +a nagging thought that he ought to do something or other, somehow or +other, to find Drummond and make him understand that he, Whitaker, had +no desire or inclination to stand in his light; only, let the thing be +consummated decently, as privately as possible, with due deference to +the law.... + +The driver of the taxicab was holding the door for him, head bent to +catch the address of the next stop. But his fare lingered still in +doubt. + +Dimly he became aware of the violent bawlings of a brace of news-vendors +who were ramping through the street, one on either sidewalk. Beyond two +words which seemed to be intended for "extra" and "tragedy" their cries +were as inarticulate as they were deafening. + +At the spur of a vague impulse, bred of an incredulous wonder if the +papers were already noising abroad the news of the fiasco at the Theatre +Max, Whitaker stopped one of the men and purchased a paper. It was +delivered into his hands roughly folded so that a section of the front +page which blazed with crimson ink was uppermost--and indicated, +moreover, by a ridiculously dirty thumb. + +"Ther'y'are, sir. 'Orrible moider.... Thanky...." + +The man galloped on, howling. But Whitaker stood with his gaze riveted +in horror. The news item so pointedly offered to his attention was +clearly legible in the light of the cab lamps. + + LATEST EXTRA + + TRAGIC SUICIDE IN HARLEM RIVER + + Stopping his automobile in the middle of Washington Bridge at 7.30 + P.M., Carter S. Drummond, the lawyer and fiance of Sara Law the + actress, threw himself to his death in the Harlem River. The body + has not as yet been recovered. + + + + +VIII + +A HISTORY + + +Whitaker returned at once to the Theatre Max, but only to find the front +of the house dark, Forty-sixth Street gradually reassuming its normal +nocturnal aspect. + +At the stage-door he discovered that no one knew what had become of the +manager. He might possibly be at home.... It appeared that Max occupied +exclusive quarters especially designed for him in the theatre building +itself: an amiable idiosyncrasy not wholly lacking in advertising value, +if one chose to consider it in that light. + +His body-servant, a prematurely sour Japanese, suggested grudgingly that +his employer might not improbably be found at Rector's or Louis +Martin's. But he wasn't; not by Whitaker, at least. + +Eventually the latter realized that it wasn't absolutely essential to +his peace of mind or material welfare to find Max that night. He had +been, as a matter of fact, seeking him in thoughtless humour--moved +solely by the gregarious instinct in man, which made him want to discuss +the amazing events of the evening with the one who, next to himself and +Sara Law, was most vitally concerned with them. + +He consulted a telephone book without finding that Drummond had any +private residence connection, and then tried at random one of the clubs +of which they had been members in common in the days when Hugh Whitaker +was a human entity in the knowledge of the town. Here he had better +luck--luck, that is, in as far as it put an end to his wanderings for +the night; he found a clerk who remembered his face without remembering +his name, and who, consequently, was not unwilling to talk. Drummond, it +seemed, had lived at the club; he had dined alone, that evening, in his +room; had ordered his motor car from the adjacent garage for seven +o'clock; and had left at about that hour with a small hand-bag and no +companion. Nothing further was known of his actions save the police +report. The car had been found stationary on Washington Bridge, and +deserted, Drummond's motor coat and cap on the driver's seat. Bystanders +averred that a man had been seen to leave the car and precipitate +himself from the bridge to the stream below. The body was still +unrecovered. The club had notified by telegraph a brother in San +Francisco, the only member of Drummond's family of whom it had any +record. Friends, fellow-members of the club, were looking after +things--doing all that could and properly ought to be done under the +circumstances. + +Whitaker walked back to his hotel. There was no other place to go: no +place, that is, that wooed his humour in that hour. He could call to +mind, of course, names of friends and acquaintances of the old days to +whom there was no reason why he shouldn't turn, now that he had elected +to rediscover himself to the world; but there was none of them all that +he really wanted to see before he had regained complete control of his +emotions. + +He was, indeed, profoundly shocked. He held himself measurably +responsible for Drummond's act of desperation. If he had not wilfully +sought to evade the burden of his duty to Mary Ladislas, when he found +that he was to live rather than die--if he had been honest and generous +instead of allowing himself to drift into cowardly defalcation to her +trust--Drummond, doubtless, would still be alive. Or even if, having +chosen the recreant way, he had had the strength to stick to it, to stay +buried.... + +Next to poor Peter Stark, whom his heart mourned without ceasing, he had +cared most for Drummond of all the men he had known and liked in the old +life. Now ... he felt alone and very lonely, sick of heart and forlorn. +There was, of course, Lynch, his partner in the Antipodes; Whitaker was +fond of Lynch, but not with the affection that a generous-spirited youth +had accorded Peter Stark and Drummond--a blind and unreasoning affection +that asked no questions and made nothing of faults. The capacity for +such sentiment was dead in him, as dead as Peter Stark, as dead as +Drummond.... + +It was nearly midnight, but the hour found Whitaker in no humour for bed +or the emptiness of his room. He strolled into the lounge, sat down at a +detached table in a corner, and ordered something to drink. There were +not many others in the room, but still enough to mitigate to some extent +his temporary horror of utter loneliness. + +He felt painfully the heaviness of his debt to the woman he had married. +He who had promised her new life and the rich fulfilment thereof had +accomplished only its waste and desolation. He had thrust upon her the +chance to find happiness, and as rudely had snatched it away from her. +Nor could he imagine any way in which he might be able to expiate his +breach of trust--his sins of omission and commission, alike deadly and +unpardonable! + +Unless ... He caught eagerly at the thought: he might "die" again--go +away once more, and forever; bury himself deep beyond the groping +tentacles of civilization; disappear finally, notifying her of his +intention, so that she might seek legal freedom from his name. It only +needed Max's silence, which could unquestionably be secured, to insure +her against the least breath of scandal, the faintest whisper of +gossip.... Not that Max really knew anything; but the name of Whitaker, +as identified with Hugh Morten, might better be permitted to pass +unechoed into oblivion.... + +And with this very thought in mind he became aware of the echo of that +name in his hearing. + +A page, bearing something on a salver, ambled through the lounge, now +and again opening his mouth to bleat, dispassionately: "Mista Whitaker, +Mista Whitaker!" + +The owner of that name experienced a flush of exasperation. What right +had the management to cause him to be advertised in every public room of +the establishment?... But the next instant his resentment evaporated, +when he remembered that he remained Mr. Hugh Morten in the managerial +comprehension. + +He lifted a finger; the boy swerved toward him, tendered a blue +envelope, accepted a gratuity and departed. + +It was a cable message: very probably an answer to his to Grace Pettit. +Whitaker tore the envelope and unfolded the enclosure, glancing first at +the signature to verify his surmise. As he did so, he heard his name a +second time. + +"Pardon me; this is Mr. Whitaker?" + +A man stood beside the little table--one whom Whitaker had indifferently +noticed on entering as an equally lonely lounger at another table. + +Though he frowned involuntarily with annoyance, he couldn't well deny +his identity. + +"Yes," he said shortly, looking the man up and down with a captious eye. + +Yet it was hard to find much fault with this invader of his +preoccupation. He had the poise and the dress of a gentleman: dignity +without aggressiveness, completeness without ostentation. He had a +spare, not ungraceful body, a plain, dark face, a humorous mouth, steady +eyes: a man easily forgotten or overlooked unless he willed it +otherwise. + +"My name is Ember," he said quietly. "If you'll permit me--my card." He +offered a slip of pasteboard engraved with the name of Martin Ember. +"And I'll sit down, because I want to talk to you for a few minutes." + +Accordingly he sat down. Whitaker glanced at the card, and questioningly +back at Mr. Ember's face. + +"I don't know you, but ... What are we to talk about, please?" + +The man smiled, not unpleasingly. + +"Mrs. Whitaker," he said. + +Whitaker stared, frowned, and jumped at a conclusion. + +"You represent Mrs. Whitaker?" + +Mr. Ember shook his head. "I'm no lawyer, thank God! But I happen to +know a good deal it would be to your advantage to know; so I've taken +this liberty." + +"Mrs. Whitaker didn't send you to me? Then how--? What the deuce--!" + +"I happened to have a seat near your box at the theatre to-night," Mr. +Ember explained coolly. "From--what I saw there, I inferred that you +must be--yourself. Afterwards I got hold of Max, confirmed my suspicion, +and extracted your address from him." + +"I see," said Whitaker, slowly--not comprehending the main issue at all. +"But I'm not known here by the name of Whitaker." + +"So I discovered," said Ember, with his quiet, engaging smile. "If I +hadn't remembered that you sometimes registered as Hugh Morten--as, for +instance, at the Commercial House six years ago--" + +"You were there!" + +"A considerable time after the event--yes." The man nodded, his eyes +glimmering. + +Whitaker shot a quick glance round the room, and was relieved to find +they were not within earshot of any of the other occupied tables. + +"Who the devil are you?" he demanded bluntly. + +"I was," said the other slowly, "once, a private detective. Now--I'm a +person of no particular employment, of independent means, with a +penchant--you're at liberty to assume--for poking my nose into other +people's business." + +"Oh...." + +A word, "blackmail," leapt into Whitaker's consciousness, and served to +harden the hostility in his attitude. + +"Mrs. George Pettit once employed me to find her sister, Miss Mary +Ladislas, who had run away with a chauffeur named Morton," pursued the +man, evenly. "That was about the time--shortly after--the death of +Thurlow Ladislas; say, two months after the so-called elopement." + +"Just a minute," said Whitaker suddenly--"by your leave--" + +Ember bowed gravely. For a thought longer Whitaker's gaze bored into his +eyes in vain effort to fathom what was going on behind them, the animus +undiscovered by his words; then, remembering, he looked down at the +cable message in his hand. + +"_Martin Ember_ (it ran) _private agency 1435 Broadway Grace Pettit_." + +Whitaker folded the paper and put it away in a pocket. + +"Go on, please," he said quietly. + +"In those days," Mr. Ember resumed, "I did such things indifferently +well. I had little trouble in following the runaways from Southampton to +Greenport. There they parted. The girl crossed to the Connecticut shore, +while the man went back to New York with the automobile. He turned the +machine in at the Ladislas garage, by the way, and promptly fell into +the hands of the police. He was wanted for theft in a former position, +was arrested, convicted and sent to Sing Sing; where he presently died, +I'm glad to say.... I thought this information might interest you." + +Whitaker nodded grimly. + +"Can I order you something to drink?" + +"No, thank you--and I'm already smoking." Mr. Ember dropped the ash from +a cigar. "On the Connecticut side (because it was my business to find +out things) I discovered that Miss Ladislas had registered at the +Commercial House as Mrs. Morton. She was there, alone, under that name, +for nearly a week before you registered as Hugh Morten, and in the space +of a few hours married her, under your true name, and shipped her off to +New York." + +"Right," Whitaker agreed steadily. "And then--?" + +"I traced her to the Hotel Belmont, where she stopped overnight, then +lost her completely; and so reported to Mrs. Pettit. I must mention +here, in confidence, in order that you may understand my subsequent +action, that my bill for the investigation was never paid. Mr. Pettit +was not in very comfortable circumstances at the time.... No matter. I +didn't press him, and later was glad of it, for it left me a free +agent--under no obligation to make further report." + +"I don't understand you." + +"In a moment.... I came into a little money about that time, and gave up +my business: gave it up, that is, as far as placing myself at the +service of the public was concerned. I retained my devouring curiosity +about things that didn't concern me personally, although they were often +matters of extreme interest to the general public. In other words, I +continued to employ my time professionally, but only for my private +amusement or in the interests of my friends.... After some time Mr. +Drummond sought me out and begged me to renew my search for Mrs. +Whitaker; you were dead, he told me; she was due to come into your +estate--a comfortable living for an independent woman." + +"And you found her and told Drummond--?" + +Whitaker leaned over the table, studying the man's face with intense +interest. + +"No--and yes. I found Mrs. Whitaker. I didn't report to Drummond." + +"But why--in Heaven's name?" + +Ember smiled sombrely at the drooping ash of his cigar. "There were +several reasons. In the first place I didn't have to: I had asked no +retainer from Drummond, and I rendered no bill: what I had found out was +mine, to keep or to sell, as I chose. I chose not to sell because--well, +because Mrs. Whitaker begged me not to." + +"Ah!" Whitaker breathed, sitting back. "Why?" + +"This was all of a year, I think, after your marriage. Mrs. Whitaker had +tasted the sweets of independence and--got the habit. She had adopted a +profession looked upon with abhorrence by her family; she was succeeding +in it; I may say her work was foreshadowing that extraordinary power +which made her the Sara Law whom you saw to-night. If she came forward +as the widow of Hugh Whitaker, it meant renunciation of the stage; it +meant painful scenes with her family if she refused to abandon her +profession; it meant the loss of liberty, of freedom of action and +development, which was hers in her decent obscurity. She was already +successful in a small way, had little need of the money she would get as +claimant of your estate. She enlisted my sympathy, and--I held my +tongue." + +"That was decent of you." + +The man bowed a quiet acknowledgment. "I thought you'd think so.... +There was a third reason." + +He paused, until Whitaker encouraged him with a "Yes--?" + +"Mr. Whitaker"--the query came point-blank--"do you love your wife?" + +Whitaker caught his breath. "What right--!" he began, and checked +abruptly. The blood darkened his lean cheeks. + +"Mrs. Whitaker gave me to understand that you didn't. It wasn't hard to +perceive, everything considered, that your motive was pure +chivalry--Quixotism. I should like to go to my grave with anything half +as honourable and unselfish to my credit." + +"I beg your pardon," Whitaker muttered thickly. + +"You don't, then?" + +"Love her? No." + +There was a slight pause. Then, "I do," said this extraordinary man, +meeting Whitaker's gaze openly. "I do," he repeated, flushing in his +turn, "but ... hopelessly.... However, that was the third reason," he +pursued in a more level voice--"I thought you ought to know about +it--that induced me to keep Sara Law's secret.... I loved her from the +day I found her. She has never looked twice at me.... But that's why I +never lost interest." + +"You mean," Whitaker took him up diffidently--"you continued to--ah--?" + +"Court her--as we say? No." Ember's shoulders, lifting, emphasized the +disclaimer. "I'm no fool: I mean I'm able to recognize a hopeless case +when it's as intimate to me as mine was--and is. Doubtless Mrs. Whitaker +understands--if she hasn't forgotten me by this time--but, if so, wholly +through intuition. I have had the sense not to invite the thunderbolt. +I've sat quietly in the background, watching her work out her +destiny--feeling a good deal like a god in the machine. She doesn't know +it, unless Max told her against my wish; but it was I who induced him to +take her from the ranks of a provincial stock company and bring her +before the public, four years ago, as _Joan Thursday_. Since then her +destiny has been rather too big a thing for me to tamper with; but I've +watched and wondered, sensing forces at work about her of which even she +was unsuspicious." + +"What in blazes do you mean?" Whitaker demanded, mystified. + +"Did it strike you to wonder at the extraordinary mob her farewell +performance attracted to-night--the rabble that packed the street, +though quite hopeless of even seeing the inside of the theatre?" + +"Why--yes. It struck me as rather unusual. But then, Max had done +nothing but tell me of her tremendous popularity." + +"That alone, great as it is, wouldn't have brought so many people +together to stare at the outside of a theatre. The magnet was something +stronger--the morbid curiosity of New York. Those people were waiting, +thrilled with expectancy, on tiptoe for--what do you think?" + +"I shall think you mad in another moment, if you don't explain +yourself," Whitaker told him candidly. + +Ember's smile flashed and vanished. "They were waiting for the sensation +that presently came to them: the report of Drummond's death." + +"What the devil--!" + +"Patience!... It had been discounted: if something of the sort hadn't +happened, New York would have gone to bed disappointed. The reason? This +is the third time it has happened--the same thing, practically: Sara Law +on the verge of leaving the stage to marry, a fatal accident +intervening. Did Max by any chance mention the nickname New York has +bestowed on Sara Law?" + +"Nickname? No!" + +"They call her 'The Destroying Angel.'" + +"What damnable rot!" + +"Yes; but what damnable coincidence. Three men loved her--and one by one +they died. And now the fourth. Do you wonder...?" + +"Oh, but--'The Destroying Angel'--!" Whitaker cried indignantly. "How +can they blame her?" + +"It isn't blame--it's superstition. Listen...." + +Ember bent forward, holding Whitaker's gaze with intent, grave eyes. +"The first time," he said in a rapid undertone, "was a year or so after +her triumph as _Joan Thursday_. There were then two men openly +infatuated with her, a boy named Custer, and a man I believe you +knew--William Hamilton." + +"I knew them both." + +"Custer was making the pace; the announcement of his engagement to Sara +Law was confidently anticipated. He died suddenly; the coroner's jury +decided that he had misjudged the intentions of a loaded revolver. +People whispered of suicide, but it didn't look quite like that to me. +However ... Hamilton stepped into his place. Presently we heard that +Sara Law was to marry him and leave the stage. Hamilton had to go abroad +on business; on the return trip--the wedding was set for the day after +he landed here--he disappeared, no one knew how. Presumably he fell +overboard by accident one night; sane men with everything in the world +to live for do such things, you know--according to the newspapers." + +"I understand you. Please go on." + +"Approximately eighteen months later a man named Thurston--Mitchell +Thurston--was considered a dangerous aspirant for the hand of Sara Law. +He was exceedingly well fixed in a money way--a sort of dilettantish +architect, with offices in the Metropolitan Tower. One day at high noon +he left his desk to go to lunch at Martin's; crossing Madison Square, he +suddenly fell dead, with a bullet in his brain. It was a rifle bullet, +but though the square was crowded, no one had heard the report of the +shot, and no one was seen carrying a rifle. The conclusion was that he +had been shot down by somebody using a gun with a Maxim silencer, from a +window on the south side of the square. There were no clues." + +"And now Drummond!" Whitaker exclaimed in horror. "Poor fellow! Poor +woman!" + +A slightly sardonic expression modified the lines of Ember's mouth. "So +far as Mrs. Whitaker is concerned," he said with the somewhat pedantic +mode of speech which Whitaker was to learn to associate with his moments +of most serious concentration--"I echo the sentiment. But let us suspend +judgment on Drummond's case until we know more. It is not as yet an +established fact that he is dead." + +"You mean there's hope--?" + +"There's doubt," Ember corrected acidly--"doubt, at least, in my mind. +You see, I saw Drummond in the flesh, alive and vigorous, a good half +hour after he is reported to have leaped to his death." + +"Where?" + +"Coming up the stairs from the down-town Subway station in front of the +Park Avenue Hotel. He wore a hat pulled down over his eyes and an old +overcoat buttoned tight up to his chin. He was carrying a satchel +bearing the initials C. S. D., but was otherwise pretty thoroughly +disguised, and, I fancied, anxious enough to escape recognition." + +"You're positive about this?" + +"My dear man," said Ember with an air, "I saw his ear distinctly." + +"His ear!" + +"I never forget an ear; I've made a special study of them. They're +the last parts of the human anatomy that criminals ever think +to disguise; and, to the trained eye, as infallible a means of +identification--nearly--as thumb-prints. The man I saw coming up from +the Subway kept as much as possible away from the light; he had +successfully hidden most of his face; but he wore the inches, the +hand-bag, and the ear of Carter S. Drummond. I don't think I can be +mistaken." + +"Did you stop him--speak to him?" + +Ember shook his head. "No. I doubt if he would have remembered me. Our +acquaintance has been of the slightest, limited to a couple of meetings. +Besides, I was in a hurry to get to the theatre, and at that time had +heard nothing of this reputed suicide." + +"Which way did he go?" + +"Toward the Pennsylvania station, I fancy; that is, he turned west +through Thirty-third Street. I didn't follow--I was getting into a taxi +when I caught sight of him." + +"But what did you think to see him disguised? Didn't it strike you as +curious?" + +"Very," said Ember dryly. "At the same time, it was none of my +affair--then. Nor did it present itself to me as a matter worth meddling +with until, later, my suspicions were aroused by the scene in the +theatre--obviously the result of your appearance there--and still later, +when I heard the suicide report." + +"But--good Lord!" Whitaker passed a hand across his dazed eyes. "What +can it mean? Why should he do this thing?" + +"There are several possible explanations.... How long has Drummond known +that you were alive?" + +"Since noon to-day." + +"Not before?" + +"Not to my knowledge." + +"Still, it's possible. If he has a sensitive nature--I think he +hasn't--the shame of being found out, caught trying to marry your wife +when he had positive knowledge you still lived, may have driven him to +drop out of sight. Again.... May I ask, what was the extent of your +property in his trust?" + +"A couple of hundred-thousands." + +"And he believed you dead and was unable to find your widow ..." + +"Oh, I don't think _that_!" Whitaker expostulated. + +"Nor do I. We're merely considering possible explanations. There's a +third ..." + +"Well?" + +"He may have received a strong hint that he was nominated for the fate +that overtook young Custer, Hamilton and Thurston; and so planned to +give his disappearance the colour of a similar end." + +"You don't mean to say _you_ think there was any method in that train of +tragedies?" + +"I'm not in the least superstitious, my dear man. I don't for an instant +believe, as some people claim to, that Sara Law is a destroying angel, +hounded by a tragic fate: that her love is equivalent to the death +warrant of the man who wins it." + +"But what do you think, then?" + +"I think," said Ember, slowly, his gaze on the table, "that some one +with a very strong interest in keeping the young woman single--and on +the stage--" + +"Max! Impossible!" + +Ember shrugged. "In human nature, no madness is impossible. There's not +a shred of evidence against Jules Max. And yet--he's a gambler. All +theatrical managers are, of course; but Max is a card-fiend. The tale of +his plunging runs like wild-fire up and down Broadway, day by day. A +dozen times he's been on the verge of ruin, yet always he has had Sara +Law to rely upon; always he's been able to fall back upon that asset, +sure that her popularity would stave off bankruptcy. And he's +superstitious: he believes she is his mascot. I don't accuse him--I +suspect him, knowing him to be capable of many weird extravagances.... +Furthermore, it's a fact that Max was a fellow-passenger with Billy +Hamilton when the latter disappeared in mid-ocean." + +Ember paused and sat up, preparatory to rising. "All of which," he +concluded, "explains why I have trespassed upon your patience and your +privacy. It seemed only right that you should get the straight, +undistorted story from an unprejudiced onlooker. May I venture to add a +word of advice?" + +"By all means." + +"Have you told Max of your relations with Sara Law?" + +"No." + +"Or anybody else?" + +"No." + +"Then keep the truth to yourself--at least until this coil is +straightened out." + +Ember got up. "Good night," he said pleasantly. + +Whitaker took his hand, staring. "Good night," he echoed blankly. +"But--I say--why keep it quiet?" + +Ember, turning to go, paused, his glance quietly quizzical. "You don't +mean to claim your wife?" + +"On the contrary, I expect to offer no defence to her action for +divorce." + +"Grounds of desertion?" + +"I presume so." + +"Just the same, keep it as quiet as possible until the divorce is +granted. If you live till then ... you may possibly continue to live +thereafter." + + + + +IX + +ENTR'ACTE + + +Dawn of Sunday found Whitaker still awake. Alone in his uncheerful hotel +bedchamber, his chair tilted back against the wall, he sat smoking and +thinking, reviewing again and again every consideration growing out of +his matrimonial entanglement. + +He turned in at length to the dreamless slumbers of mental exhaustion. + +The morning introduced him to a world of newspapers gone mad and +garrulous with accounts of the sensation of the preceding night. What +they told him only confirmed the history of his wife's career as +detailed by the gratuitous Mr. Ember. There was, however, no suggestion +in any report that Drummond had not in fact committed suicide--this, +despite the total disappearance of the hypothetical corpse. No doubts +seemed to have arisen from the circumstance that there had been, +apparently, but a single witness of the _felo de se_. A man, breathless +with excitement, had run up to the nearest policeman with word of what +he claimed to have seen. In the subsequent confusion he had vanished. +And so thoroughly, it seemed, had the mind of New York been prepared for +some fatal accident to this latest lover of Sara Law that no one dreamed +of questioning the authenticity of the report. + +Several sensational sheets ran exhaustive resumes, elaborately +illustrated, of the public life of "The Destroying Angel." + +Some remarked the fact that little or nothing was known of the history +of Sara Law prior to her appearance, under the management of Jules Max, +as _Joan Thursday_. + +Whitaker learned that she had refused herself to the reporters who +besieged her residence. + +It seemed to be an unanimous assumption that the news of Drummond's +suicide had in some manner been conveyed to the woman while on the +stage. + +No paper mentioned the name of Whitaker.... + +In the course of the forenoon a note for Whitaker was delivered at the +hotel. + +The heavy sheet of white paper, stamped with the address in +Fifty-seventh Street, bore this message in a strong but nervous hand: + + "I rely upon the generosity you promise me. This marriage of ours, + that is no marriage, must be dissolved. Please let my + attorneys--Landers, Grimshaw & Clark, 149 Broadway--know when and + where you will accept service. Forgive me if I seem ungrateful and + unfeeling. I am hardly myself. And please do not try to see me now. + Some day I hope to see and thank you; to-day--it's impossible. I am + going away to forget, if I can. + + "MARY LADISLAS WHITAKER." + +Before nightfall Whitaker had satisfied himself that his wife had, in +truth, left her town house. The servants there informed all who inquired +that they had been told to report and to forward all letters to Messrs. +Landers, Grimshaw & Clark. + +Whitaker promptly notified those attorneys that he was ready to be +served at their convenience. He further desired them to inform their +client that her suit would be uncontested. But beyond their brief and +business-like acknowledgment, he heard nothing more of the action for +divorce. + +He sought Max several times without success. When at length run to +ground in the roulette room of a Forty-fourth Street gambling-house, the +manager was grimly reticent. He professed complete ignorance of his +star's welfare and whereabouts. He advised Whitaker to consult the +newspapers, if his interest was so insatiable. + +Warned by the manager's truculent and suspicious tone that his secret +was, after all, buried no more than skin-deep, Whitaker dissembled +artfully his anxiety, and abandoned Max to his pet vices. + +The newspapers reported Sara Law as being in retirement in several +widely separated sections of the country. She was also said to have gone +abroad, sailing incognito by a second-class steamship from Philadelphia. + +The nine-days' wonder disintegrated naturally. The sobriquet of "The +Destroying Angel" disappeared from the newspaper scare-heads. So also +the name of Drummond. Hugh Morten Whitaker, the dead man come to life, +occupied public interest for a brief half-day. By the time that the +executors of Carter Drummond and the attorneys representing his clients +began to make sense of his estate and interests, their discoveries +failed to command newspaper space. + +This phenomenon was chiefly due to the fact that Whitaker didn't care to +raise an outcry about his loss. Ember, it seemed, had guessed shrewdly: +Drummond had appropriated to his own uses every dollar of the small +fortune left in his care by his erstwhile partner. No other client of +his had suffered, however. His peculations had been confined wholly to +the one quarter whence he had had every reason to anticipate neither +protest nor exposure. In Whitaker's too-magnanimous opinion, the man had +not been so much a thief as one who yielded to the temptation to convert +to his own needs and uses a property against which, it appeared, no +other living being cared to enter a claim. + +Whether or not he had ever learned or guessed that Sara Law was the wife +of Whitaker, remained problematic. Whitaker inclined to believe that +Drummond had known--that he had learned the truth from the lips of his +betrothed wife. But this could not be determined save through her. And +she kept close hidden. + +The monetary loss was an inconsiderable thing to a man with an interest +in mines in the Owen Stanley country. He said nothing. Drummond's name +remained untarnished, save in the knowledge of a few. + +Of these, Martin Ember was one. Whitaker made a point of hunting him up. +The retired detective received confirmation of his surmise without any +amazement. + +"You still believe that he's alive?" + +"Implicitly," Ember asserted with conviction. + +"Could you find him, if necessary?" + +"Within a day, I think. Do you wish me to?" + +"I don't know..." + +Ember permitted Whitaker to consider the matter in silence for some +moments. Then, "Do you want advice?" he inquired. + +"Well?" + +"Hunt him down and put him behind the bars," said Ember instantly. + +"What's the good of that?" + +"Your personal safety." + +"How?" + +"Don't you suppose he misses all he's been accustomed to?--living as he +does in constant terror of being discovered, the life of a hunted thing, +one of the under-world, an enemy of society! Don't you suppose he'd be +glad to regain all he's lost--business, social position, the esteem of +his friends, the love of a woman who will soon be free to marry him?" + +"Well?" + +"With you out of the way, he could come back without fear." + +"Oh--preposterous!" + +"_Is_ it?" + +"Drummond's not that sort. He's weak, perhaps, but no criminal." + +"A criminal is the creature of a warped judgment. There'd be no +criminals if every one were able to attain his desires within the law. +Misfortunes breed weird maggots in a man's brain. Drummond's dragging +out a wretched existence in a world of false perspectives; he's not to +be blamed if he presently begins to see things as they are not." + +Ember permitted another pause to lengthen, unbroken by Whitaker. + +"Shall I try to find him for you?" he asked quietly, in the end. + +"No," Whitaker decided. "No. Let him alone--poor devil!" + +Ember disclaimed further responsibility with a movement of his +shoulders. + +"But my wife? Could you find her as readily?" + +"Possibly," the detective admitted cautiously. "But I don't mean to." + +"Why not?" + +"Because you don't want me to. Do you?" + +"No..." + +"But principally because she doesn't want me to. Otherwise she'd let you +know where to look for her." + +"True." + +These fragments of dialogue are from a conversation that took place in +the month of June, nearly seven weeks after the farewell performance at +the Theatre Max. Interim, Whitaker had quietly resumed his place in the +life of the town, regaining old friendships, renewing old associations. +Save for the fact that he pursued no gainful occupation, all with him +was much as it had been: as if the intervening six years of exile had +been blotted out, or had never been. The mild excitement occasioned by +his reappearance had already subsided; he was again an accepted and +substantial factor in the society of his kind. + +He had abandoned all thought of returning to New Guinea, entertained, +indeed, no inclination whatever to do so. The life he now led was more +or less normal to him. Yet he was sensible of a growing restlessness. He +had nothing to busy himself with: this was the unguessed secret of his +unsettled temper. And the approach of hot weather was narrowing the +circle of his acquaintances. People were leaving town daily, for Europe, +for the seashore, for the mountains. + +He began to receive invitations for week-ends and longer visits out of +town. A few of the former he accepted--always, however, returning to New +York with a sense of necessity strong upon his spirit. Something held +him there, some influence elusive of analysis. He was discontented, but +felt that he could not find content elsewhere. + +Gradually he began to know more hours of loneliness than suited his +tastes. His rooms--the old rooms overlooking Bryant Park, regained and +refurnished much as they had been six years before--knew his solitary +presence through many a long evening. July came with blistering breath, +and he took to the Adirondacks, meaning to be gone a month. Within ten +days he was home again, drawn back irresistibly by that strange +insatiable craving of unformulated desire. Town bored him, yet he could +not seem to rest away from it. + +He wandered in and out, up and down, an unquiet, irresolute soul, +tremendously perplexed.... + +There came one dark and sultry night, heavy beneath skies overcast, in +August. Whitaker left a roof-garden in the middle of a stupid +performance, and walked the streets till long after midnight, courting +the fatigue that alone could bestow untroubled sleep. On his return, a +sleepy hall-boy with a wilted collar ran the elevator up to his +tenth-floor landing and, leaving him fumbling at the lock of his door, +dropped clankingly out of sight. Whitaker entered and shut himself in +with the pitch-blackness of his private hall. + +He groped along the wall for the electric switch, and found only the +shank of it--the hard-rubber button having disappeared. And then, while +still he was trying to think how this could have happened, he sustained +a murderous assault. + +A miscalculation on the part of the marauder alone saved him. The +black-jack (or whatever the weapon was) missing his head by the +narrowest shave, descended upon his left shoulder with numbing force. +Notwithstanding his pain and surprise, Whitaker rallied and grappled, +thus escaping a second and possibly more deadly blow. + +But his shoulder was almost useless, and the pain of it began to sicken +him, while the man in his grip fought like a devil unchained. He found +himself wedged back into a corner, brutal fingers digging deep into the +flesh round his windpipe. He fought desperately to escape strangulation. +Eventually he struggled out of the corner and gave ground through the +doorway into his sitting-room. + +For some minutes the night in that quiet room, high above the city, was +rendered wild and violent with the crashes of overthrown furniture and +the thud and thump of struggling bodies. Then by some accident little +short of miraculous, Whitaker broke free and plunged across the room in +what he imagined to be the direction of a dresser in which he kept a +revolver. His foot slipped on the hardwood floor, the ankle twisted, and +he fell awkwardly, striking his head against a table-leg with such force +that he lay half-stunned. An instant later his assailant emptied five +chambers of a revolver into the darkness about him, and then, alarmed by +a racket of pounding on the hall door, fled successfully by way of the +fire-escape to adjoining roofs and neighbouring back-yards. + +By the time Whitaker was able to pull himself together and hobble to the +door, a brace of intelligent policemen who had been summoned by the +hall-boy were threatening to break it down. Admitted, they took his +safety into their care and, simultaneously, the revolver which he +incautiously admitted possessing. Later they departed, obviously +disgruntled by the unprofessional conduct of the "crook" who had left no +"clues," with a warning to the house-holder that he might expect to be +summoned to court, as soon as he was able to move, to answer for the +crime of keeping a weapon of defence. + +Whitaker took to his bed in company with a black temper and the aroma of +arnica. + +He entertained, the next day, several persons: reporters; a physician; a +futile, superfluous, unornamental creature misleadingly designated a +plain-clothes man; finally his friend (by now their acquaintance had +warmed to real friendship) Ember. + +The retired investigator found Whitaker getting into his clothes: a +ceremony distinguished by some profanity and numerous grunts. + +"Afternoon," he said, taking a chair and surveying the sufferer with +slightly masked amusement. "Having a good time?" + +"You go to thunder!" said Whitaker in disgust. + +"Glad to see you're not hurt much," pursued the other, unabashed. + +Whitaker withered him with a glare. "I suppose it's nothing to have a +shoulder and arm black-and-blue to the elbow! a bump on the side of my +head as big as a hard-boiled egg! a bruised throat and an ankle next +door to sprained! Oh, no--I'm not much hurt!" + +"You're lucky to be alive," observed Ember, exasperatingly philosophic. + +"A lot you know about it!" + +"I'm a canny little guesser," Ember admitted modestly. + +"Where'd you get your information, then?" + +Ember waved a non-committal hand. "I hear things...." + +"Oh, yes--you know a lot. I suppose you could lay this thug by the heels +in a brace of shakes?" + +"Just about," Ember admitted placidly. "I wouldn't mind trying." + +"Then why don't you?" Whitaker demanded heatedly. + +"I had a notion you wouldn't want me to." + +Whitaker stared aggressively. "You mean ... Drummond?" + +The answer was a nod. + +"I don't believe it." + +"You'll at all events do me the credit to recall that I warned you two +months ago." + +"All the same, I don't believe it was Drummond." + +"You haven't missed any property, I believe?" + +"No." + +"So presumably the fellow had some motive other than a desire to thieve. +Besides, if he'd been on the loot he might much more easily have tried +one of the lower floors--and more sensibly." + +"It would seem so," Whitaker admitted sulkily. + +"And that missing switch-button--" + +"What do _you_ know about that?" + +"My sources of information.... It strikes me that a man who took that +much trouble to prevent your turning on the light must have been rather +anxious to avoid recognition. I shed the inference for its intrinsic +worth, merely." + +"Well...." Whitaker temporized. + +"And I'd like to know what you mean to do." + +"About what?" + +"With the understanding that you're content to leave the case of +burglary and assault to the mercies of the police: what do you mean to +do with yourself?" + +"I don't know--hadn't thought." + +"Unless you're hell-bent on sticking around here to get your head bashed +in--I venture respectfully to suggest that you consign yourself to my +competent care." + +"Meaning--?" + +"I've got a bungalow down on Long Island--a one-horse sort of a bachelor +affair--and I'm going to run down there this evening and stay awhile. +There's quiet, no society and good swimming. Will you come along and be +my guest until you grow tired of it?" + +Whitaker looked his prospective host over with a calculating, suspicious +eye. + +"I ought to be able to take care of myself," he grumbled childishly. + +"Granted." + +"But I've a great mind to take you up." + +"Sensibly spoken. Can you be ready by three? I'll call with the car +then, if you can." + +"Done with you!" declared Whitaker with a strong sense of relief. + +As a matter of fact, he was far less incredulous of Ember's theory than +he chose to admit. + + + + +X + +THE WINDOW + + +Though they left New York not long after three in the afternoon, +twilight was fast ebbing into night when the motor-car--the owner +driving, Whitaker invalided to the lonely grandeur of the tonneau--swept +up from a long waste of semi-wooded countryside, sparsely populated, +bumped over railroad tracks, purred softly at sedate pace through the +single street of a drowsy village, and then struck away from the main +country road. + +Once clear of the village bounds, as if assured of an unobstructed way, +Ember gave the motor its head; with a long, keen whine of delight it +took the bit between its teeth and flung away like a thoroughbred +romping down the home-stretch. Its headlights clove a path through +darkness, like a splendid sword; a pale shining ribbon of road seemed to +run to the wheels as if eager to be devoured; on either hand woodlands +and desolate clearings blurred into dark and rushing walls; the wind +buffeted the faces of the travellers like a soft and tender hand, +seeking vainly if with all its strength to withstand their impetus: only +the wonderful wilderness of stars remained imperturbable. + +Whitaker, braced against the jolting, snatched begrudged mouthfuls of +air strong of the sea. From time to time he caught fugitive glimpses of +what seemed to be water, far in the distances to the right. He had no +very definite idea of their whereabouts, having neglected through sheer +indifference to question Ember, but he knew that they were drawing +minute by minute closer to the Atlantic. And the knowledge was soothing +to the unquiet of his soul, who loved the sea. He dreamed vaguely, with +yearning, of wave-swept shores and their sonorous silences. + +After some time the car slowed to a palpitant pause at a spot where the +road was bordered on one hand by a woods, on the other by meadow-lands +running down to an arm of a bay, on whose gently undulant surface the +flame-tipped finger of a distant lighthouse drew an undulant path of +radiance. + +Ember jumped out to open a barred gate, then returning swung the car +into a clear but narrow woodland road. "Mine own domain," he informed +Whitaker with a laugh, as he stopped a second time to go back and close +the gate. "Now we're shut of the world, entirely." + +The car crawled cautiously on, following a path that, in the searching +glare of headlights, showed as two parallel tracks of white set apart by +a strip of livid green and walled in by a dense tangle of scrub-oak and +pine and second growth. Underbrush rasped and rattled against the +guards. Outside the lighted way arose strange sounds audible above even +the purring of the motor--vast mysterious whisperings and rustlings: +stealthy and murmurous protests against this startling trespass. + +Whitaker bent forward, inquiring: "Where are we?" + +"Almost there. Patience." + +Whitaker sat back again, content to await enlightenment at the pleasure +of his host. Really, he didn't much care where they were: the sense of +isolation, strong upon his spirit, numbed all his curiosity. + +He reckoned idly that they must have threaded a good two miles of +woodland, when at length the car emerged upon a clearing and immediately +turned aside to the open doorway of a miniature garage. + +For the first time in five hours he was aware of the hush of Nature; the +motor's song was ended for the night. + +The clearing seemed no more than a fair two acres in extent; the forest +hemmed it in on three sides; on the fourth lay water. Nor was it an +unqualified clearing; a hundred yards distant the lighted windows of a +one-story structure shone pleasantly through a scattering plantation of +pine. + +Linking arms the better to guide his guest, Ember drew him toward the +lights. + +"Bungalow," he explained, sententious, flourishing his free hand: +"hermitage--retreat." + +"Paradise," Whitaker summed up, in the same humour. + +"Still-water swimming at the front door; surf bathing on the beach +across the bay; sailing, if you care for it; fishing, if you don't care +what you say; all sorts of civilized loafing and no society except our +own." + +"No women?" + +"Not a petticoat." + +"No neighbours?" + +"Oh"--Ember motioned to his left as they faced the water--"there's a +married establishment over there somewhere, but we don't bother one +another. Fellow by the name of Fiske. I understand the place is shut +up--Fiske not coming down this year." + +"So much the better. I've been wanting just this all summer, without +realizing it." + +"Welcome, then, to Half-a-loaf Lodge!" + +Skirting the edges of the plantation, they had come round to the front +of the house. An open door, warm with light, welcomed them. They entered +a long and deep living-room with walls of peeled logs and, at one end, a +stone fireplace wherein a wood fire blazed heartily. Two score candles +in sconces furnished an illumination mellow and benign. At a comfortable +distance from the hearth stood a table bright with linen, silver and +crystal--covers for two. The rear wall was broken by three doors, in one +of which a rotund Chinaman beamed oleaginously. Ember hailed him by the +title of Sum Fat, explaining that it wasn't his name, but claiming for +it the virtue of exquisite felicity. + +"My servant in town, here man-of-all-work; I've had him for years; +faithful and indispensable...." + +Toward the end of an excellent dinner, Whitaker caught himself nodding +and blinking with drowsiness. The fatigue of their long ride, added to +the nervous strain and excitement of the previous night, was proving +more than he had strength to struggle against. Ember took laughing +compassion upon him and led him forthwith to a bedroom furnished with +the rigid simplicity of a summer camp. Once abed he lay awake only long +enough to recognize, in the pulsating quiet, the restless thunder of +surf on the beach across the bay. Then he slept round the clock. + +He recovered consciousness to lie luxuriating in the sensation of +delicious and complete repose, and to listen lazily to the drum of +raindrops on the low roof--too lazy, indeed, to turn his head and +consult his watch. Yet he knew it must be late in the morning, for the +light was broad, if gray. + +The shrill, imperative rattle of a telephone bell roused him more +thoroughly. Lifting on his elbow, he eyed his watch, then hastily swung +his legs out of bed; for it was nearly ten o'clock. + +As he dressed he could hear the voice of Ember in the living-room +talking over the telephone. Presently there came a tap at his door, and +his host entered. + +"Up, eh?" he said cheerfully. "I was afraid I'd have to wake you. You're +surely a sincere young sleeper.... I say!" His smile vanished beneath +the clouds of an impatient frown. "This is the devil of a note: I've got +to leave you." + +"What's the trouble?" + +"That's what I'm called upon to find out. A friend of mine's in a tight +place, and I've got to go and help pull him through. He just called me +up--and I can't refuse. D'you mind being left alone for a day or so?" + +"Certainly not--only I'm sorry." + +"No more than I. But I'll try to get back to-morrow. If I don't, the +next day--or as soon as I possibly can. Meanwhile, please consider +yourself lord and master here. Sum Fat will take good care of you. +Anything you want, just ask him. Now I've got to get into waterproofs: +it's raining like all get-out, but I can't wait for a let-up." + +By the time Whitaker was ready for breakfast, his host had splashed off +to his motor car. + +Later, while Sum Fat crooned to himself over the dish-pan in the +kitchen, Whitaker explored his quarters; to begin with, not in the least +disconsolate to be left alone. The place had for his imagination the +zest of novelty and isolation. He rather enjoyed the sensation of +complete dissociation from the rest of the world, of freedom to humour +his idlest whim without reference to the prejudices of any neighbour. + +Within-doors there was every comfort conceivably to be desired by any +other than a sybarite; without--viewed from the shelter of a wide +veranda--a vague world of sweeping mist and driving rain; pine trees +Japanesque against the mist, as if etched in bronze-green on frosted +silver; a breadth of rough, hummocky ground sloping down to the water's +edge, with a private landing-stage and, farther out, a courtesying +cat-boat barely discernible. + +The wind, freshening and driving very respectable if miniature rollers +against the beach, came in heavy gusts, alternating with periods of +steady, strong blowing. At times the shining lances of the rain seemed +to drive almost horizontally. Whitaker shivered a little, not +unpleasantly, and went indoors. + +He poked his head into the kitchen. In that immaculate place, from which +every hint of breakfast had disappeared as if by magic, Sum Fat was +religiously cleaning his teeth--for the third time that morning, to +Whitaker's certain knowledge. + +When he had finished, Whitaker put a question: + +"Sum Fat, which way does the wind blow--do you know?" + +Sum Fat flashed him a dazzling smile. + +"East'ly," he said in a cheerful, clucking voice. "I think very fine +damn three-day blow." + +"At least," said Whitaker, "you're a high-spirited prophet of evil. I +thank you." + +He selected a book from several shelves stocked with a discriminating +taste, and settled himself before the fire. + +The day wore out before his patience did, and with every indication of +fulfilling the prognosis of Sum Fat; by nightfall the wind had developed +into an enthusiastic gale, driving before it sheeted rain and great +ragged wastes of mist. Whitaker absolutely enjoyed the sensation of +renewed intimacy with the weather, from which his life in New York had +of late divorced him so completely. He read, dozed, did full justice to +the admirable cuisine of Sum Fat, and between whiles considered the +state of his soul, the cycle of the suns, his personal marital +entanglement, and the further preservation, intact, of his bruised +mortal body. + +The ceaseless pattering on the shingled roof reminded him very strongly +of that dark hour, long gone, when he had made up his mind to wed a +strange woman. He marvelled at that madness with an inexhaustible wonder +and with an equally vast, desolate, poignant regret. + +He considered faithfully what he had gained by reasserting his identity, +and found it an empty thing. He had been happier when a Wilful Missing, +unmissed, unmourned. It seemed as if it might be best to go away again, +to eliminate Hugh Whitaker from the coil his reappearance had created. +Then his wife could gain her freedom--and incidentally free him--and +marry as she willed. And Drummond would be free to come to life--with +hands unstained, his honour besmirched only in the knowledge of a few +who would not tell. + +Did he remain, Drummond, he feared, would prove a troublesome problem. +Whitaker was, in the light of sober after-thought, more than half +convinced that Ember had guessed cunningly at the identity of his +assailant. The thing was conceivable, at least, of Drummond: the +hedonist and egoist seeking to regain his forfeited world in one +murderous cast. And it was hardly conceivable that he would hesitate to +make a second attempt whenever opportunity offered. New York, Whitaker +saw clearly, was far too small to contain them both while Drummond +remained at liberty. By attempting to stay there he would simply invite +a second attempt upon his life, merely strengthen Drummond's temptation. + +He thought it very curious that he had heard nothing more of the +proposed action for divorce. It might be well to communicate again with +his wife's attorneys. + +He went to bed with a mind unsettled, still curious, speculative, unable +to fix upon any definite course of conduct. + +And the second day was like unto the first: a day of rain and wind and +fog periodically punctuated by black squalls that tore shrieking across +the bay with the blind fury of spirits of destruction gone stark, raving +mad. + +The third day broke full of the spirit of the second; but toward noon +the rain ceased, and by mid-afternoon the violence of the wind had +moderated perceptibly to a stiffish but failing breeze beneath a +breaking cloud-rack. With the disappearance of fog, for the first time +since Whitaker's arrival the neighbourhood discovered perspectives. By +evening, when the wind went down with the sun, leaving absolute calm, +the barrier beach far across the quiet waters of the shallow, landlocked +bay shone like a bar of ruddy gold against a horizon of melting mauve. + +In the evening, too, a telegram from Ember was transmitted by telephone +to the bungalow, advising Whitaker of his host's intention to return by +the following night at the latest. + +This communication worked with the turn of the weather to effect a +change in the temper of Whitaker, who by this time had managed to fret +himself to the verge of incontinent departure for Australia _via_ New +York. He decided, however, to wait and thank Ember for his hospitality, +and thought seriously of consulting him as to the wisest and fairest +course to pursue. + +None the less, the restlessness and impatience bred of nearly three days +of enforced inaction possessed him like a devil. After another of Sum +Fat's admirable dinners, his craving for open air and exercise drove him +out, despite the failing light, to explore the clearing rather +thoroughly, and to some extent the surrounding woodlands. At one time, +indeed, he caught sight, through thinning trees, of a summer home +somewhat more pretentious than Half-a-loaf Lodge--evidently the property +termed by Ember "the Fiske place." But it was then so nearly dark that +he didn't pause to investigate an impression that the place was +tenanted, contradictory to his host's casual statement; and he was back +on the bungalow porch in time to see the moon lift up like a great +shield of brass through the haze beyond the barrier beach. + +Sounds of splashings and of song drew him down to the water's edge, to +find that Sum Fat had rowed out to the anchored cat-boat and, almost as +naked as industrious, was bailing it clear of the three days' +accumulation of rain-water. He came in, presently, and having performed +what was probably at least the eighth cleaning of his teeth since +morning, went to bed. + +Wearying at length of the lunar spectacle, and quite as weary of the +sedulous attentions of a cloud of famished mosquitoes, Whitaker lounged +disconsolately indoors to a pipe and a book by candle-light. But the one +needed cleaning, and the other was out of tune with his temper, and the +flame of the candle excited the amorous interest of a great fluttering +fool of a moth until Whitaker blew it out and sat on in darkness, not +tired enough to go to bed, too tired to bestir himself and seek +distraction from a tormenting train of thought. + +A pool of limpid moonlight lay like milk upon the floor beneath a window +and held his dreaming gaze while memory marshalled for his delectation a +pageant of wasted years, infinitely desolate and dreary in his vision. A +life without profit, as he saw it: an existence rendered meaningless by +a nameless want--a lack he had not wit to name.... The romance of his +life enchanted him, its futility furnished him a vast and profound +perplexity. To what end?--this was the haunting burden of his +complaint.... + +How long he sat unstirring, preoccupied with fruitless inquiry, he did +not guess. But later he reckoned it could not have been long after ten +o'clock when he was disturbed. The sound of a footfall, hushed and +stealthy on the veranda, roused him with a start, and almost at the same +instant he became aware of a shadow that troubled the pool of moonlight, +the foreshortened shadow of a man's head and shoulders. He sat up, +tense, rigid with surprise and wonder, and stared at the silhouetted +body at pause just outside the window. The fellow was stooping to peer +in. Whether he could distinguish Whitaker in the shadows was debatable, +but he remained motionless through a long minute, as if fascinated by +the undeviating regard returned by Whitaker. Then the latter broke the +spell with a hasty movement. Through the feeling of surprised resentment +there had filtered a gnawing suspicion that he was acquainted with the +pose of that head and the set of those shoulders. Had Drummond hunted +him down to this isolate hiding-place? On the thought he leaped up, in +two strides slammed out through the door. + +"I say!" he cried loudly. But he cried, apparently, to empty air. The +man was gone--vanished as strangely and as quietly as he had appeared. + +Whitaker shut teeth on an oath and, jumping down from the veranda, cast +wildly about the bungalow without uncovering a single sign of the +trespasser. In transit from his chair to the door, he had lost sight of +the fellow for no more, certainly, than half a second; and yet, in that +absurdly scanty space of time, the trespasser had managed to effect an +absolute disappearance. No conjuring trick was ever turned more neatly. +There one instant, gone the next!--the mystery of it irritated and +perplexed more than did the question of identity. It was all very +plausible to suspect Drummond--but whither could Drummond have juggled +himself in the twinkling of an eyelash? That it was no trick of an idle +imagination, Whitaker was prepared to swear: he was positive he had seen +what he had seen. And yet.... It was, on the other hand, impossible to +say where in the plantation of pines the man might not then be skulking. +Whitaker instituted a narrow search, but fruitless. + +Eventually pausing and glaring round the clearing in complete +bewilderment, he detected or else fancied a slight movement in the +shadows on the edge of the encompassing woodland. Instantly, heedless of +the risk he ran if the man were indeed Drummond and if Drummond were +indeed guilty of the assault now four nights old, Whitaker broke for the +spot. It proved to be the entrance to one of the woodland paths, and +naturally--whether or no his imagination were in fault--there was nobody +waiting there to be caught. + +But if any one had been there, he had unquestionably fled along the +trail. Whitaker in a rage set himself to follow, sticking to the path +partly through instinct, mainly thanks to a spectral twilight +manufactured in the forest by moon-beams filtered thin through +innumerable leaves and branches. Once or twice he paused to listen, then +again plunged on: misled perhaps by the mysterious but inevitable noises +of the nocturnal woodland. Before he realized he could have covered half +the distance, he emerged abruptly into the clearing of the Fiske place. + +Here he pulled up, for the first time alive to the intrinsic idiocy of +his conduct, and diverted besides by the discovery that his impression +of the early evening, that the cottage was tenanted, had been well +founded. + +The ground floor windows shone with a dim but warm illumination. There +was one quite near him, a long window opening upon the railed veranda, +through which he could see distinctly part of a living-room rather +charmingly furnished in a summery way. At its farther end a dark-haired +woman in a plain black dress with a short apron and lace cap sat reading +by lamplight: evidently a maid. Her mistress--judged by appearances--was +outside on the lawn below the veranda, strolling to and fro in company +with a somewhat short and heavy man who wore an automobile duster and +visored cap. By contrast, her white-clad figure, invested with the +illusion of moonlight, seemed unusually tall. Her hair was fair, shining +like a head-dress of palest gold as she bent her head, attentive to her +companion. And Whitaker thought to discern an unusual quality in her +movements, a quality of charm and a graciousness of mien rarely to be +noticed even in the most beautiful of the women he had known. + +Of a sudden the man paused, produced a watch from beneath his duster, +consulted it briefly and shut the case with a snap. He said something in +a brusque tone, and was answered by what sounded like a pleasant +negative. Promptly, as if annoyed, he turned and strode hastily away, +disappearing round the house. + +Alone, the woman watched him as long as he was in sight, her head to one +side with an effect of critical amusement. Then with a low laugh she +crossed the veranda and entered the lighted room. At the same time, +Whitaker, lingering and watching without in the least understanding or +even questioning why he was doing this thing so contrary to his +instincts, heard the heavy rumble of a motor-car on the far side of the +house and saw the machine swing off across the clearing and into the +woods. + +In the living-room the woman was saying: "You may go now, Elise. I'll be +ready for bed before long." + +"Yes, madam." The maid rose and moved briskly out of sight. + +Her mistress, casting aside a scarf of embroidered Chinese brocade, +moved about the room with an air at once languid and distrait. Pausing +beside a table, she took up a book, opened it, shut it smartly, +discarding it as if hopeless of finding therein any sort of diversion. +She stood for a moment in deep thought, her head bowed, the knuckle of a +slender forefinger tapping her chin--charmingly posed. Whitaker abruptly +understood why it was he loitered, peeping: she was absolutely +beautiful, a creature both exquisite and superb, a matchless portrait +for the galleries of his memory. + +With a sigh and a quick movement of impatience, seating herself at a +cottage piano she ran her fingers over the keys. Whitaker recognized the +opening bars of something or other of Beethoven's--he couldn't say +precisely what, at the instant; and even as he tried a thing happened +which drove the music altogether from his mind: in short, he discovered +that he was not the only watcher below the window. + +Something--a movement or perhaps a slight sound--had drawn his attention +from the woman. He saw the other man standing boldly in full moonlight, +all his attention concentrated on the brilliant picture framed by the +window. He was unquestionably without knowledge of the nearness of the +other--of Whitaker in the shadows. And though his back was to the moon +and his face further shadowed by a peaked cap, Whitaker was absolutely +sure of the man: he was certainly Drummond. + +Without pause for thought he sprang toward him, in a guarded voice +uttering his name--"Drummond!" But the fellow proved too alert and quick +for him. Whitaker's hands closed on nothing more substantial than thin +air; at the same time he received a blow upon his bruised shoulder smart +and forcible enough to stagger him and evoke an involuntary grunt of +pain. And before he could regain his balance the fellow was thrashing +noisily away through the woodland underbrush. + +Involuntarily Whitaker glanced through the window to see if the woman +had been alarmed. But apparently a succession of sonorous chords from +the piano had deafened her to all other sounds. She played on with every +sign of total unconsciousness. + +Forthwith he struck off and blundered senselessly through the forest, +misled by its elusive phantasmagoria, until, realizing at length he did +but duplicate an earlier folly, he gave up the chase in disgust and +slowly made his way back to the bungalow. + +And yet (for all the mystery and the wonder of his experience) it was +with a somewhat sheepish feeling that he took the precaution of locking +the doors and windows before turning in. After all, what grounds had he +for his suspicions? Merely a hasty guess at the identity of one who +might turn out to be nothing more than a hapchance tramp--a skulking +vagabond on the watch for a chance to pilfer and fly. + +If he were Drummond and as murderous-minded as Ember claimed, why had he +neglected his dozen opportunities to ambush his prey in the woods? + +A shade of incredulity insensibly began to color Whitaker's +apprehensions. In time, with impatience, he dismissed them altogether +from his mind. + +He dozed off while dwelling upon the vision of a fair-haired woman +idling over a piano, swaying slightly as she played. + + + + +XI + +THE SPY + + +Whitaker slept soundly but lightly: the adventures of the evening had +not been so fatiguing as to render his slumbers profound, after three +days of sheer loafing. And he awoke early, roused by a level beam of +blood-red light thrown full upon his face by the rising sun. + +He lay for a time languid, watching the incarnadined walls and lazily +examining the curious thrill of interest with which he found himself +anticipating the day to come. It seemed a long time since he had looked +forward to the mere routine of existence with so strong an assurance of +emotional diversion. He idled in whimsical humour with an odd conceit to +the effect that the roots of his soul had somehow been mysteriously +watered, so that it was about to burgeon like a green bay tree--whatever +that might mean. And with this he experienced an exhilarating glow of +well-being that had of late been more a stranger to his body than he +liked to admit. + +He wondered why. Was the change in the weather responsible? Or had the +mere act of withdrawing from the world for a little time wrought some +esoteric change in the inscrutable chemistry of his sentiments? Had the +recent innocuous waste of time somehow awakened him to the value of the +mere act of living? Or, again--absurd surmise!--was all this due simply +to the instinct of sex: was it merely the man in him quickening to the +knowledge that a pretty woman existed in his neighbourhood? + +At this last he laughed openly, and jumped out of bed. At all events, no +healthy man had any business dawdling away a single minute of so rare a +morning. + +Already the sun was warm, the faint breeze bland. Standing at the window +and shading his eyes against the glare, he surveyed a world new-washed +and radiant: the sun majestically climbing up and away from the purple +lattice-work of cloud that barred the nitid mauve horizon; the distant +beach, a violet-tinted barrier between the firmament and sea; the +landlocked bay dimpled with vagrant catspaws and smitten with sunlight +as with a scimitar of fire; the earth fresh and fragrant, steaming +faintly in the ardent glow of dawn. + +In another moment he was at the kitchen door, interrupting Sum Fat's +first matutinal attentions to his teeth with a demand for a +bathing-suit. One of Ember's was promptly forthcoming, and by happy +accident fitted him indifferently well; so that three minutes later +found him poised on the end of the small dock, above fifteen feet of +water so limpid bright that he could easily discern the shapes of +pebbles on the bottom. + +He dived neatly, coming to the surface with his flesh tingling with +delight of the cool water; then with the deliberate and powerful +movements of an experienced swimmer, struck away from the land. + +Two hundred yards out he paused, rolled over on his back and, hands +clasped beneath his head, floated serenely, sunlight warming his +upturned face, his body rejoicing in the suave, clean, fluid embrace, an +almost overpowering sense of physical sanity and boundless strength +rioting through him. Quietly, intimately, he smiled at the sound, good +old world, athrill with the wonder and beauty of life. + +Then something disturbed him: a dull fluttering, vibrant upon his +submerged eardrums. Extending his arms and moving his hands gently to +preserve his poise, he lifted his head from the water. The neighbouring +shore-line leaped flashing to his vision like an exquisite disclosure of +jewelled marquetry. His vision ranged quickly from Ember's landing-stage +to that on the water-front of the Fiske place, and verified a surmise +with the discovery of a motor-boat standing out from the latter. The +churning of its propeller had roused him. + +Holding its present course, the boat would clear him by several hundred +yards. He lay quiet, watching. Despite its generous proportions--it was +a fair-sized cabin cruiser, deep-seaworthy in any ordinary weather--he +could see but a single person for all its crew. Seated astern, dividing +her attention between the side steering-wheel and the engine, she was +altogether ignorant of the onlooker. Only her head and shoulders showed +above the coaming: her head with its shining golden crown, her shoulders +cloaked with a light wrap gathered at the throat. + +Whitaker, admiring, wondered.... + +Sweeping in a wide arc as it gathered speed, the boat presently shot out +smartly on a straight course for the barrier beach. + +Why? What business had she there? And at an hour so early? + +No affair of his: Whitaker admitted as much, freely. And yet, no reason +existed why he should not likewise take an impersonal interest in the +distant ocean beach. As a matter of fact (he discovered upon +examination) he was vastly concerned in that quarter. Already he was +beginning his fourth day on the Great West Bay without having set foot +upon its Great South Beach! Ridiculous oversight! And one to be remedied +without another hour's delay. + +Grinning with amused toleration of his own perverse sophistry, he turned +over on his side and struck out in the wake of the motor-boat. He had +over a mile to go; but such a distance was nothing dismaying to a +swimmer of Whitaker's quality, who had all his life been on very +friendly terms with the sea. + +No one held a watch on him; but when at length he waded ashore he was +complacent in the knowledge that he had made very good time. + +He found the motor-boat moored in shallow water at the end of a long and +substantial dock. The name displayed in letters of brass on its stern +was, frankly, _Trouble_. He paused waist-deep to lean over the side and +inspect the cockpit; the survey drew from him an expression of approval. +The boat seemed to be handsomely appointed, and the motor exposed by the +open hatch of the engine pit was of a make synonymous with speed and +reliability. He patted the flanks of the vessel as he waded on. + +"Good little boat!" said he. + +A weather-beaten sign-board on the dock advertised a surf-bathing +station. Ashore a plank walk crossed first a breadth of sedge marsh and +then penetrated a tumbled waste of dunes. Where the summits of the +latter met the sky, there were visible a series of angular and unlovely +wooden edifices. + +Whitaker climbed up on the walk and made seawards. He saw nothing of the +lady of the motor-boat. + +In fact, for some time he saw nothing in human guise; from other +indications he was inclined to conclude that the bathing station was +either closed for the season or else had been permanently abandoned +within a year or so. There was a notable absence of rowboats and sailing +craft about the dock, with, as he drew nearer to the shuttered and +desolate cluster of bath-houses, an equally remarkable lack of garments +and towels hanging out to dry. + +Walking rapidly, he wasn't long in covering the distance from shore to +shore. Very soon he stood at the head of a rude flight of wooden steps +which ran down from the top of a wave-eaten sand bluff, some ten or +twelve feet in height, to the broad and gently shelving ocean beach. +Whipping in from the sea, a brisk breeze, from which the dunes had +heretofore sheltered him, now cooled his dripping bathing-suit not +altogether pleasantly. But he didn't mind. The sight of the surf +compensated. + +He had long since been aware of its resonant diapason, betokening a +heavy sea; but the spectacle of it was one ever beautiful in his sight. +Whitecaps broke the lustrous blue, clear to its serrated horizon. +Inshore the tide was low; the broad and glistening expanse of naked wet +sand mirrored the tender blueness of the skies far out to where the +breakers weltered in confusion of sapphire, emerald and snow. A mile +offshore a fishing smack with a close-reefed, purple patch of sail was +making heavy weather of it; miles beyond it, again, an inward-bound +ocean steamship shouldered along contemptuously; and a little way +eastwards a multitude of gulls with flashing pinions were wheeling and +darting and screaming above something in the sea--presumably a school of +fish. + +Midway between the sand bluff and the breaking waters stood the woman +Whitaker had followed. (There wasn't any use mincing terms: he _had_ +followed her in his confounded, fatuous curiosity!) Her face was to the +sea, her hands clasped behind her. Now the wind modelled her cloak +sweetly to her body, now whipped its skirts away, disclosing legs +straight and slender and graciously modelled. She was dressed, it +seemed, for bathing; she had crossed the bay for a lonely bout with the +surf, and having found it dangerously heavy, now lingered, disappointed +but fascinated by the majestic beauty of its fury. + +Whitaker turned to go, his inquisitiveness appeased; but he was aware of +an annoying sense of shame, which he considered rather low on the part +of his conscience. True, he had followed her; true, he had watched her +at a moment when she had every reason to believe herself alone with the +sky, the sand, the sea and the squabbling gulls. But--the beach was free +to all; there was no harm done; he hadn't really meant to spy upon her, +and he had not the slightest intention of forcing himself upon her +consciousness. + +Intentions, however, are one thing; accidents, another entirely. History +is mainly fashioned of intentions that have met with accidents. + +Whitaker turned to go, and turning let his gaze sweep up from the beach +and along the brow of the bluff. He paused, frowning. Some twenty feet +or so distant the legs of a man, trousered and booted, protruded from a +hollow between two hummocks of sand. And the toes of the boots were +digging into the sand, indicating that the man was lying prone; and that +meant (if he were neither dead nor sleeping) that he was watching the +woman on the beach. + +Indignation, righteous indignation, warmed Whitaker's bosom. It was all +very well for him to catch sight of the woman through her cottage +window, by night, and to swim over to the beach in her wake the next +morning, but what right had anybody else to constitute himself her +shadow?... All this on the mute evidence of the boots and trousers: +Whitaker to his knowledge had never seen them before, but he had so +little doubt they belonged to the other watcher by the window last night +that he readily persuaded himself that this must be so. + +Besides, it was possible that the man was Drummond. + +Anyway, nobody was licensed to skulk among sand-dunes and spy upon +unescorted females! + +Instantly Whitaker resolved himself into a select joint committee for +the Promulgation of the Principles of Modern Chivalry and the +Elucidation of the Truth. + +He strode forward and stood over the man, looking down at his back. It +was true, as he had assumed: the fellow was watching the woman. Chin in +hands, elbows half-buried in sand, he seemed to be following her with an +undeviating regard. And his back was very like Drummond's; at least, in +height and general proportion his figure resembled Drummond's closely +enough to leave Whitaker without any deterring doubt. + +A little quiver of excitement mingled with anticipative satisfaction ran +through him. Now, at last, the mystery was to be cleared up, his future +relations with the pseudo suicide defined and established. + +Deliberately he extended his bare foot and nudged the man's ribs. + +"Drummond...." he said in a clear voice, decided but unaggressive. + +With an oath and what seemed a single, quick motion, the man jumped to +his feet and turned to Whitaker a startled and inflamed countenance. + +"What the devil!" he cried angrily. "Who are you? What do you want? What +d'you mean by coming round here and calling me Drummond?" + +He was no more Drummond than he was Whitaker himself. + +Whitaker retreated a step, nonplussed. "I beg pardon," he stammered +civilly, in his confusion; "I took you for a fr--a man I know." + +"Well, I ain't, see!" For a moment the man glowered at Whitaker, his +features twitching. Apparently the shock of surprise had temporarily +dislocated his sense of proportion. Rage blazed from his bloodshot, +sunken eyes, and rage was eloquent in the set of his rusty, square-hewn +chin and the working of his heavy and begrimed hands. + +"Damn you!" he exploded suddenly. "What d'you mean by butting in--" + +"For that matter"--something clicked in Whitaker's brain and +subconsciously he knew that his temper was about to take the +bridge--"what the devil do _you_ mean by spying on that lady yonder?" + +It being indisputably none of his concern, the unfairness of the +question only lent it offensive force. It was quite evidently more than +the man could or would bear from any officious stranger. He made this +painfully clear through the medium of an intolerable epithet and an +attempt to land his right fist on Whitaker's face. + +The face, however, was elsewhere when the fist reached the point for +which it had been aimed; and Whitaker closed in promptly as the fellow's +body followed his arm, thrown off balance by the momentum of the +unobstructed blow. Thoroughly angered, he had now every intention of +administering a sound and salutary lesson. + +In pursuance with this design, he grappled and put forth his strength to +throw the man. + +What followed had entered into the calculations of neither. Whitaker +felt himself suddenly falling through air thick with a blinding, choking +cloud of dust and sand. The body of the other was simultaneously +wrenched violently from his grasp. Then he brought up against solidity +with a bump that seemed to expel every cubic inch of air from his lungs. +And he heard himself cry out sharply with the pain of his weak ankle +newly twisted.... + +He sat up, gasping for breath, brushed the sand from his face and eyes, +and as soon as his whirling wits settled a little, comprehended what had +happened. + +Half buried in the debris of a miniature landslide, he sat at the foot +of the bluff, which reared its convex face behind and over him. +Immediately above his head a ragged break in its profile showed where +the sand, held together solely by beach grass, had given way beneath the +weight of the antagonists. + +A little distance from him the other man was picking himself up, +apparently unhurt but completely surfeited. Without delay, with not even +so much as a glance at Whitaker, he staggered off for a few paces, then +settled into a heavy, lumbering trot westward along the beach. + +This conduct was so inconsistent with his late belligerent humour that +Whitaker felt inclined to rub his eyes a second time. He had +anticipated--as soon as in condition to reason at all--nothing less than +an immediate resumption of hostilities. Yet here was the fellow running +away. Incomprehensible! + +And yet, save at the first blush, not so incomprehensible: the chief of +the man's desire had been unquestionably to see without being seen; his +rage at being detected had led him to a misstep; now he was reverting to +his original plan with all possible expedition. He did not wish the +woman to recognize him; therefore he was putting himself out of her way. +For she was approaching. + +When Whitaker caught sight of her, she was already close at hand. She +had been running. Now as their glances met, hers keenly inquiring of +Whitaker's still bewildered eyes, she pulled up abruptly and stood +astare. He saw, or fancied, something closely akin to fright and +consternation in her look. The flush in her cheeks gave way to a swift +pallor. The hands trembled that drew her beach-cloak close about her. +She seemed to make an ineffectual effort to speak. + +On his part, Whitaker tried to get up. A keen twinge in his ankle, +however, wrung an involuntary grunt from him, and with a wry grimace he +sank back. + +"Oh!" cried the woman, impulsively. "You're hurt!" She advanced a pace, +solicitous and sympathetic. + +"Oh, not much," Whitaker replied in a tone more of hope than of +assurance. He felt tenderly of the injured member. "Only my +ankle--twisted it a few days ago, and now again. It'll be all right in a +moment or two." + +Her gaze travelled from him to the edge of the bluff. + +"I didn't see--I mean, I heard something, and turned, and saw you trying +to sit up and the other man rising." + +"Sorry we startled you," Whitaker mumbled, wondering how the deuce he +was going to get home. His examination of the ankle hadn't proved +greatly encouraging. + +"But I--ah--how did it happen?" + +"A mere misunderstanding," he said lightly. "I mistook the gentleman for +some one I knew. He resented it, so we started to scrap like a couple of +schoolboys. Then ... I wish to Heaven it had been his leg instead of +mine!" + +"But still I hardly understand...." + +She was now more composed. The colour had returned to her face. She +stood with head inclined a trifle forward, gaze intent beneath delicate +brows; most distractingly pretty, he thought, in spite of the +ankle--which really didn't hurt much unless moved. + +"Well, you see, I--ah--I'm visiting Ember--the cottage next to yours, I +believe. That is, if I'm not mistaken, you have the Fiske place?" + +She nodded. + +"And so, this morning, it struck me as a fine young idea to swim over +here and have a look at the beach. I--ah--you rather showed me the way, +with your motor-boat. I mean I saw you start out." + +He felt better after that: open confession is a great help when one +feels senselessly guilty. He ventured an engaging smile and noted with +relief that it failed either to terrify or to enrage the young woman. + +On the other hand, she said encouragingly: "I see." + +"And then I found that chap watching you--" + +That startled her. "How do you mean--watching me?" + +"Why--ah--that's what he seemed to be doing. He was lying at full length +up there, half hidden--to all appearances watching you from behind a +screen of beach grass." + +"But--I don't understand--why should he have been watching me?" + +"I'm sure I don't know, if you don't." + +She shook her head: "You must be mistaken." + +"Daresay. I generally am when I jump at conclusions. Anyway, he didn't +like it much when I called him out of his name. I gathered, in fact, +that he was considerably put out. Silly, wasn't it?" + +"Rather!" she agreed gravely. + +For a moment or two they eyed one another in silence, Whitaker wondering +just how much of a fool she was thinking him and dubiously considering +various expedients to ingratiate himself. She was really quite too +charming to be neglected, after so auspicious an inauguration of their +acquaintance. Momentarily he was becoming more convinced that she was +exceptional. Certain he was he had never met any woman quite like +her--not even the fair but false Miss Carstairs of whom he had once +fancied himself so hopelessly enamoured. Here he divined an uncommon +intelligence conjoined with matchless loveliness. Testimony to the +former quality he acquired from eyes serenely violet and thoughtful. As +for the latter, he reflected that few professional beauties could have +stood, as this woman did, the acid test of that mercilessly brilliant +morning. + +"I don't seem to think of anything useful to say," he ventured. "Can you +help me out? Unless you'd be interested to know that my name's +Whitaker--Hugh Whitaker--?" + +She acknowledged the information merely by a brief nod. "It seems to +me," she said seriously, "that the pressing question is, what are you +going to do about that ankle? Shall you be able to walk?" + +"Hard to say," he grumbled, a trifle dashed. He experimented gingerly, +moving his foot this way and that and shutting his teeth on groans that +the test would surely have evoked had he been alone. "'Fraid not. Still, +one can try." + +"It isn't sprained?" + +"Oh, no--just badly wrenched. And, as I said, this is the second time +within a week." + +With infinite pains and the aid of both hands and his sound foot, he +lifted himself and contrived to stand erect for an instant, then bore a +little weight on the hurt ankle--and blenched, paling visibly beneath +his ineradicable tan. + +"I don't suppose," he said with effort--"they grow--crutches--on this +neck of land?" + +And he was about to collapse again upon the sands when, without warning, +he found the woman had moved to his side and caught his hand, almost +brusquely passing his arm across her shoulders, so that she received no +little of his weight. + +"Oh, I say--!" he protested feebly. + +"Don't say anything," she replied shortly. "I'm very strong--quite able +to help you to the boat. Please don't consider me at all; just see if we +can't manage this way." + +"But I've no right to impose--" + +"Don't be silly! Please do as I say. Won't you try to walk?" + +He endeavoured to withdraw his arm, an effort rendered futile by her +cool, firm grasp on his fingers. + +"Please!" she said--not altogether patiently. + +He eyed her askance. There was in this incredible situation a certain +piquancy, definitely provocative, transcending the claims his injury +made upon his interest. Last night for the first time he had seen this +woman and from a distance had thought her desirable; now, within twelve +hours, he found himself with an arm round her neck! + +He thought it a tremendously interesting neck, slender, not thin, and +straight and strong, a milk-white column from the frilled collar of her +bathing-cloak to the shimmering tendrils that clustered behind her ears. +Nor was the ear she presented to his inspection an everyday ear, lacking +its individual allure. He considered that it owned its distinctive +personality, not unworthy of any man's studious attention. + +He saw her face, of course, en profile: her head bowed, downcast lashes +long upon her cheeks, her mouth set in a mould of gravity, her brows +seriously contracted--signifying preoccupation with the problem of the +moment. + +And then suddenly she turned her head and intercepted his whole-hearted +stare. For a thought wonder glimmered in the violet eyes; then they +flashed disconcertingly; finally they became utterly cold and +disdainful. + +"Well?" she demanded in a frigid voice. + +He looked away in complete confusion, and felt his face burning to the +temples. + +"I beg your pardon," he mumbled unhappily. + +He essayed to walk. Twenty feet and more of treacherous, dry, yielding +sand separated them from the flight of steps that ascended the bluff. It +proved no easy journey; and its difficulty was complicated by his +determination to spare the woman as much as he could. Gritting his +teeth, he grinned and bore without a murmur until, the first stage of +the journey accomplished, he was able to grasp a handrail at the bottom +of the stairs and breathe devout thanks through the medium of a gasp. + +"Shall we rest a bit?" the woman asked, compassionate, ignoring now the +impertinence she had chosen to resent a few moments ago. + +"Think I can manage--thanks," he said, panting a little. "It'll be +easier now--going up. I shan't need help." + +He withdrew his arm, perhaps not without regret, but assuredly with a +comforting sense of decent consideration for her, as well as with some +slight and intrinsically masculine satisfaction in the knowledge that he +was overcoming her will and her resistance. + +"No--honestly!" he insisted. "These handrails make it easy." + +"But please be sure," she begged. "Don't take any chances. _I_ don't +mind...." + +"Let me demonstrate, then." + +The stairway was comfortably narrow; he had only to grasp a rail with +either hand, and half lift himself, half hop up step by step. In this +manner he accomplished the ascent in excellent, if hopelessly +ungraceful, style. At the top he limped to a wooden seat beside one of +the bath-houses and sat down with so much grim decision in his manner +that it was evident to the woman the moment she rejoined him. But he +mustered a smile to meet her look of concern, and shook his head. + +"Thus far and no farther." + +"Oh, but you must not be stubborn!" + +"I mean to be--horrid stubborn. In fact, I don't mind warning you that +there's a famous strain of mule in the Whitaker make-up." + +She was, however, not to be diverted; and her fugitive frown bespoke +impatience, if he were any judge. + +"But seriously, you must--" + +"Believe me," he interrupted, "if I am to retain any vestige of +self-respect, I must no longer make a crutch of you." + +"But, really, I don't see why--!" + +"Need I remind you I am a man?" he argued lightly. "Even as you are a +very charming woman...." + +The frown deepened while she conned this utterance over. + +"How do you mean me to interpret that?" she demanded, straightforward. + +"The intention was not uncomplimentary, perhaps," he said gravely; +"though the clumsiness is incontestable. As for the rest of it--I'm not +trying to flirt with you, if that's what _you_ mean--yet. What I wished +to convey was simply my intention no longer to bear my masculine weight +upon a woman--either you or any other woman." + +A smile contended momentarily with the frown, and triumphed brilliantly. + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure. But do you mind telling me what you do +mean to do?" + +"No." + +"Well, then--?" The smile was deepening very pleasantly. + +"I mean to ask you," he said deliberately, taking heart of this +favourable manifestation: "to whom am I indebted--?" + +To his consternation the smile vanished, as though a cloud had sailed +before the sun. Doubt and something strongly resembling incredulity +informed her glance. + +"Do you mean to say you don't _know_?" she demanded after a moment. + +"Believe me, I've no least idea--" + +"But surely Mr. Ember must have told you?" + +"Ember seemed to be labouring under the misapprehension that the Fiske +place was without a tenant." + +"Oh!" + +"And I'm sure he was sincere. Otherwise it's certain wild horses +couldn't have dragged him back to New York." + +"Oh!" Her tone was thoughtful. "So he has gone back to town?" + +"Business called him. At least such was the plausible excuse he advanced +for depriving himself of my exclusive society." + +"I see," she nodded--"I see...." + +"But aren't you going to tell me? Or ought I to prove my human +intelligence by assuming on logical grounds that you're Miss Fiske?" + +"If you please," she murmured absently, her intent gaze seeking the +distances of the sea. + +"Then that's settled," he pursued in accents of satisfaction. "You are +Miss Fiske--Christian name at present unknown to deponent. I am one +Whitaker, as already deposed--baptized Hugh. And we are neighbours. Do +you know, I think this a very decent sort of a world after all?" + +"And still"--she returned to the charge--"you haven't told me what you +mean to do, since you refuse my help." + +"I mean," he asserted cheerfully, "to sit here, aping Patience on a +monument, until some kind-hearted person fetches me a stick or other +suitable piece of wood to serve as emergency staff. Then I shall make +shift to hobble to your motor-boat and thank you very kindly for +ferrying me home." + +"Very well," she said with a business-like air. "Now we understand one +another, I'll see what I can find." + +Reviewing their surroundings with a swift and comprehensive glance, she +shook her head in dainty annoyance, stood for an instant plunged in +speculation, then, light-footed, darted from sight round the side of the +bath-house. + +He waited, a tender nurse to his ankle, smiling vaguely at the benign +sky. + +Presently she reappeared, dragging an eight-foot pole, which, from +certain indications, seemed to have been formerly dedicated to the +office of clothes-line prop. + +"Will this do?" + +Whitaker took it from her and weighed it with anxious judgment. + +"A trifle tall, even for me," he allowed. "Still...." + +He rose on one foot and tested the staff with his weight. "'Twill do," +he decided. "And thank you very much." + +But even with its aid, his progress toward the boat necessarily consumed +a tedious time. It was impossible to favour the injured foot to any +great extent. Between occasional halts for rest, Whitaker hobbled with +grim determination, suffering exquisitely but privately. The girl +considerately schooled her pace to his, subjecting him to covert +scrutiny when, as they moved on, his injury interested him exclusively. + +He made little or no attempt to converse while in motion; a spirit of +bravado alone, indeed, would have enabled him to pay attention to +anything aside from the problem of the next step; and bravado was a +stranger to his cosmos then, if ever. So she had plenty of opportunity +to make up her mind about him. + +If her eyes were a reliable index, she found him at least interesting. +At times their expression was enigmatic beyond any rending. Again they +seemed openly perplexed. At all times they were warily regardful. + +Once she sighed quietly with a passing look of sadness of which he was +wholly unaware.... + +"Odd--about that fellow," he observed during a halt. "I was sure I knew +him, both times--last night as well as to-day." + +"Last night?" she queried with patent interest. + +"Oh, yes: I meant to tell you. He was prowling round the +bungalow--Ember's, I mean--when I first saw him. I chased him off, lost +him in the woods, and later picked him up again just at the edge of your +grounds. That's why I thought it funny that he should be over here this +morning, shadowing you--as they say in detective stories." + +"No wonder!" she commented sympathetically. + +"And the oddest thing of all was that I should be so sure he was +Drummond--until I saw--" + +"Drummond!" + +"Friend of mine.... You don't by any chance know Drummond, do you?" + +"I've heard the name." + +"You must have. The papers were full of his case for a while. Man +supposed to have committed suicide--jumped off Washington Bridge a week +before he was to marry Sara Law, the actress?" + +"Why ... yes. Yes, I remember. But.... 'Supposed to have committed +suicide'--did you say?" + +He nodded. "He may have got away with it, at that. Only, I've good +reason to believe he didn't.... I may as well tell you: it's no secret, +although only a few people know it: Ember saw Drummond, or thinks he +did, alive, in the flesh, a good half-hour after the time of his +reported suicide." + +"Really!" the girl commented in a stifled voice. + +"Oh, for all that, there's no proof Ember wasn't misled by an accidental +resemblance--no real proof--merely circumstantial evidence. Though for +my part, I'm quite convinced Drummond still lives." + +"How very curious!" There was nothing more than civil but perfunctory +interest in the comment. "Are you ready to go on?" + +And another time, when they were near the boat: + +"When do you expect Mr. Ember?" asked the girl. + +"To-night, probably. At least, he wired yesterday to say he'd be down +to-night. But from what little I've seen of him, you can never be sure +of Ember. He seems to lead the sedentary and uneventful life of a flea +on a hot griddle." + +"I shall be glad to see him," said the girl in what Whitaker thought a +curious tone. "Please tell him, will you? Don't forget." + +"If that's the way you feel about him, I shall be tempted to wire him +not to come." + +"Just what do you mean by that?" asked the woman sharply, a glint of +indignation in her level, challenging stare. + +"Merely that your tone sounded a bit vindictive. I thought possibly you +might want to have it out with him, for the sin of permitting me to +infest this neck o' the woods." + +"Absurd!" she laughed, placated. + +When finally they came to the end of the dock, he paused, considering +the three-foot drop to the deck of the motor-boat with a dubious look +that but half expressed his consternation. It would be practically +impossible to lower himself without employing the painful member to an +extent he didn't like to anticipate. He met the girl's inquiring glance +with one wholly rueful. + +"If it weren't low tide...." he explained, crest-fallen. + +She laughed lightly. "But, since it is low tide, you'll have to let me +help you again." + +Cautiously lowering himself to a sitting position on the dock, feet +overhanging the boat, he nodded. "'Fraid so. Sorry to be a nuisance." + +"You're not a nuisance. You're merely masculine," the girl retorted, +jumping lightly but surely to the cockpit. + +She turned and offered him a hand, eyes dancing with gay malice. + +Whitaker delayed, considering her gravely. + +"Meaning--?" he inquired pleasantly. + +"Like all men you must turn to a woman in the end--however brave your +strut." + +"Oh, it's that way, is it? Thank you, but I fancy I can manage." + +And with the aid of the clothes-prop he did manage to make the descent +without her hand and without disaster. + +"Pure _blague_!" the girl taunted. + +"That's French for I-think-I'm-smart-don't-I--isn't it?" he inquired +with an innocent stare. "If so, the answer is: I do." + +Her lips and eyes were eloquent of laughter repressed. + +"But now?" she argued, sure of triumph. "You've got to admit you +couldn't do without me now!" + +"Oh, I can manage a motor, if that's what you mean," he retorted +serenely; "though I confess there are a few new kinks to this one that +might puzzle me a bit at the start. That chain-and-cogwheel affair to +turn the flywheel with, for instance--that's a new one. The last time I +ran a marine motor in this country we had to break our backs and run +chances of breaking our arms as well, turning up by hand." + +The girl had gone forward, over the cabin roof, to cast off. She +returned along the outboard, pushing the boat clear, then, jumping back +into the cockpit, started the engine with a single, almost effortless +turn of the crank which Whitaker had mentioned, and took the wheel as +the boat swung droning away from the dock. Not until she had once or +twice advanced the spark and made other minor adjustments, did she +return attention to her passenger. + +Then, in a casual voice, she inquired: "You've been out of the country +for some time, I think you said?" + +"Almost six years on the other side of the world--got back only last +spring." + +"What," she asked, eyes averted, spying out the channel--"what does one +do on the other side of the world?" + +"This one knocked about, mostly, for his health's sake. That is, I went +away expecting to die before long, was disappointed, got well and strong +and--took to drifting.... I beg your pardon," he broke off hastily; "a +civil answer to a civil question needn't necessarily be the history of +one's life." + +The girl put the wheel down slowly, swinging the boat upon a course +direct to the landing-stage at Half-a-loaf Lodge. + +"But surely you didn't waste six years simply 'drifting'?" + +"Well, I did drift into a sort of business, after a bit--gold mining in +a haphazard, happy-go-lucky fashion--did pretty well at it and came home +to astonish the natives." + +"Was it a success?" + +"Rather," he replied dryly. + +"I meant your plan to astonish the natives." + +"So did I." + +"You find things--New York--disappointing?" she analyzed his tone. + +"I find it overpowering--and lonely. Nobody sent a brass band to greet +me at the dock; and all the people I used to know are either married and +devoted to brats, or divorced and devoted to bridge; and my game has +gone off so badly in six years that I don't belong any more." + +She smiled, shaping her scarlet lips deliciously. The soft, warm wind +whipped stray strands of hair, like cords of gold, about her face. Her +eyelids were half lowered against the intolerable splendour of the day. +The waters of the bay, wind-blurred and dark, seemed a shield of +sapphire fashioned by nature solely to set off in clear relief her +ardent loveliness. + +Whitaker, noting how swiftly the mainland shores were disclosing the +finer details of their beauty, could have wished the bay ten times as +wide. + + + + +XII + +THE MOUSE-TRAP + + +Late in the afternoon of the same day, Ember, appearing suddenly in +front of the bungalow, discovered Whitaker sitting up in state; a +comfortable wicker chair supported his body and a canvas-seated camp +stool one of his feet; which last was discreetly veiled in a dripping +bath-towel. Otherwise he was fastidiously arrayed in white flannels and, +by his seraphic smile and guileless expression, seemed abnormally at +peace with his circumstances. + +Halting, Ember surveyed the spectacle with mocking disfavour, as though +he felt himself slightly at a disadvantage. He was, indeed, in a state +that furnished an admirable contrast to that of the elegant if disabled +idler. His face was scarcely whiter with the impalpable souvenirs of the +road than was his slate-coloured mohair duster. The former, indeed, +suffered by comparison, its personal coat of dust being deep-rutted with +muddy paths of perspiration; beneath all lay the dull flush of flesh +scorched by continuous exposure to sunlight and the swift rush of +superheated air. None the less, his eyes, gleaming bright as through a +mask, were not unamiable. + +"Hel-_lo_!" he observed, beginning to draw off his gauntlets as he +ascended the veranda steps and dropped into another wicker chair. + +"How _do_ you do?" returned Whitaker agreeably. + +"I'm all right; but what the deuce's the matter with you?" + +"Game leg, thanks. Twisted my ankle again, this morning. Sum Fat has +been doctoring it with intense enthusiasm, horse liniment and chopped +ice." + +"That's the only proper treatment for sprains. Bad, is it?" + +"Not very--not half as bad as I thought it would be at first. Coming on +top of the other wrench made it extra painful for a while--that's all. +By to-morrow morning I'll be skipping like the silly old hills in the +Scriptures." + +"Hope so; but you don't want to overdo the imitation, you know. Give +nature a chance to make the cure complete. Otherwise--well, you must've +had a pretty rotten stupid time of it, with that storm." + +"Oh, not at all. I really enjoyed it," Whitaker protested. + +"Like this place, eh?" + +"Heavenly!" asserted the invalid with enthusiasm. "I can't thank you +enough." + +"Oh, if you forgive me for leaving you alone so much, we'll call it +square." Ember lifted his voice: "Sum Fat, ahoy!" + +The Chinaman appeared in the doorway, as suddenly and silently as if +magically materialized by the sound of his name. He bore with +circumspection a large tray decorated with glasses, siphons, decanters +and a bowl of cracked ice. + +"I make very remarkable damn fine quick guess what you want first," he +observed suavely, placing the tray on a small table convenient to +Ember's hand. "That all now?" + +"You're a sulphur-coloured wizard with pigeon-toed eyes," replied Ember +severely. "Go away from here instantly and prepare me all the dinner in +the establishment, lest an evil fate overtake you." + +"It is written," returned Sum Fat, "that I die after eight-seven years +of honourable life from heart-failure on receiving long-deferred raise +in wages." + +He shuffled off, chuckling. + +"Scotch or Irish?" demanded Ember, clinking glasses. + +"Irish, please. How's your friend's case?" + +"Coming along. You don't seem surprised to see me." + +"I had your telegram, and besides I heard your car, just now." + +"Oh!" There was a significance in the ejaculation which Whitaker chose +to ignore as he blandly accepted his frosted glass. "You +weren't--ah--lonely?" Ember persisted. + +"Not in the least." + +"I fancied I saw the flutter of a petticoat through the trees, as I came +up to the house." + +"You did." + +"Found a--ah--friend down here?" + +"Acquaintance of yours, I believe: Miss Fiske." + +"Miss Fiske!" There was unfeigned amazement in the echo. + +"Anything wonderful about that?" inquired Whitaker, sharply. "I fancied +from what she said that you two were rather good friends." + +"Just surprised--that's all," said Ember, recovering. "You see, I didn't +think the Fiske place was open this year." + +He stared suspiciously at Whitaker, but the latter was transparently +ingenuous. + +"She expressed an unaccountable desire to see you--told me to tell you." + +"Oh? Such being the case, one would think she might've waited." + +"She had just started home when you drove in," Whitaker explained with +elaborate ease. "She'd merely run over for a moment to inquire after my +ankle, and couldn't wait." + +"Thoughtful of her." + +"Wasn't it?" To this Whitaker added with less complacency: "You'll have +to call after dinner, I suppose." + +"Sorry," said Ember, hastily, "but shan't be able to. Fact is, I only +ran in to see if you were comfortable--must get back to town immediately +after dinner--friend's case at a critical stage." + +"Everybody loves me and worries about my interesting condition--even +you, wretched host that you are." + +"I apologize." + +"Don't; you needn't. I wouldn't for the world interfere with your +desperate business. I'm really quite happy here--alone." + +"Alone--I think you said?" Ember inquired after a brief pause. + +"Alone," Whitaker reiterated firmly. + +"I'm glad you like the place." + +"It's most attractive, really.... I say, who are the Fiskes, anyway?" + +"Well ... the Fiskes are the people who own the next cottage." + +"I know, but--" + +"Oh, I never troubled to inquire; have a hazy notion Fiske does +something in Wall Street." Ember passed smoothly over this flaw in his +professional omniscience. "How did you happen to meet her?" + +"Oh, mere accident. Over on the beach this morning. I slipped and hurt +my ankle. She--ah--happened along and brought me home in her +motor-boat." + +On mature reflection, Whitaker had decided that it would be as well to +edit his already sketchy explanation of all reference to the putative +spy who wasn't Drummond; in other words, to let Ember's sleeping +detective instincts lie. And with this private understanding with +himself, he felt a little aggrieved because of the quarter toward which +Ember presently saw fit to swing their talk. + +"You haven't seen Drummond--or any signs of him, have you?" + +"Eh--what?" Whitaker sat up, startled. "No, I ... er ... how should I?" + +"I merely wondered. You see, I.... Well, to tell the truth, I took the +liberty of camping on his trail, while in town, with the idea of serving +him with notice to behave. But he'd anticipated me, apparently; he'd +cleared out of his accustomed haunts--got away clean. I couldn't find +any trace of him." + +"You're a swell sleuth," Whitaker commented critically. + +"You be damn'.... That's the true reason why I ran down to-day, when I +really couldn't spare the time; I was a bit worried--afraid he'd maybe +doped out my little scheme for keeping you out of harm's way." + +"Oh, I say!" Whitaker expostulated, touched by this evidence of +disinterested thoughtfulness. "You don't mean--" + +"On the contrary, I firmly believe him responsible for that attack on +you the other night. The man's a dangerous monomaniac; brooding over his +self-wrought wrongs has made him such." + +"You persuade yourself too much, old man. You set up an inference and +idolize it as an immortal truth. Why, you had me going for a while. Only +last night there was a fellow skulking round here, and I was just dippy +enough, thanks to your influence, to think he resembled Drummond. But +this morning I got a good look at him, and he's no more Drummond than +you are." + +"The hell you say!" Ember sat up, eyes snapping. "Who was he then?" + +"Simply a good-for-nothing vagabond--tramp." + +"What'd he want?" + +"Search me." + +"But why the devil didn't you tell me this before?" + +"You don't mean to say you attach any importance to the mere fact that +an ordinary tramp--" + +"I attach importance to many things that other people overlook. That's +my artfulness. I don't suppose it has occurred to you that tramps follow +the railroads, and that Long Island is free of the vermin for the simple +reason that the Long Island Railroad doesn't lead anywhere any +self-respecting tramp would care to go?" + +"It's true--I hadn't thought of that. So that makes the appearance of a +tramp in these parts a cir-spicious sus-cumstance?" + +"It does. Now tell me about him--everything." + +So the truth would out, after all. Whitaker resignedly delivered himself +of the tale of the mare's-nest--as he still regarded it. When he had +come to the lame conclusion thereof, Ember yawned and rose. + +"What are you going to do about it?" Whitaker inquired with irony. + +"Wash and make myself fit to eat food," was the response. "I may +possibly think a little. It's an exhilarating exercise which I don't +hesitate to recommend to your distinguished consideration." + +He was out of earshot, within the bungalow, before Whitaker could think +up an adequately insolent retort. He could, however, do no less than +smile incredulously at the beautiful world: so much, at least, he owed +his self-respect. + +He lolled comfortably, dreaming, forgetful of his cold-storage foot, +serene in the assurance that Ember was an alarmist, Drummond (if alive) +to a degree hand-bound by his own misconduct, a wretched creature +self-doomed to haunt the under-world, little potent either for good or +for evil; while it was a certainty, Whitaker believed, that to-morrow's +sun would find him able to be up and about--able to hobble, even if with +difficulty, at least as much as the eighth of a mile. + +Long shadows darkened athwart the clearing. The bay was quick with +moving water, its wonderful deep blue shading to violet in the distant +reaches. Beyond the golden arm of the barrier beach drifted the lazy +purple sails of coastwise schooners. Gradually these blushed red, the +golden arm took on a ruddy tinge, the bosom of the waters a translucent +pink, mirroring the vast conflagration in the western skies. + +Somewhere--not far away--a whippoorwill whistled with plaintive +insistence. + +In the deepening twilight a mental shadow came to cloud the brightness +of Whitaker's confident contentment. He sat brooding and mumbling curses +on the ache in his frost-bitten foot, and was more than slightly +relieved when Sum Fat lighted the candles in the living-room and +summoned Ember to help the invalid indoors. + +Neither good food nor good company seemed able to mitigate this sudden +seizure of despondency. He sat glooming over his plate and glass, the +burden of his conversation _yea, yea_ and _nay, nay_; nor was anything +of Ember's intermittent banter apparently able to educe the spirited +retorts ordinarily to be expected of him. + +His host diagnosed his complaint from beneath shrewd eyebrows. + +"Whitaker," he said at length, "a pessimist has been defined as a dog +that won't scratch." + +"Well?" said the other sourly. + +"Come on. Be a sport. Have a good scratch on me." + +Whitaker grinned reluctantly and briefly. + +"Where's my wife?" he demanded abruptly. + +"How in blazes--!" + +"There you are!" Whitaker complained. "You make great pretensions, and +yet you fall down flat on your foolish face three times in less than as +many hours. You don't know who the Fiskes are, you've lost track of your +pet myth, Drummond, and you don't know where I can find my wife. And yet +I'm expected to stand round with my mouth open, playing Dr. Watson to +your Sherlock Holmes. I could go to that telephone and consult +'Information' to better advantage!" + +"What you need," retorted the other, unmoved, "is a clairvoyant, not a +detective. If you can't keep track of your trial marriages yourself...!" + +He shrugged. + +"Then you don't know--haven't the least idea where she is?" + +"My dear man, I myself am beginning to doubt her existence." + +"I don't see why the dickens she doesn't go ahead with those divorce +proceedings!" Whitaker remarked morosely. + +"I've met few men so eager for full membership in the Alimony Club. +What's your hurry?" + +"Oh, I don't know." Which was largely truth unveneered. "I'd like to get +it over and done with." + +"You might advertise--offer a suitable reward for information concerning +the whereabouts of one docile and dormant divorce suit--" + +"I might, but you'd never earn it." + +"Doubtless. I've long since learned never to expect any reward +commensurate with my merits." + +Ember pushed back his chair and, rising, strolled to the door. "Moonrise +and a fine, clear night," he said, staring through the wire mesh of the +screen. "Wish you were well enough to go riding with me. However, you +won't be laid up long, I fancy. And I'll be back day after to-morrow. +Now I must cut along." + +And within ten minutes Whitaker heard the motor-car rumble off on the +woodland road. + +He wasn't altogether sorry to be left to his own society. He was, in +fact, rather sharp-set for the freedom of solitude, that he might pursue +one or two self-appointed tasks without interruption. + +For one of these Sum Fat, not without wonder, furnished him materials: +canvas, stout thread, scissors, a heavy needle, a bit of beeswax: with +which Whitaker purposed manufacturing an emergency ankle-strap. And at +this task he laboured diligently and patiently for the better part of +two hours, with a result less creditable to his workmanship than to a +nature integrally sunny and prone to see the bright side of things. +Whitaker himself, examining the finished product with a prejudiced eye, +was fain to concede its crudity. It was not pretty, but he believed +fatuously in its efficiency. + +His other task was purely one of self-examination. Since afternoon he +had found reason gravely to doubt the stability of his emotional poise. +He had of late been in the habit of regarding himself as one whose mind +retained no illusions; a bit prematurely aged, perhaps, but wise with a +wisdom beyond his years; no misogynist, but comfortably woman-proof; a +settled body and a sedate, contemplating with an indulgent smile the +futile antics of a mad, mad world. But now he was being reminded that no +man is older than his heart, and that the heart is a headstrong member, +apt to mutiny without warning and proclaim a youth quite inconsistent +with the years and the mentality of its possessor. In fine, he could not +be blind to the fact that he was in grave danger of making an ass of +himself if he failed to guide himself with unwonted circumspection. + +And all because he had an eye and a weakness for fair women, a lonely +path to tread through life, and a gregarious tendency, a humorous +faculty and a keen appreciation of a mind responsive to it.... + +And all in the face of the fact that he was not at liberty to make +love.... + +And all this problem the result of a single day of propinquity! + +He went to bed, finally, far less content with himself than with the +crazy issue of his handicraft. The latter might possibly serve its +purpose; but Hugh Whitaker seemed a hopeless sort of a proposition, not +in the least amenable to the admonitions of common sense. If he were, +indeed, he would have already been planning an abrupt escape to Town. As +matters stood with him, he knew he had not the least intention of doing +anything one-half so sensible. + +But in spite of his half-hearted perturbation and dissatisfaction, the +weariness of a long, full day was so heavy upon him that he went to +sleep almost before Sum Fat had finished making him comfortable. + +Extinguishing the candle, the Chinaman, moving with the silent assurance +of a cat in the dark, closed and latched the shutters, then sat down +just outside the living-room door, to wait and watch, sleeplessly alert. + +An hour passed in silence, and another, and yet another: Sum Fat sat +moveless in the shadow, which blended so perfectly with his dark +blue-silk garments as to render him almost indistinguishable: a figure +as patient and imperturbable as any bland, stout, graven god of his +religion. Slowly the moonlight shifted over the floor, lengthened until +it almost touched the toe of one of his felt-soled shoes, and +imperceptibly withdrew. The wind had fallen, and the night was very +quiet; few sounds disturbed the stillness, and those inconsiderable: the +steady respiration of the sleeping man; such faint, stealthy creakings +as seemingly infest every human habitation through the night; the dull +lisp and murmur of the tide groping its way along the shore; the muted +grumble of the distant surf; hushed whisperings of leaves disturbed by +wandering airs. + +Sum Fat heard all and held impassive. But in time there fell upon his +ears another sound, to which he stirred, if imperceptibly--drawing +himself together, tensing and flexing his tired muscles while his eyes +shifted quickly from one quarter to another of the darkened living-room +and the still more dark bedchamber. + +And yet, apparently all that had aroused him was the drowsy whistle of a +whippoorwill. + +Then, with no other presage, a shadow flitted past one of the side +windows, and in another reappeared more substantially on the veranda. +Sum Fat grew altogether tense, his gaze fixed and exclusively focussed +upon that apparition. + +Cautiously, noiselessly, edging inch by inch across the veranda, the man +approached the door. It was open, hooked back against the wall; only the +wire screen was in his way. Against this he flattened his face; and a +full, long minute elapsed while he carefully surveyed what was visible +of the interior. Even Sum Fat held his breath throughout that +interminable reconnoissance. + +At length, reassured, the man laid hold of the screen and drew it open. +It complained a little, and he started violently and waited another +minute for the alarm which did not ensue. Then abruptly he slipped into +the room and slowly drew the screen shut behind him. Another minute: no +sound detectable more untoward than that of steady respiration in the +bedroom; with a movement as swift and sinister as the swoop of a vulture +the man sprang toward the bedroom door. + +Leaping from a sitting position, with a bound that was little less than +a flight through the air, the Chinaman caught him halfway. There +followed a shriek, a heavy fall that shook the bungalow, the report of a +revolver, sounds of scuffling.... + +Whitaker, half dazed, found himself standing in the doorway, regardless +of his injury. + +He saw, as one who dreams and yet is conscious that he does but dream, +Ember lighting candles--calmly applying the flame of a taper to one +after another as he made a round of the sconces. The moonlight paled and +the windows turned black as the mellow radiance brightened. + +Then a slight movement in the shadow of the table drew his attention to +the floor. Sum Fat was kneeling there, on all fours, above something +that breathed heavily and struggled without avail. + +Whitaker's sleep-numbed faculties cleared. + +"Ember!" he cried. "What in the name of all things strange--!" + +Ember threw him a flickering smile. "Oh, there you are?" he said +cheerfully. "I've got something interesting to show you. Sum Fat"--he +stooped and picked up a revolver--"you may let him up, now, if you think +he's safe." + +"Safe enough." Sum Fat rose, grinning. "Had damn plenty." + +He mounted guard beside the door. + +For an instant his captive seemed reluctant to rise; free, he lay +without moving, getting his breath in great heaving sobs; only his gaze +ranged ceaselessly from Ember's face to Whitaker's and back again, and +his hands opened and closed convulsively. + +Ember moved to his side and stood over him, balancing the revolver in +his palm. + +"Come," he said impatiently. "Up with you!" + +The man sat up as if galvanized by fear, got more slowly to his knees, +then, grasping the edge of the table, dragged himself laboriously to a +standing position. He passed a hand uncertainly across his mouth, +brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to steady himself, attempting +to infuse defiance into his air, even though cornered, beaten and +helpless. + +Whitaker's jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity. He +couldn't deny the man, yet he found it hard to believe that this +quivering, shaken creature, with his lean and pasty face and desperate, +glaring eyes, this man in rough, stained, soiled and shapeless garments, +could be identical with the well set-up, prosperous and confident man of +affairs he remembered as Drummond. And yet they were one. Appalling to +contemplate the swift devastating course of moral degeneration, that had +spread like gangrene through all the man's physical and mental fibre.... + +"Take a good look," Ember advised grimly. "How about that pet myth +thing, now? What price the astute sleuth--eh? Perhaps you'd like to take +a few more funny cracks at my simple faith in hallucinations." + +"Good God!" said Whitaker in a low voice, unable to remove his gaze from +Drummond. + +"I had a notion he'd be hanging round," Ember went on; "I thought I saw +somebody hiding in the woods this afternoon; and then I was sure I saw +him skulking round the edges of the clearing, after dinner. So I set Sum +Fat to watch, drove back to the village to mislead him, left my car +there and walked back. And sure enough--!" + +Without comment, Whitaker, unable to stand any longer without +discomfort, hobbled to a chair and sat down. + +"Well?" Drummond demanded harshly in a quavering snarl. "Now that you've +got me, what're you going to do with me?" + +There was a high, hysterical accent in his voice that struck +unpleasantly on Ember's ear. He cocked his head to one side, studying +the man intently. + +Drummond flung himself a step away from the table, paused, and again +faced his captors with bravado. + +"Well?" he cried again. "Well?" + +Ember nodded toward Whitaker. "Ask him," he said briefly. + +Whitaker shook his head. It was difficult to think how to deal with this +trapped animal, so wildly different from the cultivated gentleman he +always had in mind when he thought of Drummond. The futility of +attempting to deal with him according to any code recognized by men of +honour was wretchedly apparent. + +"Drummond," he said slowly, "I wish to God you hadn't done this thing." + +Drummond laughed discordantly. "Keep your mealy-mouthed compassion for +yourself," he retorted, sneering. "I'm no worse than you, only I got +caught." He added in a low tone, quivering with uncontrollable hatred: +"Damn you!" + +Whitaker gave a gesture of despair. "If you'd only been content to keep +out of the way...! If only you'd let me alone--" + +"Then _you_ let Sara Law alone, d'you hear?" + +Surprised, Whitaker paused before replying. "Please understand," he said +quietly, "that Mrs. Whitaker is seeking a divorce from me. After that, +if she has any use for you, I have no objection to her marrying you. And +as for the money you stole, I have said nothing about that--intend to +say nothing. If you'd had the sense to explain things to me--if I could +count on you to leave me alone and not try again to murder me--" + +"Oh, go to hell!" + +The interruption was little short of a shriek. Ember motioned to Sum +Fat, who quietly drew nearer. + +"I swear I don't know what to do or say--" + +"Then shut up--" + +"That'll be about all," Ember interposed quietly. At a glance from him, +Sum Fat closed in swiftly and caught and pinioned Drummond's arms from +behind. + +A disgusting change took place in Drummond. In an instant he was +struggling, screaming, slavering: his face congested, eyes starting, +features working wildly as he turned and twisted in his efforts to free +himself. + +Sum Fat held him as he would have held an unruly child. Whitaker looked +away, feeling faint and sick. Ember looked on with shrewd and +penetrating interest, biding the time when a break in Drummond's ravings +would let him be heard. When it came at length, together with a gradual +weakening of the man's struggles, the detective turned to Whitaker. + +"Sorry," he said. "I didn't dare take any further chances. He'd've been +at your throat in another minute. I could see him working himself up to +a frenzy. If Sum Fat hadn't grabbed him in time, there's no telling what +might not have happened." + +Whitaker nodded. + +"It isn't as if we had simply an everyday crook to deal with," Ember +went on, approaching the man. "He's not to be trusted or reasoned with. +He's just short of a raving morphomaniac, or I miss my guess." + +With a quick movement he caught Drummond's left arm, pulled the sleeve +of his coat back to the elbow, unbuttoned and turned back his cuff. +"_Hmm_--yes," he continued bending over to inspect the exposed forearm, +in spite of Drummond's efforts to twist away. "Deadly work of the busy +little needle. Good Lord, he's fairly riddled with punctures!" + +"That explains...." Whitaker muttered, sickened. + +"It explains a lot." Ember readjusted the sleeve and turned away. "And +it shows us our path of duty, clear," he continued, despite +interruptions from the maddened drug fiend. "I think a nice little +sojourn in a sanatorium--what?" + +"Right," Whitaker agreed, relieved. + +"We'll see what a cure does for him before we indulge in criminal +proceedings--shall we?" + +"By all means." + +"Good." Ember glanced at his watch. "I'll have to hurry along now--must +be in town not later than nine o'clock this morning. I'll take him with +me. No, don't worry--I can handle him easily. It's a bit of a walk to +the village, but that will only help to quiet him down. I'll be back +to-morrow; meanwhile you'll be able to sleep soundly unless--" + +He checked, frowning thoughtfully. + +"Unless what?" + +Ember jerked his head to indicate the prisoner. "Of course, this isn't +by any chance the fellow you mixed it up with over on the beach--and so +forth?" + +"Nothing like him." + +"Queer. I can't find any trace of him--the other one--nor can I account +for him. He doesn't seem to fit in anywhere. However"--his expression +lightened--"I daresay you were right; he's probably only some idle, +light-fingered prowler. I'd keep my eyes open for him, but I don't +really believe you need worry much." + +Within ten minutes he was off on his lonely tramp through two miles of +woodland and as many more of little travelled country road, at dead of +night, with a madman in handcuffs for sole company. + + + + +XIII + +OFFSHORE + + +"You ask me, I think very excellent damn quick cure." + +Sum Fat having for the third time since morning anointed with liniment +and massaged Whitaker's ankle, tenderly adjusted and laced the makeshift +canvas brace, drew a sock over it, and then with infinite care inserted +the foot in a high-cut canvas tennis shoe. + +He stood up, beaming. + +Whitaker extended his leg and cast a critical eye over the heavily +bandaged ankle. + +"Anyway," he observed, "the effect is arresting. I look like a half +Clydesdale." + +Sum Fat's eyes clouded, then again gleamed with benevolent interest. +"You take it easy one day or two--no walk much--just loaf--no go see +pretty ladies--" + +"Go 'way, you heathen--go clean your teeth!" cried Whitaker, +indignantly. + +"--and I think be all well and sound," concluded Sum Fat. + +He waddled away, chuckling. + +Waiting till he was well out of sight, Whitaker got up, and with the aid +of a cane made a number of tentative experiments in the gentle art of +short-distance pedestrianism. The results were highly satisfactory: he +felt little or no pain, thanks to Sum Fat's ice-packs and assiduous +attentions in general; and was hampered in free movement solely by the +stiff brace and high-laced shoe. + +On the other hand, he felt that the advice to which he had just listened +was sound; it would be unwise to attempt a neighbourly call within at +least another twenty-four hours. + +He resumed his chair on the veranda, and sighed. It was late afternoon, +and he was lonely. After the interest and excitement of the preceding +day and night, to-day seemed very dull and uneventful; it had been, in +truth, nothing less than stupid--a mere routine of meals and pipes +interrupted by no communication from the outer world more blood-stirring +than the daily calls of the village grocer and butcher. Ember had not +telephoned, as Whitaker had hoped he would; and the chatelaine of the +neighbouring cottage had not manifested any interest whatever in the +well-being of the damaged amateur squire of dames. + +Whitaker felt himself neglected and abused. He inclined to sulks. The +loveliness of a day of unbroken calm offered him no consolation. +Solitude in a lonely lodge is all very well, if one cares for that sort +of thing; but it takes two properly to appreciate the beauties of the +wilderness. + +The trouble with him was (he began to realize) that he had lived too +long a hermit. For six years he had been practically isolated and cut +off from the better half of existence; femininity had formed no factor +in his cosmos. Even since his return to America his associations had +been almost exclusively confined to the wives and daughters of old +friends, the former favouring him only with a calm maternal patronage, +the daughters obviously regarding him as a sort of human curio old +enough to be entitled to a certain amount of respectful consideration, +but not to be taken seriously--"like a mummy," Whitaker told himself, +not without sympathy for the view-point of the younger generation. + +But now, of a sudden, he had been granted a flash of insight into the +true significance of companionship between a man and a woman who had +something in common aside from community in their generation. Not two +hours altogether of such intercourse had been his, but it had been +enough to infuse all his consciousness with a vague but irking +discontent. He wanted more, and wanted it ardently; and what Whitaker +desired he generally set himself to gain with a single-hearted +earnestness of purpose calculated to compass the end in view with the +least possible waste of time. + +In this instance, however, he was handicapped to exasperation by that +confounded ankle! + +Besides, he couldn't in decency pursue the woman; she was entitled to a +certain amount of privacy, of freedom from his attentions. + +Furthermore, he had no right as yet to offer her attentions. It seemed +necessary frequently to remind himself of that fact, in spite of the +vile humour such reminders as a rule aroused. + +He passed into one such now, scowling darkly in the face of an +exquisite, flawless day. + +One thing was settled, he assured himself: as soon as he was able to get +about with comfort, he would lose no time in hunting up his wife's +attorneys and finding out why they were slow about prosecuting her case. +Failing satisfaction in that quarter--well, he would find some way to +make things move. It wasn't fair to him to keep him bound to the vows of +a farcical union. He was not prepared to submit to such injustice. He +would, if needs must, hire detectives to find him his wife, that he +might see and in person urge upon her his equal right to release from an +unnatural bondage! + +He had lashed himself into a very respectable transport of resentful +rage before he realized what way his thoughts were leading him; but he +calmed down as quickly when, chancing to lift his eyes from their +absorbed study of the planks composing the veranda floor, he discovered +a motor-boat drawing in toward the landing-stage. + +At once a smile of childlike serenity displaced the scowl. Instinctively +he gathered himself together to rise, but on reconsideration retained +his seat, gallantry yielding to an intuitive sense of dramatic values; a +chair-bound invalid is a much more sympathetic object than a man +demonstrating a surprisingly quick recovery from an incapacitating +accident. + +Nevertheless, there seemed no objection to his returning a cheerful +flourish to the salute of a slender arm, brown and bare to the point +where a turned-back shirtwaist sleeve met a rounded elbow. + +At precisely the proper distance from the dock, the motor ceased its +purring; the boat swept on, white water crisping beneath its stem, +ripples widening fanlike from its flanks and sketching sweeping plumes +of purple on the calm ultra-marine surface--its speed at first not +perceptibly moderated. Gradually, then, it yielded to the passive +resistance of the waters, moving slower and more slow until at length it +nosed the landing-stage with a touch well-nigh as gentle as a caress. + +Poised lightly over the bows, the woman waited, her figure all in white +sharp-cut against the blue of sky and water, with an effect as vital as +it was graceful. Then at the right instant leaping to the dock with the +headwarp, she made the little vessel fast with two deft half-hitches +round the out-most pile, and turning came swinging to dry land and up +the gentle slope to the veranda, ease and strength and joy of living +inherent in every flowing movement, matching well the bright comeliness +of her countenance and the shining splendour of her friendly eyes. + +No imaginable consideration, however selfish, could have kept Whitaker +any longer in his chair. + +"The most amiable person I know!" he cried, elated. "Greetings!" + +She paused by the steps, looking up, a fascinating vision. + +"No--please! I've only stopped for an instant. Do sit down." + +"Shan't--until you do." + +"But I really can't stop." + +She ascended the steps and dropped coolly into a chair, laughing at her +own lack of consistency. Whitaker resumed his seat. + +"You're really able to stand without assistance?" + +"I'm ashamed to admit it. Between you and me--a dead secret--there's +nothing really the matter with me any more. Sum Fat's a famous +physician. I could run a race--only it's pleasanter to pretend I +mustn't." + +"Very well. Then I shan't waste any more sympathy on you." + +"As a matter of fact, I can move only at the cost of excruciating +agony." + +She considered him with a sober face and smiling eyes. "I don't believe +you. You're a fraud. Besides, I didn't come to see you at all; I came to +find out why Mr. Ember dares so to neglect me. Did you deliver my +invitation?" + +"I did, unwillingly. He was desolated, but he couldn't accept--had to +run back to town immediately after dinner." + +"He's as great a fraud as you. But since he isn't here, I shall go." + +She got up with a very evident intention of being as good as her word. +Whitaker in despair sought wildly for an excuse to detain her. + +"Please--I'm famished for human society. Have pity. Sit down. Tell me +where you've been with the boat." + +"Merely to the head of the bay to have the gasoline tanks filled. A most +boresome errand. They've no proper facilities for taking care of +motor-boats. Imagine having to sit with your hands folded while +garrulous natives fill a sixty-gallon tank by hand." + +"Expressions of profound sympathy. Tell me some more. See, I even +consent not to talk about myself as an extra inducement--if you'll only +stay." + +"No--really--unique though the prospect be! I left Elise and the cook +alone, two poor defenceless women; the gardener is taking his weekly +day-off in the village. We won't see anything of him till morning, +probably--when he'll show up very meek and damp about the head." + +"Aren't you afraid?" + +"I? Nonsense! I'm shamelessly able-bodied--and not afraid to pull a +trigger, besides. Moreover, there aren't any dangerous characters in +this neighbourhood." + +"Then I presume it's useless for me to offer my services as watch-dog?" + +"Entirely so. And when I choose a protector, I shall pick out one sound +of limb as well as wind." + +"Snubbed," he said mournfully. "And me that lonesome.... Think of the +long, dull evening I've got to live through somehow." + +"I have already thought of it. And being kind-hearted, it occurred to me +that you might be one of those mean-spirited creatures who can enjoy +double-dummy." + +"It's the only game I really care for with a deathless passion." + +"Then, if I promise to come over this evening and play you a rubber or +two--will you permit me to go home now?" + +"On such terms I'll do anything you can possibly suggest," he declared, +enchanted. "You mean it--honest Injun?" + +"Cross my heart and hope to die--" + +"But ... how will you get here? Not alone, through the woods! I can't +permit that." + +"Elise shall row me down the shore and then go back to keep cook +company. Sum Fat can see me home--if you find it still necessary to keep +up the invalid pose." + +"I'm afraid," he laughed, "I shall call my own bluff.... Must you really +go so soon?" + +"Good afternoon," she returned demurely; and ran down the steps and off +to her boat. + +Smiling quietly to himself, Whitaker watched her cast the boat off, get +under way, and swing it out of sight behind the trees. Then his smile +wavered and faded and gave place to a look of acute discontent. + +He rose and limped indoors to ransack Ember's wardrobe for evening +clothes--which he failed, perhaps fortunately, to find. + +He regarded with an overwhelming sense of desolation the tremendous arid +waste of time which must intervene before he dared expect her: a good +four hours--no, four and a half, since she would in all likelihood dine +at a sensible hour, say about eight o'clock. By half-past eight, then, +he might begin to look for her; but, since she was indisputably no woman +to cheapen herself, she would probably keep him waiting till nearly +nine. + +Colossal waste of time, impossible to contemplate without +exacerbation...! + +To make matters worse, Sum Fat innocently enough served Whitaker's +dinner promptly at six, under the misapprehension that a decent +consideration for his foot would induce the young man to seek his bed +something earlier than usual. + +Three mortal hours to fritter away in profitless anticipation ... + +At seven Whitaker was merely nervous. + +By eight he was unable to sit still. + +Half an hour later the house was too small to contain him. He found his +cane and took to the veranda, but only to be driven from its shelter by +a swarm of mosquitoes attracted by the illuminated windows. Not in the +least resentful, since his ankle was occasioning him no pain whatever, +he strolled down toward the shore: not a bad idea at all--to be there to +welcome her. + +The night was loud and dark. The moon was not to rise for another +half-hour, and since sundown the wind had come in from the southwest to +dissipate the immaculate day-long calm and set the waters and the trees +in motion with its urgent, animating breath. Blowing at first fitfully, +it was settling momentarily down into a steady, league-devouring stride, +strong with the promise of greater strength to come. + +Whitaker reflected: "If she doesn't hurry, she won't come by boat at +all, for fear of a wetting." + +He thought again: "And of course--I might've known--she won't start till +moonrise, on account of the light." + +And again, analyzing the soft, warm rush of air: "We'll have rain before +morning." + +He found himself at the end of the dock, tingling with impatience, but +finding some little consolation in the restless sweep of the wind +against his face and body. He stood peering up along the curve of the +shore toward the other landing-stage. He could see little--a mere +impressionistic suggestion of the shore-line picked out with the dim, +semi-phosphorescent glow of breaking wavelets. The night was musical +with the clash of rushing waters, crisp and lively above the long, +soughing drone of the wind in the trees. Eastward the barrier beach was +looming stark and black against a growing greenish pallor in the sky. A +mile to the westward, down the shore, the landlocked lighthouse reared +its tower, so obscure in gloom that the lamp had an effect of hanging +without support, like a dim yellow Japanese lantern afloat in mid-air. + +Some minutes elapsed. The pallor of the east grew more marked. Whitaker +fancied he could detect a figure moving on the Fiske dock. + +Then, startled, he grew conscious of the thick drone of a +heavily-powered motor boat near inshore. Turning quickly, he discovered +it almost at once: a black, vague shape not twenty yards from where he +stood, showing neither bow nor side-lights: a stealthy and mysterious +apparition creeping toward the dock with something of the effect of an +animal about to spring. + +And immediately he heard a man's voice from the boat, abrupt with anger: + +"Not this place, you ass--the next." + +"Shut up," another voice replied. "There's somebody on that dock." + +At the same time the bows of the boat swung off and the shadow slipped +away to westward--toward the Fiske place. + +A wondering apprehension of some nameless and desperate enterprise, +somehow involving the woman who obsessed his thoughts, crawled in +Whitaker's mind. The boat--running without cruising lights!--was seeking +the next landing-stage. Those in charge of it had certainly some reason +for wishing to escape observation. + +Automatically Whitaker turned back, let himself down to the beach, and +began to pick his way toward the Fiske dock, half running despite his +stiff ankle and following a course at once more direct and more +difficult than the way through the woods. That last would have afforded +him sure footing, but he would have lost much time seeking and sticking +to its meanderings, in the uncertain light. As it was, he had on one +hand a low, concave wall of earth, on the other the wash of crisping +wavelets; and between the two a yard-wide track with a treacherous +surface of wave-smoothed pebbles largely encumbered with heavy +bolster-like rolls of seaweed, springy and slippery, washed up by the +recent gale. + +But in the dark and formless alarm that possessed him, he did not stop +to choose between the ways. He had no time. As it was, if there were +anything evil afoot, no earthly power could help him cover the distance +in time to be of any aid. Indeed, he had not gone half the way before he +pulled up with a thumping heart, startled beyond expression by a cry in +the night--a cry of wild appeal and protest thrown out violently into +the turbulent night, and abruptly arrested in full peal as if a hand had +closed the mouth that uttered it. + +And then ringing clear down the wind, a voice whose timbre was +unmistakably that of a woman: "_Aux secours! Aux secours!_" + +Twice it cried out, and then was hushed as grimly as the first +incoherent scream. No need now to guess at what was towards: Whitaker +could see it all as clearly as though he were already there; the +power-boat at the dock, two women attacked as they were on the point of +entering their rowboat, the cry of the mistress suddenly cut short by +her assailant, the maid taking up the appeal, in her fright +unconsciously reverting to her native tongue, in her turn being forcibly +silenced.... + +All the while he was running, heedless of his injured foot--pitching, +slipping, stumbling, leaping--somehow making progress. + +By now the moon had lifted above the beach high enough to aid him +somewhat with its waxing light; and, looking ahead, he could distinguish +dimly shapes about the dock and upon it that seemed to bear out his most +cruel fears. The power-boat was passably distinct, her white side +showing plainly through the tempered darkness. Midway down the dock he +made out struggling figures--two of them, he judged: a man at close +grips with a frantic woman. And where the structure joined the land, a +second pair, again a man and a woman, strove and swayed.... + +And always the night grew brighter with the spectral glow of the moon +and the mirroring waters. + +For all his haste, he was too slow; he was still a fair thirty yards +away when the struggle on the dock ended abruptly with the collapse of +the woman; it was as if, he thought, her strength had failed all in an +instant--as if she had fainted. He saw the man catch her up in his arms, +where she lay limp and unresisting, and with this burden step from the +stage to the boat and disappear from sight beneath the coaming. An +instant later he reappeared, standing at full height in the cockpit. +Without warning his arm straightened out and a tongue of flame jetted +from his hand; there was a report; in the same breath a bullet buried +itself in the low earth bank on Whitaker's right. Heedless, he pelted +on. + +The shot seemed to signal the end of the other struggle at the +landing-stage. Scarcely had it rung out ere Whitaker saw the man lift a +fist and dash it brutally into the woman's face. Without a sound audible +at that distance she reeled and fell away; while the man turned, ran +swiftly out to the end of the dock, cast off the headwarp and jumped +aboard the boat. + +She began to sheer off as Whitaker set foot upon the stage. She was +twenty feet distant when he found himself both at its end and at the end +of his resource. He was too late. Already he could hear the deeper +resonance of the engine as the spark was advanced and the throttle +opened. In another moment she would be heading away at full tilt. + +Frantic with despair, he thrashed the air with impotent arms: a fair +mark, his white garments shining bright against the dark background of +the land. Aboard the moving boat an automatic fluttered, spitting ten +shots in as many seconds. The thud and splash of bullets all round him +brought him to his senses. Choking with rage, he stumbled back to the +land. + +On the narrow beach, near the dock, a small flat-bottomed rowboat lay, +its stern afloat, its bows aground--as it had been left by the women +surprised in the act of launching it. Jumping down, Whitaker put his +shoulder to the stem. + +As he did so, the other woman roused, got unsteadily to her feet, +screamed, then catching sight of him staggered to his side. It was--as +he had assumed--the maid, Elise. + +"_M'sieur!_" she shrieked, thrusting a tragic face with bruised and +blood-stained mouth close to his. "_Ah, m'sieur--madame--ces +canailles-la--!_" + +"Yes, I know," he said brusquely. "Get out of the way--don't hinder me!" + +The boat was now all afloat. He jumped in, dropped upon the middle +thwart, and fitted the oars in the rowlocks. + +"But, m'sieur, what mean you to do?" + +"Don't know yet," he panted--"follow--keep them in sight--" + +The blades dipped; he bent his back to them; the rowboat shot away. + +A glance over his shoulder showed him the boat of the marauders already +well away. She now wore running lights; the red lamp swung into view as +he glanced, like an obscene and sardonic eye. They were, then, making +eastwards. He wrought only the more lustily with the oars. + +Happily the Fiske motor-boat swung at a mooring not a great distance +from the shore. Surprisingly soon he had the small boat alongside. +Dropping the oars, he rose, grasped the coaming and lifted himself into +the cockpit. Then scrambling hastily forward to the bows, he disengaged +the mooring hook and let it splash. As soon as this happened, the +liberated _Trouble_ began to drift sluggishly shoreward, swinging +broadside to the wind. + +Jumping back into the cockpit, Whitaker located the switch and closed +the battery circuit. An angry buzzing broke out beneath the engine-pit +hatch, but was almost instantly drowned out by the response of the motor +to a single turn of the new-fangled starting-crank which Whitaker had +approved on the previous morning. + +He went at once to the wheel. Half a mile away the red light was +slipping swiftly eastward over silvered waters. He steadied the bows +toward it, listening to the regular and business-like _chug-chug_ of the +motor with the concentrated intentness of a physician with an ear over +the heart of a patient. But the throbbing he heard was true if slow; +already the boat was responding to the propeller, resisting the action +of wind and water, even beginning to surge heavily forward. + +Hastily kicking the hatch cover out of the way, he bent over the open +engine-pit, quickly solved the puzzle of the controlling levers, +accelerated the ignition and opened the throttle wide. The motor +answered this manipulation with an instantaneous change of tune; the +staccato drumming of the slow speed merged into a long, incessant rumble +like the roll of a dozen muffled snare-drums. The _Trouble_ leaped out +like a live thing, settling to its course with the fleet precision of an +arrow truly loosed. + +With a brief exclamation of satisfaction, Whitaker went back to the +wheel, shifted the ignition from batteries to magneto; and for the first +time since he had appreciated the magnitude of the outrage found himself +with time to think, to take stock of his position, to consider what he +had already accomplished and what he must henceforward hold himself +prepared to attempt. Up to that moment he had acted almost blindly, +swayed by impulse as a tree by the wind, guided by unquestioning +instinct in every action. Now.... + +He had got the boat under way with what in retrospect appealed to him as +amazing celerity, bearing in mind his unfamiliarity with its equipment. +The other boat had a lead of little if any more than half a mile; or so +he gauged the distance that separated them, making due allowance for the +illusion of the moon-smitten night. Whether that gap was to diminish or +to widen would develop before many minutes had passed. The _Trouble_ was +making a fair pace: roughly reckoned, between fourteen and sixteen miles +an hour. He suspected the other boat of having more power, but this did +not necessarily imply greater speed. At all events (he concluded) twenty +minutes at the outside would see the end of the chase--however it was to +end: the eastern head of the bay was not over five miles away; they +could not long hold to their present course without running aground. + +He hazarded wild guesses as to their plans: of which the least +implausible was that they were making for some out-of-the-way landing, +intending there to transfer to a motor-car. At least, this would +presumably prove to be the case, if the outrage were what, at first +blush, it gave evidence of being: a kidnapping uncomplicated by any +fouler motive.... And what else could it be?... But who was he to say? +What did he know of the woman, of her antecedents and circumstances? +Nothing more than her name, that she had attracted him--as any handsome +woman might have--that she had been spied upon within his personal +knowledge and had now been set upon and carried off by _force majeure_. + +And knowing no more than this, he had without an instant's thought of +consequences elected himself her champion! O headlong and infatuate! + +Probably no more severe critic of his own chivalric foolishness ever set +himself to succour a damsel in distress. Withal he entertained not the +shadow of a thought of drawing back. As long as the other boat remained +in sight; as long as the gasoline and his strength held out; as long as +the _Trouble_ held together and he retained the wit to guide her--so +long was Whitaker determined to stick to the wake of the kidnappers. + +A little more than halfway between their starting-point and the head of +the bay, the leading boat swung sharply in toward the shore, then shot +into the mouth of a narrow indentation. Whitaker found that he was +catching up quickly, showing that speed had been slackened for this +manoeuvre. But the advantage was merely momentary, soon lost. The boat +slipped out of sight between high banks. And he, imitating faithfully +its course, was himself compelled to throttle down the engine, lest he +run aground. + +For two or three minutes he could see nothing of the other. Then he +emerged from a tortuous and constricted channel into a deep cut, perhaps +fifty feet in width and spanned by a draw-bridge and a railroad trestle. +At the farther end of this tide-gate canal connecting the Great West Bay +with the Great Peconic, the leading power boat was visible, heading out +at full speed. And by the time he had thrown the motor of the _Trouble_ +back into its full stride, the half-mile lead was fully reestablished, +if not improved upon. + +The tide was setting in through the canal--otherwise the gates had been +closed--with a strength that taxed the _Trouble_ to surpass. It seemed +an interminable time before the banks slipped behind and the boat picked +up her heels anew and swept out over the broad reaches of the Peconic +like a hound on the trail. The starboard light of the leader was slowly +becoming more and more distinct as she swung again to the eastward. That +way, Whitaker figured, with his brows perplexed, lay Shelter Island, +Greenport, Sag Harbor (names only in his understanding) and what else he +could not say. Here he found himself in strange waters, knowing no more +than that the chase seemed about to penetrate a tangled maze of islands +and distorted channels, in whose intricacies it should prove a matter of +facility to lose a pursuer already well distanced. + +Abandoning the forward wheel in favour of that at the side, near the +engine pit, for a time he divided his attention between steering and +tinkering with the motor, with the result that the _Trouble_ began +presently to develop more speed. Slowly she crept up on the leader, +until, with Robins Island abeam (though he knew it not by name) the +distance between them had been abridged by half. But more than that she +seemed unable to accomplish. He surmised shrewdly that the others, +tardily observing his gain, had met it with an equalizing demand upon +their motor--that both boats were now running at the extreme of their +power. The _Trouble_, at least, could do no better. To this he must be +resigned. + +Empty of all other craft, weird and desolate in moonlight, the Little +Peconic waters widened and then narrowed about the flying vessels. Shore +lights watched them, now dim and far, now bright and near at hand. +Shelter Island Sound received them, slapped their flanks encouragingly +with its racing waves, sped them with an ebbing tide that tore seawards +between constricted shores, carried them past high-wooded bluffs and low +wastes of sedge, past simple cottage and pretentious country home, past +bobbing buoys--nun and can and spar--and moored flotillas of small +pleasure craft, past Sag Harbor and past Cedar Island Light, delivering +them at length into the lonelier wastes of Gardiner's Bay. Their +relative positions were unchanged: still the _Trouble_ retained her +hard-won advantage. + +But it was little comfort that Whitaker derived from contemplation of +this fact. He was beginning to be more definitely perplexed and +distressed. He had no watch with him, no means of ascertaining the time +even roughly; but unquestionably they had been upwards of two hours if +not more at full tilt, and now were braving wilder waters; and still he +saw no sign of anything resembling a termination of the adventure. In +fact, they were leaving behind them every likely landing place. + +"Damn it!" he grumbled. "What are they aiming at--Boston?" + +Near the forward wheel a miniature binnacle housing a compass with +phosphorescent card, advised him from time to time, as he consulted it, +of the lay of their course. They were just then ploughing almost due +northeast over a broad expanse, beckoned on by the distant flicker of a +gas-buoy. But the information was less than worthless, and every +reasonable guess he might have made as to their next move would have +proved even more futile than merely idle; for when they had rounded the +buoy, instead of standing, as any reasonable beings might have been +expected to, on to Fisher's Island or at a tangent north toward the +Connecticut littoral, they swung off something south of east--a course +that could lead them nowhere but to the immensities of the sea itself. + +Whitaker's breath caught in his throat as he examined this startling +prospect. The Atlantic was something a trifle bigger than he had +bargained for. To dare its temper, with a southwester brewing (by every +weather sign he knew) in what was to all intents an open boat, since he +would never be able to leave the cockpit for an instant's shelter in the +cabin in any sort of a seaway--! + +He shook a dubious, vastly troubled head. But he held on grimly in the +face of dire forebodings. + +Once out from under the lee of Gardiner's Island, a heavier run of waves +beset them, catching the boats almost squarely on the beam: fortunately +a sea of long, smooth, slow shouldering rollers, as yet not angry. Now +and again, for all that, one would favour the _Trouble_ with a +quartering slap that sent a shower of spray aboard her to drench +Whitaker and swash noisily round the cockpit ere the self-bailing +channels could carry it off. He was quickly wet to the skin and +shivering. The hour was past midnight, and the strong air whipping in +from the open sea had a bitter edge. His only consolation inhered in the +reflection that he had companions in his misery: those who drove the +leading boat could hardly escape what he must suffer; though he hoped +and believed that the woman was shut below, warm and dry in the cabin. + +Out over the dark waste to starboard a white light lifted, flashing. For +a while a red eye showed beneath it, staring unwinkingly with a +steadfast and sardonic glare, then disappeared completely, leaving only +the blinking white. Far ahead another light, fixed white, hung steadily +over the port counter, and so remained for over an hour. + +Then most gradually the latter wore round upon the beam and dropped +astern. Whitaker guessed at random, but none the less rightly, that they +were weathering Block Island to the south with a leeway of several +miles. Indisputably the Atlantic held them in the hollow of its +tremendous hand. The slow, eternal deep-sea swell was most perceptible: +a ceaseless impulse of infinite power running through the pettier, if +more threatening, drive of waves kicked up by the wind. Fortunately the +course, shifting to northeast by east, presently took them out of the +swinging trough of the sea. The rollers now led them on, an endless +herd, one after another falling sullenly behind as the two boats shot +down into their shallow intervals and began to creep slowly up over the +long gray backs of those that ran before. + +It was after three in the morning, and, though Whitaker had no means of +knowing it, they were on the last and longest leg of the cruise. They +still had moonlight, but it was more wan and ghastly and threatened +presently to fail them altogether, blotted out by the thickening +weather. The wind was blowing with an insistent, unintermittent force it +had not before developed. A haze, vaguely opalescent, encircled the +horizon like a ghost of absinthe. The cold, formless, wavering dusk of +dawn in time lent it a sickly hue of gray together with a seeming more +substantial. Swathed in its smothering folds, the moon faded to the +semblance of a plaque of dull silver, then vanished altogether. By +four-thirty, when the twilight was moderately bright, Whitaker was +barely able to distinguish the leading boat. The two seemed as if +suspended, struggling like impaled insects, the one in the midst, the +other near the edge, of a watery pit walled in by vapours. + +He recognized in this phenomenon of the weather an exceptionally +striking variation of what his sea-going experience had taught him to +term a smoky sou'wester. + +That hour found him on the verge of the admission that he was, as he +would have said, about all in: the limit of endurance nearly approached. +He was half-dazed with fatigue; his wet skin crawled with goose-flesh; +his flesh itself was cold as stone. In the pit of his stomach lurked an +indefinite, sickening sensation of chilled emptiness. His throat was +sore and parched, his limbs stiff and aching, his face crusted with +stinging particles of salt, his eyes red, sore and smarting. If his +ankle troubled him, he was not aware of it; it would need sharp agony to +penetrate the aura of dull, interminable misery that benumbed his +consciousness. + +With all this, he tormented himself with worry lest the tanks run dry. +Though they had been filled only the day before, he had no clear notion +of the horse-power of the motor or its hourly consumption of gasoline; +and the drain upon the supply could not have been anything but +extraordinary. If it were to run out before they made a landing or safe +anchorage, he would find himself in ticklish straits; but this troubled +him less than the fear that he might be obliged to give up the chase to +which he had stuck so long and with a pertinacity which somewhat +surprised even his own wonder. + +And to give up now, when he had fought so far ... it was an intolerable +thought. He protested against it with a vain, bitter violence void of +any personal feeling or any pride of purpose and endurance. It was his +solicitude for the woman alone that racked him. Whatever the enigmatic +animus responsible for this outrage, it seemed most undeniable that none +but men of the most desperate calibre would have undertaken it--men in +whose sight no crime would be abominable, however hideous. To +contemplate her fate, if abandoned to their mercies...! + +The end came just before dawn, with a swiftness that stunned the +faculties--as though one saw the naked wrath of God leap like lightning +from the sky. + +They were precisely as they had been, within a certain distance of one +another, toiling on and ever on like strange misshapen spirits doomed to +run an endless race. The harsh, shapeless light of imminent day alone +manufactured a colour of difference: Whitaker now was able to see as two +dark shapes the men in the body of the leading boat. The woman was not +visible, but the doors to the cabin were closed, confirming his surmise +that she at least had been sheltered through the night. One of the men +was standing by the wheel, forward, staring ahead. The other occupied a +seat in the cockpit, head and shoulders alone visible above the coaming. +For the most part he seemed sunk in lethargy, head fallen forward, chin +on chest; but now and then he looked up and back at the pursuing boat, +his face a featureless patch of bleached pink. + +Now suddenly the man at the wheel cried out something in a terrible +voice of fright, so high and vehement that it even carried back against +the booming gale for Whitaker to hear. Simultaneously he put the wheel +over, with all his might. The other jumped from his seat, only to be +thrown back as the little vessel swung broadside to the sea, heeling +until she lay almost on her beam ends. The next instant she ceased, +incredibly, to move--hung motionless in that resistless surge, an +amazing, stupefying spectacle. It seemed minutes before Whitaker could +force his wits to comprehend that she had struck and lay transfixed upon +some submerged rock or reef. + +A long, gray roller swept upon and over her, brimming her cockpit with +foaming water. As it passed he saw the half-drowned men release the +coamings, to which they had clung on involuntary impulse to escape being +swept away, scramble upon the cabin roof, and with one accord abandon +themselves to the will of the next wave to follow. As it broke over the +boat and passed, he caught an instantaneous glimpse of their heads and +arms bobbing and beating frantically as they whirled off through the +yeasty welter. + +But he saw this without pity or compassion. If he had been able to have +his will with them, he would have sunk both ten fathoms deep without an +instant's respite. His throat was choked with curses that welled up from +a heart wrenched and raging at this discovery of cowardice unparalleled. + +They had done what they could for themselves without even hesitating to +release the woman imprisoned in the cabin. + + + + +XIV + +DEBACLE + + +The _Trouble_, meantime, was closing in upon the scene of tragedy with +little less than locomotive speed. Yet, however suddenly disaster had +overtaken the other vessel, Whitaker saw what he saw and had time to +take measures to avoid collision, if what he did was accomplished wholly +without conscious thought or premeditation. He had applied the reversing +gear to the motor before he knew it. Then, while the engine choked, +coughing angrily, and reversed with a heavy and resentful pounding in +the cylinder-heads, he began to strip off his coat. He was within ten +yards of the wreck when a wave overtook the _Trouble_ and sent a sheet +of water sprawling over her stern to fill the cockpit ankle-deep. The +next instant he swung the wheel over; the boat, moving forward despite +the resistance of the propeller, drove heavily against the wreck, +broadside to its stern. As this happened Whitaker leaped from one to the +other, went to his knees in the cockpit of the wreck, and rose just in +time to grasp the coaming and hold on against the onslaught of a +hurtling comber. + +It came down, an avalanche, crashing and bellowing, burying him deep in +green. Thunderings benumbed him, and he began to strangle before it +passed.... + +He found himself filling his lungs with free air and fighting his way +toward the cabin doors through water waist-deep. Then he had won to +them, had found and was tearing frantically at the solid brass bolt that +held them shut. In another breath he had torn them open, wide, +discovering the woman, her head and shoulders showing above the flood as +she stood upon a transom, near the doorway, grasping a stanchion for +support. Her eyes met his, black and blank with terror. He snatched +through sheer instinct at a circular life-preserver that floated out +toward him, and simultaneously managed to crook an arm round her neck. + +Again the sea buried them beneath tons of raging dark water. Green +lightnings flashed before his eyes, and in his ears there was a crashing +like the crack of doom. His head was splitting, his heart on the point +of breaking. The wave passed on, roaring. He could breathe. Now if +ever.... + +As if stupefied beyond sensibility, the woman was passive to his +handling. If she had struggled, if she had caught at and clung to him, +or even if she had tried to help herself, he would in all likelihood +have failed to cheat destruction. But she did none of these things, and +he managed somehow to drag her from the cabin to the cockpit and to jam +the life ring over her head and under one arm before the next wave bore +down upon them. + +As the wall of living green water drew near, he twisted one hand into +the life-line of the cork ring and lifted the woman to the seat of the +cockpit. + +They were borne down, brutally buffeted, smothered and swept away. They +came to the surface in the hollow of a deep, gray swale, fully fifty +feet from the wreck. Whitaker retained his grasp of the life-preserver +line. The woman floated easily in the support. He fancied a gleam of +livelier consciousness in her staring eyes, and noticed with a curiously +keen feeling of satisfaction that she was not only keeping her mouth +closed, but had done so, apparently, while under water. + +Relieved from danger of further submersion, at all events for the time +being, he took occasion to rally his wits and look about him as well as +he was able. It was easy, now, to understand how the kidnappers had come +to their disaster; at this distance he could see plainly, despite the +scudding haze, the profile of a high bluff of wave-channelled and bitten +earth rising from a boulder-strewn beach, upon which the surf broke with +a roar deafening and affrighting. Even a hardy swimmer might be pardoned +for looking askance at such a landing. And Whitaker had a woman to think +of and care for. Difficult to imagine how he was to drag her, and +himself, through that vicious, pounding surf, without being beaten to +jelly against the boulders.... + +As the next billow swung them high on its racing crest, he, gaining a +broader field of vision, caught an instantaneous impression of a stark +shoulder of the land bulking out through the mists several hundred yards +to the left; suggesting that the shore curved inward at that spot. The +thought came to him that if he could but weather that point, he might +possibly find on the other side a better landing-place, out of the more +forcible, direct drive of surf. It would be next to an impossibility to +make it by swimming, with but one arm free, and further handicapped by +the dead weight of the woman. And yet that way lay his only hope. + +In that same survey he saw the _Trouble_, riding so low, with only bow +and coamings awash, that he knew she must be waterlogged, rolling +beam-on in to the beach. Of the two men from the other boat he saw +nothing whatever. And when again he had a similar chance to look, the +hapless power-boat was being battered to pieces between the boulders. +Even such would be their fate unless.... + +He put forth every ounce of strength and summoned to his aid all his +water wisdom and skill. But he fought against terrible odds, and there +was no hope in him as he fought. + +Then suddenly, to his utter amazement, the lift of a wave discovered to +him a different contour of the shore; not that the shore had changed, +but his position with regard to it had shifted materially and in +precisely the way that he had wished for and struggled to bring about. +Instead of being carried in to the rock-strewn beach, they were in the +grip of a backwash which was bearing them not only out of immediate +danger, but at the same time alongshore toward the point under whose lee +he hoped to find less turbulent conditions. + +It was quite half the battle--more than half; he had now merely to see +that the set of this backward flow did not drag them too far from shore. +Renewed faith in his star, a sense of possible salvation, lent strength +to his flagging efforts. Slowly, methodically, he worked with his charge +toward the landward limits of the current, cunningly biding the time to +abandon it. And very soon that time came; they were abreast the point; +he could see something of a broad, shelving beach, backed by lesser +bluffs, to leeward of it. He worked free of the set with a mighty +expenditure of force, nervous and physical, and then for a time, rested, +limiting his exertion strictly to the degree requisite to keep him +afloat, while the waves rocked him landwards with the woman. He found +leisure even to give her a glance to see whether she still lived, was +conscious or comatose. + +He found her not only fully aware of her position, but actually swimming +a little--striking out with more freedom than might have been expected, +considering how her arms and shoulders were hampered by the life-ring. A +suspicion crossed his mind that most probably she had been doing as much +for a considerable time, that to her as much as to himself their escape +from the offshore drift had been due. Certainly he could not doubt that +her energies had been subjected to a drain no less severe than he had +suffered. Her face was bloodless to the lips, pale with the pallor of +snow; deep bluish shadows ringed eyes that had darkened strangely, so +that they seemed black rather than violet; her features were so drawn +and pinched that he almost wondered how he could have thought her +beautiful beyond all living women. And her wondrous hair, broken from +its fastenings, undulated about her like a tangled web of sodden +sunbeams. + +Three times he essayed to speak before he could wring articulate sounds +from his cracked lips and burning throat. + +"You ... all right?" + +She replied with as much difficulty: + +"Yes ... you may ... let go...." + +To relax the swollen fingers that grasped the life-line was pure +torture. + +He attempted no further communication. None, indeed, was needed. It was +plain that she understood their situation. + +Some minutes passed before he became aware that they were closing in +quickly to the shelving beach--so swiftly, indeed, that there was reason +to believe the onward urge of the waves measurably reenforced by a +shoreward set of current. But if they had managed to escape the greater +fury on the weather side of the point, they had still a strong and angry +surf to reckon with. Only a little way ahead, breakers were flaunting +their white manes, while the thunder of their breaking was as the +thundering of ten thousand hoofs. + +Whitaker looked fearfully again at the woman. But she was unquestionably +competent to care for herself. Proof of this he had in the fact that she +had contrived to slip the life-preserver up over her head and discard it +altogether. Thus disencumbered, she had more freedom for the impending +struggle. + +He glanced over his shoulder. They were on the line of breakers. Behind +them a heavy comber was surging in, crested with snow, its concave belly +resembling a vast sheet of emerald. In another moment it would be upon +them. It was the moment a seasoned swimmer would seize. + +[Illustration: Whitaker felt land beneath his feet] + +His eye sought the girl's. In hers he read understanding and assent. Of +one mind, they struck out with all their strength. The comber overtook +them, clasped them to its bosom, tossed them high upon its great glassy +shoulder. They fought madly to retain that place, and to such purpose +that they rode it over a dozen yards before it crashed upon the beach, +annihilating itself in a furious welter of creaming waters. Whitaker +felt land beneath his feet.... + +The rest was like the crisis of a nightmare drawn out to the limit of +human endurance. Conscious thought ceased: terror and panic and the +blind instinct of self-preservation--these alone remained. The undertow +tore at Whitaker's legs as with a hundred murderous hands. He fought his +way forward a few paces--or yard or two--only to be overwhelmed, ground +down into the gravel. He rose through some superhuman effort and lunged +on, like a blind, hunted thing.... He came out of it eventually to find +himself well up on the beach, out of the reach of the waves. But the +very earth seemed to billow about him, and he could hardly keep his +feet. A numbing faintness with a painful retching at once assailed him. +He was but vaguely aware of the woman reeling not far from him, but +saved.... + +Later he found that something of the worst effects had worn away. His +scattered wits were reestablishing intercommunication. The earth was +once more passably firm beneath him. He was leaning against the careened +hulk of a dismantled cat-boat with a gaping rent in its side. At a +little distance the woman was sitting in the sands, bosom and shoulders +heaving convulsively, damp, matted hair veiling her like a curtain of +sunlit seaweed. + +He moved with painful effort toward her. She turned up to him her +pitiful, writhen face, white as parchment. + +"Are you--hurt?" he managed to ask. "I mean--injured?" + +She moved her head from side to side, as if she could not speak for +panting. + +"I'm--glad," he said dully. "You stay--here.... I'll go get help." + +He raised his eyes, peering inland. + +Back of the beach the land rose in long, sweeping hillocks, treeless but +green. His curiously befogged vision made out a number of shapes that +resembled dwellings. + +"Go ... get ... help ..." he repeated thickly. + +He started off with a brave, staggering rush that carried him a dozen +feet inland. Then his knees turned to water, and the blackness of night +shut down upon his senses. + + + + +XV + +DISCLOSURES + + +Sleep is a potent medicine for the mind; but sometimes the potion is +compounded with somewhat too heavy a proportion of dreams and nonsense; +when it's apt to play curious tricks with returning consciousness. When +Whitaker awoke he was on the sands of Narragansett, and the afternoon +was cloudy-warm and bright, so that his eyes were grateful for the shade +of a white parasol that a girl he knew was holding over him; and his age +was eighteen and his cares they were none; and the girl was saying in a +lazy, laughing voice: "I love my love with a P because he's Perfectly +Pulchritudinous and Possesses the Power of Pleasing, and because he +Prattles Prettily and his socks are Peculiarly Purple--" + +"And," the man who'd regained his youth put in, "his name is Peter and +he's Positively a Pest...." + +But the voice in which he said this was quite out of the picture--less a +voice than a croak out of a throat kiln-dry and burning. So he grew +suspicious of his senses; and when the parasol was transformed into the +shape of a woman wearing a clumsy jacket of soiled covert-cloth over a +non-descript garment of weirdly printed calico--then he was sure that +something was wrong with him. + +Besides, the woman who wasn't a parasol suddenly turned and bent over +him an anxious face, exclaiming in accents of consternation: "O dear! If +he's delirious--!" + +His voice, when he strove to answer, rustled and rattled rather than +enunciated, surprising him so that he barely managed to say: "What +nonsense! I'm just thirsty!" Then the circuit of returning consciousness +closed and his lost youth slipped forever from his grasp. + +"I thought you would be," said the woman, calmly; "so I brought water. +Here...." + +She offered a tin vessel to his lips, as he lay supine, spilling a +quantity of its contents on his face and neck and a very little into his +mouth, if enough to make him choke and splutter. He sat up suddenly, +seized the vessel--a two-quart milk-pail--and buried his face in it, +gradually tilting it, while its cool, delicious sweetness irrigated his +arid tissues, until every blessed drop was drained. Then, and not till +then, he lowered the pail and with sane vision began to renew +acquaintance with the world. + +He was sitting a trifle out of the shallow imprint of his body in the +sands, in the lee of the beached cat-boat he now recalled as one might +the features of an incubus. The woman he had rescued sat quite near him. +The gale was still booming overhead, but now with less force (or so he +fancied); and the surf still crashed in thunders on the beach a hundred +feet or more away; but the haze was lighter, and the blue of the sky was +visible, if tarnished. + +Looking straight ahead from where he sat, the sands curved off in a wide +crescent, ending in a long, sandy spit. Beyond this lay a broad expanse +of maddened water, blue and white, backed by the empurpled loom of a +lofty headland, dim in the smoky distance. + +On his right lay the green landscape, reminiscent even as the boat was +reminiscent in whose shadow he found himself: both fragments of the +fugitive impressions gathered in that nightmare time of landing. There +was a low, ragged earth-bank rising from the sands to a clutter of +ramshackle, unpainted, hideous wooden buildings--some hardly more than +sheds; back of these and stretching away on either hand, a spreading +vista of treeless uplands, gently undulant and richly carpeted with +grass and under-growth in a melting scheme of tender browns and greens +and yellows, with here and there a trace of dusky red. Midway between +the beach and where the hazy uplands lifted their blurred profile +against the faded sky, set some distance apart from the community of +dilapidated structures, stood a commonplace farm-house, in good repair, +strongly constructed and neatly painted; with a brood of out buildings. +Low stone fences lined the uplands with wandering streaks of gray. Here +and there, in scattered groups and singly, sheep foraged. But they were +lonely evidences of life. No human being was visible in any quarter. + +With puzzled eyes Whitaker sought counsel and enlightenment of the +woman, and found in her appearance quite as much to confound +anticipation and deepen perplexity. She was hardly to be identified with +the delightfully normal, essentially well-groomed creature he +remembered. What she had worn when setting forth to call on him, +accompanied by her maid, the night before, he could not say; but it +certainly could have had nothing in common with her present dress--the +worn, stained, misshapen jacket covering her shoulders, beneath it the +calico wrapper scant and crude beyond belief, upon her feet the rusty +wrecks that once had been shoes. + +As for himself, a casual examination proved that the rags and tatters +adorning him were at least to be recognized as the remains of his own +clothing. His coat was lost, of course, and his collar he had torn away, +together with a portion of his shirt, while in the water after the +disaster; but his once white flannel trousers were precious souvenirs, +even if one leg was ripped open to the knee, and even though the cloth +as a whole had contracted to an alarming extent--uncomfortable as well; +while his tennis shoes remained tolerably intact, and the canvas brace +had shrunk upon his ankle until it gripped it like a vise. + +But all these details he absorbed rather than studied, in the first few +moments subsequent to his awakening. His chiefest and most direct +interest centred upon the woman; and he showed it clearly in the +downright, straightforward sincerity of his solicitous scrutiny. And, +for all the handicap of her outlandish dress, she bore inspection +wonderfully well. + +Marvellously recuperative, as many women are, she had regained all her +ardent loveliness; or, if any trace remained of the wear and tear of her +fearful experience, he was in no condition to know it, much less to +carp. There was warm color in the cheeks that he had last seen livid, +there was the wonted play of light and shadow in her fascinating eyes; +there were gracious rounded curves where had been sunken surfaces, +hollowed out by fatigue and strain; and there remained the ineluctable +allurement of her tremendous vitality.... + +"You are not hurt?" he demanded. "You are--all right?" + +"Quite," she told him with a smile significant of her appreciation of +his generous feeling. "I wasn't hurt, and I've recovered from my shock +and fright--only I'm still a little tired. But you?" + +"Oh, I ... never better. That is, I'm rested; and there was nothing else +for me to get over." + +"But your ankle--?" + +"I've forgotten it ever bothered me.... Haven't you slept at all?" + +"Oh, surely--a great deal. But I've been awake for some time--a few +hours." + +"A few hours!" His stare widened with wonder. "How long have I--?" + +"All day--like a log." + +"But I--! What time is it?" + +"I haven't a watch, but late afternoon, I should think--going by the +sun. It's nearly down." + +"Good heavens!" he muttered, dashed. "I _have_ slept!" + +"You earned your right to.... You needed it far more than I." Her eyes +shone, warm with kindness. + +She swayed almost imperceptibly toward him. Her voice was low pitched +and a trifle broken with emotion: + +"You saved my life--" + +"I--? Oh, that was only what any other man--" + +"None other did!" + +"Please don't speak of it--I mean, consider it that way," he stammered. +"What I want to know is, where are we?" + +Her reply was more distant. "On an island, somewhere. It's uninhabited, +I think." + +He could only echo in bewilderment: "An island...! Uninhabited...!" +Dismay assailed him. He got up, after a little struggle overcoming the +resistance of stiff and sore limbs, and stood with a hand on the coaming +of the dismantled cat-boat, raking the island with an incredulous stare. + +"But those houses--?" + +"There's no one in any of them, that I could find." She stirred from her +place and offered him a hand. "Please help me up." + +He turned eagerly, with a feeling of chagrin that she had needed to ask +him. For an instant he had both her hands, warm and womanly, in his +grasp, while she rose by his aid, and for an instant longer--possibly by +way of reward. Then she disengaged them with gentle firmness. + +She stood beside him so tall and fair, so serenely invested with the +flawless dignity of her womanhood that he no longer thought of the +incongruity of her grotesque garb. + +"You've been up there?" he asked, far too keenly interested to scorn the +self-evident. + +She gave a comprehensive gesture, embracing the visible prospect. "All +over.... When I woke, I thought surely ... I went to see, found nothing +living except the sheep and some chickens and turkeys in the farmyard. +Those nearer buildings--nothing there except desolation, ruin, and the +smell of last year's fish. I think fishermen camp out here at times. And +the farm-house--apparently it's ordinarily inhabited. Evidently the +people have gone away for a visit somewhere. It gives the impression of +being a home the year round. There isn't any boat--" + +"No boat!" + +"Not a sign of one, that I can find--except this wreck." She indicated +the cat-boat. + +"But we can't do anything with this," he expostulated. + +The deep, wide break in its side placed it beyond consideration, even if +it should prove possible to remedy its many other lacks. + +"No. The people who live here must have a boat--I saw a mooring-buoy out +there"--with a gesture toward the water. "Of course. How else could they +get away?" + +"The question is, how we are to get away," he grumbled, morose. + +"You'll find the way," she told him with quiet confidence. + +"I! I'll find the way? How?" + +"I don't know--only you must. There must be some way of signalling the +mainland, some means of communication. Surely people wouldn't live here, +cut off from all the World.... Perhaps we'll find something in the +farm-house to tell us what to do. I didn't have much time to look round. +I wanted clothing, mostly--and found these awful things hanging behind +the kitchen door. And then I wanted something to eat, and I found +that--some bread, not too stale, and plenty of eggs in the hen-house.... +And you--you must be famished!" + +The reminder had an effect singularly distressing. Till then he had been +much too thunderstruck by comprehension of their anomalous plight to +think of himself. Now suddenly he was stabbed through and through with +pangs of desperate hunger. He turned a little faint, was seized with a +slight sensation of giddiness, at the thought of food, so that he was +glad of the cat-boat for support. + +"Oh, you are!" Compassion thrilled her tone. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me +for not thinking of it at once. Come--if you can walk." She caught his +hand as if to help him onward. "It's not far, and I can fix you +something quickly. Do come." + +"Oh, surely," he assented, recovering. "I am half starving--and then +some. Only I didn't know it until you mentioned the fact." + +The girl relinquished his hand, but they were almost shoulder to +shoulder as they plodded through the dry, yielding sand toward firmer +ground. + +"We can build a fire and have something hot," she said; "there's plenty +of fuel." + +"But--what did you do?" + +"I--oh, I took my eggs _au naturel_--barring some salt and pepper. I was +in too much of a hurry to bother with a stove--" + +"Why in a hurry?" + +She made no answer for an instant. He turned to look at her, wondering. +To his unutterable astonishment she not only failed to meet his glance, +but tried to seem unconscious of it. + +The admirable ease and gracious self-possession which he had learned to +associate with her personality as inalienable traits were altogether +gone, just then--obliterated by a singular, exotic attitude of +constraint and diffidence, of self-consciousness. She seemed almost to +shrink from his regard, and held her face a little averted from him, the +full lips tense, lashes low and trembling upon her cheeks. + +"I was ... afraid to leave you," she said in a faltering voice, under +the spell of this extraordinary mood. "I was afraid something might +happen to you, if I were long away." + +"But what _could_ happen to me, here--on this uninhabited island?" + +"I don't know.... It was silly of me, of course." With an evident +exertion of will power she threw off this perplexing mood of shyness, +and became more like herself, as he knew her. "Really, I presume, it was +mostly that I was afraid for myself--frightened of the loneliness, +fearful lest it be made more lonely for me by some accident--" + +"Of course," he assented, puzzled beyond expression, cudgelling his wits +for some solution of a riddle sealed to his masculine obtuseness. + +What could have happened to influence her so strangely? Could he have +said or done--anything--? + +The problem held him in abstraction throughout the greater part of their +walk to the farm-house, though he heard and with ostensible intelligence +responded to her running accompaniment of comment and suggestion.... + +They threaded the cluster of buildings that, their usefulness outlived, +still encumbered the bluff bordering upon the beach. The most careless +and superficial glance bore out the impression conveyed by the girl's +description of the spot. Doorless doorways and windows with shattered +sashes disclosed glimpses of interiors fallen into a state of ruin +defying renovation. What remained intact of walls and roofs were mere +shells half filled with an agglomeration of worthlessness--mounds of +crumbled, mouldering plaster, shards, rust-eaten tins, broken bottles, +shreds of what had once been garments: the whole perhaps threatened by +the overhanging skeleton of a crazy staircase.... An evil, disturbing +spot, exhaling an atmosphere more melancholy and disheartening than that +of a rain-sodden November woodland: a haunted place, where the hand of +Time had wrought devastation with the wanton efficacy of a destructive +child: a good place to pass through quickly and ever thereafter to +avoid. + +In relief against it the uplands seemed the brighter, stretching away in +the soft golden light of the descending sun. The wind sang over them a +boisterous song of strength and the sweep of open spaces. The air was +damp and soft and sweet with the scent of heather. Straggling sheep +suspended for a moment their meditative cropping and lifted their heads +to watch the strangers with timorous, stupid eyes. A flock of young +turkeys fled in discordant agitation from their path. + +Halfway up to the farm-house a memory shot through Whitaker's mind as +startling as lightning streaking athwart a peaceful evening sky. He +stopped with an exclamation that brought the girl beside him to a +standstill with questioning eyes. + +"But the others--!" he stammered. + +"The others?" she repeated blankly. + +"They--the men who brought you here--?" + +Her lips tightened. She moved her head in slow negation. + +"I have seen nothing of either of them." + +Horror and pity filled him, conjuring up a vision of wild, raving +waters, mad with blood-lust, and in their jaws, arms and heads +helplessly whirling and tossing. + +"Poor devils!" he muttered. + +She said nothing. When he looked for sympathy in her face, he found it +set and inscrutable. + +He delayed another moment, thinking that soon she must speak, offer him +some sort of explanation. But she remained uncommunicative. And he could +not bring himself to seem anxious to pry into her affairs. + +He took a tentative step onward. She responded instantly to the +suggestion, but in silence. + +The farm-house stood on high ground, commanding an uninterrupted sweep +of the horizon. As they drew near it, Whitaker paused and turned, +narrowing his eyes as he attempted to read the riddle of the enigmatic, +amber-tinted distances. + +To north and east the island fell away in irregular terraces to wide, +crescent beaches whose horns, joining in the northeast, formed the sandy +spit. To west and south the moorlands billowed up to the brink of a +precipitous bluff. In the west, Whitaker noted absently, a great +congregation of gulls were milling amid a cacophony of screams, just +beyond the declivity. Far over the northern water the dark promontory +was blending into violet shadows which, in turn, blended imperceptibly +with the more sombre shade of the sea. Beyond it nothing was +discernable. Southeast from it the coast, backed by dusky highlands, ran +on for several miles to another, but less impressive, headland; its +line, at an angle to that of the deserted island, forming a funnel-like +tideway for the intervening waters fully six miles at its broadest in +the north, narrowing in the east to something over three miles. + +There was not a sail visible in all the blue cup of the sea. + +"I don't know," said Whitaker slowly, as much to himself as to his +companion. "It's odd ... it passes me...." + +"Can't you tell where we are?" she inquired anxiously. + +"Not definitely. I know, of course, we must be somewhere off the south +coast of New England: somewhere between Cape Cod and Block Island. But +I've never sailed up this way--never east of Orient Point; my boating +has been altogether confined to Long Island Sound.... And my +geographical memory is as hazy as the day. There _are_ islands off the +south coast of Massachusetts--a number of them: Nantucket, you know, and +Martha's Vineyard. This might be either--only it isn't, because they're +summer resorts. That"--he swept his hand toward the land in the +northeast--"might be either, and probably is one of 'em. At the same +time, it may be the mainland. I don't know." + +"Then ... then what are we to do?" + +"I should say, possess our souls in patience, since we have no boat. At +least, until we can signal some passing vessel. There aren't any in +sight just now, but there must be some--many--in decent weather." + +"How--signal?" + +He looked round, shaking a dubious head. "Of course there's nothing like +a flagpole here--but me, and I'm not quite long enough. Perhaps I can +find something to serve as well. We might nail a plank to the corner of +the roof and a table-cloth to that, I suppose." + +"And build fires, by night?" + +He nodded. "Best suggestion yet. I'll do that very thing to-night--after +I've had a bite to eat." + +She started impatiently away. "Oh, come, come! What am I thinking of, to +let you stand there, starving by inches?" + +They entered the house by the back door, finding themselves in the +kitchen--that mean and commonplace assembly-room of narrow and pinched +lives. The immaculate cleanliness of decent, close poverty lay over it +all like a blight. And despite the warmth of the air outside, within it +was chill--bleak with an aura of discontent bred of the incessant +struggle against crushing odds which went on within those walls from +year's end to year's end.... + +Whitaker busied himself immediately with the stove. There was a full +wood-box near by; and within a very few minutes he had a brisk fire +going. The woman had disappeared in the direction of the barn. She +returned in good time with half a dozen eggs. Foraging in the pantry and +cupboards, she brought to light a quantity of supplies: a side of bacon, +flour, potatoes, sugar, tea, small stores of edibles in tins. + +"I'm hungry again, myself," she declared, attacking the problem of +simple cookery with a will and a confident air that promised much. + +The aroma of frying bacon, the steam of brewing tea, were all but +intolerable to an empty stomach. Whitaker left the kitchen hurriedly +and, in an endeavour to control himself, made a round of the other +rooms. There were two others on the ground floor: a "parlour," a +bedroom; in the upper story, four small bedchambers; above them an +attic, gloomy and echoing. Nowhere did he discover anything to moderate +the impression made by the kitchen: it was all impeccably neat, +desperately bare. + +Depressed, he turned toward the head of the stairs. Below a door whined +on its hinges, and the woman called him, her voice ringing through the +hallway with an effect of richness, deep-toned and bell-true, that +somehow made him think of sunlight flinging an arm of gold athwart the +dusk of a darkened room. He felt his being thrill responsive to it, as +fine glass sings its answer to the note truly pitched. More than all +this, he was staggered by something in the quality of that full-throated +cry, something that smote his memory until it was quick and vibrant, +like a harp swept by an old familiar hand. + +"Hugh?" she called; and again: "Hugh! Where are you?" + +He paused, grasping the balustrade, and with some difficulty managed to +articulate: + +"Here ... coming...." + +"Hurry. Everything's ready." + +Waiting an instant to steady his nerves, he descended and reentered the +kitchen. + +The meal was waiting--on the table. The woman, too, faced him as he +entered, waiting in the chair nearest the stove. But, once within the +room, he paused so long beside the door, his hand upon the knob, and +stared so strangely at her, that she moved uneasily, grew restless and +disturbed. A gleam of apprehension flickered in her eyes. + +"Why, what's the matter?" she asked with forced lightness. "Why don't +you come in and sit down?" + +He said abruptly: "You called me Hugh!" + +She inclined her head, smiling mischievously. "I admit it. Do you mind?" + +"Mind? No!" He shut the door, advanced and dropped into his chair, still +searching her face with his troubled gaze. "Only," he said--"you +startled me. I didn't think--expect--hope--" + +"On so short an acquaintance?" she suggested archly. "Perhaps you're +right. I didn't think.... And yet--I do think--with the man who risked +his life for me--I'm a little justified in forgetting even that we've +never met through the medium of a conventional introduction." + +"It isn't that, but...." He hesitated, trying to formulate phrases to +explain the singular sensation that had assailed him when she called +him: a sensation the precise nature of which he himself did not as yet +understand. + +She interrupted brusquely: "Don't let's waste time talking. I can't wait +another instant." + +Silently submissive, he took up his knife and fork and fell to. + + + + +XVI + +THE BEACON + + +Through the meal, neither spoke; and if there were any serious thinking +in process, Whitaker was not only ignorant of it, but innocent of +participation therein. With the first taste of food, he passed into a +state of abject surrender to sheer brutish hunger. It was not easily +that he restrained himself, schooled his desires to decent expression. +The smell, the taste, the sight of food: he fairly quivered like a +ravenous animal under the influence of their sensual promise. He was +sensible of a dull, carking shame, and yet was shameless. + +The girl was the first to finish. She had eaten little in comparison; +chiefly, perhaps, because she required less than he. Putting aside her +knife and fork, she rested her elbows easily on the table, cradled her +chin between her half-closed hands. Her eyes grew dark with speculation, +and oddly lambent. He ate on, unconscious of her attitude. When he had +finished, it was as if a swarm of locusts had passed that way. Of the +more than plentiful meal she had prepared, there remained but a beggarly +array of empty dishes to testify to his appreciation. + +He leaned back a little in his chair, surprised her intent gaze, laughed +sheepishly, and laughing, sighed with repletion. + +A smile of sympathetic understanding darkened the corners of her lips. + +"Milord is satisfied?" + +"Milord," he said with an apologetic laugh, "is on the point of passing +into a state of torpor. He begins to understand the inclination of the +boa-constrictor--or whatever beast it is that feeds once every six +months--to torp a little, gently, after its semi-annual gorge." + +"Then there's nothing else...?" + +"For a pipe and tobacco I would give you half my kingdom!" + +"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry!" + +"Don't be. It won't harm me to do without nicotine for a day or two." +But his sigh belied the statement. "Anyway, I'll forget all about it +presently. I'll be too busy." + +"How?" + +"It's coming on night. You haven't forgotten our signal fires?" + +"Oh, no--and we must not forget!" + +"Then I've got my work cut out for me, to forage for fuel. I must get +right at it." + +The girl rose quickly. "Do you mind waiting a little? I mustn't neglect +my dishes, and--if you don't mind--I'd rather not be left alone any +longer than necessary. You know...." + +She ended with a nervous laugh, depreciatory. + +"Why, surely. And I'll help with the dish-cloth." + +"You'll do nothing of the sort. I'd rather do it all myself. Please." +She waved him back to his chair with a commanding gesture. "I mean +it--really." + +"Well," he consented, doubtful, "if you insist...." + +She worked rapidly above the steaming dish-pan, heedless of the effects +upon her hands and bared arms: busy and intent upon her business, the +fair head bowed, the cheeks faintly flushed. + +Whitaker lounged, profoundly intrigued, watching her with sober and +studious eyes, asking himself questions he found for the present +unanswerable. What did she mean to him? Was what he had been at first +disposed to consider a mere, light-hearted, fugitive infatuation, +developing into something else, something stronger and more enduring? +And what did it mean, this impression that had come to him so suddenly, +within the hour, and that persisted with so much force in the face of +its manifest impossibility, that he had known her, or some one strangely +like her, at some forgotten time--as in some previous existence? + +It was her voice that had made him think that, her voice of marvellous +allure, crystal-pure, as flexible as tempered steel, strong, tender, +rich, compassionate, compelling.... Where had he heard it before, and +when? + +And who was she, this Miss Fiske? This self-reliant and self-sufficient +woman who chose to spend her summer in seclusion, with none but servants +for companions; who had comprehension of machinery and ran her +motor-boat alone; who went for lonely swims in the surf at dawn; who +treated men as her peers--neither more nor less; who was spied upon, +shadowed, attacked, kidnapped by men of unparalleled desperation and +daring; who had retained her self-possession under stress of +circumstance that would have driven strong men into pseudo-hysteria; who +now found herself in a position to the last degree ambiguous and +anomalous, cooped up, for God only knew how long, upon a lonely +hand's-breadth of land in company with a man of whom she knew little +more than nothing; and who accepted it all without protest, with a +serene and flawless courage, uncomplaining, displaying an implicit and +unquestioning faith in her companion: what manner of woman was this? + +At least one to marvel over and admire without reserve; to rejoice in +and, if it could not be otherwise, to desire in silence and in pride +that it should be given to one so unworthy the privileges of desiring +and of service and mute adoration.... + +"It's almost dark," her pleasant accents broke in upon his revery. +"Would you mind lighting the lamp? My hands are all wet and sticky." + +"Assuredly." + +Whitaker got up, found matches, and lighted a tin kerosene lamp in a +bracket on the wall. The windows darkened and the walls took on a sombre +yellow as the flame grew strong and steady. + +"I'm quite finished." The girl scrubbed her arms and hands briskly with +a dry towel and turned down her sleeves, facing him with her fine, +frank, friendly smile. "If you're ready...." + +"Whenever you are," he said with an oddly ceremonious bow. + +To his surprise she drew back, her brows and lips contracting to level +lines, her eyes informed with the light of wonder shot through with the +flashings of a resentful temper. + +"Why do you look at me so?" she demanded sharply. "What are you +thinking...?" She checked, her frown relaxed, her smile flickered +softly. "Am I such a fright--?" + +"I beg your pardon," he said hastily. "I was merely thinking, +wondering...." + +She seemed about to speak, but said nothing. He did not round out his +apology. A little distance apart, they stood staring at one another in +that weird, unnatural light, wherein the glow from the lamp contended +garishly with the ebbing flush of day. And again he was mute in +bewildered inquiry before that puzzling phenomenon of inscrutable +emotion which once before, since his awakening, had been disclosed to +him in her mantling colour, in the quickening of her breath, and the +agitation of her bosom, in the timid, dumb questioning of eyes grown +strangely shy and frightened. + +And then, in a twinkling, an impatient gesture exorcised the +inexplicable mood that had possessed her, and she regained her normal, +self-reliant poise as if by witchcraft. + +"What a quaint creature you are, Hugh," she cried, her smile whimsical. +"You've a way of looking at one that gives me the creeps. I see +things--things that aren't so, and never were. If you don't stop it, I +swear I shall think you're the devil! Stop it--do you hear me, sir? And +come build our bonfire." + +She swung lithely away and was out of the house before he could regain +his wits and follow. + +"I noticed a lot of old lumber around the barn," she announced, when he +joined her in the dooryard--"old boxes and barrels and rubbish. And a +wheelbarrow. So you won't have far to go for fuel. Now where do you +purpose building the beacon?" + +He cast round, peering through the thickening shades of dusk, and +eventually settled upon a little knoll a moderate distance to leeward of +the farm-house. Such a location would be safest, even though the wind +was falling steadily with the flight of the hours; and the fire would be +conspicuously placed for observation from any point in the north and +east. + +Off in the north, where Whitaker had marked down the empurpled headland +during the afternoon, a white light lanced the gloom thrice with a +sweeping blade, vanished, and was replaced by a glare of angry red, +which in its turn winked out. + +Whitaker watched it briefly with the finger-tips of his right hand +resting lightly on the pulse in his left wrist. Then turning away, he +announced: + +"Three white flashes followed by a red at intervals of about ten +seconds. Wonder what _that_ stands for!" + +"What is it?" the girl asked. "A ship signalling?" + +"No; a lighthouse--probably a first-order light--with its characteristic +flash, not duplicated anywhere along this section of the Atlantic coast. +If I knew anything of such matters, it would be easy enough to tell from +that just about where we are. _If_ that information would help us." + +"But, if we can see their light, they'll see ours,--won't they?--and +send to find out what's the matter." + +"Perhaps. At least--let's hope so. They're pretty sure to see it, but as +to their attaching sufficient importance to it to investigate--that's a +question. They may not know that the people who live here are away. They +may think the natives here are merely celebrating their silver wedding, +or Roosevelt's refusal of a third term, or the accession of Edward the +Seventh--or anything." + +"Please don't be silly--and discouraging. Do get to work and build the +fire." + +He obeyed with humility and expedition. + +As she had said, there was no lack of fodder for the flames. By dint of +several wheelbarrow trips between the knoll and the farmyard, he had +presently constructed a pyre of impressive proportions; and by that time +it was quite dark--so dark, indeed, that he had been forced to hunt up a +yard lantern, carrying the which the girl had accompanied him on his two +final trips. + +"Here," he said clumsily, when all was ready, offering her matches. "You +light it, please--for luck." + +Their fingers touched as she took the matches. Something thumped in his +breast, and a door opened in the chambers of his understanding, letting +in light. + +Kneeling at the base of the pyre, she struck a match and applied it to a +quantity of tinder-dry excelsior. The stuff caught instantly, puffing +into a brilliant patch of blaze; she rose and stood back, _en +silhouette_, delicately poised at attention, waiting to see that her +work was well done. He could not take his gaze from her. + +So what he had trifled and toyed with, fought with and prayed against, +doubted and questioned, laughed at and cried down, was sober, painful +fact. Truth, heart-rending to behold in her stark, shining beauty, had +been revealed to him in that moment of brushing finger-tips, and he had +looked in her face and known his unworthiness; and he trembled and was +afraid and ashamed.... + +Spreading swiftly near the ground, the flames mounted as quickly, with +snappings and cracklings, excavating in the darkness an arena of reddish +radiance. + +The girl retreated to his side, returning the matches. + +A tongue of flame shot up from the peak of the pyre, and a column of +smoke surpassed it, swinging off to leeward in great, red-bosomed +volutes and whorls picked out with flying regiments of sparks. + +"You'd think they couldn't help understanding that it's a signal of +distress." + +"You would think so. I hope so. God knows I hope so!" + +There was a passion in his tones to make her lift wondering eyes to his. + +"Why do you say that--that way? We should be thankful to be safe--alive. +And we're certain to get away before long." + +"I know--yes, I know." + +"But you spoke so strangely!" + +"I'm sorry. I'd been thinking clearly; for the first time, I believe, +since I woke up." + +"About what? Us? Or merely me?" + +"You. I was considering you alone. It isn't right that you should be in +this fix. I'd give my right hand to remedy it!" + +"But I'm not distressed. It isn't altogether pleasant, but it can't be +helped and might easily have been worse." + +"And still I can't help feeling, somehow, the wretched injustice of it +to you. I want to protest--to do something to mend matters." + +"But since you can't"--she laughed in light mockery, innocent of +malice--"since we're doing our best, let's be philosophical and sit down +over there and watch to see if there's any answer to our signal." + +"There won't be." + +"You _are_ a difficult body. Never mind. Come along!" she insisted with +pretty imperiousness. + +They seated themselves with their backs to the fire and at a respectful +distance from it, where they could watch the jetting blades of light +that ringed the far-off headland. Whitaker reclined on an elbow, +relapsing into moody contemplation. The girl drew up her knees, clasped +her arms about them, and stared thoughtfully into the night. + +Behind them the fire flamed and roared, volcanic. All round it in a +radius of many yards the earth glowed red, while, to one side, the grim, +homely facade of the farm-house edged blushing out of the ambient night, +all its staring windows bloodshot and sinister. + +The girl stirred uneasily, turning her head to look at Whitaker. + +"You know," she said with a confused attempt to laugh: "this is really +no canny, this place. Or else I'm balmy. I'm seeing things--shapes that +stir against the blackness, off there beyond the light, moving, halting, +staring, hating us for butchering their age-old peace and quiet. Maybe +I'll forget to see them, if you'll talk to me a little." + +"I can't talk to you," he said, ungracious in his distress. + +"You can't? It's the first time it's been noticeable, then. What's +responsible for this all-of-a-sudden change of heart?" + +"That's what's responsible." The words spoke themselves almost against +his will. + +"What--change of heart?" + +"Yes," he said sullenly. + +"You're very obscure. Am I to understand that you've taken a sudden +dislike to me, so that you can't treat me with decent civility?" + +"You know that isn't so." + +"Surely"--she caught her breath sharply, paused for an instant, then +went on--"surely you don't mean the converse!" + +"I've always understood women knew what men meant before the men did, +themselves." His voice broke a little. "Oh, can't you see how it is with +me? Can't you see?" he cried. "God forgive me! I never meant to inflict +this on you, at such a time! I don't know why I have...." + +"You mean," she stammered in a voice of amaze--"you mean--love?" + +"Can you doubt it?" + +"No ... not after what's happened, I presume. You wouldn't have +followed--you wouldn't have fought so to save me from drowning--I +_suppose_--if you hadn't--cared.... But I didn't know." + +She sighed, a sigh plaintive and perturbed, then resumed: "A woman never +knows, really. She may suspect; in fact, she almost always does; she is +obliged to be so continually on guard that suspicion is ingrained in her +nature; but...." + +"Then you're not--offended?" he asked, sitting up. + +"Why should I be?" The firelight momentarily outlined the smiling, half +wistful countenance she turned to him. + +"But"--he exploded with righteous wrath, self-centred--"only a scoundrel +would force his attentions upon a woman, in such circumstances! You +can't get away from me--I may be utterly hateful to you--" + +"Oh, you're not." She laughed quietly. "You're not; nor am I +distressed--because of the circumstances that distress you, at least. +What woman would be who received as great and honourable a +compliment--from you, Hugh? Only"--again the whimsical little laugh that +merged into a smothered sigh--"I wish I knew!" + +"Wish you knew what?" + +"What's going on inside that extraordinary head of yours: what's in the +mind behind the eyes that I so often find staring at me so curiously." + +He bowed that head between hands that compressed cruelly his temples. +"I wish _I_ knew!" he groaned in protest. "It's a mystery to me, +the spell you've laid upon my thoughts. Ever since we met you've +haunted me with a weird suggestion of some elusive relationship, some +entanglement--intimacy--gone, perished, forgotten.... But since you +called me to supper, a while ago, by name--I don't know why--your voice, +as you used it then, has run through my head and through, teasing my +memory like a strain of music from some half-remembered song. It +half-maddens me; I feel so strongly that everything would be so straight +and plain and clear between us, if I could only fasten upon that +fugitive, indefinable something that's always fluttering just beyond my +grasp!" + +"You mean all that--honestly?" she demanded in an oddly startled voice. + +"Most honestly." He looked up in excitement. "You don't mean _you_'ve +felt anything of the sort?" + +"No, I"--her voice broke as if with weariness--"I don't mean that, +precisely. I mean.... Probably I don't know what I do mean. I'm really +very tired, too tired to go on, just now--to sit here with you, +badgering our poor wits with esoteric subtleties. I think--do you +mind?--I'd better go in." + +She rose quickly, without waiting for his hand. Whitaker straightened +out his long body with more deliberation, standing finally at full +height, his grave and moody countenance strongly relieved in the ruddy +glow, while her face was all in shadow. + +"One moment," he begged humbly--"before we go in. I ... I've something +else to say to you, if I may." + +She waited, seriously attentive. + +"I haven't played fair, I'm afraid," he said, lowering his head to +escape her steadfast gaze. "I've just told you that I love you, but...." + +"Well?" she demanded in an odd, ringing voice. "Isn't it true?" + +"True?" He laughed unnaturally. "It's so true I--wish I had died before +I told you!" + +"Why?" + +"Because ... because you didn't resent my telling you...." + +It seemed impossible for him to speak connectedly or at any length, +impossible to overcome his distaste for the hateful confession he must +make. And she was intolerably patient with him; he resented her quiet, +contained patience; while he feared, yet he was relieved when she at +length insisted: "Well?" + +"Since you didn't resent that confession, I am led to believe you +don't--exactly--dislike me. That makes it just so much the harder to +forfeit your regard." + +"But must you?" + +"Yes." + +"Please explain," she urged, a trace wearily. + +"I who love you with all my heart and mind and soul--I am not free to +love you." + +"You aren't free--!" + +"I.... No." + +After several moments, during which he fought vainly with his inability +to go on, she resumed her examination with a manner aloof and yet +determined: + +"You've told me so much, I think you can hardly refuse to tell more." + +"I," he stammered--"I am already married." + +She gave a little, stifled cry--whether of pain or horror or of +indignation he could not tell. + +"I'm sorry--I--" he began. + +"Don't you think you might have thought of this before?" + +"I ... you don't understand--" + +"Are you in the habit of declaring yourself first and confessing +later?... Don't answer, if you don't want to. I've no real right to +know. I asked out of simple curiosity." + +"If you'd only listen to me!" he broke out suddenly. "The thing's so +strange, so far off--dreamlike--that I forget it easily." + +"So it would seem," she put in cruelly. + +"Please hear me!" + +"Surely you must see I am listening, Mr. Whitaker." + +"It was several years ago--nearly seven. I was on the point of +death--had been told to expect death within a few months.... In a moment +of sentimental sympathy--I wasn't at all myself--I married a girl I'd +never seen before, to help her out of a desperate scrape she'd got +into--meaning simply to give her the protection of my name. She was in +bad trouble.... We never lived together, never even saw one another +after that hour. She had every reason to think me dead--as I should have +been, by rights. But now she knows that I'm alive--is about to sue for a +divorce.... Now you know just what sort of a contemptible hound I am, +and why it was so hard to tell you." + +After a long pause, during which neither stirred, she told him, in a +faint voice: "Thank you." + +She moved toward the house. + +"I throw myself upon your mercy--" + +"Do you?" she said coolly, pausing. + +"If you will forgive me--" + +"Oh, I forgive you, Mr. Whitaker. My heart is really not quite so +fragile as all this implies." + +"I didn't mean that--you know I didn't. I'm only trying to assure you +that I won't bother you--with this trouble of mine--again. I don't want +you to be afraid of me." + +"I am not." + +The words were terse and brusque enough; the accompanying swift gesture, +in which her hand rested momentarily on his arm as if in confidence +approaching affection, he found oddly contradictory. + +"You don't see--anything?" she said with an abrupt change of manner, +swinging to the north. + +He shaded his eyes, peering intently through the night, closely sweeping +its encompassing obscurity from northwest to southeast. + +"Nothing," he said, dropping his hand. "If there were a boat heading +this way, we couldn't help seeing her lights." + +"Then there's no use waiting?" + +"I'm afraid not. They'd hardly come to-night, anyway; more likely by +daylight, if they should happen to grow suspicious of our beacon." + +"Then I think I'll go to bed. I'm very, very tired, in spite of my sleep +on the sands. That didn't rest me, really." + +"Of course." + +"And you--?" + +"Oh, I'm all right." + +"But what are you going to do?" + +"Why--keep the fire going, I presume." + +"Is it necessary, do you think? Or even worth while?" + +He made a doubtful gesture. + +"I wish," she continued--"I wish you'd stay in the house. I--I'm really +a bit timid: unnerved, I presume. It's been, you know, rather a +harrowing experience. Anything might happen in a place like this...." + +"Oh, certainly," he agreed, something constrained. "I'd feel more +content, myself, to know I was within call if anything should alarm +you." + +They returned to the kitchen. + +In silence, while Whitaker fidgeted about the room, awkward and unhappy, +the girl removed a glass lamp from the shelf above the sink, assured +herself that it was filled, and lighted it. Then, over her shoulder: + +"I hope you don't mean to stay up all night." + +"I--well, I'm really not sleepy." + +"Oh, but you are," she contradicted calmly. + +"Honestly; I slept so long down there on the beach--" + +"Please don't try to deceive me. I know that slumbers like those--of +exhaustion--don't rest one as they should. Besides, you show how tired +you are in every gesture, in the way you carry yourself, in your very +eyes." + +"You're mistaken," he contended, looking away for fear lest his eyes +were indeed betraying him. "Besides, I mean merely to sit up here, to +see that everything is all right." + +"How should it be otherwise?" She laughed the thought away, yet not +unkindly. "This island is as empty as a last-year's bird's-nest. What +could happen to harm, or even alarm us--or me?" + +"You never can tell--" + +"Nonsense! I'm not in the least frightened. And furthermore I shan't +sleep a wink--shan't even try to sleep unless you promise me not to be +silly. There's a comfortable room right at the foot of the stairs. If +you sleep there, I shall feel more than secure. Will you promise?" + +He gave in at discretion: "Yes; I promise." + +"As soon as you feel the least need of sleep, you'll go to bed?" + +"I promise." + +"Very well, then." + +The insistent note faded from her tones. She moved toward the table, put +the lamp down, and hesitated in one of her strange, unpresaged moods of +diffidence, looking down at the finger-tips with which she traced a +meaningless pattern on the oil-cloth. + +"You are kind," she said abruptly, her head bowed, her face hidden from +him. + +"Kind!" he echoed, dumfounded. + +"You are kind and sweet and generous to me," she insisted in a level +voice. "You have shown me your heart--the heart of a gentleman--without +reserve; but of me you have asked nothing." + +"I don't understand--" + +"I mean, you haven't once referred to what happened last night. You've +been content to let me preserve my confidence, to remain secretive and +mysterious in your sight.... That is how I seem to you--isn't it?" + +"Secretive and mysterious? But I have no right to your confidence; your +affairs are yours, inviolable, unless you choose to discuss them." + +"You would think that way--of course!" Suddenly she showed him her face +illumined with its frank, shadowy smile, her sweet eyes, kind and as +fearless as the eyes of a child. "Other men would not, I know. And you +have every right to know." + +"I--!" + +"You; and I shall tell you.... But not now; there's too much to tell, to +explain and make understandable; and I'm too terribly tired. To-morrow, +perhaps--or when we escape from this weird place, when I've had time to +think things out--" + +"At your pleasure," he assented gently. "Only--don't let anything worry +you." + +Impulsively she caught both his hands in a clasp at once soft and +strong, wholly straightforward and friendly. + +"Do you know," she said in a laughing voice, her head thrown back, soft +shadows darkening her mystical eyes, the lamplight caressing her hair +until it was as if her head were framed in a halo of pure gold, bright +against the sombre background of that mean, bare room--"Do you know, +dear man, that you are quite, quite blind?" + +"I think," he said with his twisted smile, "it would be well for me if I +were physically blind at this instant!" + +She shook her head in light reproof. + +"Blind, quite blind!" she repeated. "And yet--I'm glad it's so with you. +I wouldn't have you otherwise for worlds." + +She withdrew her hand, took up the lamp, moved a little away from him, +and paused, holding his eyes. + +"For Love, too, is blind," she said softly, with a quaint little nod of +affirmation. "Good night." + +He started forward, eyes aflame; took a single pace after her; paused as +if against an unseen barrier. His hands dropped by his sides; his chin +to his chest; the light died out of his face and left it gray and deeply +lined. + +In the hallway the lamp's glow receded, hesitated, began to ascend, +throwing upon the unpapered walls a distorted silhouette of the rude +balustrade; then disappeared, leaving the hall cold with empty darkness. + +An inexplicable fit of trembling seized Whitaker. Dropping into a chair, +he pillowed his head on his folded arms. Presently the seizure passed, +but he remained moveless. With the drift of minutes, insensibly his taut +muscles relaxed. Odd visions painted the dark tapestries of his closed +eyes: a fragment of swinging seas shining in moonlight; white swords of +light slashing the dark night round their unseen eyrie; the throat of a +woman swelling firm and strong as a tower of ivory, tense from the +collar of her cheap gown to the point of her tilted chin; a shrieking, +swirling rabble of gulls seen against the fading sky, over the edge of a +cliff.... + +He slept. + +Through the open doorway behind him and through the windows on either +hand drifted the sonorous song of the surf, a muted burden for the +stealthy disturbances of the night in being. + + + + +XVII + +DISCOVERY + + +In time the discomfort of his posture wore through the wrappings of +slumber. He stirred drowsily, shifted, and discovered a cramp in his +legs, the pain of which more effectually aroused him. He rose, yawned, +stretched, grimaced with the ache in his stiffened limbs, and went to +the kitchen door. + +There was no way to tell how long he had slept. The night held +black--the moon not yet up. The bonfire had burned down to a great +glowing heap of embers. The wind was faint, a mere whisper in the void. +There was a famous show of stars, clear, bright, cold and distant. + +Closing and locking the door, he found another lamp, lighted it, and +took it with him to the corner bedchamber, where he lay down without +undressing. He had, indeed, nothing to change to. + +A heavy lethargy weighed upon his faculties. No longer desperately +sleepy, he was yet far from rested. His body continued to demand repose, +but his mind was ill at ease. + +He napped uneasily throughout the night, sleeping and waking by fits and +starts, his brain insatiably occupied with an interminable succession of +wretched dreams. The mad, distorted face of Drummond, bleached and +degraded by his slavery to morphine, haunted Whitaker's consciousness +like some frightful and hideous Chinese mask. He saw it in a dozen +guises, each more pitiful and terrible than the last. It pursued him +through eons of endless night, forever at his shoulder, blind and +weeping. Thrice he started from his bed, wide awake and glaring, +positive that Drummond had been in the room but the moment gone.... And +each time that he lay back and sleep stole in numbing waves through his +brain, he passed into subconsciousness with the picture before his eyes +of a seething cloud of gulls seen against the sky, over the edge of a +cliff. + +He was up and out in the cool of dawn, before sunrise, delaying to +listen for some minutes at the foot of the stairway. But he heard no +sound in that still house, and there was no longer the night to affright +the woman with hinted threats of nameless horrors lurking beneath its +impenetrable cloak. He felt no longer bound to stand sentinel on the +threshold of her apprehensions. He went out. + +The day would be clear: he drew promise of this from the gray bowl of +the sky, cloudless, touched with spreading scarlet only on its eastern +rim. There was no wind; from the cooling ashes of yesternight's +beacon-fire a slim stalk of smoke grew straight and tall before it +wavered and broke. The voice of the sea had fallen to a muffled +throbbing. + +In the white magic of air like crystal translucent and motionless, the +world seemed more close-knitted and sane. What yesterday's veiling of +haze had concealed was now bold and near. In the north the lighthouse +stood like a horn on the brow of the headland, the lamp continuing to +flash even though its light was darkened, its beams out-stripped by the +radiant forerunners of the sun. Beyond it, over a breadth of water +populated by an ocean-going tug with three barges in tow and a becalmed +lumber schooner, a low-lying point of land (perhaps an island) thrust +out into the west. On the nearer land human life was quickening: here +and there pale streamers of smoke swung up from hidden chimneys on its +wooded rises. + +Whitaker eyed them with longing. But they were distant from attainment +by at the least three miles of tideway through which strong waters +raced--as he could plainly see from his elevation, in the pale, streaked +and wrinkled surface of the channel. + +He wagged a doubtful head, and scowled: no sign in any quarter of a boat +heading for the island, no telling when they'd be taken off the cursed +place! + +In his mutinous irritation, the screaming of the gulls, over in the +west, seemed to add the final touch of annoyance, a superfluous addition +to the sum of his trials. Why need they have selected that island for +their insane parliament? Why must his nerves be racked forever by their +incessant bickering? He had dreamed of them all night; must he endure a +day made similarly distressing? + +What _was_ the matter with the addle-pated things, anyway? + +There was nothing to hinder him from investigating for himself. The girl +would probably sleep another hour or two. + +He went forthwith, dulling the keen edge of his exasperation with a +rapid tramp of half a mile or so over the uneven uplands. + +The screaming was well-nigh deafening by the time he stood upon the +verge of the bluff; beneath him gulls clouded the air like bees +swarming. And yet he experienced no difficulty in locating the cause of +their excitement. + +Below, a slow tide crawled, slavering, up over the boulder-strewn sands. +In a wave-scooped depression between two of the larger boulders, the +receding waters had left a little, limpid pool. In the pool lay the body +of a man, face downward, limbs frightfully sprawling. Gulls fought for +place upon his back. + +The discovery brought with it no shock of surprise to the man on the +bluff: horror alone. He seemed to have known all along that such would +be the cause. Yet he had never consciously acknowledged the thought. It +had lain sluggish in the deeps beneath surfaces agitated by emotions +more poignant and immediate. Still, it had been there--that +understanding. That, and that only, had so poisoned his rest.... + +But he shrank shuddering from the thought of the work that lay to his +hand--work that must be accomplished at once and completely; for she +must know nothing of it. She had suffered enough, as it was. + +Hastening back to the farmstead, he secured a spade from the barn and +made his way quickly down to the beach by way of the road through the +cluster of deserted fishermen's huts. + +Fifteen minutes' walk brought him to the pool. Ten minutes' hard work +with the spade sufficed to excavate a shallow trench in the sands above +high-water mark. He required as much time again to nerve himself to the +point of driving off the gulls and moving the body. There were likewise +crabs to be dealt with.... + +When it was accomplished, and he had lifted the last heavy stone into +place above the grave, he dragged himself back along the beach and round +a shoulder of the bluff to a spot warmed by the rays of the rising sun. +There, stripping off his rags, he waded out into the sea and cleansed +himself as best he might, scrubbing sand into his flesh until it was +scored and angry; then crawled back, resumed his garments, and lay down +for a time in the strength-giving light, feeling giddy and faint with +the after-effects of the insuppressible nausea which had prolonged +intolerably his loathsome task. + +Very gradually the bluish shadows faded from about his mouth and eyes, +and natural colour replaced his pallor. And presently he rose and went +slowly up to the house, all his being in a state of violent rebellion +against the terror and mystery of life. + +What the gulls and the crabs and the shattering surf had left had been +little, but enough for indisputable identification. + +Whitaker had buried Drummond. + + + + +XVIII + +BLIGHT + + +By the time he got back to the farm-house, the woman was up, dressed in +the rent and stained but dry remnants of her own clothing (for all their +defects, infinitely more becoming than the garments to which she had +been obliged to resort the previous day) and busy preparing breakfast. + +There was no question but that her rest had been sound and undisturbed. +If her recuperative powers had won his envy before, now she was wholly +marvellous in his eyes. Her radiant freshness dazzled, her elusive but +absolute quality of charm bewitched--and her high spirits dismayed him. +He entered her presence reluctantly, yielding alone to the spur of +necessity. To keep out of her way was not only an impossibility, but +would have served to rouse her suspicions; and she must not know: +however difficult the task, he must dissemble, keep her in ignorance of +his discovery. On that point he was resolved. + +"Well, sir!" she called heartily over her shoulder. "And where, pray, +have you been all this long time?" + +"I went for a swim," he said evasively--"thought it might do me good." + +"You're not feeling well?" She turned to look him over. + +He avoided her eye. "I had a bad night--probably because I had too much +sleep during the day. I got up feeling pretty rusty--the weight of my +years. Cold water's ordinarily a specific for that sort of thing, but it +didn't seem to work this time." + +"Still got the hump, eh?" + +"Still got the hump," he assented, glad thus to mask his unhappiness. + +"Breakfast and a strong cup of tea or two will fix that," she announced +with confidence. "It's too bad there's no coffee." + +"Yes," he said--"sorry!" + +"No signs of a response to our C. Q. D.?" + +"None as yet. Of course, it's early." + +He lounged out of the kitchen with a tin bowl, a towel and a bar of +yellow soap, and splashed conscientiously at the pump in the dooryard, +taking more time for the job than was really necessary. + +From her place by the stove, she watched him through a window, her eyes +like a sunlit sea dappled with shadows of clouds speeding before the +wind. + +He lingered outside until she called him to breakfast. + +His stout attempts to match her cheerfulness during the meal fell +dismally short of conviction. After two or three false starts he gave it +up and took refuge in his plea of indisposition. She humoured him with a +covert understanding that surmised more in a second than he could have +compressed into a ten-minute confession. + +The meal over, he rose and sidled awkwardly toward the door. + +"You'll be busy for a while with the dishes and things, won't you?" he +asked with an air meant to seem guileless. + +"Oh, yes; for some time," she replied quickly. + +"I--I think I'll take a stroll round the island. There might be +something like a boat hidden away somewhere along the beach." + +"You prefer to go alone?" + +"If you don't mind." + +"Not in the least. I've plenty to occupy my idle hands. If I can find +needle and thread, for instance...." She indicated her clothing with a +humorously rueful gesture. + +"To be sure," he agreed, far too visibly relieved. Then his wits +stumbled. "I want to think out some things," he added most +superfluously. + +"You won't go out of sight?" she pleaded through the window. + +"It can't be done," he called back, strolling out of the dooryard with +much show of idle indecision. + +His real purpose was, in fact, definite. There was another body to be +accounted for. It was quite possible that the sea might have given it up +at some other point along the island coast. True: there was no second +gathering of gulls to lend colour to this grisly theory; yet the danger +was one to be provided against, since she was not to know. + +Starting from its northwestern extreme, he made a complete circuit of +the island, spending the greater part of the time along the edges of the +western and southern bluffs, where he had not seldom to pause and +scrutinize carefully the beach below, to make sure he had been deceived +by some half-buried rock or curiously shaped boulder. + +To his intense relief, he made no further discovery other than a +scattering drift of wreckage from the motor-boats. + +By the time he had finished, the morning was well advanced. He turned at +length and trudged wearily up from the northern beach, through the +community of desolation, back toward the farm-house. + +Since breakfast he had seen nothing of the girl; none of the elaborately +casual glances which he had from time to time cast inland had discovered +any sign of her. But now she appeared in the doorway, and after a slight +pause, as of indecision, moved down the path to meet him. + +He was conscious that, at sight of her, his pulses quickened. Something +swelled in his breast, something tightened the muscles of his throat. +The way of her body in action, the way of the sun with her hair...! + +Dismay shook him like an ague; he felt his heart divided against itself; +he was so glad of her, and so afraid.... He could not keep his eyes from +her, nor could he make his desire be still; and yet ... and yet.... + +Walking the faster of the two, she met him midway between the house and +the beach. + +"You've taken your time, Mr. Whitaker," said she. + +"It was a bit of a walk," he contended, endeavouring to imitate her +lightness of manner. + +They paused beside one of the low stone walls that meandered in a +meaningless fashion this way and that over the uplands. With a satisfied +manner that suggested she had been seeking just that very spot, the girl +sat down upon the lichened stones, then looked up to him with a smile +and a slight movement of the head that plainly invited him to a place +beside her. + +He towered above her, darkly reluctant. + +"Do sit down. You must be tired." + +"I am." + +Dubiously he seated himself at a little distance. + +"And only your pains for your trouble?" + +He nodded. + +"I watched you, off and on, from the windows. You might have been +looking for a pin, from your painstaking air, off there along the +cliffs." + +He nodded again, gloomily. Her comment seemed to admit of no more +compromising method of reply. + +"Then you've nothing to tell me?" + +He pursed his lips, depreciatory, lifted his shoulders not quite +happily, and swung one lanky leg across the other as he slouched, +morosely eyeing the sheets of sapphire that made their prison walls. + +"No. There's no good news yet." + +"And you've no inclination to talk to me, either?" + +"I've told you I don't feel--well--exactly light-hearted this morning." + +There was a little silence. She watched him askance with her fugitive, +shadowy, sympathetic and shrewd smile. + +"Must I make talk, then?" she demanded at length. + +"If we must, I suppose--you'll have to show the way. My mind's hardly +equal to trail-breaking to-day." + +"So I shall, then. Hugh...." She leaned toward him, dropping her hand +over his own with an effect of infinite comprehension. "Hugh," she +repeated, meeting his gaze squarely as he looked up, startled--"what's +the good of keeping up the make-believe? You _know_!" + +The breath clicked in his throat, and his glance wavered uneasily, then +steadied again to hers. And through a long moment neither stirred, but +sat so, eye to eye, searching each the other's mind and heart. + +At length he confessed it with an uncertain, shamefaced nod. + +"That's right," he said: "I do know--now." + +She removed her hand and sat back without lessening the fixity of her +regard. + +"When did you find it out?" + +"This morning. That is, it came to me all of a sudden--" His gaze fell; +he stammered and felt his face burning. + +"Hugh, that's not quite honest. I know you hadn't guessed, last night--I +_know_ it. How did you come to find it out this morning? Tell me!" + +He persisted, as unconvincing as an unimaginative child trying to +explain away a mischief: + +"It was just a little while ago. I was thinking things over--" + +"Hugh!" + +He shrugged sulkily. + +"Hugh, look at me!" + +Unwillingly he met her eyes. + +"How did you find out?" + +He was an inexpert liar. Under the witchery of her eyes, his resource +failed him absolutely. He started to repeat, stammered, fell still, and +then in a breath capitulated. + +"Before you were up--I meant to keep this from you--down there on the +beach--I found Drummond." + +"Drummond!" + +It was a cry of terror. She started back from him, eyes wide, cheeks +whitening. + +"I'm sorry.... But I presume you ought to know.... His body ... I buried +it...." + +She gave a little smothered cry, and seemed to shrink in upon herself, +burying her face in her hands--an incongruous, huddled shape of grief, +there upon the gray stone wall, set against all the radiant beauty of +the exquisite, sun-gladdened world. + +He was patient with her, though the slow-dragging minutes during which +she neither moved nor made any sound brought him inexpressible distress, +and he seemed to age visibly, his face, settling in iron lines, gray +with suffering. + +At length a moan--rather, a wail--came from the stricken figure beside +him: + +"Ah, the pity of it! the pity of it!... What have I done that this +should come to me!" + +He ventured to touch her hand in gentle sympathy. + +"Mary," he said, and hesitated with a little wonder, remembering that +this was the first time he had ever called her by that name--"Mary, did +you care for him so much?" + +She sat, mute, her face averted and hidden. + +"I'd give everything if I could have mended matters. I was fond of +Drummond--poor soul! If he'd only been frank with me from the start, all +this could have been avoided. As soon as I knew--that night when I +recognized you on the stage--I went at once to you to say I would clear +out--not stand in the way of your happiness. I would have said as much +to him, but he gave me no chance." + +"Don't blame him," she said softly. "He wasn't responsible." + +"I know." + +"How long have you known?" She swung suddenly to face him. + +"For some time--definitely, for two or three days. He tried twice to +murder me. The first time he must have thought he'd done it.... Then he +tried again, the night before you were carried off. Ember suspected, +watched for him, and caught him. He took him away, meaning to put him in +a sanitarium. I don't understand how he got away--from Ember. It worries +me--on Ember's account. I hope nothing has happened to him." + +"Oh, I hope not!" + +"You knew--I mean about the cause--the morphine?" + +"I never guessed until that night. Then, as soon as I got over +the first awful shock, I realized he was a madman. He talked +incoherently--raved--shouted--threatened me with horrible things. I +can't speak of them. Later, he quieted down a little, but that was after +he had come down into the cabin to--to drug himself.... It was very +terrible--that tiny, pitching cabin, with the swinging, smoking lamp, +and the madman sitting there, muttering to himself over the glass in +which the morphine was dissolving.... It happened three times before the +wreck; I thought I should go out of my own mind." + +She shuddered, her face tragic and pitiful. + +"Poor girl!" he murmured inadequately. + +"And that--that was why you were searching the beach so closely!" + +"Yes--for the other fellow. I--didn't find him." + +A moment later she said thoughtfully: "It was the man you saw watching +me on the beach, I think." + +"I assumed as much. Drummond had a lot of money, I fancy--enough to hire +a desperate man to do almost anything.... The wages of sin--" + +"Don't!" she begged. "Don't make me think of that!" + +"Forgive me," he said. + +For a little she sat, head bowed, brooding. + +"Hugh!" she cried, looking up to search his face narrowly--"Hugh, you've +not been pretending--?" + +"Pretending?" he repeated, thick-witted. + +"Hugh, I could never forgive you if you'd been pretending. It would be +too cruel.... Ah, but you haven't been! Tell me you haven't!" + +"I don't understand.... Pretending what?" + +"Pretending you didn't know who I was--pretending to fall in love with +me just because you were sorry for me, to make me think it was _me_ you +loved and not the woman you felt bound to take care of, because +you'd--you had--" + +"Mary, listen to me," he interrupted. "I swear I didn't know you. +Perhaps you don't understand how wonderfully you've changed. It's hard +for me to believe you can be one with the timid and distracted little +girl I married that rainy night. You're nothing like.... Only, that +night on the stage, as _Joan Thursday_, you _were_ that girl again. Max +told me it was make-up; I wouldn't believe him; to me you hadn't changed +at all; you hadn't aged a day.... But that morning when I saw you first +on the Great South Beach--I never dreamed of associating you with my +wife. Do you realize I had never seen you in full light--never knew the +colour of your hair?... Dear, I didn't know, believe me. It was you who +bewitched me--not the wife for whose sake I fought against what I +thought infatuation for you. I loved--I love you only, you as you +are--not the poor little girl of the Commercial House." + +"Is it true?" she questioned sadly, incredulous. + +"It is true, Mary. I love you." + +"I have loved you always," she said softly between barely parted +lips--"always, Hugh. Even when I thought you dead.... I did believe that +you were drowned out there, Hugh! You know that, don't you?" + +"I have never for an instant questioned it." + +"It wouldn't be like you to, my dear; it wouldn't be you, my Hugh.... +But even then I loved the memory of you.... You don't know what you have +meant in my life, Hugh. Always, always you have stood for all that was +fine and strong and good and generous--my gentlest man, my knight _sans +peur et sans reproche_.... No other man I ever knew--no, let me say +it!--ever measured up to the standard you had set for me to worship. +But, Hugh--you'll understand, won't you?--about the others--?" + +"Please," he begged--"please don't harrow yourself so, Mary!" + +"No; I must tell you.... The world seemed so empty and so lonely, Hugh: +my Galahad gone, never to return to me.... I tried to lose myself in my +work, but it wasn't enough. And those others came, beseeching me, +and--and I liked them. There was none like you, but they were all good +men of their kind, and I liked them. They made love to me and--I was +starving for affection, Hugh. I was made to love and to be loved. Each +time I thought to myself: 'Surely this time it is true; now at last am I +come into my kingdom. It can't fulfil my dreams, for I have known the +bravest man, but'--" + +Her voice broke and fell. Her eyes grew dull and vacant; her vision +passed through and beyond him, as if he had not been there; the bitter +desolation of all the widowed generations clouded her golden face. Her +lips barely moved, almost inaudibly enunciating the words that were +shaken from her as if by some occult force, ruthless and inexorable: + +"Each time, Hugh, it was the same. One by one they were taken from me, +strangely, terribly.... Poor Tom Custer, first; he was a dear boy, but I +didn't love him and couldn't marry him. I had to tell him so. He killed +himself.... Then Billy Hamilton; I became engaged to him; but he was +taken mysteriously from a crowded ship in mid-ocean.... A man named +Mitchell Thurston loved me. I liked him; perhaps I might have consented +to marry him. He was assassinated--shot down like a mad dog in broad +daylight--no one ever knew by whom, or why. He hadn't an enemy in the +world we knew of.... And now Drummond...!" + +"Mary, Mary!" he pleaded. "Don't--don't--those things were all +accidents--" + +She paid him no heed. She didn't seem to hear. He tried to take her +hand, with a man's dull, witless notion of the way to comfort a +distraught woman; but she snatched it from his touch. + +"And now"--her voice pealed out like a great bell tolling over the +magnificent solitude of the forsaken island--"and now I have it to live +through once again: the wonder and terror and beauty of love, the agony +and passion of having you torn from me!... Hugh!... I don't believe I +can endure it again. I can't _bear_ this exquisite torture. I'm afraid I +shall go mad!... Unless ... unless"--her voice shuddered--"I have the +strength, the strength to--" + +"Good God!" he cried in desperation. "You must not go on like this! +Mary! Listen to me!" + +This time he succeeded in imprisoning her hand. "Mary," he said gently, +drawing closer to her, "listen to me; understand what I say. I love you; +I am your husband; nothing can possibly come between us. All these other +things can be explained. Don't let yourself think for another instant--" + +Her eyes, fixed upon the two hands in which he clasped her own, had +grown wide and staring with dread. Momentarily she seemed stunned. Then +she wrenched it from him, at the same time jumping up and away. + +"No!" she cried, fending him from her with shaking arms. "No! Don't +touch me! Don't come near me, Hugh! It's ... it's death! My touch is +death! I know it now--I had begun to suspect, now I _know_! I am +accursed--doomed to go through life like pestilence, leaving sorrow and +death in my wake.... Hugh!" She controlled herself a trifle: "Hugh, I +love you more than life; I love you more than love itself. But you must +not come near me. Love me if you must, but, O my dear one! keep away +from me; avoid me, forget me if you can, but at all cost shun me as you +would the plague! I will not give myself to you to be your death!" + +Before he could utter a syllable in reply, she turned and fled from him, +wildly, blindly stumbling, like a hunted thing back up the ascent to the +farm-house. He followed, vainly calling on her to stop and listen to +him. But she outdistanced him, and by the time he had entered the house +was in her room, behind a locked door. + + + + +XIX + +CAPITULATION + + +Grimly Whitaker sat himself down in the kitchen and prepared to wait the +reappearance of his wife--prepared to wait as long as life was in him, +so that he were there to welcome her when, her paroxysm over, she would +come to him to be comforted, soothed and reasoned out of her distorted +conception of her destiny. + +Not that he had the heart to blame or to pity her for that terrified +vision of life. Her history was her excuse. Nor was his altogether a +blameless figure in that history. At least it was not so in his sight. +Though unwittingly, he had blundered cruelly in all his relations with +the life of that sad little child of the Commercial House. + +Like sunlight penetrating storm wrack, all the dark disarray of his +revery was shot through and through by the golden splendour of the +knowledge that she loved him.... + +As for this black, deadly shadow that had darkened her life--already he +could see her emerging from it, radiant and wonderful. But it was not to +be disregarded or as yet ignored, its baleful record considered closed +and relegated to the pages of the past. Its movement had been too +rhythmic altogether to lack a reason. His very present task was to read +its riddle and exorcise it altogether. + +For hours he pondered it there in the sunlit kitchen of the silent +house--waiting, wondering, deep in thought. Time stole away without his +knowledge. Not until late in the afternoon did the shifted position of +the sun catch his attention and arouse him in alarm. Not a sound from +above...! + +He rose, ascended the stairs, tapped gently on the locked door. + +"Mary," he called, with his heart in his mouth--"Mary!" + +Her answer was instant, in accents sweet, calm and clear: + +"I am all right. I'm resting, dear, and thinking. Don't fret about me. +When I feel able, I will come down to you." + +"As you will," he assented, unspeakably relieved; and returned to the +kitchen. + +The diversion of thought reminded him of their helpless and forlorn +condition. He went out and swept the horizon with an eager and hopeful +gaze that soon drooped in disappointment. The day had worn on in +unbroken calm: not a sail stirred within the immense radius of the +waters. Ships he saw in plenty--a number of them moving under power east +and west beyond the headland with its crowning lighthouse; others--a +few--left shining wakes upon the burnished expanse beyond the farthest +land visible in the north. Unquestionably main-travelled roads of the +sea, these, so clear to the sight, so heartbreakingly unattainable.... + +And then his conscience turned upon him, reminding him of the promise +(completely driven out of his mind by his grim adventure before dawn, +together with the emotional crisis of mid-morning) to display some sort +of a day-signal of distress. + +For something like half an hour he was busy with the task of nailing a +turkey-red table-cloth to a pole, and the pole in turn (with the +assistance of a ladder) to the peak of the gabled barn. But when this +was accomplished, and he stood aside and contemplated the drooping, +shapeless flag, realizing that without a wind it was quite meaningless, +the thought came to him that the very elements seemed leagued together +in a conspiracy to keep them prisoners, and he began to nurse a +superstitious notion that, if anything were ever to be done toward +winning their freedom, it would be only through his own endeavour, +unassisted. + +Thereafter for a considerable time he loitered up and down the dooryard, +with all his interest focussed upon the tidal strait, measuring its +greatest and its narrowest breadth with his eye, making shrewd guesses +at the strength and the occasions of the tides. + +If the calm held on and the sky remained unobscured by cloud, by eleven +there would be clear moonlight and, if he guessed aright, the beginning +of a period of slack water. + +Sunset interrupted his calculations--sunset and his wife. Sounds of some +one moving quietly round the kitchen, a soft clash of dishes, the +rattling of the grate, drew him back to the door. + +She showed him a face of calm restraint and implacable resolve, if +scored and flushed with weeping. And her habit matched it: she had +overcome her passion; her eyes were glorious with peace. + +"Hugh"--her voice had found a new, sweet level of gentleness and +strength--"I was wondering where you were." + +"Can I do anything?" + +"No, thank you. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am." + +"For what, in Heaven's name?" + +She smiled.... "For neglecting you so long. I really didn't think of it +until the sunlight began to redden. I've let you go without your lunch." + +"It didn't matter--" + +"I don't agree. Man must be fed--and so must woman. I'm famished!" + +"Well," he admitted with a short laugh--"so am I." + +She paused, regarding him with her whimsical, indulgent smile. "You +strange creature!" she said softly. "Are you angry with +me--impatient--for this too facile descent from heroics to the +commonplace? But, Hugh"--she touched his arm with a gentle and +persuasive hand--"it _must_ be commonplace. We're just mortals, after +all, you know, no matter how imperishable our egos make us feel: and the +air of the heights is too fine and rare for mortals to breathe long at a +time. Life is, after all, an everyday affair. We've just got to blunder +through it from day to day--mostly on the low levels. Be patient with +me, dear." + +But, alarmed by his expression, her words stumbled and ran out. She +stepped back a pace, a little flushed and tremulous. + +"Hugh! No, Hugh, no!" + +"Don't be afraid of me," he said, turning away. "I don't mean to bother. +Only--at times--" + +"I know, dear; but it must _not_ be." She had recovered; there was cool +decision in her accents. She began to move briskly round the kitchen, +setting the table, preparing the meal. + +He made no attempt to reason with her, but sat quietly waiting. His role +was patience, tolerance, strength restrained in waiting.... + +"Shall you make a fire again to-night?" she asked, when they had +concluded the meal. + +"In three places," he said. "We'll not stay another day for want of +letting people know we're here." + +She looked down, shyly. Coquetry with her was instinctive, +irrepressible. Her vague, provoking smile edged her lips: + +"You--you want to be rid of me again, so soon, Hugh?" + +He bent over the table with a set face, silent until his undeviating +gaze caught and held her eyes. + +"Mary," he said slowly, "I want _you_. I mean to have you. Only by +getting away from this place will that be possible. You must come to me +of your own will." + +She made the faintest negative motion of her head, her eyes fixed to his +in fascination. + +"You will," he insisted, in the same level tone. "If you love me, as you +say, you must.... No--that's nonsense I won't listen to! Renunciation is +a magnificent and noble thing, but it must have a sane excuse.... You +said a while ago, this was a commonplace world, life an everyday affair. +It is. The only thing that lifts it out of the deadly, intolerable rut +is this wonderful thing man has invented and named Love. Without it we +are as Nature made us--brute things crawling and squabbling in blind +squalor. But love lifts us a little above that: love _is_ supernatural, +the only thing in all creation that rises superior to nature. There's no +such thing as a life accursed; no such thing as a life that blights; +there are no malign and vicious forces operating outside the realm of +natural forces: love alone is supreme, subject to no known laws. I mean +to prove it to you; I mean to show you how little responsible you have +been in any way for the misfortunes that have overtaken men who loved +you; I shall show you that I am far more blameworthy than you.... And +when I have done that, you will come to me." + +"I am afraid," she whispered breathlessly--"I am afraid I shall." + +He rose. "Till then, my dearest girl, don't, please don't ever shrink +from me again. I may not be able to dissemble my love, but until your +fears are done away with, your mind at rest, no act of mine, within my +control, shall ever cause you even so much as an instant's annoyance or +distress." + +His tone changed. "I'll go now and build my fires. When you are +ready--?" + +"I shan't be long," she said. + +But for long after he had left her, she lingered moveless by a window, +her gaze following him as he moved to and fro: her face now wistful, now +torn by distress, now bright with longing. Strong passions contended +within her--love and fear, joy and regret; at times crushing +apprehensions of evil darkened her musings, until she could have cried +out with the torment of her fears; and again intimations possessed her +of exquisite beauty, warming and ennobling her heart, all but persuading +her. + +At length, sighing, she lighted the lamp and went about her tasks, with +a bended head, wondering and frightened, fearfully questioning her own +inscrutable heart. Was it for this only that she had fought herself all +through that day: that she should attain an outward semblance of calm so +complete as to deceive even herself, so frail as to be rent away and +banished completely by the mere tones of his mastering voice? Was she to +know no rest? Was it to be her fate to live out her days in yearning, +eating her heart alone, feeding with sighs the passing winds? Or was she +too weary to hold by her vows? Was she to yield and, winning happiness, +in that same instant encompass its destruction?... + +When it was quite dark, Whitaker brought a lantern to the door and +called her, and they went forth together. + +As he had promised, he had built up three towering pyres, widely apart. +When all three were in full roaring flame, their illumination was hot +and glowing over all the upland. It seemed impossible that the world +should not now become cognizant of their distress. + +At some distance to the north of the greatest fire--that nearest the +farm-house--they sat as on the previous night, looking out over the +black and unresponsive waters, communing together in undertones. + +In that hour they learned much of one another: much that had seemed +strange and questionable assumed, in the understanding of each, the +complexion of the normal and right. Whitaker spoke at length and in much +detail of his Wilful Missing years without seeking to excuse the +wrong-minded reasoning which had won him his own consent to live under +the mask of death. He told of the motives that had prompted his return, +of all that had happened since in which she had had no part--with a +single reservation. One thing he kept back: the time for that was not +yet. + +A listener in his turn, he heard the history of the little girl of the +Commercial House breaking her heart against the hardness of life in what +at first seemed utterly futile endeavour to live by her own efforts, +asking nothing more of the man who had given her his name. To make +herself worthy of that name, so that, living or dead, he might have no +cause to be ashamed of her or to regret the burden he had assumed: this +was the explanation of her fierce striving, her undaunted renewal of the +struggle in the face of each successive defeat, her renunciation of the +competence his forethought had provided for her. So also--since she +would take nothing from her husband--pride withheld her from asking +anything of her family or her friends. She cut herself off utterly from +them all, fought her fight alone. + +He learned of the lean years of drifting from one theatrical +organization to another, forced to leave them one by one by conditions +impossible and intolerable, until Ember found her playing ingenue parts +in a mean provincial stock company; of the coming of Max, his interest +in her, the indefatigable pains he had expended coaching her to bring +out the latent ability his own genius divined; of the initial +performance of "Joan Thursday" before a meagre and indifferent audience, +her instant triumph and subsequent conquest of the country in half a +dozen widely dissimilar roles; finally of her decision to leave the +stage when she married, for reasons comprehensible, demanding neither +exposition nor defence. + +"It doesn't matter any longer," she commented, concluding: "I loved and +I hated it. It was deadly and it was glorious. But it no longer matters. +It is finished: Sara Law is no more." + +"You mean never to go back to the stage?" + +"Never." + +"And yet--" he mused craftily. + +"Never!" She fell blindly into his trap. "I promised myself long ago +that if ever I became a wife--" + +"But you are no wife," he countered. + +"Hugh!" + +"You are Mrs. Whitaker--yes; but--" + +"Dear, you are cruel to me!" + +"I think it's you who would be cruel to yourself, dear heart." + +She found no ready answer; was quiet for a space; then stirred, +shivering. Behind them the fires were dying; by contrast a touch of +chill seemed to pervade in the motionless air. + +"I think," she announced, "we'd better go in." + +She rose without assistance, moved away toward the house, paused and +returned. + +"Hugh," she said gently, with a quaver in her voice that wounded his +conceit in himself; for he was sure it spelled laughter at his expense +and well-merited--"Hugh, you big sulky boy! get up this instant and come +back to the house with me. You know I'm timid. Aren't you ashamed of +yourself?" + +"I suppose so," he grumbled, rising. "I presume it's childish to want +the moon--and sulk when you find you can't have it." + +"Or a star?" + +He made no reply; but his very silence was eloquent. She attempted a +shrug of indifference to his disapproval, but didn't convince even +herself; and when he paused before entering the house for one final look +into the north, she waited on the steps above him. + +"Nothing, Hugh?" she asked in a softened voice. + +"Nothing," he affirmed dully. + +"It's strange," she sighed. + +"Lights enough off beyond the lighthouse yonder," he complained: "red +lights and green, bound east and west. But you'd think this place was +invisible, from the way we're ignored. However...." + +They entered the kitchen. + +"Well--however?" she prompted, studying his lowering face by lamplight. + +"Something'll have to be done; if they won't help us, we'll have to help +ourselves." + +"Hugh!" There was alarm in her tone. He looked up quickly. "Hugh, what +are you thinking of?" + +"Oh--nothing. But I've got to think of something." + +She came nearer, intuitively alarmed and pleading. "Hugh, you wouldn't +leave me here alone?" + +"What nonsense!" + +"Promise me you won't." + +"Don't be afraid," he said evasively. "I'll be here--as always--when you +wake up." + +She drew a deep breath, stepped back without removing her gaze from his +face, then with a gesture of helplessness took up her lamp. + +"Good night, Hugh." + +"Good night," he replied, casting about for his own lamp. + +But when he turned back, she was still hesitating in the doorway. He +lifted inquiring brows. + +"Hugh...." + +"Yes?" + +"I trust you. Be faithful, dear." + +"Thank you," he returned, not without flavour of bitterness. "I'll try +to be. Good night." + +She disappeared; the light of her lamp faded, flickering in the draught +of the hall, stencilled the wall with its evanescent caricature of the +balustrade, and was no longer visible. + +"Hugh!" her voice rang from the upper floor. + +He started violently out of deep abstraction, and replied inquiringly. + +"You won't forget to lock the door?" + +He swore violently beneath his breath; controlled his temper and +responded pleasantly: "Certainly not." + +Then he shut the outside door with a convincing bang. + +"If this be marriage...!" He smiled his twisted smile, laughed a little +quietly, and became again his normal, good-natured self, if a little +unusually preoccupied. + +Leaving the kitchen light turned low, he went to his own room and, as on +the previous night, threw himself upon the bed without undressing; but +this time with no thought of sleep. Indeed, he had no expectation of +closing his eyes in slumber before the next night, at the earliest; he +had no intention other than to attempt to swim to the nearest land. In +the illusion of night, his judgment worked upon by his emotions, that +plan which had during the afternoon suggested itself, been thoroughly +considered, rejected as too desperately dangerous, and then reconsidered +in the guise of their only possible chance of escape at any reasonably +early date, began to assume a deceptive semblance of feasibility. + +He did not try to depreciate its perils: the tides that swept through +that funnel-shaped channel were unquestionably heavy: heavier than even +so strong a swimmer as he should be called upon to engage; the chances +of being swept out to sea were appallingly heavy. The slightest error in +judgment, the least miscalculation of the turn of the tide, and he was +as good as lost. + +On the other hand, with a little good luck, by leaving the house shortly +after moonrise, he should be able to catch the tide just as it was +nearing high water. Allowing it to swing him northwest until it fulled, +he ought to be a third of the way across by the time it slackened, and +two-thirds of the distance before it turned seawards again. And the +distance was only three miles or so. + +And the situation on the island had grown unendurable. He doubted his +strength to stand the torment and the provocation of another day. + +Allow an hour and a half for the swim--say, two; another hour in which +to find a boat; and another to row or sail back: four hours. He should +be back upon the island long before dawn, even if delayed. Surely no +harm could come to her in that time; surely he ought to be able to +reckon on her sleeping through his absence--worn down by the stress of +the day's emotions as she must certainly be. True, he had given her to +understand he would not leave her; but she need not know until his +return; and then his success would have earned him forgiveness. + +An hour dragged out its weary length, and the half of another while he +reasoned with himself, drugging his conscience and his judgment alike +with trust in his lucky star. In all that time he heard no sound from +the room above him; and for his part he lay quite unstirring, his whole +body relaxed, resting against the trial of strength to come. + +Insensibly the windows of his room, that looked eastward, filled with +the pale spectral promise of the waning moon. He rose, with infinite +precaution against making any noise, and looked out. The night was no +less placid than the day had been. The ruins of his three beacons shone +like red winking eyes in the black face of night. Beyond them the sky +was like a dome of crystal, silvery green. And as he looked, an edge of +silver shone on the distant rim of the waters; and then the moon, +misshapen, wizened and darkling, heaved sluggishly up from the deeps. + +Slowly, on tiptoes, Whitaker stole toward the door, out into the hall; +at the foot of the stairs he paused, listening with every nerve tense +and straining; he fancied he could just barely detect the slow, regular +respiration of the sleeping woman. And he could see that the upper +hallway was faintly aglow. She had left her lamp burning, the door open. +Last night, though the lamp had burned till dawn, that door had been +closed.... + +He gathered himself together again, took a single step on toward the +kitchen; and then, piercing suddenly the absolute stillness within the +house, a board squealed like an animal beneath his tread. + +In an instant he heard the thud and patter of her footsteps above, her +loud, quickened breathing as she leaned over the balustrade, looking +down, and her cry of dismay: "Hugh! Hugh!" + +He halted, saying in an even voice: "Yes; it is I." She had already seen +him; there was no use trying to get away without her knowledge now; +besides, he was no sneak-thief to fly from a cry. He burned with +resentment, impatience and indignation, but he waited stolidly enough +while the woman flew down the stairs to his side. + +"Hugh," she demanded, white-faced and trembling, "what is the matter? +Where are you going?" + +He moved his shoulders uneasily, forcing a short laugh. "I daresay +you've guessed it. Undoubtedly you have. Else why--" He didn't finish +save by a gesture of resignation. + +"You mean you were going--going to try to swim to the mainland?" + +"I meant to try it," he confessed. + +"But, Hugh--your promise?" + +"I'm sorry, Mary; I didn't want to promise. But you see ... this state +of things cannot go on. Something has got to be done. It's the only way +I know of. I--I can't trust myself--" + +"You'd leave me here while you went to seek death--!" + +"Oh, it isn't as dangerous as all that. If you'd only been asleep, as I +thought you were, I'd've been back before you knew anything about it." + +"I should have known!" she declared passionately. "I _was_ asleep, but I +knew the instant you stirred. Tell me; how long did you stand listening +here, to learn if I was awake or not?" + +"Several minutes." + +"I knew it, though I was asleep, and didn't waken till the board +squeaked. I knew you would try it--knew it from the time when you +quibbled and evaded and wouldn't give me a straight promise. Oh, Hugh, +my Hugh, if you had gone and left me...!" + +Her voice shook and broke. She swayed imperceptibly toward him, then +away, resting a shoulder against the wall and quivering as though she +would have fallen but for that support. He found himself unable to +endure the reproach of those dark and luminous eyes set in the mask of +pallor that was her face in the half-light of the hallway. He looked +away, humbled, miserable, pained. + +"It's too bad," he mumbled. "I'm sorry you had to know anything about +it. But ... it can't be helped, Mary. You've got to brace up. I won't be +gone four hours at the longest." + +"Four hours!" She stood away from the wall, trembling in every limb. +"Hugh, you--you don't mean--you're not going--_now_?" + +He nodded a wretched, makeshift affirmation. + +"It must be done," he muttered. "Please--" + +"But it must not be done! Hugh!" Her voice ascended "I--I can't let you. +I won't let you! You ... It'll be your death--you'll drown. I shall have +let you go to your death--" + +"Oh, now, really--" he protested. + +"But, Hugh, I _know_ it! I feel it here." A hand strayed to rest, +fluttering, above her heart. "If I should let you go ... Oh, my dear +one, don't, don't go!" + +"Mary," he began hoarsely, "I tell you--" + +"You're only going, Hugh, because ... because I love you so I ... I am +afraid to let you love me. That's true, isn't it? Hugh--it's true?" + +"I can't stay ..." he muttered with a hang-dog air. + +She sought support of the wall again, her body shaken by dry sobbing +that it tore his heart to hear. "You--you're really going--?" + +He mumbled an almost inaudible avowal of his intention. + +"Hugh, you're killing me! If you leave me--" + +He gave a gesture of despair and capitulation. + +"I've done my best, Mary. I meant to do the right thing. I--" + +"Hugh, you mean you won't go?" Joy from a surcharged heart rang vibrant +in every syllable uttered in that marvellous voice. + +But now he dared meet her eyes. "Yes," he said, "I won't go"--nodding, +with an apologetic shadow of his twisted smile. "I can't if ... if it +distresses you." + +"Oh, my dear, my dear!" + +Whitaker started, staggered with amaze, and the burden of his wife in +his arms. Her own arms clipped him close. Her fragrant tear-gemmed face +brushed his. He knew at last the warmth of her sweet mouth, the dear +madness of that first caress. + +The breathless seconds spun their golden web of minutes. They did not +move. Round them the silence sang like the choiring seraphim.... + +Then through the magical hush of that time when the world stood still, +the thin, clear vibrations of a distant hail: + +"_Aho-oy!_" + +In his embrace his wife stiffened and lifted her head to listen like a +startled fawn. As one their hearts checked, paused, then hammered +wildly. With a common impulse they started apart. + +"You heard--?" + +"Listen!" He held up a hand. + +This time it rang out more near and most unmistakable: + +"Ahoy! The house, ahoy!" + +With the frenzied leap of a madman, Whitaker gained the kitchen door, +shook it, controlled himself long enough to draw the bolt, and flung out +into the dim silvery witchery of the night. He stood staring, while the +girl stole to his side and caught his arm. He passed it round her, +lifted the other hand, dumbly pointed toward the northern beach. For the +moment he could not trust himself to speak. + +In the sweep of the anchorage a small white yacht hovered ghostlike, +broadside to the island, her glowing ports and green starboard lamp +painting the polished ebony of the still waters with the images of many +burning candles. + +On the beach itself a small boat was drawn up. A figure in white waited +near it. Issuing from the deserted fishing settlement, rising over the +brow of the uplands, moved two other figures in white and one in darker +clothing, the latter leading the way at a rapid pace. + +With one accord Whitaker and his wife moved down to meet them. As they +drew together, the leader of the landing party checked his pace and +called: + +"Hello there! Who are you? What's the meaning of your fires--?" + +Mechanically Whitaker's lips uttered the beginning of the response: +"Shipwrecked--signalling for help--" + +"Whitaker!" the voice of the other interrupted with a jubilant shout. +"Thank God we've found you!" + +It was Ember. + + + + +XX + +TEMPERAMENTAL + + +Seldom, perhaps, has an habitation been so unceremoniously vacated as +was the solitary farm-house on that isolated island. Whitaker delayed +only long enough to place a bill, borrowed from Ember, on the kitchen +table, in payment for what provisions they had consumed, and to +extinguish the lamps and shut the door. + +Ten minutes later he occupied a chair beneath an awning on the after +deck of the yacht, and, with an empty glass waiting to be refilled +between his fingers and a blessed cigar fuming in the grip of his teeth, +stared back to where their rock of refuge rested, brooding over its +desolation, losing bulk and conformation and swiftly blending into a +small dark blur upon the face of the waters. + +"Ember," he demanded querulously, "what the devil is that place?" + +"You didn't know?" Ember asked, amused. + +"Not the smell of a suspicion. This is the first pleasure, in a manner +of speaking, cruise I've taken up along this coast. I'm a bit weak on +its hydrography." + +"Well, if that's the case, I don't mind admitting that it is No Man's +Land." + +"I'm strong for its sponsors in baptism. They were equipped with a +strong sense of the everlasting fitness of things. And the other--?" + +"Martha's Vineyard. That's Gay Head--the headland with the lighthouse. +Off to the north of it, the Elizabeth Islands. Beyond them, Buzzards +Bay. This neat little vessel is now standing about west-no'th-west to +pick up Point Judith light--if you'll stand for the nautical patois. +After that, barring a mutiny on the part of the passengers, she'll swing +on to Long Island Sound. If we're lucky, we'll be at anchor off East +Twenty-fourth Street by nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Any kick +coming?" + +"Not from me. You might better consult--my wife," said Whitaker with an +embarrassed laugh. + +"Thanks, no: if it's all the same to you. Besides, I've turned her over +to the stewardess, and I daresay she won't care to be interrupted. She's +had a pretty tough time of it: I judge from your rather disreputable +appearance. Really, you're cutting a most romantical, shocking figger." + +"Glad of that," Whitaker remarked serenely. "Give me another drink.... I +like to be consistent--wouldn't care to emerge from a personally +conducted tour of all hell looking like a George Cohan chorus-boy.... +Lord! how good tobacco does taste after you've gone without it a few +days!... Look here: I've told you how things were with us, in brief; but +I'm hanged if you've disgorged a single word of explanation as to how +you came to let Drummond slip through your fingers, to say nothing of +how you managed to find us." + +"He didn't slip through my fingers," Ember retorted. "He launched a +young earthquake at my devoted head and disappeared before the dust +settled. More explicitly: I had got him to the edge of the woods, that +night, when something hit me from behind and my light went out in a +blaze of red fire. I came to some time later with a tasty little gag in +my mouth and the latest thing in handcuffs on my wrists, behind my +back--the same handcuffs that I'd decorated Drummond with--and several +fathoms of rope wound round my legs. I lay there--it was a sort of open +work barn--until nearly midnight the following night. Then the owner +happened along, looking for something he'd missed--another ass, I +believe--and let me loose. By the time I'd pulled myself together, from +what you tell me, you were piling up on the rocks back there." + +"Just before dawn, yesterday." + +"Precisely. Finding you'd vacated the bungalow, I interviewed Sum Fat +and Elise, and pieced together a working hypothesis. It was easy enough +to surmise Drummond had some pal or other working with him: _I_ was +slung-shotted from behind, while Drummond was walking ahead. And two men +had worked in the kidnapping of Mrs. Whitaker. So I went sleuthing; +traced you through the canal to Peconic; found eye-witnesses of your +race as far as Sag Harbor. There I lost you--and there I borrowed this +outfit from a friend, an old-time client of mine. Meanwhile I'd had a +general alarm sent out to the police authorities all along the +coast--clear to Boston. No one had seen anything of you anywhere. It was +heavy odds-on, that you'd gone to the bottom in that blow, all of you; +but I couldn't give up. We kept cruising, looking up unlikely places. +And, at that, we were on the point of throwing up the sponge when I +picked up a schooner that reported signal fires on No Man's Land.... I +think that clears everything up." + +"Yes," said Whitaker, sleepily. "And now, without ingratitude, may I ask +you to lead me to a bath and my bunk. I have just about fifteen minutes +of semi-consciousness to go on." + +Nor was this exaggeration; it was hard upon midnight, and he had been +awake since before dawn of a day whose course had been marked by a +succession of increasingly exhaustive emotional crises, following a +night of interrupted and abbreviated rest; add to this the inevitable +reaction from high nervous tension. His reserve vitality seemed barely +sufficient to enable him to keep his eyes open through the rite of the +hot salt-water bath. After that he gave himself blindly into Ember's +guidance, and with a mumbled, vague good night, tumbled into the berth +assigned him. And so strong was his need of sleep that it was not until +ten o'clock the following morning, when the yacht lay at her mooring in +the East River, that Ember succeeded in rousing him by main strength and +good-will. + +This having been accomplished, he was left to dress and digest the fact +that his wife had gone ashore an hour ago, after refusing to listen to a +suggestion that Whitaker be disturbed. The note Ember handed him +purported to explain what at first blush seemed a singularly ungrateful +and ungracious freak. It was brief, but in Whitaker's sight eminently +adequate and compensating. + + "DEAREST BOY: I won't let them wake you, but I must run away. It's + early and I _must_ do some shopping before people are about. My + house here is closed; Mrs. Secretan is in Maine with the only keys + aside from those at Great West Bay; and I'm a _positive fright_ in + a coat and skirt borrowed from the stewardess. I don't want even + you to see me until I'm decently dressed. I shall put up at the + Waldorf; come there to-night, and we will dine together. Every + fibre of my being loves you. + + "MARY." + +Obviously not a note to be cavilled at. Whitaker took a serene and +shining face to breakfast in the saloon, under the eyes of Ember. + +Veins of optimism and of gratulation like threads of gold ran through +the texture of their talk. There seemed to exist a tacit understanding +that, with the death of Drummond, the cloud that had shadowed the career +of Sara Law had lifted, while her renunciation of her public career had +left her with a future of glorified serenity and assured happiness. By +common consent, with an almost superstitious awe, they begged the +question of the shadowed and inexplicable past--left the dead past to +bury itself, bestowing all their fatuous concern with the to-day of +rejoicing and the to-morrow of splendid promise. + +Toward noon they parted ashore, each taking a taxicab to his lodgings. +The understanding was that they were to dine together--all three, +Whitaker promising for his wife--upon the morrow. + +At six that evening, returning to his rooms to dress, Whitaker found +another note awaiting him, in a handwriting that his heart recognized +with a sensation of wretched apprehension. + +He dared not trust himself to read it in the public hall. It was agony +to wait through the maddeningly deliberate upward flight of the +elevator. When he at length attained to the privacy of his own +apartment, he was sweating like a panic-stricken horse. He could hardly +control his fingers to open the envelope. He comprehended its contents +with difficulty, half blinded by a swimming mist of foreboding. + + "MY DEAR: I find my strength unequal to the strain of seeing you + to-night. Indeed, I am so worn out and nerve-racked that I have had + to consult my physician. He orders me immediately to a sanatorium, + to rest for a week or two. Don't worry about me. I shan't fail to + let you know as soon as I feel strong enough to see you. Forgive + me. I love you dearly. + + "MARY." + +The paper slipped from Whitaker's trembling hand and fluttered unheeded +to the floor. He sprang to the telephone and presently had the Waldorf +on the wire; it was true, he learned: Mrs. Whitaker had registered at +the hotel in the morning, and had left at four in the afternoon. He was +refused information as to whether she had left a forwarding address for +her mail. + +He wrote her immediately, and perhaps not altogether wisely, under +stress of distraction, sending the letter by special delivery in care of +the hotel. It was returned him in due course of time, embellished with a +pencilled memorandum to the effect that Mrs. Whitaker had left no +address. + +He communicated at once with Ember, promptly enlisting his willing +services. But after several days of earnest investigation the detective +confessed himself baffled. + +"If you ask me," he commented at the conclusion of his report, "the +answer is: she means to be let alone until she's quite ready to see you +again. I don't pin any medals on myself for this demonstration of +extraordinary penetration; I merely point out the obvious for your own +good. Contain yourself, my dear man--and stop gnawing your knuckles like +the heavy man in a Third Avenue melodrama. It won't do any good; your +wife promised to communicate with you as soon as her health was +restored. And not only is she a woman who keeps her promise, but it is +quite comprehensible that she should have been shaken up by her +extraordinary experience to an extent we can hardly appreciate who +haven't the highly sensitive organization of a woman to contend with. +Give her time." + +"I don't believe it!" Whitaker raged. "She--she loved me there on the +island. She couldn't change so quickly, bring herself to treat me so +cruelly, unless some infernal influence had been brought to bear upon +her." + +"It's possible, but I--" + +"Oh, I don't mean that foolishness about her love being a man's +death-warrant. That may have something to do with it, but--but, damn +it!--I conquered that once. She promised ... was in my arms ... I'd won +her.... She loved me; there wasn't any make-believe about it. If there +were any foundation for that poppycock, I'd be a dead man now--instead +of a man damnably ill-used!... No: somebody has got hold of her, worked +on her sympathies, maligned me...." + +"Do you object to telling me whom you have in mind?" + +"The man you suspect as well as I--the one man to whom her allegiance +means everything: the man you named to me the night we met for the first +time, as the one who'd profit the most by keeping her from leaving the +stage!" + +"Well, if it's Max, you'll know in time. It won't profit him to hide the +light of his star under a bushel; he can only make money by displaying +it." + +"I'll know before long. As soon as he gets back in town--" + +"So you've been after him?" + +"Why not? But he's out on the Pacific coast; or so they tell me at the +theatre." + +"And expected back--when?" + +"Soon." + +"Do you know when he left?" + +"About the middle of July--they say in his office." + +"Then that lets him out." + +"But it's a lie." + +"Well--?" + +"I've just remembered: Max was at the Fiske place, urging her to return, +the night before you caught Drummond at the bungalow. I saw them, +walking up and down in front of the cottage, arguing earnestly: I could +tell by her bearing she was refusing whatever he proposed. But I didn't +know her then, and naturally I never connected Max with the fellow I +saw, disguised in a motoring coat and cap. Neither of 'em had any place +in my thoughts that night." + +Ember uttered a thoughtful "Oh?" adding: "Did you find out at all +definitely when Max is expected back?" + +"Two or three weeks now, they say. He's got his winter productions to +get under way. As a matter of fact, it looks to me as if he must be +neglecting 'em strangely; it's my impression that the late summer is a +producing manager's busiest time." + +"Max runs himself by his own original code, I'm afraid. The chances are +he's trying to raise money out on the Coast. No money, no +productions--in other words." + +"I shouldn't wonder." + +"But there may be something in what you say--suspect, that is. If I +agree to keep an eye on him, will you promise to give me a free hand?" + +"Meaning--?" + +"Keep out of Max's way: don't risk a wrangle with him." + +"Why the devil should I be afraid of Max?" + +"I know of no reason--as yet. But I prefer to work unhampered by the +indiscretions of my principals." + +"Oh--go ahead--to blazes--as far as you like." + +"Thanks," Ember dryly wound up the conference; "but these passing +flirtations with your present-day temper leave me with no hankering for +greater warmth...." + +Days ran stolidly on into weeks, and these into a month. Nothing +happened. Max did not return; the whispered rumour played wild-fire in +theatrical circles that the eccentric manager had encountered financial +difficulties insuperable. The billboards flanking the entrance to the +Theatre Max continued to display posters announcing the reopening early +in September with a musical comedy by Tynan Dodd; but the comedy was not +even in rehearsal by September fifteenth. + +Ember went darkly about his various businesses, taciturn--even a trace +more than ever reserved in his communication with Whitaker--preoccupied, +but constant in his endeavour to enhearten the desponding husband. He +refused to hazard any surmises whatever until the return of Max or the +reappearance of Mary Whitaker. + +She made no sign. Now and then Whitaker would lose patience and write to +her: desperate letters, fond and endearing, passionate and insistent, +wistful and pleading, strung upon a single theme. Despatched under the +address of her town house, they vanished from his ken as mysteriously +and completely as she herself had vanished. He received not a line of +acknowledgment. + +Day by day he made up his mind finally and definitely to give it up, to +make an end of waiting, to accept the harsh cruelty of her treatment of +him as an absolute definition of her wishes--to sever his renewed life +in New York and return once and for all to the Antipodes. And day by day +he paltered, doubted, put off going to the steamship office to engage +passage. The memory of that last day on the lonely island would not +down. Surely she dared not deny the self she had then revealed to him! +Surely she must be desperately ill and unable to write, rather than +ignoring him so heartlessly and intentionally. Surely the morrow would +bring word of her! + +Sometimes, fretted to a frenzy, he sought out Ember and made wild and +unreasonable demands upon him. These failing of any effect other than +the resigned retort, "I am a detective, not a miracle-monger," he would +fly into desperate, gnawing, black rages that made Ember fear for his +sanity and self-control and caused him to be haunted by that gentleman +for hours--once or twice for days--until he resumed his normal poise of +a sober and civilized man. He was, however, not often aware of this +sedulous espionage. + +September waned and October dawned in grateful coolness: an exquisite +month of crisp nights and enlivening days, of mellowing sunlight and +early gloamings tenderly coloured. Country houses were closed and +theatres reopened. Fifth Avenue after four in the afternoon became +thronged with an ever thickening army--horse, foot and motor-car. +Several main-travelled thoroughfares were promptly torn to pieces and +set up on end by municipal authorities with a keen eye for the +discomfort of the public. A fresh electric sign blazed on Broadway every +evening, and from Thirty-fourth Street to Columbus Circle the first +nights crackled, detonated, sputtered and fizzled like a string of cheap +Chinese firecrackers. One after another the most exorbitant restaurants +advanced their prices and decreased their portions to the prompt and +extraordinary multiplication of their clientele: restaurant French for a +species of citizen whose birth-rate is said to be steadfast to the ratio +of sixty to the hour. Wall Street wailed loudly of its poverty and +hurled bitter anathemas at the President, the business interest of the +country continued to suffer excruciating agonies, and the proprietors of +leading hotels continued to add odd thousands of acres to their game +preserves. + +Then suddenly the town blossomed overnight with huge eight-sheet posters +on every available hoarding, blazoning the news: + + JULES MAX + begs to announce the return of + SARA LAW + in a new Comedy entitled FAITH + by JULES MAX + Theatre MAX--Friday October 15th + +But Whitaker had the information before he saw the broad-sides in the +streets. The morning paper propped up on his breakfast table contained +the illuminating note under the caption, "News of Plays and Players": + + "Jules Max has sprung another and perhaps his greatest surprise on + the theatre-going public of this city. In the face of the rumor + that he was in dire financial straits and would make no productions + whatever this year, the astute manager has been out of town for two + months secretly rehearsing the new comedy entitled 'Faith' of which + he is the author and in which Sara Law will return finally to the + stage. + + "Additional interest attaches to this announcement in view of the + fact that Miss Law has authorized the publication of her intention + never again to retire from the stage. Miss Law is said to have + expressed herself as follows: 'It is my dearest wish to die in + harness. I have come to realize that a great artiste has no duty + greater than her duty to her art. I dedicate my life and artistry + to the American Public.' + + "The opening performance of 'Faith' will take place at the Theatre + Max to-morrow evening, Friday, October 15. The sale of seats opens + at the box-office this morning. Despite the short notice, a bumper + house is confidently expected to welcome back this justly popular + and most charming American actress in the first play of which Mr. + Max has confessed being the author." + +Whitaker glanced up incredulously at the date-line of the sheet. Short +notice, indeed: the date was Thursday, October fourteenth. Max had +planned his game and had played his cards cunningly, in withholding this +announcement until the last moment. So much was very clear to him whose +eyes had wit to read between those lines of trite press-agent +phraseology. + +After a pause Whitaker rose and began to walk the length of the room, +hands in his pockets, head bowed in thought. He was telling himself that +he was not greatly surprised, after all; he was wondering at his +coolness; and he was conning over, with a grim, sardonic kink in his +twisted smile, the needless precautions taken by the dapper little +manager in his fear of Whitaker's righteous wrath. For Whitaker had no +intention of interfering in any way. He conceived it a possibility that +his conge might have been more kindly given him, but ... he had received +it, and he was not slow to recognize it as absolute and without appeal. +The thing was finished. The play was over, so far as concerned his part +therein. He had no doubt played it poorly; but at least his exit would +not lack a certain quality of dignity. Whitaker promised himself that. + +He thought it really astonishing, his coolness. He analyzed his +psychological processes with a growing wonder and with as much, if less +definite, resentment. He would not have thought it credible of himself. +Search as he would, he could discover no rankling indignation, no +smouldering rage threatening to flame at the least breath of +provocation, not even what he might have most confidently looked forward +to--the sickening writhings of self-love mortally wounded and impotent +to avenge itself: nothing but some self-contempt, that he had allowed +himself to be so carried away by infatuation for an ignoble woman, and a +cynic humour that made it possible for him to derive a certain +satisfaction from contemplating the completeness of this final +revelation of herself. + +However, he had more important things to claim his attention than the +spectacle of a degraded soul making public show of its dishonour. + +He halted by the window to look out. Over the withered tree-tops of +Bryant Square, set against the rich turquoise of that late autumnal sky, +a gigantic sign-board heralded the news of perfidy to an unperceptive +world that bustled on, heedless of Jules Max, ignorant (largely) of the +existence of Hugh Whitaker, unconcerned with Sara Law save as she +employed herself for its amusement. + +After all, the truth was secret and like to stay so, jealously husbanded +in four bosoms at most. Max would guard it as he would a system for +winning at roulette; Mary Whitaker might well be trusted never to +declare herself; Ember was as secret as the grave.... + +Returning to the breakfast table, he took up the paper, turned to the +shipping news and ran his eye down the list of scheduled sailings: +nothing for Friday; his pick of half a dozen boats listed to sail +Saturday. + +The telephone enabled him to make a hasty reservation on the biggest and +fastest of them all. + +He had just concluded that business and was waiting with his hand on the +receiver to call up Ember and announce his departure, when the door-bell +interrupted. Expecting the waiter to remove the breakfast things, he +went to the door, threw it open, and turned back instantly to the +telephone. As his fingers closed round the receiver a second time, he +looked round and saw his wife.... + +His hand fell to his side. Otherwise he did not move. But his glance was +that of one incuriously comprehending the existence of a stranger. + +The woman met it fairly and fearlessly, with her head high and her lips +touched with a trace of her shadowy, illegible smile. She was dressed +for walking, very prettily and perfectly. There were roses in her +cheeks: a healthful glow distinguishable even in the tempered light of +the hallway. Her self-possession was faultless. + +After a moment she inclined her head slightly. "The hall-boys said you +were busy on the telephone. I insisted on coming directly up. I wish +very much to see you for a few moments. Do you mind?" + +"By no means," he said, a little stiffly but quite calmly. "If you will +be good enough to come in--" + +He stood against the wall to let her pass. For a breath she was too +close to him: he felt his pulses quicken faintly to the delicate and +indefinite perfume of her person. But it was over in an instant: she had +passed into the living-room. He followed, grave, collected, aloof. + +"I had to come this morning," she explained, turning. "This afternoon we +have a rehearsal...." + +He bowed an acknowledgment. "Won't you sit down?" + +"Thank you." Seated, she subjected him to a quick, open appraisal, +disarming in its naive honesty. + +"Hugh ... aren't you a bit thinner?" + +"I believe so." He had a match for that impertinence: "But you, I see, +have come off without a blemish." + +"I am very well," she admitted, unperturbed. Her glance embraced the +room. "You're very comfortable here." + +"I have been." + +"I hope that doesn't mean I'm in the way." + +"To the contrary; but I sail day after to-morrow for Australia." + +"Oh? That's very sudden, isn't it? You don't seem to have done any +packing. Or perhaps you mean to come back before a great while?" + +"I shan't come back, ever." + +"Must I believe you made up your mind this morning?" + +"I have only just read the announcement of your opening to-morrow +night." + +"Then ... I am driving you out of the country?" + +Her look was impersonal and curious. He prided himself that he was +managing his temper admirably--at least until he discovered that he had, +inexplicably, no temper to speak of; that he, in fact, suffered mostly +from what seemed to be nothing more than annoyance at being hindered in +making the necessary arrangements against his departure. + +His shoulders moved negligently. "Not to rant about it," he replied: "I +find I am not needed here." + +"Oh, dear!" Her lips formed a fugitive, petulant moue: "And it's my +fault?" + +"There's no use mincing matters, is there? I am not heartbroken, and if +I am bitterly disappointed I don't care to--in fact, I lack the +ability--to dramatize it." + +"You are taking it well, Hugh," said she, critical. + +Expressionless, he waited an instant before inquiring pointedly: +"Well...?" + +Deliberately laying aside her light muff, her scarf and hand-bag, she +rose: equality of poise was impossible if he would persist in standing. +She moved a little nearer, examining his face closely, shook her head, +smiled almost diffidently, and gave a helpless gesture. + +"Hugh," she said in a voice of sincerity, "I'm awfully sorry--truly I +am!" + +He made no reply; waited. + +"Perhaps I'm wrong," she went on, "but I think most women would have +spared themselves this meeting--" + +"Themselves and the man," he interjected dryly. + +"Don't be cross, Hugh.... I had to come. I had to explain myself. I +wanted you to understand. Hugh, I--" She was twisting her hands together +with a manner denoting great mental strain. Of a sudden she checked and +dropped them, limp and open by her sides. "You see," she said with the +apologetic smile, "I'm _trying_ not to act." + +"Oh," he said in a tone of dawning comprehension--"so that's it!" + +"I'm afraid so, Hugh.... I'm dreadfully sorry for you--poor boy!--but +I'm afraid that's the trouble with me, and it can never be helped. +I was born with a talent for acting; life has made me an actress. +Hugh ... I've found out something." Her eyes appealed wistfully. "I'm +not genuine." + +He nodded interestedly. + +"I'm just an actress, an instrument for the music of emotions. I've been +trained to respond, until now I respond without knowing it, when there's +no true response here." She touched the bosom of her frock. + +He said nothing. + +With a half sigh she moved away to the window, and before she spoke +again posed herself very effectively there, looking out over the park +while she cleared her mind. + +"Of course, you despise me. I despise myself--I mean, the self that was +me before I turned from a woman into an actress. But it's the truth: I +have no longer any real capacity for emotion, merely an infinite +capacity for appreciation of the artistic delineation of emotion, true +or feigned. That ... that is why, when you showed me you had grown to +love me so, I responded so quickly. You _were_ in love--more honestly +than I had ever seen love revealed. It touched me. I was proud to have +inspired such a love. I wanted, for the time being, to have you with me +always, that I might always study the wonderful, the beautiful +manifestations of your love. Why, Hugh, you even managed to make me +believe I was worth it--that my response was sufficient repayment for +your adoration...." + +He said nothing. She glanced furtively at him and continued: + +"I meant to be sweet and faithful when I left that note for you on the +yacht, Hugh; I was grateful, and I meant to be generous.... But when I +went to the Waldorf, the first person I met was Max. Of course I had to +tell him what had happened. And then he threw himself upon my +compassion. It seems that losing me had put him in the most terrible +trouble about money. He was short, and he couldn't get the backing he +needed without me, his call upon my services, by way of assurance to his +backers. And I began to think. I knew I didn't love you honestly, Hugh, +and that life with you would be a living lie. What right had I to +deceive you that way, just to gratify my love of being loved? And +especially if by doing that I ruined Max, the man to whom, next to you, +I owed everything? I couldn't do it. But I took time to think it +over--truly I did. I really did go to a sanatorium, and rested there +while I turned the whole matter over carefully in my mind, and at length +reached my decision to stick by Max and let you go, free to win the +heart of a woman worthy of you." + +She paused again, but still he was mute and immobile. + +"So now you know me--what I am. No other man has ever known or ever +will. But I had to tell you the truth. It seems that the only thing my +career had left uncalloused was my fundamental sense of honesty. So I +had to come and tell you." + +And still he held silence, attentive, but with a set face that betrayed +nothing of the tenor of his thoughts. + +Almost timidly, with nervously fumbling fingers, she extracted from her +pocket-book a small ticket envelope. + +"Max was afraid you might upset the performance again, as you did on my +last appearance, Hugh," she said; "but I assured him it was just the +shock of recognizing you that bowled me over. So I've bought you a box +for to-morrow night. I want you to use it--you and Mr. Ember." + +He broke in with a curt monosyllable: "Why?" + +"Why--why because--because I want you--I suppose it's simply my +vanity--to see me act. Perhaps you'll feel a little less hardly toward +me if you see that I am really a great actress, that I give you up for +something bigger than just love--" + +"What rot!" he said with an odd, short laugh. "Besides, I harbour no +resentment." + +She stared, losing a little colour, eyes darkening with apprehension. + +"I did hope you'd come," she murmured. + +"Oh, I'll come," he said with spirit. "Wild horses couldn't keep me +away." + +"Really, Hugh? And you don't mind? Oh, I'm _glad_!" + +"I really don't mind," he assured her with a strange smile. +"But ... would you mind excusing me one moment? I've forgotten +something very important." + +"Why, certainly...." + +He was already at the telephone in the hallway, just beyond the +living-room door. It was impossible to escape overhearing his words. The +woman listened perforce with, in the beginning, a little visible wonder, +then with astonishment, ultimately with a consternation that shook her +with violent tremblings. + +"Hello," said Whitaker; "get me Rector two-two-hundred.... + +"Hello? Rector two-two-hundred? North German Lloyd?... This is Mr. H. M. +Whitaker. I telephoned you fifteen minutes ago about a reservation on +the _George Washington_, sailing Saturday ... Yes.... Yes.... Yes, I +promised to call for the ticket before noon, but I now find I shan't be +able to go. Will you be kind enough to cancel it, if you please.... +Thank you.... Good-by." + +But when he turned back into the living-room he found awaiting him a +quiet and collected woman, perhaps a thought more pale than when she had +entered and with eyes that seemed a trifle darker; but on the whole +positively the mistress of herself. + +"Why did you do that?" she asked evenly. + +"Because," said Whitaker, "I've had my eyes opened. I've been watching +the finest living actress play a carefully rehearsed role, one that she +had given long study and all her heart to--but her interpretation didn't +ring true. Mary, I admit, at first you got me: I believed you meant what +you said. But only my mind believed it; my heart knew better, just as it +has always known better, all through this wretched time of doubt and +misery and separation you've subjected us both to. And that was why I +couldn't trust myself to answer you; for if I had, I should have laughed +for joy. O Mary, Mary!" he cried, his voice softening, "my dear, dear +woman, you can't lie to love! You betray yourself in every dear word +that would be heartless, in every adorable gesture that would seem +final! And love knows better always.... Of course I shall be in that box +to-morrow night; of course I shall be there to witness your triumph! And +after you've won it, dear, I shall carry you off with me...." + +He opened his arms wide, but with a smothered cry she backed away, +placing the table between them. + +"No!" she protested; and the words were almost sobs--"No!" + +"Yes!" he exclaimed exultantly. "Yes! A thousand times yes! It must be +so!" + +With a swift movement she seized her muff and scarf from the chair and +fled to the door. There pausing, she turned, her face white and blazing. + +"It is not true!" she cried. "You are mistaken. Do you hear me? You are +utterly mistaken. I do not love you. You are mad to think it. I have +just told you I don't love you. I am afraid of you; I daren't stay with +you for fear of you. I--I despise you!" + +[Illustration: "I do not love you. You are mad to think it"] + +"I don't believe it!" he cried, advancing. + +But she was gone. The hall door slammed before he could reach it. + +He halted, turned back, his whole long body shaking, his face wrung with +fear and uncertainty. + +"Good God!" he cried--"which of us is right--she or I?" + + + + +XXI + +BLACK OUT + + +Toward eight in the evening, after a day-long search through all his +accustomed haunts, Ember ran Whitaker to earth in the dining-room of the +Primordial. The young man, alone at table, was in the act of topping off +an excellent dinner with a still more excellent cordial and a +super-excellent cigar. His person seemed to diffuse a generous +atmosphere of contentment and satisfaction, no less mental than physical +and singularly at variance with his appearance, which, moreover, was +singularly out of keeping not only with his surroundings but also with +his normal aspect. + +He wore rough tweeds, and they were damp and baggy; his boots were +muddy; his hair was a trifle disorderly. The ensemble made a figure +wildly incongruous to the soberly splendid and stately dining-hall of +the Primordial Club, with its sparse patronage of members in +evening-dress. + +Ember, himself as severely beautiful in black and white as the +ceremonious livery of to-day permits a man to be, was wonder-struck at +sight of Whitaker in such unconventional guise, at such a time, in such +a place. With neither invitation nor salutation, he slipped into a chair +on the other side of the table, and stared. + +Whitaker smiled benignantly upon him, and called a waiter. + +Ember, always abstemious, lifted his hand and smiled a negative smile. + +Whitaker dismissed the waiter. + +"Well...?" he inquired cheerfully. + +"What right have you got to look like that?" Ember demanded. + +"The right of every free-born American citizen to make an ass of himself +according to the dictates of his conscience. I've been exploring the +dark backwards and abysm of the Bronx--afoot. Got caught in the rain on +the way home. Was late getting back, and dropped in here to celebrate." + +"I've been looking for you everywhere, since morning." + +"I suspected you would be. That's why I went walking--to be lonesome and +thoughtful for once in a way." + +Ember stroked his chin with thoughtful fingers. + +"You've heard the news, then?" + +"In three ways," Whitaker returned, with calm. + +"How's that--three ways?" + +"Through the newspapers, the billboards, and--from the lips of my wife." + +Ember opened his eyes wide. + +"You've been to see her?" + +"On the contrary." + +"The devil you say!" + +"She called this morning--" + +But Ember interrupted, thrusting a ready and generous hand across the +table: + +"My dear man, I _am_ glad!" + +Whitaker took the proffered hand readily and firmly. "Thank you.... I +was saying: she called this morning to inform me that, though wedded +once, we must be strangers now--and evermore!" + +"But you--of course--you argued that nonsense out of her head." + +"To the contrary--again." + +"But--my dear man!--you said you were celebrating; you permitted me to +congratulate you just now--" + +"The point is," said Whitaker, with a bland and confident grin; "I've +succeeded in arguing that nonsense out of my head--not hers--_mine_." + +Ember gave a helpless gesture. "I'm afraid this is one of my stupid +nights...." + +"I mean that, though Mary ran away from me, wouldn't listen to reason, I +have, in the course of an afternoon's hard tramping, come to the +conclusion that there is nothing under the sun which binds me to sit +back and accept whatever treatment she purposes according me by courtesy +of Jules Max." + +Whitaker bent forward, his countenance discovering a phase of +seriousness hitherto masked by his twisted smile. He emphasized his +points with a stiff, tapping forefinger on the cloth. + +"I mean, I'm tired of all this poppycock. Unless I'm an infatuated ass, +Mary loves me with all her heart. She has made up her mind to renounce +me partly because Max has worked upon her feelings by painting some +lurid picture of his imminent artistic and financial damnation if she +leaves him, partly because she believes, or has been led to believe, in +this 'destroying angel' moonshine. Now she's got to listen to reason. +So, likewise, Max." + +"You're becoming more human word by word," commented Ember with open +approval. "Continue; elucidate; I can understand how a fairly resolute +lover with the gift of gab can talk a weak-minded, fond female into +denying her pet superstition; but how you're going to get round Max +passes my comprehension. The man unquestionably has her under +contract--" + +"But you forgot his god is Mammon," Whitaker put in. "Max will do +anything in the world for money. Therein resides the kernel of my plan. +It's simplicity itself: I'm going to buy him." + +"Buy Max!" + +"Body--artistic soul--and breeches," Whitaker affirmed confidently. + +"Impossible!" + +"You forget how well fixed I am. What's the use of my owning half the +gold in New Guinea if it won't buy me what I already own by every moral +and legal right?" + +"He won't listen to you; you don't know Max." + +"I'm willing to lay you a small bet that there will be no first +performance at the Theatre Max to-morrow night." + +"You'll never persuade him--" + +"I'll buy the show outright and my wife's freedom to boot--or else Max +will begin to accumulate the local colour of a hospital ward." + +Ember smiled grimly. "You're beginning to convince even me. When, may I +ask, do you propose to pull off this sporting proposition?" + +"Do you know where Max can be found to-night?" + +"At the theatre--" + +"Then the matter will be arranged at the theatre between this hour and +midnight." + +"I doubt if you succeed in getting the ear of the great man before +midnight; however, I'm not disposed to quibble about a few hours." + +"But why shouldn't I?" + +"Because Max is going to be the busiest young person in town to-night. +And that is why I've been looking for you.... Conforming to his custom, +he's giving an advance glimpse of the production to the critics and a +few friends in the form of a final grand dress-rehearsal to-night. +Again, in conformance with his custom, he has honoured me with a bid. +I've been chasing you all day to find out if you'd care to go--" + +"Eight o'clock and a bit after," Whitaker interrupted briskly, +consulting his watch. "Here, boy," he hailed a passing page; "call a +taxicab for me." And then, rising alertly: "Come along; I've got to +hustle home and make myself look respectable enough for the occasion; +but at that, with luck, I fancy we'll be there before the first +curtain." + +This mood of faith, of self-reliance and assured optimism held unruffled +throughout the dash homewards, his hurried change of clothing and the +ride to the theatre. Nothing that Ember, purposely pessimistic, could +say or do availed to diminish the high buoyancy of his humour. He +maintained a serene faith in his star, a spirited temper that refused to +recognize obstacles in the way of his desire. + +In the taxicab, en route to the Theatre Max, he contrived even to distil +a good omen from the driving autumnal downpour itself.... The rain-swept +pavements, their polished blackness shot with a thousand strands of +golden brilliance; the painted bosom of the lowering, heavy sky; the +tear-drenched window-panes; even the incessant crepitation on the roof +of the scurrying, skidding cab seemed to lend a colour of assurance to +his thoughts. + +"On such a day as this," he told his doubting friend, "I won her first; +on such a day I shall win her anew, finally and for all time!..." + +From Broadway to Sixth Avenue, Forty-sixth Street was bright with the +yellow glare of the huge sign in front of the Theatre Max. But this +night, unlike that other night when he had approached the stage of his +wife's triumphs, there was no crawling rank of cabs, no eager and +curious press of people in the street; but few vehicles disputed their +way; otherwise the rain and the hurrying, rain-coated wayfarers had the +thoroughfare to themselves.... And even this he chose to consider a +favourable omen: there was not now a public to come between him and his +love--only Max and her frightened fancies. + +The man at the door recognized Ember with a cheerful nod; Whitaker he +did not know. + +"Just in time, Mr. Ember; curtain's been up about ten minutes...." + +The auditorium was in almost total darkness. A single voice was audible +from the stage that confronted it like some tremendous, moonlight canvas +in a huge frame of tarnished gold. They stole silently round the +orchestra seats to the stage-box--the same box that Whitaker had on the +former occasion occupied in company with Max. + +They succeeded in taking possession without attracting attention, either +from the owners of that scanty scattering of shirt-bosoms in the +orchestra--the critical fraternity and those intimates bidden by the +manager to the first glimpse of his new revelation in stage-craft--or +from those occupying the stage. + +The latter were but two. Evidently, though the curtain had been up for +some minutes, the action of the piece had not yet been permitted to +begin to unfold. Whitaker inferred that Max had been dissatisfied with +something about the lighting of the scene. The manager was standing in +mid-stage, staring up at the borders: a stout and pompous figure, +tenacious to every detail of that public self which he had striven so +successfully to make unforgettably individual; a figure quaintly +incongruous in his impeccable morning-coat and striped trousers and +flat-brimmed silk hat, perched well back on his head, with his malacca +stick and lemon-coloured gloves and small and excessively glossy +patent-leather shoes, posed against the counterfeit of a moonlit formal +garden. + +Aside from him, the only other occupant of the stage was Sara Law. She +sat on a stone bench with her profile to the audience, her back to the +right of the proscenium arch; so that she could not, without turning, +have noticed the entrance of Ember and her husband. A shy, slight, +deathlessly youthful figure in pale and flowing garments that moulded +themselves fluently to her sweet and girlish body, in a posture of +pensive meditation: she was nothing less than adorable. Whitaker could +not take his eyes from her, for sheer wonder and delight. + +He was only vaguely conscious that Max, at length satisfied, barked a +word to that effect to an unseen electrician off to the left, and waving +his hand with a gesture indelibly associated with his personality, +dragged a light cane-seated chair to the left of the proscenium and sat +himself down. + +"All ready?" he demanded in a sharp and irritable voice. + +The woman on the marble seat nodded imperceptibly. + +"Go ahead," snapped the manager.... + +An actor advanced from the wings, paused and addressed the seated woman. +His lines were brief. She lifted her head with a startled air, +listening. He ceased to speak, and her voice of golden velvet filled the +house with the flowing beauty of its unforgettably sweet modulations. +Beyond the footlights a handful of sophisticated and sceptical habitues +of the theatre forgot for the moment their ingrained incredulity and +thrilled in sympathy with the wonderful rapture of that voice of eternal +Youth. Whitaker himself for the time forgot that he was the husband of +this woman and her lover; she moved before his vision in the guise of +some divine creature, divinely unattainable, a dream woman divorced +utterly from any semblance of reality. + +That opening scene was one perhaps unique in the history of the stage. +Composed by Max in some mad, poetical moment of inspired plagiarism, it +not only owned a poignant and enthralling beauty of imagery, but it +moved with an almost Grecian certitude, with a significance +extraordinarily direct and devoid of circumlocution, seeming to lay bare +the living tissue of immortal drama. + +But with the appearance of other characters, there came a change: the +rare atmosphere of the opening began to dissipate perceptibly. The +action clouded and grew vague. The auditors began to feel the +flutterings of uncertainty in the air. Something was failing to cross +the footlights. The sweeping and assured gesture of the accomplished +playwright faltered: a clumsy bit of construction was damningly exposed; +faults of characterization multiplied depressingly. Sara Law herself +lost an indefinable proportion of her rare and provoking charm; the +strangeness of failing to hold her audience in an ineluctable grasp +seemed at once to nettle and distress her. Max himself seemed suddenly +to wake to the amazing fact that there was something enormously and +irremediably wrong; he began with exasperating frequency to halt the +action, to interrupt scenes with advice and demands for repetition. He +found it impossible to be still, to keep his seat or control his +rasping, irritable voice. Subordinate characters on the stage lost their +heads and either forgot to act or overacted. And then--intolerable +climax!--of a sudden somebody in the orchestra chairs laughed in +outright derision in the middle of a passage meant to be tenderly +emotional. + +The voice of Sara Law broke and fell. She stood trembling and unstrung. +Max without a word turned on his heel and swung out of sight into the +wings. Four other actors on the stage, aside from Sara Law, hesitated +and drew together in doubt and bewilderment. And then abruptly, with no +warning whatever, the illusion of gloom in the auditorium and moonlight +in the postscenium was rent away by the glare of the full complement of +electric lights installed in the house. + +A thought later, while still all were blinking and gasping with +surprise, Max strode into view just behind the footlights. Halting, he +swept the array of auditors with an ominous and truculent stare. + +So quickly was this startling change consummated that Whitaker had no +more than time to realize the reappearance of the manager before he +caught his wrathful and venomous glance fixed to his own bewildered +face. And something in the light that flickered wildly behind Max's eyes +reminded him so strongly of a similar expression he had remarked in the +eyes of Drummond, the night the latter had been captured by Ember and +Sum Fat, that in alarm he half rose from his seat. + +Simultaneously he saw Max spring toward the box, with a distorted and +snarling countenance. He was tugging at something in his pocket. It +appeared in the shape of a heavy pistol. + +Instantly Whitaker was caught and tripped by Ember and sent sprawling on +the floor of the box. As this happened, he heard the voice of the +firearm, sharp and vicious--a single report. + +Unhurt, he picked himself up in time to catch a glimpse of Max, on the +stage, momentarily helpless in the embrace of a desperate and frantic +woman who had caught his arms from behind and, presumably, had so +deflected his arm. In the same breath Ember, who had leaped to the +railing round the box, threw himself across the footlights with the +lithe certainty of a beast of prey and, seemingly in as many deft +motions, knocked the pistol from the manager's hand, wrested him from +the arms of the actress, laid him flat and knelt upon him. + +With a single bound Whitaker followed him to the stage; in another he +had his wife in his arms and was soothing her first transports of +semi-hysterical terror.... + + * * * * * + +It was possibly a quarter of an hour later when Ember paused before a +door in the ground floor dressing-room gangway of the Theatre Max--a +door distinguished by the initials "S L" in the centre of a golden star. +With some hesitation, with even a little diffidence, he lifted a hand +and knocked. + +At once the door was opened by the maid, Elise. Recognizing Ember, she +smiled and stood aside, making way for him to enter the small, curtained +lobby. + +"Madam--and Monsieur," she said with smiling significance, "told me to +show you in at once, Monsieur Ember." + +From beyond the curtains, Whitaker's voice lifted up impatiently: "That +you, old man? Come right in!" + +Nodding to the maid, Ember thrust aside the portieres and stepped into +the brightly-lighted dressing-room, then paused, bowing and smiling his +self-contained, tolerant smile: in appearance as imperturbable and +well-groomed as though he had just escaped from the attentions of a +valet, rather than from a furious hand-to-hand tussle with a vicious +monomaniac. + +Mary Whitaker, as yet a little pale and distrait and still in costume, +was reclining on a chaise-longue. Whitaker was standing close beside his +wife; his face the theatre of conflicting emotions; Ember, at least, +thought with a shrewd glance to recognize a pulsating light of joy +beneath a mask of interest and distress and a flush of embarrassment. + +"I am intruding?" he suggested gravely, with a slight turn as if +offering to withdraw. + +"No." + +The word faltering on the lips of Mary Whitaker was lost in an emphatic +iteration by Whitaker. + +"Sit down!" he insisted. "As if we'd let you escape, now, after you'd +kept us here in suspense!" + +He offered a chair, but Ember first advanced to take the hand held out +to him by the woman on the chaise-longue. + +"You are feeling--more composed?" he inquired. + +Her gaze met his bravely. "I am--troubled, perhaps--but happy," she +said. + +"Then I am very glad," he said, smiling at the delicate colour that +enhanced her exquisite beauty as she made the confession. "I had hoped +as much." He looked from the one to the other. "You ... have made up +your minds?" + +The wife answered for both: "It is settled, dear friend: I can struggle +no longer. I thought myself a strong woman; I have tried to believe +myself a genius bound upon the wheel of an ill-starred destiny; but I +find I am"--the glorious voice trembled slightly--"only a woman in love +and no stronger than her love." + +"I am very glad," Ember repeated, "for both your sakes. It's a happy +consummation of my dearest wishes." + +"We owe you everything," Whitaker said with feeling, dropping an awkward +hand on the other's shoulder. "It was you who threw us together, down +there on the Great West Bay, so that we learned to know one another...." + +"I plead guilty to that little plot--yes," Ember laughed. "But, best of +all, this comes at just the right time--the rightest time, when there +can no longer be any doubts or questions or misunderstandings, no ground +for further fears and apprehensions, when 'the destroying angel' of your +'ill-starred destiny,' my dear"--he turned to the woman--"is +exorcised--banished--proscribed--" + +"Max--!" Whitaker struck in explosively. + +"--is on his way to the police-station, well guarded," Ember affirmed +with a nod and a grim smile. "I have his confession, roughly jotted down +but signed, and attested by several witnesses.... I'm glad you were out +of the way; it was rather a painful scene, and disorderly; it wouldn't +have been pleasant for Mrs. Whitaker.... We had the deuce of a time +clearing the theatre: human curiosity is a tremendously persistent and +resistant force. And then I had some trouble dealing with the misplaced +loyalty of the staff of the house.... However, eventually I got Max to +myself--alone, that is, with several men I could depend on. And then I +heartlessly put him through the third degree--forestalling my friends, +the police. By dint of asserting as truths and personal discoveries what +I merely suspected, I broke down his denials. He owned up, doggedly +enough, and yet with that singular pride which I have learned to +associate with some phases of homicidal mania.... I won't distress you +with details: the truth is that Max was quite mad on the subject of his +luck; he considered it, as I suspected, indissolubly associated with +Sara Law. When poor Custer committed suicide, he saved Max from ruin and +innocently showed him the way to save himself thereafter, when he felt +in peril, by assassinating Hamilton and, later, Thurston. Drummond only +cheated a like fate, and you"--turning to Whitaker--"escaped by the +narrowest shave. Max hadn't meant to run the risk of putting you out of +the way unless he thought it absolutely necessary, but the failure of +his silly play in rehearsal to-night, coupled with the discovery that +you were in the theatre, drove him temporarily insane with hate, chagrin +and jealousy." + +Concluding, Ember rose. "I must follow him now to the police-station.... +I shall see you both soon again--?" + +The woman gave him both her hands. "There's no way to thank you," she +said--"our dear, dear friend!" + +"No way," Whitaker echoed regretfully. + +"No way?" Ember laughed quietly, holding her hands tightly clasped. "But +I see you together--happy--Oh, believe me, I am fully thanked!" + +Bowing, he touched his lips gently to both hands, released them with a +little sigh that ended in a contented chuckle, exchanged a short, firm +grasp with Whitaker, and left them.... + +Whitaker, following almost immediately to the gangway, found that Ember +had already left the theatre. + +For some minutes he wandered to and fro in the gangway, pausing now and +again on the borders of the deserted stage. There were but few of the +house staff visible, and those few were methodically busy with +preparations to close up. Beyond the dismal gutter of the footlights the +auditorium yawned cavernous and shadowy, peopled only by low rows of +chairs ghostly in their dust-cloths. The street entrances were already +closed, locked and dark. On the stage a single cluster-stand of electric +bulbs made visible the vast, gloomy dome of the flies and the +whitewashed walls against which sections of scenery were stacked like +cards. An electrician in his street clothes lounged beside the +door-keeper's cubicle, at the stage entrance, smoking a cigarette and +conferring with the doorman while subjecting Whitaker to a curious and +antagonistic stare. The muffled rumble of their voices were the only +sounds audible, aside from an occasional racket of boot-heels in the +gangways as one actor after another left his dressing-room and hastened +to the street, keen-set for the clash of gossiping tongues in theatrical +clubs and restaurants. + +Gradually the building grew more and more empty and silent, until at +length Whitaker was left alone with the shadows and the two employees. +These last betrayed signs of impatience. He himself felt a little +sympathy for their temper. Women certainly did take an unconscionable +time to dress!... + +At length he heard them hurrying along the lower gangway, and turned to +join his wife at the stage-entrance. Elise passed on, burdened with two +heavy hand-bags, and disappeared into the rain-washed alleyway. The +electrician detached his shoulders from the wall, ground his cigarette +under heel and lounged over to the switchboard. + +Mary Whitaker turned her face, shadowy and mystical, touched with her +faint and inscrutable smile, up to her husband's. + +"Wait," she begged in a whisper. "I want to see"--her breath +checked--"the end of it all." + +They heard hissings and clickings at the switchboard. The gangway lights +vanished in a breath. The single cluster-stand on the stage +disappeared--and the house disappeared utterly with its extinguishment. +There remained alight only the single dull bulb in the doorman's +cubicle. + +Whitaker slipped an arm round his wife. She trembled within his embrace. + +"Black out," she said in a gentle and regretful voice: "the last exit: +Curtain--End of the Play!" + +"No," he said in a voice of sublime confidence--"no; it's only +the prologue curtain. Now for the play, dear heart ... the real +play ... life ... love...." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DESTROYING ANGEL*** + + +******* This file should be named 32302.txt or 32302.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/3/0/32302 + + + +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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